Page 11 of The New Earl’s Convenient Wife

‘So there can be no more kissing until the wedding?’ she protested.

‘Well… I won’t promise that.’ Touching the tip of his finger to her nose, he whispered, ‘One kiss per day. Just one. To remember. And anticipate.’

‘I will hold you to that.’

‘Until tomorrow, then. I’ll stop to see you before I set off for the bishop’s. While I’m gone, consult with Baxter and Mrs Henderson about any changes you want to make in the household. I’m afraid funds won’t permit taking you away for a wedding trip, but I’d like you to feel at home at Thornthwaite from the very first day.’

She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.’

‘Good. Until tomorrow.’

He leaned towards her, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her again despite his avowal. But even as she leaned towards him eagerly, he drew back, shaking his head again.

‘No, I shall be prudent. Goodnight, my almost-wife.’

He left her then, standing still bemused in the entryway. She watched him ride away, feeling energy, vitality and comfort leave with him.

Only then did she realize that while she’d been kissing him, she’d been aware of nothing but the intense delight of his nearness. Wholly consumed by delicious sensation, driven only by the imperative to get closer, kiss deeper, her whole body charged with a compulsion to touch and caress him.

There had been no fear, no worry, no anxiety. No upswelling of emotion—only sheer physical response.

And Rafe…had seemed pleased by that response.

She realized in that moment, with an upsurge of relief and anticipation, that physical desire might be the answer to the dilemma of wedding him. If Rafe were in fact still the man she’d once adored, by offering the passionate lovemaking he seemed to actually want from her, she could forestall any resurgence of passionate devotion.

He’d made it only too clear when he asked her to marry him that, having recovered from his “grand passion,” he had no interest in experiencing such intense feelings again. Discovering she harbored any such emotion for him would doubtless cause him chagrin and dismay.

Had he truly recovered from his passion? For an instant after she mentioned Thalia’s name, his face had gone blank and his body trembled. Despite what he’d assured her, it seemed not all the pain had dissipated.

All the more reason for her to concentrate on enjoying his caresses and closeness, so she might avoid emotion altogether, letting any feelings be buried beneath the overwhelming pressure of desire.

If occasionally those feelings tried to bubble up again when he was not near enough to distract her, she’d just push them down and concentrate on the tasks at hand. It would take much diligent work to fully restore Thornthwaite to what it had been, a task she was eager to help him with.

Her resolve strengthened by those reflections, she gave her image in the pier-glass mirror one last glance and put out of mind the lingering doubt. She’d focus on the delights ahead—the quiet ceremony in the church, the enjoyment of celebrating their lord’s nuptials with the estate’s tenants and then…best, most delicious of all, being able to give herself fully into Rafe’s skillful hands.

A wave of warmth tingled through her at the thought.

She could do this, as she’d reassured herself that first night. Even if he still was every inch the man of her girlhood dreams, she could become Rafe’s wife without ruining their friendship or causing heartache or distress to either of them. Hadn’t she already tested that hypothesis when Rafe returned after obtaining the marriage license, claiming one kiss each of the last four days before the wedding? Each one more exquisite, longer, more intense than the last.

Each one dispelling fear and blanking her mind to everything but pleasure.

Well, now she must do it.

No matter what the consequences turned out to be.

A clatter at the door followed by her mother’s high-pitched tones put an end to her reverie. Thankfully, her sister was too preoccupied with her offspring and her husband’s estate was located too far away for her to manage the trip to Thornthwaite in time, but she’d been unable to come up with a reason to exclude her parents. Little as the attendance of either of them would add to her day.

Certainly not her mother’s gloating pride that she’d finally married off her disappointing daughter to a husband whose high rank would impress her friends. Or the presence of the father who would walk her down the aisle, who’d participated so little in her life that she might as well be escorted by a stranger.

Fortunately, the church would be filled with villagers and tenants, rallied by Baxter’s cousin and new estate manager Mr Sterling. She’d come to know many of them during her visits to Ian, especially during the last year while she tried to minimize the damages the venal Taylor was inflicting on her distracted fiancé’s estate. She was looking forward to beginning her new life surrounded by Thornthwaite’s people, watching them enjoy the festivities and ready to accept their congratulations and good wishes.

And then, tonight, would come the best of all…

‘Juliana, are you ready at last?’ her mother asked as she swept into the room. ‘Your father is impatient, the carriage is waiting and we don’t want the horses to stand too long!’

‘Yes, Mama, I’m coming,’ she replied, stepping into the pelisse Baxter held out for her.

Lady Waverton looked her up and down critically. ‘You’ll do, I suppose. Though it would have been more proper to have worn the virginal white I recommended—though when have you ever followed my advice? Well, the green does suit you, and I suppose having known you so many years, Thornthwaite is well aware of your…eccentricities.’