“I fear I am too set in my ways to consider such a change in circumstances, my dear.”
“Too selfish” would better describe his reasons for avoiding marriage. He wanted her out of his house so he would not be tainted by what had happened to her mother, as she had been.
Her gaze moved about the vestibule in restless dread.
Gleaming marble floors and dark scrolled woodwork adorned the space. The moment was at hand. She would be taking a sacred vow, knowing she would later break it.
Guilt warred with her need. Fear warred with her determination.
The doors of the chapel parted and Lord Willingham appeared. Katherine found it difficult to draw a full
breath as the racing of her heart increased.
“Everyone is seated and waiting, Lord Leighton.”
Talbot spoke in a hushed tone. His square-jawed features set in grave lines, softened somewhat as his gaze swung to her.
Her anxiety rose to a feverish peak. “Is the Capt—is Matthew here?” Her voice came out breathy and weak.
“Of course. He is waiting for you to join him, Katherine. I will tell them you are ready to begin.” He paused, focusing on her with more attention. “You look beautiful, my dear.”
A painful knot of emotion constricted her throat. If only her family were still alive, there would be no need for any of this. “Thank you, Lord Willingham.” Hannah drew the lace scarf up to cover Katherine’s hair while Edward straightened the ruffled cuff of his sleeve. He handed his black tricorn to the woman.
Reluctantly, Katherine accepted her uncle’s arm.
Hannah held the door open for them to proceed.
Katherine paused just inside the chapel, halting Edward’s forward momentum. The long aisle of the church stretched before them, an intimidating length. At its end, stood a man and an enrobed minister. Too distant for her to identify his features, Katherine found some recognition in the breadth of his shoulders and his height. The jittery feeling built in the pit of her stomach.
Edward’s determined grip on her arm propelled her forward as the beginning strains of organ music echoed within the sanctuary. The few guests present turned to watch as they progressed up the aisle.
Her groom’s rugged features appeared more and more defined as the distance between them lessened.
Without the heavy beard obscuring the lower half of his face, the angular shape of his jaw and chin appeared strong and masculine. His nose, well shaped and narrow had an arrogant tilt. His mouth, curved in a sardonic smile of greeting, underlined the fullness of his lips and set to light their sensuality. Resentment burnt in his pale blue eyes as they settled first upon Edward, then on her.
Confronted by his enmity, she grew wary. She had done nothing to anger him. What had Edward done?
Edward released her then stepped aside and found a
seat on one of the pews.
Matthew grasped her arm above the elbow and drew her to his side before the minister.
“Begin.”
That one word spoken with such authority gained the minister’s immediate attention, and without delay, he opened the bible he held.
As the priest began extolling the virtues of marriage, Matthew grasped her left hand. His fingers long, his nails clean and trimmed, his hand had an elegance about it that drew her eye. He appeared so different from the maltreated prisoner with whom she’d bargained, that she found it difficult to reconcile the two images. Her gaze rose once again to study his face. One well-arched black brow rose in mocking inquiry, his gaze bold as it raked downward to settle on her breasts. The look of appraisal in his expression as he raised one dark brow sent such a rush of outrage through her she almost choked.
He knew! Temper brought heat to her cheeks.
Someone had told him about what had happened to her mother, and he believed the rumors. She shifted her weight, intent on ending the ceremony. He grasped her arm his grip tight, holding her at his side.
“I, Matthew David Hamilton, take thee, Katherine Elizabeth Leighton as my wife—” His deep voice steady, he repeated the vows the minister recited.
She clenched her teeth, setting her jaw. She would not wed a man who judged others by the gossip spread about them. He knew nothing of what had happened. Not even she could attest to all the events of that night.
The minister shifted in her direction. “Repeat after me, Katherine Leighton.”
Her violet gaze warred with Matthew’s pale blue one for several silent moments.
“Will you not honor your word any better than your uncle did?” Matthew’s voice, though soft, seemed to fill every nook and cranny of the sanctuary.
She half turned to look over her shoulder at her uncle. What had he done? Beneath her accusing stare, his long thin face flushed red.
If she ended the ceremony, Edward would once again be on the hunt for some unsuspecting man to wed her.
The next man could have less to lose and thus be less eager to agree to her terms. Her gaze rose to Matthew’s face. She would be confining him to prison once again and to Mr. Hicks’s care.
Damn all men. Damn their untrustworthy, manipulative, uncaring hearts. If she never saw or spoke to another one, it would be too soon.
“I, Katherine Elizabeth Leighton, take thee Matthew David Hamilton as my husband.” Rage made her voice shake as she recited her vows without benefit of the clergyman’s prompting. Matthew slid the plain gold band on her left ring finger.
“You may kiss—” the minister began.
She stiffened as Matthew’s arm slipped about her waist drawing her close against his tall, lean frame. His fingers grasped her jaw bringing her face up for his perusal. Pale blue eyes traced her features one by one, the look in their depths bringing an airless feeling beneath her ribs and a weakness to her limbs. A feeling of panic set her heart to flight as his lips neared hers. She placed a restraining hand against his chest to no avail.
The fierce possession of his lips parted hers and without preamble, he tasted the interior of her mouth with the tip of his tongue as he curved her body into his.
Shock held Katherine immobile. He tasted of brandy, sweet and smoky. He smelled of sandalwood soap and man, clean and natural. The movement of his tongue at first startled her then brought a titillating heat to life in the most intimate areas of her body. A desire to move her tongue against his in response tempted her.
The minister clearing his throat reminded her they stood before a company of strangers. She pushed with greater strength against Matthew’s broad chest and attempted to wiggle free of his grasp.
He raised his head at his leisure, his blue gaze holding a warmth she found disconcerting. Her face felt hot, as did the rest of her. Her heartbeat raged against her ribs.
“You must sign the marriage contract or the bond will not be legal.” The minister fixed them both with a stern, disapproving look. ”Please follow me.”
Talbot Willingham allowed the leather shade to fall closed over the coach window. “St. John and his guards have broken away finally.” He covered his wife’s hand in the bend of his arm, his head bent protectively close to hers.
Katherine thought them a couple in contrasts, yet they seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.
Talbot’s stocky frame off set his wife’s slenderness, his white hair provided the perfect backdrop for her raven dark locks.
“It is only a small reception, Matthew,” Matthew’s aunt, Clarisse Willingham, spoke from the coach seat facing them. Her pale blue eyes, so similar to her nephew’s, moved from Matthew to Katherine then back again.
Talbot cleared his throat. “Lord Rudman insisted he and Lady Rudman attend the ceremony and the reception.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” Matthew made a dismissive gesture with his hand. His attention swung to Katherine. “We’re going to be thrust into a social quagmire before the ink is dry on the marriage contract, Katherine. How do you feel about that?” She fought to keep the surprise from her expression.
Her feelings had never been taken into account before. “I do not suppose it matters how I feel about it, Captain. It seems to be an unavoidable situation. But they cannot make you part of the entertainment, if you refuse to allow them to.”
One well-arched black brow rose and a speculative light leaped into his eyes. Katherine looked away. For all the confidence she tried to portray, fear ran in ever tightening circles in the pit of her stomach. She folded her arms against her waist as nerves danced along her skin intensifying the chill inside the coach.
Matthew frowned. “Where is your cloak?”
“I left it behind in Edward’s coach. Hannah, my maid, will bring it along.”
“It’s cold, come share mine.”
She turned to look at him. He held the folds of the heavy wool garment open. His long coat edged in black satin piping hung open. His dark blue satin waistcoat clung to his lean torso, accentuating the breadth of his chest and flatness of his abdomen. With something akin to awe, she took in the long line of his body slouched against the seat, his legs spread before him, his feet planted firmly upon the floor. A melting heat spread low in her belly. Her heart fluttered like a bird attempting to take flight. The foot wide span between them seemed too short a distance—and too long. She became aware of Talbot and Clarisse watching the exchange, and her cheeks grew hot.
Matthew slid over closing the distance between them.
His arm went around her waist drawing her firmly against him. He draped the fabric of his cloak around her.
The heat of his body clung to the garment, enveloping her in warmth. The defined musculature of his chest lay beneath the hand she placed against his waistcoat. Her breast pressed into the curvature of his ribs and the rest of her body from waist to knee aligned with the length of his. His musky manly fragrance overrode the heady scents of soap, leather and wood smoke. He smelled of vanilla and spice and heat. She swallowed against a tide of emotion she had never experienced before. She felt safe yet threatened. She wanted to burrow against him, yet wanted to break free and run. When he grasped her hand and held it against his chest, she felt too addled to protest. The gentle sway of the coach rocked them against one another. She pressed her thighs together mortified by the empty ache that twisted between them. Dear God, was everything she felt written on her face for Lord and Lady Willingham to read?
“As angry as you are with him, I would urge you to be careful when dealing with Lord Rudman, Matthew.” Clarisse’s brows puckered with worry. “Until you are aboard your ship and on your way home he will be waiting for any excuse to imprison you again. To have his
wife prefer another man must surely be a blow to his pride, if not his heart. He has a reputation for holding a grudge to the death.”
The soft womanly feel of Katherine’s breast against Matthew’s ribs distracted him. She smelled of sun warmed violets and woman. Her narrow waist exaggerated the full thrust of her breasts, or from the feel of her against him, perhaps not. He rubbed his thumb against the calluses on the pad of her palm. It surprised him that her hands were marred. Only physical labor of some kind could have created the thickened areas. And he had never seen any lady do more than raise a teacup.
“Being able to hold a grudge is something Lord Rudman and I have in common.”
He felt Katherine’s stillness. He looked down at her, but couldn’t see her expression.
“Revenge is a double-edged sword, Matthew.” Talbot shifted, his white brows drawn together in a fierce frown.
“The possibility of losing as much as you gain is too great.”
“I don’t have any plans to do anything rash, Talbot.” He struggled to relax the taut muscles of his jaw and shoulders. “I don’t want to cause you and Clarisse any more distress than I already have.”
“But—” Talbot added.
Matthew remained silent. He couldn’t promise not to pursue some form of pay back if the opportunity presented itself. What Lord Rudman had done to him, out of misplaced jealousy, was inexcusable.
He had never understood the nefarious thrill that some men got when carrying on a dalliance with a married woman. There were too many others available.
Virgins were another difficulty to be avoided like a plague. Eagle-eyed mothers hovered near, awaiting an opportunity to help their untarnished offspring capture a mate. The girls, usually part women-part children, dangled their purity like a lure beneath the noses of eligible bachelors as though that alone would make them a suitable wife.
His attention rested on Katherine’s profile as she attempted to straighten away from him. With his hand resting possessively against her waist, and her thigh
pressed against his, he felt the jaws of the trap pinching closed. The fact that she already wore a ring he had only an hour before placed upon her finger did nothing to alleviate the feeling.
He’d never believed he would marry again, had often insisted he’d never do so. He drew a deep breath. She was beautiful, well spoken, and a liar. This was going to be an interesting adjustment for both of them.
The coach pulled to a stop before the entrance to Willingham’s. Talbot rose as soon as the door opened and stepped down to assist Clarisse. Matthew unfastened the frog at his throat and released the cloak from around his shoulders. He turned and draped the garment around Katherine and caught her attention fastened on his face.
“Are you always so solicitous of women of your acquaintance, Captain?”
He smiled at the wary expression he read in her eyes and couldn’t resist deviling her a little. “Only the ones that I’m obliged to marry. Remember to call me Matthew now.”
Lowering her lashes to shield her expression, she nodded.
He stepped down from the coach and turned to offer her a hand. The cloak nearly dragged the floor, and she gathered the extra fabric with one hand while she took his hand with the other. The grace in which she accomplished the task drew his attention.
He found her a study in contradictions, one moment exuding self-confidence, the next biting her lip in uncertainty; one moment acting the debutante, the next a shy young thing with a blush on her cheeks. Her sage advice about not allowing the reception guests to make him part of their entertainment hinted at experience.