Merely the Groom (Free Fellows League 2)

“But I’m the man who is supposed to make this one blush,” Colin interrupted, coming to stand beside the bride in question.

“Then we shall leave you to it,” Griff said, glancing around the room, gauging the number of people present. “While Alyssa and I say hello to our parents and seek a less congested corner of the room.”

“We’ll be back shortly,” Alyssa promised. “But we’ve monopolized the bride long enough. There are loads of people you need to speak to, and well...”

“My mother-in-law is beckoning.” Griff lifted Gillian’s hand once again and brushed her knuckles with his lips.

Alyssa sighed. “She’s my mother and I love her dearly, but she still insists on showing Griffin off as if he were her own personal trophy.”

“At least she likes you,” Colin teased.

Griff laughed. “Now that I’ve become a duke, Lady Tressingham thinks I walk on water. Amazing what an elevation in title can do. I remember when she despised the sight of me.” He shrugged. “A word to the wise: You don’t just marry a person, you know, you marry the family as well.”

“Don’t scare her off,” Colin warned. “For I’m about to introduce Gillian to mine.”

“Just smile,” Alyssa told her. “And you’ll do fine. Lady McElreath is very nice, and Lord McElreath is…” She thought for a moment. “Engrossed in cards, but at least he offers useful advice. All my parents ever talk about is—”

“Breeding,” Griff replied.

“Pedigrees,” Alyssa countered. “Those listed in Debrett’s and those listed in the annals of horses and hounds. And I don’t know which is more boring.”

“Come along,” Griff urged, “before we become equally boring.” He reached for Alyssa’s hand. “Many happy returns, Lady Grantham,” Griff said to Gillian before he pulled Alyssa into his arms and kissed her soundly.

“Thank you, Griff,” Gillian answered, smiling as a blushing Alyssa tucked her hand in the crook of Griff’s arm and steered him toward a waving Lady Tressingham. Gillian sighed.

“They’ve been married two years,” Colin explained, “but they still act like newlyweds.”

“I don’t mind,” Gillian said. “I think it’s very nice. And very encouraging.”

Colin gave his bride a warm smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Gillian leaned against him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and Colin automatically placed his hand at the small of her back to steady her.

“Tired?” Colin asked.

“A little,” she admitted. “Everything has happened so fast, and it’s all been a bit of an ordeal.” Realizing what she’d said, Gillian looked up at Colin to see if she’d accidentally insulted him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean marrying you has been an ordeal,” she added hastily. “Just that everything leading up to it has been.”

“No need to apologize,” Colin told her. “I understand. Yesterday I was a sworn bachelor, and today I’m a married man.” He turned to Gillian. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s just that I don’t know quite what to expect next.”

He wasn’t complaining. He was being completely honest with himself and with her. When he’d come to this house to meet with her father yesterday afternoon, Colin hadn’t expected his way of life to change. Oh, he admitted there were times when he longed for a real home, a wife and children—perhaps a spaniel or a wolfhound to sleep beside the hearth—but deep down, he had known that that sort of life was impossible for a man in his position, for a poor viscount who relied on the largesse of his friends and colleagues and who excelled in the secret art of war.

Colin took a deep breath. The scent of Gillian’s perfume filled his nostrils—a warm and compelling scent of lemons and orange blossoms and musk—that drew him. Much like Gillian seemed to do. Gillian. His wife.

Colin smiled. He hadn’t thought about marriage in relation to himself since Lord Kelverton had put Esme out of reach. If he longed for someone to love, someone to come home to, and someone to call his own, Colin never acted upon those longings. He had simply put them aside and refused to question why. He had the Free Fellows League and his work, and that was enough. Until fate—in the form of an unknown impostor—had placed Gillian Davies in his path.

The impostor had assumed Colin’s secret identity and pretended to marry Gillian, but Colin had done him one better. He had married her, and the knowledge gave Colin a particularly warm feeling inside. It filled the place in his soul that had been empty for so very long... For the first time in years, Colin believed he might have a future beyond the war with Bonaparte, that he might have a reason to stay alive.

“I wish I could promise that this will all be over soon.” He nodded toward the crush of people still waiting to speak to the bride and groom. “But I don’t know how long it will last. Or what comes next. My friend, Shepherdston, has offered us his country house for a honeymoon, if that’s agreeable to you. As for the rest of it...” He shrugged. “I don’t own a home in which to take you or a threshold over which to carry you.”

Gillian studied Colin’s face—the way his blond brows framed his mesmerizing green eyes, his perfect nose, his mouth and the pout of his bottom lip. Gillian stared at his mouth. Colin McElreath was her husband now. Less than an hour ago, he had stood beside her and solemnly promised to love, honor, and cherish her. Then he kissed her so tenderly she thought her heart might break.

She smiled shyly at the memory of his kiss. What would it be like to have him love, honor, and cherish her with his body? Gillian blushed at her thoughts. A fortnight ago, she’d hoped she was done with that part of married life. She had hoped she would never have to endure the pain and the mess and the embarrassment that came with the marriage bed again. And now she was contemplating a honeymoon with a man who, although legally her husband, was little more than a stranger. Gillian wondered suddenly how she could think of sharing Colin McElreath’s bed on the basis of their brief acquaintance and one sweet kiss.

But she was. And the idea was as appealin

g as it was alarming. “Perhaps it would be best if we concentrated on taking one step at the time,” she suggested. “And not look too far ahead.”

He had hoped for more, but Colin recognized the wisdom of taking things slowly. Colin stared down at his bride. Her face was so guileless and her thoughts so apparent. A few short weeks ago, Gillian Davies had fallen in love. She’d had romantic dreams of love and marriage and had risked everything by eloping and sharing a honeymoon with another man. She had no way of knowing that the man with whom she eloped was a charlatan or that he’d married at least two other women in as many months. Now she was facing the reality of marriage to him. And the possibility of sharing a marriage bed with a near stranger. It didn’t matter that her marriage to him was legal. Colin was a stranger, and he knew that being married to him would take a little getting used to, especially since she gave every indication of being in love with someone else. Colin sighed. He wasn’t a normally patient man, but he would try.