Merely the Groom (Free Fellows League 2)

“I thank you for your gracious offer, and I’m quite certain I’m going to regret it in the morning, but I think, perhaps, I’ve taken enough for one day.”

Gillian frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Colin exhaled. How could he explain without insulting her? He had taken her dowry. Taken a wife. And taken a house. He didn’t want to take a lover who didn’t want him. Because he wanted her. There was no doubt about that. But there was a great deal of doubt on his part as to whether or not she wanted him. Not her husband. Not her bridegroom. Not Lord Grantham. Or the man she knew as Colin Fox. But him. Colin McElreath.

He had to know that she wanted him—and him alone—because once he made love to her, there could be no going back. Colin took a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he understood the frenetic society in which he lived. Arranged marriages to barely met strangers were hell. And arranged marriages formed the basis for society as he knew it. A society filled with shallow, cynical, empty people leading shallow, empty lives. Christ! Colin raked his fingers through his hair. When had he become so damned philosophical? What difference would it make if he and Gillian became empty and shallow people populating the ton? He could seduce her. His body ached for release. He could woo her with soft words and equally soft touches, but for what purpose? To get an heir? There were far too many unhappy, unwanted, and unloved heirs in London as it was. Better to wait. Better to protect himself. Better to get to know one another before the deed was done. Before he gave his heart to a woman who might not want it.

“I know it’s our wedding night, and I know the law entitles me to take what I want, but I would rather forgo the consummation of our vows until we’re better acquainted.” Colin said the right words as he met her gaze, but he hoped she would hear otherwise. “If you’ve no objections?”

Gillian couldn’t hide her surprise or her relief. “No, of course not.”

Disappointment hit him with the force of a blow, and Colin released the breath he’d been holding and did the finest bit of playacting he’d ever done. “There’s no rush.” He shrugged his shoulders in a studied show of nonchalance. “We’ve plenty of time. We’re married until death us do part.”

Gillian stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him. “You’re the most understanding man I’ve ever met.”

Her firm breasts pressed against his chest. Colin felt the twin points through the silk of her wedding dress, and his body responded. “I’m not that understanding,” Colin murmured, as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his.

Gillian sighed. His kiss was warm and wonderful and welcoming. She closed her eyes and allowed him to work magic with his mouth. She couldn’t form coherent thoughts. All she could do was feel. And kissing him made her feel more than she’d ever imagined.

It was impossible to keep her distance. Every instinct she possessed urged her closer, and Gillian obeyed her instincts. She took a step forward and found herself held firmly against his chest as Colin deepened his kiss, tightening his embrace around her waist in a fluid motion that sent her senses spiraling. His kiss was everything she’d ever beamed about, everything she’d ever hoped for in a kiss. It was soft and gentle and tender and sweet and enticing and hungry and hot and wet and deep and persuasive at once. It coaxed and demanded, asked and expected a like response, and Gillian obliged.

She parted her lips when he asked entrance into the warm recesses of her mouth and shivered with delight at the first tentative, exploratory thrust of his tongue against hers. She met his tongue with her own, returning each stroke, beginning a devastatingly thorough exploration of her own.

Colin bit back a groan of frustration. He promised himself he would wait. Promised himself he wouldn’t rush her. He was going to be a considerate lover and allow her to set the pace of their lovemaking—even if it killed him. With that thought in mind, he let his arms fall to his sides and abruptly broke contact with her lips. He drew in several ragged breaths as he leaned his forehead against the top of her head and struggled for control. Mon Dieu, but he loved kissing this woman!

“Colin?”

He was gratified to discover that Gillian’s breathing was nearly as labored as his own. “Yes?”

“Would you mind very much if we stayed here tonight?”

He groaned.

“I know we aren’t going to—” she broke off, searching for the words. “Share a bed...but... well, even so, we could have a nice dinner and conversation...” She looked up at him. “It won’t be much of a wedding night for either one of us if we spend it traveling to Bedfordshire in a coach.”

Colin refrained from pointing out the f

act that it wouldn’t be much of a wedding night either way. “The staff at Shepherdston Hall is expecting us tonight,” Colin reminded her. “And I would hate to disrupt their routine for no reason.”

“You’re right.” She looked at him. “It’s just that...”

“We don’t have to spend our whole fortnight at Shepherdston Hall,” Colin said. “We can spend a few days and return here, if you’d like. It shouldn’t matter whether we spend a fortnight at Shepherdston Hall or only three or four days, so long as we remain in seclusion.” He looked her in the eye. “But we need to go there—at least for a few days.”

He saw the disappointment in her eyes, and he understood that she was eager to begin making a home for herself at Herrin House. “I suppose so, but...”

Colin snorted. Blister it, but he should have realized how tenacious she could be! She was Baron Davies’s daughter. She had either inherited the trait or she’d learned it at her father’s knee. Either way, she wanted—no, demanded—an explanation. Well, hell, the least he could do was give her one, whether she liked it or not. “Gillian.” He said her name softly, clearly enunciating each syllable. “Servants talk.”

“And?” She didn’t understand the point he was trying to make.

“Tonight is our wedding night, and the fact that we’ve decided not to consummate our marriage vows might give rise to speculation we could both do without.”

“Shepherdston Hall has servants, too,” Gillian reminded him.

“Yes, it does.” Colin nodded. “But the staff at Shepherdston Hall is entirely trustworthy. We don’t know if the same can be said about this one. If we’re not going to do what newlyweds normally do, then we’re safer not doing it Shepherdston Hall.”

Gillian took one last, longing glance around the sitting room. “I didn’t think about that,” she admitted. “I only thought how nice it would be to spend the night under our own roof.”

Colin silently echoed her sentiment. He wasn’t looking forward to the journey any more than Gillian was, but everything he’d told her was true. The announcement of his marriage to Gillian Davies had appeared in all the morning papers and would also appear in the evening editions. Their wedding was public knowledge now. Since newlyweds were expected to take some sort of honeymoon and decline social invitations for at least a fortnight, honeymooning at Shepherdston Hall, far away from the prying eyes and gossip of London, was ideal. That was one of the reasons Jarrod had suggested it—that and the fact that Colin hadn’t had any place else to take her. If he and Gillian weren’t going to be doing what newlyweds normally did on their honeymoon, Colin thought they’d have a better chance of concealing it in the country.