“Apparently so, Darius.” Alex chuckled wryly. “You read as an open book. But I am happy for you both and wish you all the best on your nuptials. You must bring yourselves to Orangewood soon, yes? When you desire for Town? I am sure Mrs. Rourke can find plenty of the London shops to her liking and she still must meet Gray. My brother sends his sincere regrets he could not come to celebrate the occasion of today.” Alex bowed deep. “Look for an invitation and I’ll not take no for an answer,” he reminded as he took his leave.
Marianne embraced Byrony next. Promises of summer gatherings were made and accepted. Byrony’s father, Lord Rothvale, offered his congratulations. “You are blessed, Rourke, and I wish both of you every happiness together. Now, when you can bear to leave your lovely bride for an hour or two, I want you to come and see me and we’ll talk some more about getting you elected to Parliament. I know Verlaine can vouch for you, being family and all. You’d have the ready support of many. The Commons needs good men like you to take up the cause—”
“Yes, my darling,” Lady Rothvale interrupted her husband with a smile and a gentle hand upon his arm. “I am sure Mr. Rourke has other things on his mind right now.” She turned to Marianne. “My dear, you are a most beautiful bride, and the both of you make a stunning couple. I knew you two were meant for each other on the day of the strawberry picnic. I said it wouldn’t be long before Marianne George got herself a new last name. Mr. Rourke had eyes only for you that day, and he still does. I daresay he made an excellent choice.”
“Thank you for coming today, my lady,” Marianne answered, her face a mask of mysterious beauty, revealing nothing of her true feelings, yet suggesting their presence simmering just below the surface.
It drove Darius mad with desire for her. He wanted to know the woman beneath the quiet, graceful exterior. He couldn’t wait to watch her face when she was lost to pleasure and coming undone in his arms as he made love to her, their skin melded together when he was buried inside her. How much longer?
“Thank you, my lady, I can only agree with you on the excellence of my choice,” Darius answered politely, forcing himself to tamp down the lovely image of Marianne in flagrante delicto with him. All he could envision was her face as she lay on the blanket the day he’d taken her riding—the wild look, the surprise, the fire in her as she rode out that first climax under his fingers. He could remember how soft she had felt and would give just about anything to be back there right now. God, he was going to die right here in front of all these people, mad with lust for his beautiful bride! How much longer? Again, he shook off the visions creeping into his mind to attend to the guests in his home. Upon their departure, the Rothvales exacted a promise to attend them soon for dinner.
On and on the well-wishing went. They both kept smiling and thanking the guests for their attendance. All Darius really wanted was to pull Marianne into the closest room with a locking door and commence with the wedding night, but he couldn’t do that of course. He had to maintain decorum and stand patiently by her luscious side, growing hungrier as the minutes ticked by.
Mr. George was the last to go. Mercifully he had maintained some sobriety for the occasion, but the haunted look in his eyes told Darius his new father-in-law would hit the bottle the second he was out the door.
With tears in his eyes, he faced his daughter. “You are the image of your mamma, lass. She would have been overjoyed this day.” He took both of Marianne’s hands, his whole body shaking. “Be happy, Marianne, with your husband. He’ll care for you well.” He looked to Darius and then back to Marianne. A wistful look came over him, and he seemed far away in his memories. “I just wish your mamma was here…and also your—” Mr. George cut himself off abruptly, attempting dignity for once, kissed her forehead, nodded to Darius, and made his escape.
The relief they both felt was palpable in the room. But Darius knew it was for very different reasons. Darius guessed Marianne felt relief knowing she had saved her father from ruin, and he was more than happy to give her that. Darius was relieved because his gamble had paid off—he’d gotten his prize. She belonged to him now. His dream was about to become reality.
DARIUS stopped them at the door after escorting her upstairs to the bedchamber. “I’ll come to you in an hour. Your new maid will help you get ready,” he said, his voice thick with suggestion.
Nodding in agreement, she couldn’t help lowering her eyes. Understanding him precisely, Marianne knew why he was coming back and what she needed to be ready for. He had rights to her now, and he would definitely apply them without hesitation. Rights to take her to bed, make her his wife in every way.
“Look at me, Marianne.” The command relieved her for some reason, and when she lifted her eyes she found Darius smiling down at her. “You’ve made me very happy. I just want you to know that. And you were such a gorgeous bride in your dress today. I am a fortunate man. You know, I’ll no longer be just ‘Mr. Rourke.’ I imagine from now on there’ll be an addendum whenever my name is mentioned. I’ll forever be known as, ‘Mr. Rourke, you know, that man with the beautiful wife.’”
“Oh, Darius,” she whispered up to him, “that’s a lovely compliment, but I don’t think so.”
He took both of her hands into his. “I absolutely know it is so. You are so lovely, and now you’re mine.” He leaned in to kiss her, a gentle brush of lips on lips, and then he swept them down to her palms, kissing first one, and then the other. “An hour, Marianne.” He said it darkly, his eyes flashing, hovering over her hands. A moment later he was gone, leaving her alone to prepare herself for him.
Her new maid, Martha, was efficient in getting Marianne ready for Darius. Martha carefully helped her out of the palest blue silk gown Marianne had chosen for her wedding dress. As Martha took the elegant gown to put it away, Marianne thought about Darius. My husband.
After Martha left the room, Marianne had time to contemplate what would happen when Darius returned to claim her. Their encounter outdoors on the blanket a few days ago was still fresh in her mind. He’d touched and kissed much of her already. He’d given her pleasures, glorious feelings she wanted again, but frightened her, too.
Darius was going to do more with her tonight. He had made that fact very clear. This was their bargain though. He’d married her, and saved her father. In return he would have her body however he wanted, whenever he wanted. And she would have to submit to his demands.
Yes, submit to him.
Marianne was learning there was great pleasure to be had in submission. In granting that power to another. In giving herself to the person who commanded mastery over her. It was so simple. Freeing. The act of submitting freed her from her sin.
She expected Darius to be demanding—it was his way—but he never made her feel like she was doing anything distasteful. He was a mysterious and complicated man. Darius didn’t just make her do things; he made her want to do them. And there was a very big difference in that.
Even so, Marianne’s anxiety increased steadily until she was nearly quivering on the bed, waiting for her new husband to come and make her a woman. It wasn’t fear of him really; it was more a fear of the unknown. The way he looked at her was overwhelming at times. So needful for a man. Powerful and needful—both, at the same time. It was the pow
er Darius wielded in compelling her, mixed with that raging need of his, which was so entrammeling.
Help me to get through this…
STEPPING into the bedroom, Darius thrilled at the sight of his bride. She sat on her knees near the side of the bed, her hair down the way he loved it. She waited for him.
She’s waiting for me to fuck her.
He could see that she trembled, and the sight pulled at his heart. As much as he desired her, Darius didn’t care for her to be frightened. He wanted her to need him, not be afraid of him.
She lifted her eyes when she heard him come in. Their gaze locked, and he could clearly see how unsettled she was. He wanted to rush over and gather her up. The urge to protect was strong, but as soon as he moved, Marianne bolted up from the bed, looking ready to run. He stopped and cocked an eyebrow. “Marianne?”
She answered him with nervous breaths. The thin silk of her nightdress rose and fell with the movement of her breasts as she breathed.
Godsblood, she was stunning! The need to get next to her, to know her, to take what was his, pounded at him. But he reminded himself he’d be careful. He had no intentions of ravaging her innocence. Darius knew she’d be soothed if he could touch her and get her into his arms. He started forward again.