Living London

chapter Nineteen



Weeks passed, and the banns were read, solidifying everything. By the day of my wedding, Arynna's vicious rumor had made Morgan and me the most sought-after couple in the ton. Invitations to our wedding had become more coveted than vouchers to Almack's. I sighed contentedly, twisting to see the long Grecian train that flowed from my empire waist. How I'd made it to my wedding day with virtue in tact was a mystery. Morgan had more than made up for his mistakes in kisses and sweet whispers that often made me blush.

"Jocelyn?" Amelia called as she knocked softly on the door.

"Come in!" I called to the new Lady Heath. Marriage had been good for her, even if it had only been a week so far. She and Lord Heath had chosen to remain in London for my own wedding before they left for Italy. I was thankful to have her there. Her presence settled my nerves, since she'd gone through the very same ceremony only shortly before.

"You look beautiful!" She gasped, clapping her hands as she walked around me. "I cannot wait to see Morgan's face when he sees you!"

"I'm so nervous… all those people staring at me," I confided, just wanting the whole ceremony over and done with so that I would officially belong to Morgan.

"Oh, the anticipation is far worse than the actual walk down the aisle." She spoke comfortingly. "As soon as you see your husband-to-be, everyone else will fade away."

"I love the way that sounds." Here I was, only a few minutes from heading to the church and walking down the aisle. It felt like a lifetime ago that I'd walked through the halls of the nursing home, checking on Nanna and saying goodbye to my last family tie. Now, here I was surrounded by friends, belonging to a new family and about to create my own. The thought overwhelmed me. Looking up, I sent up a prayer and asked God to thank Nanna for me. She'd known what she'd been talking about, though how, only God knew.

"It's time," Amelia said with a joyful expression.

"It truly is," I whispered, walking toward my future.

****

The wedding was grand, and Amelia's words proved true. As soon as I caught sight of my husband I was unaware of anyone else in the room. His eyes sparkled with fire and disbelief as I walked toward him. I had no one to escort me, so we broke tradition and he met me halfway, causing a stir within the crowd. I didn't mind. I'd been through far worse and survived.

Upon reaching me, he took my hand ever so gently and kissed it, never once breaking eye contact. "How I utterly adore you, Jocelyn," he whispered, only loud enough for me to hear.

"I'm quite fond of you too." I tried to tease, but the dark look he gave me left me incapable of carrying it out.

"Brilliant," he remarked, a rakish grin taking over his features as he quickly leaned down to kiss me soundly on the lips.

"Now," he crooned, "you're ruined." He smiled, turned, and escorted me down the aisle with titters and whispers overcoming the music. But all I could do was smile.

The wedding went flawlessly, besides the improper display of affection. It had scandalized the dowagers, but thankfully it was forgiven because they said it was owed after what had transpired in the not-so-distant past. Amelia couldn't wipe the grin off her face when she told me. She didn't stay for the wedding breakfast, and based on the hungry glances her new husband gave her, I figured I knew why.

Arynna was one of the only people not present. I had learned through Amelia that she had retired to the country early, creating gossip over why such a promising debutante would flee the London scene. Why indeed?

Morgan excused himself for a moment, and I walked about the room, nodding to each guest. The whisper of my gown as I walked added to the fairy-tale emotional charge to the atmosphere. The music hummed in the background and was accented by the many conversations taking place at the same time. I glanced about for Morgan but didn't see him. A strange urgency pounded through my body, and my heart sped up its tempo as I scanned the crowd. The sea of humanity parted enough for me to have a glimpse of Morgan's black suit and profile but Lord Dannberry stepped in front of me to offer congratulations.

"Splendid! Splendid indeed! Many blessings to you both!"

"Thank you, Lord Dannberry." I nodded and glanced behind him in an effort to see Morgan, but he was gone. As Lord Dannberry raised his hand to catch another gentleman's attention I began to turn to continue my search. A warm hand covered my eyes and a familiar and alluring voice tickled my ear.

"Surprise, Jocelyn. Were you looking for me, love?"

A warm smile tilted my lips, and I turned only to have my husband pull me into a waltz as the music began a crescendo.

"Yes, indeed I was looking for you."

Morgan grinned, and I gasped. My dream! Astounding wonder filled my mind as I realized that this was the dream I had experienced just before I was drawn back into Regency London.

"Are you distressed, Jocelyn? Are you well?" Morgan's expression was concerned as he scrutinized my expression. I nodded then swallowed, blinking back tears of wonder and joy.

"Yes, I'm absolutely wonderful."

After our waltz Morgan offered me a glass of champagne, which I sipped delicately.

"How long must we stay?" I asked Morgan discreetly as I lifted my glass.

"Every minute is torture, I assure you. I do not want to be here any longer than absolutely necessary," he whispered back, giving my body a rakish glance.

"Will they forgive us if we leave now?" I asked with a suggestive grin.

"Do you care if they don't?" His gaze smoldered.

"No," I answered.

"Good. Neither do I."

And with that, we snuck out of our own party and startled Morgan's footman as we raced up to the carriage.

Once inside, my laughter at the startled expression and feminine squeal of the footman died on my lips. The expression on Morgan's face silenced me.

"Jocelyn."

I closed my eyes, savoring my name on his lips. "Mmm," I sighed. When I opened my eyes again his intense stare held me captive.

"Jocelyn Ansley," he whispered.

The tension crackled between us as he reached across the carriage and trailed a soft caress down my arm before lacing his fingers within my own. Not a moment later, he came across the carriage and sat beside me, pulling me close into his frame.

"Say it again, please."

"Jocelyn Ansley. My wife." He spoke the words as if they tasted like honey.

"Morgan Ansley." I spoke, tilting my head to whisper the next words just a breath from his lips. "My husband."

With an ardent growl, he kissed me — nipping, pulling, and devouring. "I swear you are the sweetest torture, but the blasted minutes till we reach our home are going to drive me mad," he whispered hoarsely, pausing only a moment before continuing his passionate attentions.

Gasping, I leaned closer and ran my fingers up his chest, unbuttoning his vest. The thin fabric of his shirt prevented me from caressing his bare skin. A frustrated sound strangled from his throat as my fingers teased his skin, so close yet far away.

"Can't the horses go any faster?" he cursed just before we stopped. "Not a moment too soon." He grinned at me wolfishly and bounded from the carriage, sweeping me with him. He carried me through the house, startling his butler.

When we reached the stairs I thought he'd put me down, but I was wrong. He bounded up the steps, and I buried my face in his neck, kissing the flesh just below his jaw line. His rumbled response made my belly churn.

He raced down the hall and into his room, where he set me down and turned to shut the door with a loud bang. "Now." His gaze was dark and meaningful as his eyes trailed over my body. Although I was fully clothed, I felt naked. He walked slowly, seductively toward me, loosening his cravat with a flourish. He continued, shaking off his coat and already unbuttoned vest. Not once did his eyes waver from my own as his masculine hands began to unbutton his white shirt. It floated to the floor behind him as he continued towards me with a purposeful stride. The muscles I had only felt through his clothes were perfectly chiseled across his body. As he came nearer the scent of honey and cloves assaulted my senses and stirred my blood. When he took the final step that brought him close enough to touch, he leaned down and placed a possessive kiss to the curve of my neck.

"You are truly and finally mine." He whispered the words against my skin, and my body flesh prickled with awareness. Slowly he kissed the tender flesh below my ear as he made his way to my jaw. His lips met mine for a long, stilling moment before he pulled back and waited for me to look at him. "Forever, Jocelyn. Forever."

With the efficiency of a lady's maid, Morgan undressed me, each article of clothing was removed with intent purpose, heightening my already fiery senses. As if reading my thoughts, he murmured against the soft skin of my bare shoulder. "It's only fair that you experience the sweet temptation you've made me endure ever since I carried you in from your fall in the park."

His whisper gave me goosebumps, and I couldn't think of a smart reply, only a hungry look directed at my all-too-patient husband. "Are you finished?" I whispered.

"With?" He kissed down the skin of my chest, lower and lower till I gasped, unable to remember my words. "What were you saying love?" he teased. My thoughts were scattered; all I knew and could think of was him and the delightful sensations he created with each nip, kiss and caress.

"I, um…" I stuttered, lost in the delectable sensations welling inside of me.

"Something about torture, I believe?" he offered, clearly enjoying the effect his caressing fingers and wicked hands were having on me.

"Yes, but I've quite forgotten," I replied, breathing heavily.

He picked me up and laid me across our bed. He rained moist kisses down my bared stomach and removed the last of my underclothes. Warm fingers traced up my leg and spread across my hips pressing into my flesh and cradling me closer. With abrupt motion he stood removed the last items of his clothing. When he returned to our bed, all that caressed my body was his skin.

"I believe you were going to ask if I was finished with my torture, love." He spoke against my lips before kissing them fiercely.

"Oh?" I responded, barely remembering what he had said.

"And your answer is no. I'm not nearly finished. This sublime agony is only the beginning."

And I discovered the sweet abandon of unconditional love.