More than Passion Page 6

  “Rebecca,” Mary answered, “perhaps if we mend it, we ….”

  Becca shook her head, silencing the girl. “I’ll have to wed Geoffrey in one of my muslin dresses. Perhaps we can find some lace and ribbons to adorn it?”

  * * * *

  Fields, Geoffrey’s driver, returned from London two days later with the items Geoffrey had requested. That morning, Geoffrey himself had obtained a special license, so all was set in his mind. All but one thing. He went in search of his betrothed.

  He found her down at the stables, handing the reins of her filly to the groom.

  She turned to find Geoffrey standing behind her. “Geoffrey!”

  “Becca!” he mimicked, hugging her tight.

  He eased his hold and she quirked a smile at him. “What are you about?”

  “I have a surprise for you, love. At the inn.”

  She studied him for a moment. With a shrug of her shoulders, she acquiesced. He grabbed her hand and all but dragged her from the stables and toward the inn, her hair flying out behind her. Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, he led her upstairs and opened her door, pushing her ahead of him. She spun to face him, her hands on her hips.

  “Geoffrey,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Just where is this surprise?”

  He led her over to a large wooden wardrobe. With a flourish, he pulled open one of the doors. Becca gasped, precisely the response he was hoping for. There, inside the wardrobe, were six new dresses. Below them sat shoes to match each one. He’d told Fields what colors to choose and the man did quite well. The dresses were in jewel tones: violet, emerald, bronze, gold, blue and rose, and well-suited to Becca’s fair skin and dark hair.

  She looked at Geoffrey, a question in her green eyes.

  “They are yours, Becca,” he said. “All yours.”

  “How did you …?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have my ways.”

  She stared at him, her brow furrowed. He finally took pity on her.

  “I had a bit of help,” he explained. “Emmy appropriated one of your dresses and a pair of your shoes. My driver took them to London and found these for you. I hope they are to your liking.”

  “Oh, yes!” She came into his arms. “I love them. Thank you!”

  He set her from him and gestured toward the chair near the window. On it sat a large box.

  “And in that box you will find petticoats and undergarments. I daresay my driver must have been in quite a state having to pick them out.”

  “This is too much.”

  “Not for my bride.” He turned her again to the wardrobe. “There’s more, love.”

  “More?”

  He nodded and pulled the other door wide open. There, filling the remaining space in the wardrobe, hung a creamy-white gown, trimmed with pearls, beads, and tiny satin bows. Matching slippers sat beneath it.

  She let out a happy squeal. He barely had time to open his arms before she was hugging him again. “It’s so beautiful!”

  “It’s your wedding gown, love,” he informed her. “I hope it will serve.”

  She bowed her head. “You’ve noticed how ill-suited my dresses are, then.”

  “I did.” He trailed his finger over the tight bodice of her day dress. “I daresay they don’t render you any less fetching.” He stroked her nipple through the muslin and she drew in a breath.

  “What are you up to now?” She sighed at his sensual touch.

  He walked to the door and shut it tight.

  “You shouldn’t be in my room with the door closed. It isn’t proper.” She couldn’t help smiling at the roguish look on his face.

  He pushed off the door, removed his coat, and tossed it on the chair near the window. “Ah, Becca. When I’m with you, being ‘proper’ is the last thing on my mind.”

  He stopped in front of her, bringing his hands up to caress her shoulders. She stared up at him, her eyes dark, and he brushed her lips with his.

  He pulled back and regarded her closely. “No,” he went on. “I don’t want to be ‘proper’ at all.”

  “Really?” She breathed.

  He began unbuttoning his shirt. “Really …. And, Becca?”

  “Yes?”

  “Neither do you.”

  She went to him and proceeded to prove him right.

  Chapter 8

  “Rebecca,” Mary said breathlessly. “You look like a princess.”

  Becca regarded herself in the mirror. The dress Geoffrey gave her was the prettiest thing she’d ever beheld and in it she truly felt like a bride. Geoffrey’s bride. Her nerves, in a tangle since waking this morning, settled as she took a deep breath.

  “I hardly recognize myself,” she agreed.

  A knock sounded at her door.

  “Yes?” Becca called.

  “Girl,” Thomas boomed, “are you ready?”

  “Yes, Father.” She crossed to the door and pulled it open.

  Thomas stood there, his mouth agape. “Rebecca,” he said, using her name for the first time in years. “You look beautiful. Just like your mother.”

  Becca didn’t know what to say to that. Moved by his words and the strange yet tender expression on his face, she stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Thomas cleared his throat and took a halting step back. “Well, let’s get going. Kane isn’t going to wait forever.”

  He crooked his arm, Becca placed her hand on his elbow, and he led her to the top of the stairs. They descended slowly, coming to a stop at the entrance to the elegant little parlor.

  Geoffrey was standing there, so dashing in his black formal wear and white cravat. Her father led her to Geoffrey’s side and put her hand in his. He left her to stand beside Peter Jenkins. He and Emmy were the only guests present for the ceremony, but well-wishers would come afterward to join them for the celebration to be held in the inn’s dining room.

  Geoffrey bent his head to Becca’s. “You look incredible, love,” he whispered.

  She drank him in with her eyes. “You look so handsome,” she answered softly.

  He flashed her a dazzling smile and turned her to face the minister. Reverend Grey began the ceremony. When he recited Geoffrey’s full title during the exchange of vows, Becca went still. It couldn’t be! The minister had to repeat the words to elicit a response from her.

  “Rebecca Kingsley, do you take Lord Geoffrey Michael Kane, the Earl of Kanewood, Viscount Darlington ….”

  Geoffrey was an earl? She stared at him, taking in his ordinary clothes and open countenance. No. There was nothing ordinary about Geoffrey. He was clever, and handsome, and he made her laugh. He made her dream.

  “Becca?” Geoffrey asked, his voice soft yet holding a note of worry.

  She looked at him and saw that certainty once again. She nodded and whispered her vows. The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Geoffrey accepted her, promised to honor and cherish her, and turned to her expectantly. She blinked up at him, confused. He smiled then and bent his head to hers. He kissed her tenderly, sealing their union. Peter and Emmy clapped enthusiastically.

  Thomas stood perfectly still, shock clear on his flushed face. “An earl?”

  A short while later, Geoffrey and Becca stood together, greeting the wedding guests. Word of Geoffrey’s title spread quickly.

  “Congratulations, Lord Kanewood,” those gathered said. “Lady Kanewood.”

  Becca blinked as people she’d known her entire life used her new title. Geoffrey was an earl? He never should have married her. She’d do something to embarrass him and make him regret their hasty marriage. Her heart twisted at that thought.

  Geoffrey leaned toward her. “Whatever is the matter, Becca?”

  “Nothing, Geoff … my lord … I’m sorry, I don’t know what to call you.”

  He smiled down at her. “Geoffrey, love. Just call me Geoffrey.”

  She relaxed then, seeing once more the Geoffrey she’d known before learning of his title.
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  Her lips curved in a small smile. “Geoffrey.” She breathed.

  The feast the cook had spent the last two days preparing was served in the dining room. Becca and Geoffrey, however, planned to take their wedding supper in the privacy of his room. With expressions of gratitude to the wedding guests, they ascended the stairs.

  A small table had been set up in the room. It was beautifully set, with the candle glow reflecting off the fine china. Geoffrey pulled Becca’s chair out for her and she sat. He took the chair opposite her and reached for her hand. She felt his fingers grasp hers and kept her eyes downcast.

  “What is it?”

  She looked at him then, her eyes stinging. “You never should have married me. You’re an earl and I’m—”

  “You’re the woman I wanted to marry. That hasn’t changed.” He stared at her for a long moment. “Don’t you believe me?”

  She looked deeply into his eyes again and saw his sincerity. He’d been so sure, even as she’d wavered. From the beginning, he’d been set on making her his wife. She would borrow a bit of his confidence and believe him. Believe in herself. She smiled then, and nodded. His eyes bright, he brought her hand to his lips. They set about their wedding supper, pausing every now and then to touch or kiss.

  With their meal only half-finished, Geoffrey stood. He pulled Becca up from her seat, a wicked smile on his face, and Becca’s heart raced. He wrapped her in his arms, bending his head to capture her lips. She opened up for him, welcoming his probing tongue. He groaned softly, running his fingers through her hair. Pins scattered everywhere, her thick locks loose and free.

  He pulled back, running his gaze over her face. “My God, Becca,” he said in a low voice. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re mine.”

  Her breath caught at the possessive gleam in his blue eyes. He kissed her again, running his hands over her back. She reached up, twining her fingers in the thick waves at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t manage to unfasten the hooks of her gown. He gave a playful growl, nibbling on her ear.

  “Let us ready for bed, wife,” he said, his breath hot on her skin.

  She nodded, leaving the circle of his arms to step behind the privacy screen. There she found a beautiful nightgown of lawn with delicate flowers embroidered around the scooped neck. She managed to unhook the back of her gown and carefully set it aside. The unfamiliar stays were a bit of a challenge, but she persevered. She slipped the filmy nightgown over her head, smoothing it down. Her breath caught as her fingers brushed over her breasts. She could hardly wait for Geoffrey to touch her. She ran the brush quickly through her hair and stepped out from behind the screen.

  Geoffrey had already undressed. He sat waiting for her in the bed, the sheets down around his waist. He crooked a finger at her. “Come here, wife.”

  She climbed into the bed and into his outstretched arms. He kissed her deeply, caressing her through the thin fabric. She rubbed against him, a soft moan escaping her lips. She pulled away from him to kneel on the bed. He looked at her, confused. She smiled and pulled her nightgown up over her head. Geoffrey swore softly and rose to his knees, embracing her.

  He ran his lips over her face, her throat. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing across her nipples. She leaned back, reveling in the sensation. He lowered her to the bed, his mouth taking over for his hands. She arched as he teethed a taut nipple, moaning his name. He trailed hot kisses down the front of her, pausing to flick his tongue in her navel. She breathed in sharply.

  She opened her legs to him. His fingers caressed her, making her wet. His head went lower, kissing the very center of her.

  “Geoffrey!” She gasped, shocked. “You can’t!”

  He paused, dropping a kiss on her belly. “I can.”

  His mouth claimed her again. Passion blazed through her and she fell back, wanting more. His tongue drove her mad. Her climax startled her and she shuddered, crying his name. He came up to kiss her and before she stopped trembling, he entered her. He thrust into her deeply, again and again, until she tightened around him. She clung to him and found her second release. With one final thrust, he climaxed.

  He stayed inside her, cupping her face in his hands as he waited for his breathing to slow. “Did you like that, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh, yes.”

  He smiled and rolled off her, bringing her with him to lay against his side. “There are so many ways to make love, Becca.”

  “I know.”

  He froze. “How do you know?” he asked sharply, a fierce frown on his face.

  She picked up her head to look at him. “You told me.”

  “I did? When?”

  “The night I helped you into bed,” she said. “The night before Mary found me in your room.”

  He smiled. “And did I show you that night?”

  “No,” she said, laughing. “You fell asleep.”

  He placed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “I’m never drinking ale again.”

  He removed his hand from his face and flashed a dazzling smile at her. His eyes sparkled merrily.

  She gazed at him, her heart fluttering. “I love you.”

  His smile left his face. “What did you say?”

  Becca hadn’t planned on saying it, but it was true. There was no taking it back. “I love you.”

  He sat up, startling her. He held her at arm’s length and studied her face. She couldn’t begin to guess what he was looking for, but the look in his eyes was intense.

  “Do you mean it, Becca?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. He didn’t say the words back to her but when he began to make love to her again, she knew her declaration had been important to him.

  * * * *

  Geoffrey was the first to awaken and set about readying for their departure. After dressing, he called to Becca before he left the chamber. “Do you think Mary would like to be your lady’s maid? It would be nice for you to have someone familiar at Kanewood.”

  Becca peeped around the screen. “That would be wonderful! I could use her help with these stays, at the very least.”

  “Consider it done, then. I’ll speak to Mary and your father.”

  The maid was eager to follow her friend, now her mistress, to Kanewood and went to pack her things and help Becca as Geoffrey sought out Thomas in his office.

  The older man stood as he entered the room. “My dear Lord Kanewood!” he said in a booming voice. “Good morning, my lord.”

  Geoffrey arched an eyebrow. “Good morning, Kingsley.” He lowered himself into the chair facing the man’s desk. “I wanted to inform you that Mary will be joining us at Kanewood in a few days. She’s to be Rebecca’s lady’s maid.”

  Thomas nodded vigorously and took his own chair. “Fine, fine. Anything for my daughter.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s well worth it, wouldn’t you say?”

  Geoffrey leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “What are you getting at?”

  Thomas stood again and folded his hands across his wide middle, a smug look on his face. “As you know, Dr. Simon was prepared to pay to wed Rebecca.”

  “Yes,” Geoffrey answered in a low voice.

  “It seems to me your being an earl and all, that you would be able to pay a bit more.”

  Geoffrey stood. “You won’t sell your daughter to me, Kingsley. I married Rebecca because I wished to. The very same reason she married me.”

  Thomas gave an ugly laugh. “She married you because you took her to your bed.”

  Geoffrey’s hands were fisted at his sides. “Don’t speak of my wife in that manner.”

  Thomas went on. “Because of you the girl was ruined, along with my plans for her. I think I should be compensated.”

  “I can’t believe your gall and lack of regard for your daughter. I won’t dignify your suggestion with a reply. Rebecca is worth more than any man could ever pay. It’s a shame you will never see that.”

  He turned to leav
e when Thomas’s voice stopped him cold.

  “You’d better keep her close, Kane. Otherwise, the girl might turn out like her mother.”

  Geoffrey turned slowly to face him. “I don’t understand.”

  Thomas curled his lip. “Her mother was nothing more than a common trollop.”

  “What?”

  “I cared for Rebecca as best I could. Did my best to keep the men from sniffing around her skirts, too. You’re welcome to the trouble now. Take her. Take her and mark my words!”

  Geoffrey smashed his fist in Thomas’s face, sending the man sprawling. Without another word, he turned and left.

  How could a man place so little value on his own daughter? Just like her mother, the man had said. Would Becca prove to be unfaithful? He’d never give her the chance to stray as Patricia had.

  And if any man dared to touch her, he’d kill him.

  He’d calmed by the time he reached Becca’s old room. The servants carried her few trunks down to Geoffrey’s waiting carriage, leaving them alone in her room.

  He held her close, brushing his lips against her hair. “Ah, Becca.”

  “What is it?”

  He shook his head, pulled back, and took her hand. “Let’s be on our way, love.”

  As they reached the drive in front of the inn, they found Thomas standing there rubbing his jaw.

  “Father, what happened to your face?” Becca asked, her eyes round.

  Thomas fixed a dark scowl at Geoffrey and turned to Becca. “It’s nothing, girl. Just slipped. I trust I’ll see you sometime?”

  He directed that particular question to Geoffrey, who nodded curtly. “We’ll stop at the inn on our way to London in a few weeks’ time.” He assisted Becca into his carriage and turned to Thomas before boarding. “Never mention what transpired in your office, Kingsley.”

  He boarded and signaled for the driver, closing the door on Becca’s father and her past at the Raven’s Inn.

  Chapter 9

  Although the interior of the carriage was spacious, Geoffrey sat close to Becca, his long legs stretched toward the opposite seat. He looked so noble in his fine clothes. His elevated status struck her square in the face.