Page 58 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
“No, because you love me, Bryony, you’re going to forgive me for acting like an ass. Then you’re going to let me make it up to you.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes, and she fought hard to maintain a strict expression, though her lips twitched with the urge to grin.
Raising a lone eyebrow, playful contemplation stole into her voice. “AmI in love with you?” Another step back. A wintry dance in the snow, the movements known only to them. “You sound sure of yourself, Captain. Arrogance isn’t an admirable trait in a man.”
Bryony tried to retreat again, but this time, Nathaniel wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close, her hands colliding with his solid chest.
“It’s not arrogance when it’s the truth.” He bent his head to her ear and whispered, the hot breath shooting a shiver of heat down to her very core, “You love me, or else you never would have allowed me the liberty of your favors—the spice of your kiss, the sweetness of your honey on my tongue. Some women may gallivant about Town giving their bodies without a thought toward love, but notyou. Not my sweet Bryony. You forget I know you too well.”
“Oi! Are you going to kiss her or not? We’re all tired of this game of pretend the two of you’ve played the past decade. Claim your betrothed and be done with it, man!” Carter’s jibe dampened some of her ardor, and she vowed to exact retribution on her brother for interrupting this momentous occasion.
Nathaniel laughed at his friend’s teasing, eyeing her in challenge. “Well, what will it be? A kiss to seal our engagement, or do I need to use more … wicked tactics to earn your consent?”
Bryony promised herself they’d circle back to those ‘wicked tactics’, but for now, she’d settle for a kiss. By now, her entire family had focused on them rather than playing in the snow. She caught her mother dabbing a handkerchief under her eyes and knew it was only a matter of time before the woman would drag them inside to discuss wedding plans.
“It’s fortunate we’re not alone. I was prepared to make you suffer longer.” The taunt was muffled as Nathaniel finally took her mouth with his, whooping and hollering igniting behind them.
He tasted the same as before—had he downed a nip of brandy to buoy his courage?—and Bryony reveled in the familiarity.
Soon, she would become familiar with more than just his mouth, his hands. She would have the privilege of exploring his sturdy form at leisure after they wed … or before, if she felt daring enough to sneak away with him once again.
But it was more than just his body that Bryony would learn. For as long as she’d known Nathaniel, a chasm of propriety separated them, one that forbade intimate conversations. Now, they were free to discuss whatever captured their fancy.
He could share about his time with the Royal Navy. Elaborate on the short articles she’d read in the papers. And she could finally feel safe enough to talk about the truth of her marriage. Share what wasn’t public knowledge.
“Congratulations! An engagement on Christmas. How romantic!” As predicted, Bryony’s mother converged upon them along with everyone else, a large group hug of sorts forming.
Good tidings echoed from her cousins, and a smile of relief loosened the last bit of tension in her body as Carter embraced Nathaniel, grinning like a fool. It was obvious how heartily he approved of a match between his dear sister and best friend.
Nathaniel had worried about nothing. Just as she’d told him. And she’d happily remind him again, when he was making up for his previous blunder.
She couldn’t wait.
EPILOGUE
MARCH 25, 1821, LONDON, ENGLAND
The papers loved the story of a widow falling for the acclaimed naval captain. News articles seemed to print every day, and Bryony found it amusing how much of her life was suddenly on display for the entire world to see. She was used to sticking to the shadows, not drawing attention to herself for fear of prying questions about her marriage to Oscar. But no one cared about her former husband in light of her new dashing one.
They were dubbed the Merry Match of the Season, a moniker Nathaniel liked to make fun of for its lack of originality, but she thought it quite fitting. They were merry, and they were a match. If unoriginal, the name still proved true.
“Reading another gossip column about us, love?” Her husband brushed a kiss over her forehead before settling on the chaise next to her, his strong arm wrapping around her shoulders.
They’d decided to reside in his London home after their hasty wedding, allowing Oscar’s heir—a distant cousin—to take over her previous residence. There was no love lost leaving that house behind, for it had never truly felt like her home. Breaking the last tie to that part of her life had been a relief because she didn’t want any vestiges of her previous marriage darkening her fresh start with Nathaniel.
“I want to save every piece written, so our children will know what a wonderful love story we had.” Besides, if the paper still found them newsworthy after all these months, the least she could do was save each mention.
“The wonderful love story wehave. And they’ll know it’s wonderful because they’ll witness it every day of their lives.” He gently removed the newspaper from her hands and set it on the mahogany table before them. Expertly, Nathaniel drew her legs over his and positioned her body close to his chest. “Why don’t we start practicing, hmm?”
“Practicing what, exactly?”
Warm breath bathed her neck in heat before his lips brushed her heart, which beat delicately. “Showcasing our love story with an exhibition of our … feelings. This will be a private viewing, of course.”
“Naturally,” she agreed, enamored by the idea.
Nathaniel had changed after their wedding, not in a terrible way like Oscar, but in a sense that he became more himself. He gave his laughter more freely, and a youthful exuberance emanated from him whenever they made love, which was shockingly often. Like now, as his lips trailed over her skin, his fingers dipping beneath her bodice.
He liked to say she surprised him by agreeing to accompany him to Mrs. Hanover’s that fateful night, but she wondered if they both hadn’t been waiting their entire lives for the moment they could truly be themselves. Waiting for their one true love. To feel safe in evolving into better people—together.
Perhaps she’d ask him later during one of their intimate post-coital discussions, but in the meantime, Bryony would enjoy her husband’s kisses. And express her keen gratitude to the Lord for granting her one prayer—to love and be loved by Captain Nathaniel Davies, to call himhers.
