Page 29 of The Duke's Second Bride
Hearing those words come from her lips stirred up something within Christian that he could hardly bear to admit to himself.
In her simple white dress—nothing overly ornate, for a wedding that was a second wedding for them both—she was still a vision. Perhaps more a vision than usual, like an angel from heaven.
She held a small bouquet of white lilies in those delicate hands. Her dress was modest, but every place where her creamy skin rose from the ivory silk was tormenting to look at. Her eyes were alight with her usual determination when she had walked down the aisle to meet him. That set him ablaze as well, both with desire and with the understanding that she was meeting this wedding as a business arrangement and that she would likely be as much of a stubborn thorn in his side as a wife as she had been when they had first met.
This idea was confirmed when she refused to look away from him for most of the priest’s words. He had held her gaze, if only to let her know that he intended not to be one of those beaten-down husbands who acquiesced to their wife’s every whim.
Her eyes were hazel, almost hypnotizing in their warmth of color, like a still lake under cloudless skies. Her cheeks were like fresh churned cream, with a light smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles across the bridge of her nose.
He had never noticed that before. He had never been close enough to.
Her lips were the perfect pink of freshly picked berries, and slightly parted as she gazed up at him. What he wouldn’t give to kiss her.
He supposed he could now. They would be husband and wife, after all. And yet—he could not expect that of her. He had been so revolted by her suggestion that he was anything like her lecherous brother-in-law, after all.
No, Christian had no need of the company of a woman—no matter how Vincent might tease him. He could tell, from Vincent’s look of mischief as he walked Ava up the aisle, that there was plenty of teasing from Vincent to come.
He had been honest when he told Ava that all he really needed—all he wanted—was someone to take care of Luke. In that regard, they were a perfect match.
One glance at Luke was enough to confirm it. He looked at his stepmother-to-be with such warmth and joy in his eyes.
This is the only reason we’re marrying, he reminded himself.
This arrangement with Ava was just that—an arrangement. A matter of convenience. A matter of chivalry, to protect her from the horrible Lord Dunfair, and to keep her off the streets. Christian was only doing what any decent gentleman would do.
The priest reached the end of his speech a second time.
“I do,” Christian responded.
The priest nodded serenely. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he said, and a small, polite round of applause went up from their assembled witnesses.
To his relief—and perhaps a small amount of disappointment—the priest did not direct him to kiss the bride, as one might in other circumstances. It was for the best.
No matter how temptingly pink her lips were. No matter the way the wedding dress skimmed her curves in a way that tantalized and teased, while still remaining modest.
No matter the heat that rose throughout Christian when he remembered that, as husband and wife, the conventional thing to do would be to share a bed.
All at once, their small cohort of guests rushed to congratulate the couple.
Vincent and Sophia, his wife, reached them first. Sophia grabbed Ava’s hands, more warmly than Ava had expected.
“Congratulations, Your Grace,” the other woman said, leaning in to press a kiss to Ava’s cheek, as well.
“Thank you, Lady Sedwin,” Ava said, almost taken aback by how immediately Sophia was welcoming her into the fold.
She had gathered that Sophia and Vincent were among Christian’s closest friends—perhaps his only friends, from the look of things.
Vincent stepped forward as well. “I can’t believe it,” he said, looking just as jovial as when Ava had met him moments before he had walked her down the aisle. “Christian Adler, an honest man. I never thought I’d live to see the day a second time.”
Christian rolled his eyes at his friend’s good-natured teasing.
“Congratulations, Your Grace,” Vincent said to Ava, giving her a nod. “Christian could not have found a better bride.”
Edith came forth, hands clasped beneath her chin, a brightness in her expression as she smiled widely.
“Ava, darling, I am so happy for you,” she said. Then she crossed her arms, turning to Christian. “And you’d better treat my friend as though she were the best bride imaginable, because she is, or else I shall see to it you regret the day you were born.” She gave a little curtsy at the end of this. “Your Grace,” she added cheekily.
Though the words and tone were stern, it was clear from the sparkle in her eye that she was joking—at least in part.
