“Hello,” she mouthed to him.
He might have answered if it wasn’t for how tongue-tied he was seeing her walking toward him.
Henry would soon be married, and with a son of his own.
Everyone had been wrong.
His heart wasn’t ice after all.
Tilly had acted the part of a bride many times, but never did she imagine she would become a bride in earnest. Women like her did not marry. Never mind an earl.
Yet, Henry was waiting, his dark eyes pinned to her as if the world depended upon her next breath.
They had fallen in love that night, swept up in some invisible force between them. Romantic, sure. But she knew the stories. She made her way through this world acting out matters of the heart. But this was all surreal, almost too good to be happening. And maybe a little too quick.
Her heart pounded against her chest as she walked down the short aisle of the chapel. A soft snow fell outside, the softest hush of Christmas magic washing over their wedding.
She stopped when she reached Henry, willing herself not to throw her hands around his neck and kiss him well and good. But that would be far too shocking, even for her.
And all the while, as the vicar discussed the sanctity of marriage, and they exchanged their vows, Tilly was stuck with only one thought: she hadn’t allowed fear to win. Roger had been a menace in her life, threatening to ruin her hard work and rip her family apart. Meeting Henry had been her greatest gift. He had dared her to love him when she had shut her heart away to protect herself and everything she loved. And he had done so not out of selfishness, but because he had faith that she was strong enough for such a challenge.
Once the brief ceremony was finished, they all quietly slipped back into Haddington, never mentioning to the other guests what had happened. Too much still threatened Tilly and her family, so it had been decided to keep the small affair a secret and then enjoy Christmas day with the rest of the guests. There were many details left to figure out between the pair, and by keeping their marriage a secret, they could avoid having a scandal tarnish either of their reputations.
In time, once everything was sorted, their marriage would be announced, and Mr. Greenwald would see to releasing any of the necessary details.
It was all well in good in theory, but beyond coy flirting, she wasn’t allowed to be with her new husband. Living as a secret might keep everyone safe until everything was resolved, but it hurt Tilly, and she couldn’t wait until the day she could publicly be Lady Devlin.
When evening descended upon Haddington and the port and merriment was flowing, the duke called his guests out onto the back veranda to watch the fireworks display.
Tilly, dressed in a wool cape, leaned against one of the massive stone columns of the house, fascinated as bursts of color lit up the sky. And in the middle of the commotion, Henry’s hand reached for hers and gave it a small squeeze.
They quickly slipped back into the house and retreated to her room. Tilly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, happy to finally be alone.
“I can’t stay long,” he said in between kisses. “But I needed to see you before I leave for London in the morning. A letter arrived, and I need to help my brother Rafe out of a bad situation.”
She cupped his face in her hands, sighing. “One day, I look forward to when I can spend as much time as I’d like with you, without fear of being discovered.”
“You will never lose me, sweetheart.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “As for time, I hazard we have a few hours at least before I have to sneak out for the evening. I plan on spending what I can of our wedding night together.”
“Wedding night…” she mused, turning the words over in her mouth. “We’re married, Henry.”
“Lady Devlin.” His voice rumbled over each syllable, and it was as if he had struck a match. Her body warmed, and she pressed closer to him.
She grabbed his vest and slipped her hand beneath to feel his chest under the linen of his shirt. “Lord Devlin.”
“I hate it when you call me that.”
“You once called me Lady Mischief. Perhaps you are Lord Mischief now.”
“I am not well-known for finding mischief.”
“Until me that is.” She playfully blew out her cheeks. “Husband, then?”
He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, turning to gently place her on the bed.
“Most definitely husband.” She giggled as he kissed the column of her throat. Henry’s teeth nipped at the corner of her jaw, and suddenly nothing was funny, and she had entirely too many clothes on.
Henry pulled away and rose, pacing around her room for a moment before he grabbed the pitcher of water on the nightstand and poured himself a drink. He held his hand out while taking a long gulp, then set down the glass.
“I don’t mean to alarm you, Tilly, but I don’t…” He raked his hands through his hair. “I have never… that is… I have never been with a woman.”
In the dim candlelight, she was certain a flush rose to his cheeks.
Tilly sat up, a slow smile spreading to her mouth as she slipped off the bed. “I understand.” She grabbed Henry’s hand and dropped a kiss into his palm before stepping back. Her heart hammered in her chest as she began undressing.
Henry froze, watching her slowly remove each layer until she stood before him naked, so vulnerable. “Look at you…,” he whispered.
Tilly smiled, nerves and excitement rushing through her. She was nervous as well. It had been some time, and the circumstances had been much different.
“Matilda, you’re beautiful.”
Tilly padded over to him, met his eyes, and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, I will take the lead. Isn’t that what you said the other day?”
“Yes, well…”
He reached down and tipped her chin upward, pressing his lips against hers in a slow, drugging kiss. Tilly craved to feel his body against hers. Desire curled deep in her belly for more.
