Magical Weddings by Leigh Michaels, Aileen Harkwood, Eve Devon, Raine English, Tamara Ferguson, Lynda Haviland, Jody A. Kessler, Jane Lark, Bess McBride, L. L. Muir, Jennifer Gilby Roberts, Jan Romes, Heather Thurmeier, Elsa Winckler, Sarah Wynde Page A
Authors: Leigh Michaels, Aileen Harkwood, Eve Devon, Raine English, Tamara Ferguson, Lynda Haviland, Jody A. Kessler, Jane Lark, Bess McBride, L. L. Muir, Jennifer Gilby Roberts, Jan Romes, Heather Thurmeier, Elsa Winckler, Sarah Wynde
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throat and his lips even warmer against…
Oh, my.
She tried to push him away, but she might as well have attempted to move one of the century-old oaks along Rockhill’s carriage drive. She turned her head, saw the absorbed crowd lined up on the path–the Carew sisters looked particularly out of sorts–and buried her face in Simon’s shoulder.
“We’ve only started, ma’am,” Simon said calmly. “You go ahead to the wedding, and we’ll catch up in a few minutes.” He turned his back to the onlookers, shielding Celia from view. He kissed her hair, found her ear and traced it with the tip of his tongue, ran his fingers across her nape. “It’s safe to come out now. They’re gone.”
She peeked first, before she raised her head.
“You’re right about the magic,” he said. “The party, the wedding, being away from home, being thrown together. I know I laughed at the idea of Lady Stone as some sort of fairy godmother—”
“You called her a witch,” Celia reminded.
“Did I? I shall have to apologize.” He kissed her again, long and thoroughly. “We really should go, or we’ll miss the wedding.” He took her hand and laid it on his arm, covering her fingers possessively with his own.
“You know what the worst of it’s going to be?” Celia said thoughtfully.
“I suppose that for the rest of my life you’ll be trying to tell me what I think, whether it’s how I like my breakfast eggs or how to raise our children.”
Children
… The thought of a couple of sons to inherit Simon’s bent for mischief, along with a little girl for the boys to tease, sent a tiny thrill through her. “That’s not what I meant, though of course you’ll torment me and I’ll be annoyed about it.”
“You get as bristly as a hairbrush. I find it captivating.”
She decided to ignore him. “The unbearable bit is going to be Uncle Rupert crowing about being right.”
“No doubt. Though as it happens, you can always throw up to him that you did exactly what you said you’d do. You’re coming home as the promised bride of a titled gentleman.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s right–I won my bet. Pay up, Simon.”
“You only managed to win by bending the rules.”
“Make it a wedding gift?” she said softly, and he stopped in the middle of the path to kiss her again. A long while later, he said unsteadily, “If you can put up with Uncle Rupert crowing about his triumph, so can I–because we belong together, Silly. Forever.”
And for perhaps the first time in her life, Celia found herself in complete agreement with him.
Epilogue
Stone House, London
To: Mr. Rupert Overton
I hope you’re satisfied with the outcome of my little house party, Rupert, though I must admit I am not. I became fond of Celia and I hoped she would catch my nephew’s eye and put the common sense you’re so proud of to good use in preserving his riches.
But of course it was not to be. You got your wish, and I did not get mine. Not that I fault Celia’s judgment, for young Lord Montrose –as I suppose you will forever resist calling him–would have been a catch even without a title. Or for that matter, even without your money.
I suppose you’ll think my comment is heresy, Rupert, but though I may be old, I’m far from blind. He is a handsome and virile young man –
But I have allowed myself to be distracted. The point, old friend, is that you are now obliged to me. I’ve done as you asked and shaken the scales from the eyes of your young relatives. Now it’s your turn. What are we going to do about that nephew of mine?
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Stone
About the Author
Leigh Michaels is the bestselling and award-winning author of more than 100 books, including historical romance and contemporary romance. Her non-fiction book,
On Writing Romance
, has been called the best guide available for romance writers, and she teaches romance writing online at Gotham Writers Workshop.
Six of her books
Oh, my.
She tried to push him away, but she might as well have attempted to move one of the century-old oaks along Rockhill’s carriage drive. She turned her head, saw the absorbed crowd lined up on the path–the Carew sisters looked particularly out of sorts–and buried her face in Simon’s shoulder.
“We’ve only started, ma’am,” Simon said calmly. “You go ahead to the wedding, and we’ll catch up in a few minutes.” He turned his back to the onlookers, shielding Celia from view. He kissed her hair, found her ear and traced it with the tip of his tongue, ran his fingers across her nape. “It’s safe to come out now. They’re gone.”
She peeked first, before she raised her head.
“You’re right about the magic,” he said. “The party, the wedding, being away from home, being thrown together. I know I laughed at the idea of Lady Stone as some sort of fairy godmother—”
“You called her a witch,” Celia reminded.
“Did I? I shall have to apologize.” He kissed her again, long and thoroughly. “We really should go, or we’ll miss the wedding.” He took her hand and laid it on his arm, covering her fingers possessively with his own.
“You know what the worst of it’s going to be?” Celia said thoughtfully.
“I suppose that for the rest of my life you’ll be trying to tell me what I think, whether it’s how I like my breakfast eggs or how to raise our children.”
Children
… The thought of a couple of sons to inherit Simon’s bent for mischief, along with a little girl for the boys to tease, sent a tiny thrill through her. “That’s not what I meant, though of course you’ll torment me and I’ll be annoyed about it.”
“You get as bristly as a hairbrush. I find it captivating.”
She decided to ignore him. “The unbearable bit is going to be Uncle Rupert crowing about being right.”
“No doubt. Though as it happens, you can always throw up to him that you did exactly what you said you’d do. You’re coming home as the promised bride of a titled gentleman.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s right–I won my bet. Pay up, Simon.”
“You only managed to win by bending the rules.”
“Make it a wedding gift?” she said softly, and he stopped in the middle of the path to kiss her again. A long while later, he said unsteadily, “If you can put up with Uncle Rupert crowing about his triumph, so can I–because we belong together, Silly. Forever.”
And for perhaps the first time in her life, Celia found herself in complete agreement with him.
Epilogue
Stone House, London
To: Mr. Rupert Overton
I hope you’re satisfied with the outcome of my little house party, Rupert, though I must admit I am not. I became fond of Celia and I hoped she would catch my nephew’s eye and put the common sense you’re so proud of to good use in preserving his riches.
But of course it was not to be. You got your wish, and I did not get mine. Not that I fault Celia’s judgment, for young Lord Montrose –as I suppose you will forever resist calling him–would have been a catch even without a title. Or for that matter, even without your money.
I suppose you’ll think my comment is heresy, Rupert, but though I may be old, I’m far from blind. He is a handsome and virile young man –
But I have allowed myself to be distracted. The point, old friend, is that you are now obliged to me. I’ve done as you asked and shaken the scales from the eyes of your young relatives. Now it’s your turn. What are we going to do about that nephew of mine?
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Stone
About the Author
Leigh Michaels is the bestselling and award-winning author of more than 100 books, including historical romance and contemporary romance. Her non-fiction book,
On Writing Romance
, has been called the best guide available for romance writers, and she teaches romance writing online at Gotham Writers Workshop.
Six of her books
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