Pride and Fire by Jomarie Degioia Page B

“I trust Paul. Very much.”
    “Michelle, has Lord Leed ever…?” Her mother was suddenly agitated. “That is to say…”
    “No! We have never been… intimate.”
    Her mother’s brow smoothed and she fanned her face. She proceeded to inform Michelle of what to expect. Michelle’s mouth fell open in shock. Paul was a large man. She remembered the hard bulge in his breeches that first night in his carriage. Why, he’d rip her in half!
    “But, how can that be, Mother?” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks. “I cannot imagine such a thing.”
    Her mother simply smiled. “All will be well, dear.”
    “I hope so.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Later that morning, Paul changed into his formal attire. He tried repeatedly to tie his cravat, but the task proved impossible for him. He went downstairs and implored Starks to finish the task.
    “But, My Lord,” the man started. “Your valet—”
    “My valet,” Paul cut in, “is busy moving my furniture about to make room for my wife’s arrival, Starks. Just tie the bloody thing!”
    Starks deftly tied the neck cloth. He stepped back and nodded his approval over his master’s appearance. He glanced down at Paul’s boots, clicking his tongue. “I can take your boots and give them another shine, My Lord.”
    “My boots are fine,” Paul snapped. “I’m sorry, Starks. I believe I’m nervous this morning.”
    “It’s to be expected,” Starks said. “This is your wedding day, My Lord.”
    Paul started to laugh at the man’s jest but checked himself. The butler stood ramrod stiff, ever the proper servant. “Yes, well.” Paul nodded, hiding his grin. “That will be all.”
    “Very good, My Lord.” The man bowed, taking his leave.
    After going to the kitchens to make sure everything was ready for the late supper he’d planned, he set out for the Thomas townhouse.
    He waited in the parlor. The guests would arrive shortly after the ceremony, Lady Helen had advised him, and the reception would take place in the main salon. His father and sisters stood nearby, the twins nearly bursting with excitement. His nervousness increasing tenfold, he began to pace about the room as Lord and Lady Kanewood looked on.
    “Leed, do calm down,” Geoffrey teased. “It’s only your wedding day.”
    Paul turned to glare at his friend.
    Geoffrey opened his mouth again, but Becca’s hand on his arm stilled him. He cleared his throat. “I wonder when Michelle will be ready for my escort?”
    Paul shrugged and looked at the minister. Reverend Grey would perform the ceremony, much to Lady Helen’s obvious delight. She’d informed Paul of how pleased she was that he could officiate on such short notice. The elderly man smiled a sweet smile of patience, agitating Paul all the more. Of course he’s calm and patient. He wasn’t the one getting married.
    At long last a servant came into the parlor and asked for Geoffrey. Geoffrey grinned and slapped Paul on the back as he strode by and Paul managed a small smile.
    Just when Paul thought he’d perish if the damn ceremony didn’t get underway, Geoffrey appeared in the doorway with Michelle on his arm. She took Paul’s breath away. Her gown of ivory, shimmery-smooth and draped in lace, made her look like a goddess. Her glorious hair was pinned up on her head in a shining mass of curls, tendrils allowed to escape to frame her face and trail down to bare shoulders he longed to kiss. She wore pearls, which picked up the glow of her skin. Lord, she was magnificent.
    Geoffrey led her over to where Paul stood and placed their hands together. She trembled as she looked up at him and Paul felt it, that spark between their joined hands, and took it as a positive sign. If he’d harbored any doubts, he did no longer. He gave her a wink, and turned her to face the reverend.
    The ceremony was over as quickly as it began, or so it seemed, thank God. Paul sucked in a breath, relieved that at last Michelle was his. He swept her into his arms and