Merely the Groom by Rebecca Hagan Lee
“From the looks of it, I would say sleep is a foregone conclusion,” Colin told her. “But if you insist on fighting it, then you keep watch while I slip into the arms of Morpheus.”
Gillian came alert, and her eyes sparkled at the suggestion. “What a novel idea! I’ve never kept watch while someone else slept. Only after—” She broke off in midsentence and covered a yawn with her hand.
“Only after?” he prompted.
“I think I’m sleepy after all.” She evaded Colin’s question. “Would you mind terribly if I closed my eyes for a bit?”
“Not at all,” Colin said. “One of us should try to get some sleep. Go on, close your eyes.”
She did as he suggested, and within minutes Gillian was sound asleep.
* * *
The coach rolled through the gates of Shepherdston Hall at half past three in the morning.
Colin shifted from his uncomfortable position against the window, then rotated his right shoulder to relieve the tingling pins-and-needles sensation. He turned a bit in the seat and saw that Gillian had opened her eyes. He smiled at her.
The tender look in his green eyes unnerved her. “What is it?” she asked.
Colin reached up and gently rubbed at the pink-and-white indentations on Gillian’s cheek. “You have wrinkle marks from my coat on your face.”
She frowned. “Your coat?”
“You used my shoulder as a pillow.”
“Did I sleep long?”
“A little over three hours,” he answered.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I only meant to close my eyes for a moment.”
“That’s all right. You were tired. You needed to sleep.”
Gillian stared at her husband. Events of the previous day—her wedding day—came rushing back. “What about you?” The sight of him made her wince. He sat with his shoulders hunched forward, his large body practically folded to fit into the space between the window and the opposite seat. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
“An hour or so, here and there.”
His green eyes were bloodshot and full day’s growth of blond beard seemed to sparkle on his chin, but he looked roguishly handsome. She hadn’t thought it possible for Colin McElreath to look more handsome than he had this morning at the wedding, but he did. Dishevelment suited him.
Gillian suddenly realized that she was entitled to see him this way every morning. She smiled at the intimate thought, and a blush brought more color to her cheeks.
The tiny smile playing about the corners of her mouth intrigued him. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no,” she murmured, “it’s just that...” Gillian lowered her gaze to her lap and quickly began to smooth out the creases in her skirt.
“What?”
“You look so...so...” Gillian couldn’t begin to put her feelings into words.
Colin rubbed his hand over his chin, gauging the growth of his whiskers. “Tired?” he suggested. “Rough?”
Gillian shook her head. Appealing was the word that came to mind. And attractive. And manly. But she couldn’t say those things to him. “Different,” she finally answered.
“Yes,” Colin said, smiling, “I guess the newness has already worn off the marriage. We haven’t been married twenty-four hours, and you’re already seeing me at my worst.”
“If this is your worst,” she told him, “then you’ve nothing about which to worry.”
“I beg to differ,” Colin replied.
“Oh?”
“We’ve arrived at our destination, my lady. We have a honeymoon to get through.”
Gillian didn’t have time to reply. The coach jerked to a stop in front of the steps leading up the entrance door to Shepherdston Hall. Although it was quite late—or early, depending upon your point of view—a butler and two footmen stood with lanterns waiting to greet them.
“Welcome back, Lord Grantham,” Pomfrey, the butler, greeted Colin as he descended from the coach. “We’ve put you and Lady Grantham in the Ivory Suite of the east wing at Lord Shepherdston’s request. I took the liberty of removing your clothes from your usual suite into the gentleman’s half of the Ivory Suite.”
The Ivory Suite in the east wing was directly across the hall from the suite of rooms Colin normally occupied while in residence at Shepherdston Hall. It provided easy access to Colin’s customary bedchamber and to the study connected to it, insuring him the privacy he would need to catch up with his work, yet keeping him close to his bride.
“Thank you, Pomfrey,” Colin answered as he turned to help Gillian out of the coach. “Gillian, may I present Pomfrey, the butler here at Shepherdston Hall. Pomfrey, Lady Grantham.”
Pomfrey bowed low over Gillian’s hand and motioned for the footmen to fetch the luggage. “Welcome, Lady Grantham.”
“Thank you.”
The butler turned to the footmen. “Take the luggage to the Ivory Suite.”
“Yes, sir.” Two burly footmen began hauling Gillian’s trunks off the coach and up the steps.
“Will you be wanting a bath or a bite to eat before you retire, Lady Grantham?” Pomfrey asked.
“No, thank you.” She smiled at the butler. “Just a bed.”
Colin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at the expression on Pomfrey’s face.
“Very good, ma’am. Follow me.” The butler started up the steps.
“Wait!” Colin scooped his bride up in his arms and took the steps two at a time. “Allow me.”
* * *
Gillian barely had time to notice her surroundings or admire the beauty of the Ivory Suite as Colin whisked her up the stairs and into the suite.
“Here we are, my lady,” Colin said as he set her on her feet beside a huge half-tester bed hung with ivory damask curtains.
The bed was turned down in preparation for her, and the small traveling case that contained her nightgown and her personal items had already been deposited in the room. A vase of fresh roses sat on the bedside table. A bottle of very fine vintage French wine rested on a silver tray beside the roses.
“It’s lovely,” Gillian told him as Colin walked over and closed the outer door to the bedchamber.
“There’s a dressing room through there,” Colin pointed. “And my bedchamber is beyond. I’ll be there if you need anything.”
“I won’t need anything until morning.” She looked a little lost standing beside the bed in the massive room. “Thank you, Colin.”
“You’re welcome, Gillian.”
“Well...” He cleared his throat. “I’ll say good night then.” He turned and walked toward the door that connected the bedchamber to the dressing room.
“Good night.”
Colin walked through the connecting door and closed it behind him.
Minutes later, Gillian opened it and walked through the dressing room to the bedroom beyond.
Colin looked up from the writing desk as she walked in.
Gillian stood frozen in the pool of light from the writing lamp on the desk. He had removed his coat and cravat; his waistcoat and his white lawn shirt hung open, exposing a solid wedge of muscle covered by a thick mat of blond hair and the darker circle of one male nipple as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Gillian didn’t realize a man so big could move so gracefully—or that looking at his naked chest could make her shiver and flush with fever at the same time.
“Gillian? Is something wrong?”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as Colin moved around the desk and walked toward her in his stocking feet.
Colin’s heart slammed against the wall of his chest as that unconscious gesture created an insistent throbbing against the front of his suddenly too-tight trousers. He noticed for the first time that she was clutching a filmy white length of fabric to her breasts.
“I...” Gillian felt heat course through her body. Her mouth was dry again, and her breathing was rather labored.
“Is there something you want
Gillian sucked in a ragged breath. “My dress,” she explained. “I can’t reach the buttons.”
Colin stared at the bodice of her wedding dress, swallowed hard, and gritted his teeth against the swelling in his trousers. “I don’t see any buttons.”
“Down the back.” Gillian turned around and presented him with her back and the row of buttons that ran from her neckline to just above the small of her back. “I hate to bother you…”
Bother him? She was killing him. He ached to kiss her again. And to touch her. Colin wanted to feel her firm breasts in his hands and taste the texture of her smooth skin against his mouth and tongue. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her again and caress her and give her the wedding night both of them deserved to have. He had the urge to touch her—to lift her chin and look her in the eyes and repeat all the promises he’d repeated at their wedding to her and to her family. But this time, he wanted her to know he truly meant them.
“...but I forgot about the buttons,” Gillian continued in the breathy voice that made him want to take her in his arms and shield her from all the hurt in the world. “My lady’s maid always helps me with the dresses that button down the back. I chose to wear this one because it matched my betrothal ring.” She paused long enough to look down at the ring in question. “But I forgot about the buttons and that Lavery wouldn’t be accompanying us on our honeymoon.” She knew she was babbling, but Gillian couldn’t seem to stop the rush of words. She glanced over her shoulder at Colin and held up the nearly transparent length of fabric. “Do you mind unfastening my dress so I can get ready for bed?”
Her request pleased him more than Colin liked to admit. “I’ve never acted as lady’s maid before,” he admitted, fumbling with the first in a long line of tiny pink buttons. “All the women with whom I’ve shared a pillow have always—” He broke off, abruptly remembering with whom he was sharing intimate details of former encounters.
“I hope you don’t mind too much,” she said. “Because you’re the only one here I feel comfortable enough to ask.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Colin answered, unfastening another tiny button.
“What did the other women do?” Gillian asked without warning.
“Pardon?” Colin unbuttoned another button and stared with longing at the vulnerable spot on the nape of her neck visible through the baby-fine curls covering it. He had the urge to press a kiss there and wondered what she would do if he did.
“You said that all the other women with whom you had shared a pillow had always done something,” she refreshed his memory. “But you didn’t say what.”
“I caught myself in time,” he told her. “Before I forgot my gentlemanly manners and divulged intimate secrets from past rendezvous to my bride.” He had unfastened about half the buttons on her dress before he realized her silk wedding dress was boned with whalebone and lined with another slightly heavier weight of pink silk so Gillian didn’t need to wear a corset or chemise. He was staring at bare flesh. Colin’s heart began to beat a rapid tempo as he stood admiring the indention of her spine, the bend of her tiny waist, and the vulnerable spot on the nape of her neck. Leaning forward ever so slightly, he brushed his lips against her hair. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”
“Oh.” Gillian sounded disappointed, then covered it. “Of course they don’t,” she said. “Ladies appreciate that quality in a gentleman.”
Colin unbuttoned another two buttons. “Do they?”
“Without question,” she answered. “Unless, like me, they’re burning with insatiable curiosity.”
“You’re curious?”
“Insatiably,” she admitted.
“I thought you were sleepy,” he said.
“I was,” she replied. “Until you presented me with that mystery. Now I won’t be able to sleep until I have an answer.”
That seemed fair enough to Colin, since he doubted he’d be able to sleep knowing she was in the next room lying in bed and wearing that thin silk nightgown.
He unfastened the last of the tiny buttons, freeing her from her wedding dress. The curve of her nicely rounded buttocks was visible through the open back of her dress, and Colin’s mouth went dry at the sight of a pair of very brief, very thin silk drawers and a pair of white stockings. He took a deep breath to steady himself before he made the biggest gamble of his life.
“All done.” He ran his index finger down the indention of her spine to signal that the buttons were open.
Shivering with reaction at his soft touch, Gillian turned to face him.
Her wedding dress slipped from her shoulders, and Gillian clasped the nightgown to her chest in order to hold the dress in place.
Colin grinned. “There’s no reason for you to lose any sleep over my past peccadilloes. I’m willing to satisfy a bit of that insatiable curiosity if you promise never to reveal what I’ve told you.”
“Really?”
“Cross my heart.” He crossed his heart.
“So do I,” Gillian attempted to follow suit and nearly lost her hold on the bodice of her dress in the process.
“My information isn’t free, my lady,” he warned. “It will cost you.”
“How much?” she asked, willing to meet his demands. “A good night kiss.”
“Just one?”
He shook his head. “No, my lady. A kiss good night for every night we’re together for the rest of our married life and—” he drawled.
“And?”
“And a kiss good morning for every morning we’re together for the rest of our married life.” He dangled the offer like bait before a fish. “And I choose the time and place.”
Gillian thought it over. “That’s all?”
“If it isn’t enough, I could charge you for my services as lady’s maid.”
“That hardly seems fair,” she countered, “since I already pay a lady’s maid.”
“In London,” he reminded her. “Not here.”
She looked up at him. “I’m not sure the information is worth that much.”
“I am.”
“Prove it,” she challenged.
“First you must promise to abide by the terms of the agreement.”
“I promise.” This time she didn’t attempt to cross her heart.
“Then it’s a bargain.” Colin placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around so that she was headed back toward her bedchamber. He bent at the knees and pressed his lips against that vulnerable spot on the nape of her neck. “Good night, Gillian.”
He reached for the doorknob, intending to close the connecting door, but she stopped him.
“Please, leave it open.” She turned to face him.
“The light from my lamp may keep you awake,” he warned.
“I don’t mind the light,” she told him. “At least I’ll know you’re there. At least I’ll know I’m not alone.”
“You’re not alone, Gillian, I’m here.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“What is love? ’Tis not hereafter;
Present mirth has present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty;
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.”
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
Twelfth Night
“Move over.”
When Gillian opened her eyes and found herself staring at the underside of the ivory damask covering the frame of the half-tester bed. She gave a little squeak of protest and sat up as Colin walked over to the bed and flipped back the covers. “What are you doing?” she demanded, squirming against the feather mattress, fighting to tug her nightgown back down over her hips and legs.
“I’m climbing into bed with my wife,” he replied.
Gillian stared up at him. His blond hair was damp, and his face was freshly shaven. A thick white towel was draped over one bare shoulder, and a pair of well-fitted
“To correct my mistake,” he answered.
“What mistake?” Gillian ignored his request.
“The one I made when I rang for hot water for a bath and a shave and told Pomfrey I was hungry.” He looked down at Gillian still struggling to tug her nearly transparent nightgown down over her legs and smiled. The nightgown revealed as much as it concealed, but Gillian hadn’t yet noticed. She had unpinned her hair after she’d left him last night, and now it lay across her pillow in a riot of dark curls. He ached to tangle his fingers in it. “We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon, and it might seem a bit suspicious if they had to serve the honeymooners breakfast in bed in two different rooms. It would tend to spoil the romance. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that we would look more like a happily married couple—a honeymoon couple—if we were sleeping in the same bed.”
Colin knew his explanation was rather thin. He knew that Jarrod’s staff would respect his privacy no matter what. But Colin wanted them to look like a happily married couple, even though they had decided not to consummate the marriage. He had promised not to rush her. And he would keep his word.
After Gillian had retired for the night, Colin had spent what remained of it in the chair beside her bed, watching over her while she slept. Sometime before dawn, he’d realized that he liked keeping watch over her. He liked being her Sir Galahad. If he couldn’t take her in his arms and make love to her, he wanted the chance to hold her while she slept. He could live with a chaste marriage as long as he could sleep beside her and protect her and keep her warm just as he had that one night at the Blue Bottle Inn.
Colin glanced at the clock on the mantel. “They brought the hot water for shaving and my bath about fifteen or twenty minutes ago. They should be knocking on the door with breakfast any minute now. Now, close your eyes. This has to look good.”