Chapter Thirty-Two

H elen did not have to escape through the kitchens to go to her wedding after all. All five of her siblings were in her dressing room, waiting for her lady's maid to put the final touches on her appearance. Like most of her debut dresses, it was white muslin, but there was a cluster of large red flowers and creamy white leaf motifs embroidered on to the sleeves and skirt. The flowers trailed down the front of the gown in a scalloped hemline, giving it a tunic-like look. The low neckline had little red embroidered circles. She wore her mother's ruby necklace around her throat. Looking in the mirror, she thought for the first time that she might indeed have been a fairy queen.

‘Have you made him sign a premarital contract?' Matthew asked from behind her. ‘I could whip one up for you in less than an hour with enough clauses for you to keep your fortune and most of his.'

Mantheria pushed his arm. ‘Stop it, Matthew. Weddings are more than written contracts.'

Helen's smile faltered. Her sister Mantheria's marriage was little more than a piece of paper now.

Mantheria swooped down, touching Helen's shoulders, and kissed her cheek. ‘You look beautiful, my sweet snake.'

‘You actually look a little green,' Wick said, with a teasing grin. ‘Shall I go ask Nancy if you can borrow her bowl? She's been carrying it around everywhere. I dare say she'll bring it to the church.'

Frederica and Becca both elbowed him in the stomach. Her eldest brother was lucky that Nancy wasn't there for his teasing. She was deadly with a dagger.

Wick held up his hands. ‘What did I say?' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of antique pearl earrings. ‘Louisa picked them. The jeweller claimed that they were at least two hundred years old and charged me extra. I thought you'd like that.'

Helen laughed. ‘I do! They are beautiful.'

Becca and Frederica carefully took the pearls and put them in Helen's ears. She was so glad that all of her siblings were there. In her dressing room. Riding in the carriages. Coming to her wedding.

Helen would take her family in her heart everywhere she went.

His mother had insisted that he wear her family tartan to the wedding—a kilt that showed his wooden leg. Mark understood how much it meant to his mother and the representation of their heritage. He agreed to it because he knew that Helen loved every part of him and it wouldn't have occurred to her to be ashamed of his missing leg. He'd finally realised that wholeness had little to do with limbs and everything to do with accepting yourself. For who you were. Who you are now. And the person you're becoming.

Pelford stood beside him as his best man. He was not wearing a kilt and he would never take the place of James or Mark's dead Highlander friends, but he was a part of his new life and new friendships. Leaning on his wooden leg, he saw that his side of the chapel was nearly full.

It was a small church, but Lord and Lady Glencannon were there with Watty. Aunt Fiona and Niamh sat in the back, wearing black. His mother had been alone in the first pew, until Georgy sat beside her and took her hand. Mama smiled. The rest of the Duke and Duchess of Richmond's large family filled in the other pews.

He watched the Stringhams come into the church. Unlike his family, they had brought their children. The Duchess of Pelford came in holding Arthur, who was sucking on his old cane. Lord and Lady Cheswick were trailed by three boys, each shorter than the next. Lord and Lady Trentham each held the hand of a pretty, curly-haired toddler. Mr and Mrs Stubbs followed them. The Duchess of Glastonbury and Lady Becca entered last and took their place at the front of the church.

Then Helen walked into the chapel. She was wearing a white gown, like she had the first time he'd seen her. A long veil covered her face and trailed down her back. Her parents were on each side of her. Helen linked arms with both of them. The Duke and Duchess of Hampford escorted her down the aisle. It was unique to have a father and a mother give away the bride, but it was all very Helen.

When she reached him, he lifted her veil and his breath caught. Helen was indescribably beautiful and she was going to be his wife. As they joined hands, Mark knew that everything he had experienced, every triumph, every sorrow, had led him here. To her.

He took her hands and their souls were intertwined. Mark barely comprehended the words that the reverend spoke, Helen filled all his senses. He loved her in every possible way. Agape. Philia. Storge. Eros.

Mark didn't recall breathing until she answered, ‘I will', confirming that she would be his for the rest of his life. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, punctuated by a burning kiss from his bride that set his skin on fire. She held on to his arm as they left St George's, her little nephews and niece tossing flower petals at them. His carriage had been decorated with flowers and ribbons. And they had tied old pots and pans to the back of it. The Stringham siblings must have got to it after he'd arrived at the church. Everyone who passed them would know that they had been recently married.

He gave Helen a hand up into the carriage and she tossed her bridal bouquet into her little sister Becca's hands. Mark clambered in after her and closed the door. They waved to their families as their carriage drove away. Once around the corner, Helen leaned her head out of the window and told their driver to take them immediately to Grillon's Hotel. Then she tugged down the shades to cover the windows, making the inside of the carriage dark, but enough light peeked in through the cracks that he could see her glorious smile.

‘What about our wedding breakfast?' he asked.

Helen placed both of her hands on his shoulder and straddled his lap as agilely as a cat. ‘They will have to eat without us. I am not at all hungry.'

Taking off his hat and tossing it on the seat beside him, she licked his earlobe and then nibbled on the end of it, her twitching fingers stroking his hair and setting his body on fire like tinder. ‘I want to lick every inch of you.'

He found himself quite amenable to this idea. Mark moved his hands to her waist, holding her body close to him, revelling in her small, but entirely feminine curves. ‘After you lick me, are you going to eat me like a female spider?'

Helen kissed his neck and then sucked on it. ‘Of course.' She kissed his chin and made a trail to his lips, kissing him deeply. ‘I dare say we won't be able to leave the bed for days. Possibly weeks. That's why we have to go to a hotel.'

If he wasn't already on fire, her words would have set him aflame. But he remembered that she was a virgin and for all her scientific knowledge and obvious enthusiasm, this would be her first time.

Mark rubbed his hands up and down her sides, making her moan sweetly. ‘I promise to be gentle with you.'

Helen cupped his face with her hands, her mouth a hair's breadth from his. ‘I am afraid that I can make no such similar guarantees.'

Then she ravished his lips.