One Golden Ring. Cheryl BolenЧитать онлайн книгу.
had hoped for such intimacy that day on the moors, but even if Edward had made love to her, the affection would have been only on one side: hers.
And now she would be intimate with a man who was a stranger, a man who had no more affection for her than she had for him. They would have the intimacy without the affection because his affections would be lavished on the beautiful actress.
So Fiona sulked.
As she lay there in her bed, the vision of Nicholas Birmingham, tall and lean and dark—and seductive—pushed every other thought from her mind, sent searing heat thundering through her, arrested the thin breath struggling through her lungs.
This time tomorrow night she would be lying with him, no longer a virgin.
Liquid heat pooled between her thighs.
Chapter 5
He had not expected to be so moved by his own wedding. When he saw Fiona solemnly strolling down the nave of the chapel in her pale pink gown, her eyes never leaving his, something inside him melted, filling him with an overwhelming tenderness for the slender woman who was going to pledge her life to his. She looked so forlorn it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and assure her he would never let anything thwart her happiness.
Instead, he enclosed her trembling hand within his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She did not let go as she turned to face the curate.
That fop Trevor Simpson stood up with her, Nick’s brothers with him. Before the ceremony started, Nick turned around and winked at his plainly dressed daughter who sat with her governess on the third row. They were the only attendees.
Were he pressed to do so, Nick could not have recalled a single word uttered by the cleric. All his thoughts were on Fiona and the onslaught of powerful emotions she summoned in him. Most powerful of all was his need to take care of her for the rest of their days.
He fleetingly thought of how well pleased his father would have been today to see his firstborn marry into one of England’s oldest aristocratic families. Two obsessions had guided the brilliant and ever-demanding man who had been Nick’s father: making a vast fortune and grooming his son to tread where he himself had been forbidden. The relationship between father and son had been curiously cold. Though Jonathan Birmingham directed all his energies on Nick, Nick was merely an instrument Jonathan used to fulfill his own dreams. The father’s fanatic demands alienated the son; the son’s cultivated gentility later alienated the father. In the end Jonathan had been strangely in awe of the son he had created.
But never mind that today. Nick looked down at Fiona and swelled with pride. He had never seen a woman exude such grace or such delicate beauty. Everything about her was dainty, from her small stature to her slenderness to her exceedingly fair coloring.
He realized at once the ring he had brought was much too big for her slender fingers. Lacking the time to commission a special ring for the occasion, he had decided upon the simple gold band that had belonged to his favorite grandmother. When the time came, he slipped the ring on Fiona’s finger and murmured, “This was worn by my father’s mother.”
Her eyes sparkled when she looked up at him and said, “I’m very touched.”
He had been right. The band was too big. But no piece of jewelry had ever been lovelier. Of course he would replace it later with something more grand, something more befitting a lady of Fiona’s stature.
After the ceremony he feted the guests to a meal at Claridge’s, where he and Fiona sat together at the head of the small table that was squarely beneath a glittering chandelier.
“Your resemblance to my husband is remarkable,” Fiona told Adam. “Are you sure you aren’t twins?”
My husband. It had taken Nick a few seconds to realize she was speaking of him. Then a satisfying warmth spread over him.
“Nick’s eleven months older,” Adam answered.
“And would you look at the little one—though he’s really not so little!” Trevor said, his glance whisking over William. “Pray, where did you get that luscious golden hair?”
William looked uncomfortable when he responded. “My mother’s possessed of blond hair. At least it used to be blond before it turned gray.”
“Then I take it your father was dark—like your older brothers,” Trevor asked.
“Yes, my brothers resemble our late father,” William said stiffly as he scooped prawns onto his plate.
Fiona turned to Nick. “Your mother’s still alive?”
He nodded. “She hates The City, therefore she spends all her time in Kent.”
“You have an estate there?” she asked.
“My mother and sister live at Great Acres, the estate my father built. I had the opportunity to purchase a neighboring estate for my own.”
“What’s it called?” Fiona asked.
“Camden Hall.”
“I’ve been there!” she exclaimed, a smile brightening her face. “Was it not one of Lord Hartley’s country properties?”
“It was.”
“It’s quite lovely there.”
“I’m glad you like it. We shall honeymoon there.”
Her brows lowered. “We’re going today?”
Why in the deuce did she look so puzzled? “We are.”
“But I thought The Fox never played when there was money to be made.”
Of course she alluded to the fact the stock exchange would reopen the day after Christmas. What other truths had she learned about him? He leaned toward her, settled an arm around her, and spoke in a husky voice. “That was before I was a married man.”
A hint of a smile tweaked at her rose petal mouth. “I’m most relieved to learn you’re not all business all the time.”
“Don’t be too relieved,” Adam said. “Nick’s incapable of turning his back on his business.”
Nick wondered if Fiona’s comments meant she actually wished to spend time with him. Had she not married him solely to secure the money to free her brother? “I must assure you,” Nick said to his wife, “only half the things you hear about me are true.”
“Do I believe the good half or the bad half ?” she asked with a little half laugh.
“Oh, only the good.”
A moment later, she asked, “How old is your sister?”
“Nineteen.”
“Is she out yet?”
Did this wife of his not realize that the daughter of Jonathan Birmingham couldn’t just come out like women of Fiona’s class? Besides, like him, Verity straddled two worlds and wasn’t fit for either of them. He shrugged. “No, she hasn’t.”
He looked into Fiona’s pale blue eyes and saw a flicker of dawning alight them. “I would be delighted to sponsor her,” Fiona said. “Actually, I’ve already promised to bring out Miss Rebecca Peabody, so the two can come out together. I should love it above all things.”
“Who, pray tell, is Rebecca Peabody?” Nick asked.
She stiffened. “The sister of the new Countess Warwick.”
“They’re from the colonies,” Trevor added.
Nick had a difficult time believing Fiona was friendly with the woman who had stolen Warwick from her. “I didn’t know you and Lady Warwick were friends.”
“I haven’t spoken to her since . . .” She faced Nick and gave a hopeless shrug. “Well, I expect you know all about it. But I am rather attached to Miss