Page 123 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke

That can only mean one thing.

William could not wait much longer. His legs shook of their own volition and William stretched his neck forward, despite knowing that he would still be unable to see what was happening. After a short while, a virginal white gown broke the view out the door. Joane was entering into the halls. William smiled when he saw his bride. She was as beautiful as ever. Her smile was as bright as the sun, his sun.

The veil covered her face but William was sure she was smiling under the transparent fabric. Her steps were slow and calm. She was taking her time. The rest of the church was silent, everyone’s eyes on Joane as she walked up to her husband-to-be. When she got to William, he held her hand. His fingers dove into the softness of her palm, reminding William of her gossamer touch on his excited skin and promising heart racing nights to come. William swallowed, his heart pumped harder now, sending blood even to his lower parts.

William coasted through the entire ceremony, saying the things he needed to say, doing the things he needed to do, his attention had already been taken away by the feel of her touch on his skin. William was desperate to be alone with his wife.

And when the priest asked that he should kiss Joane. William tried to control his desperation. He moved in slowly, urging Joane into his embrace before locking his lips with hers. He closed his lips first, anxious about being too forward in public. But Joane had other ideas, she opened her mouth to let him in; and matched him in the hunger he didn’t know she had. Her tongue was ravenous, exploring and probing, prompting him to take her in locked communion. She nibbled on his lower lip after capturing it in her mouth. William broke the kiss when he heard a growling sound. It came from him. Her eyes were hungry; they lingered on his lips even after they had separated.

William returned to coasting through all other elaborations and only had his attention returned when he got into the barouche alone with Joane. Their driver, Mr. Bruce could be seen through the small window, attentive on the road as always.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes; the lock of their hands was communication enough.

“You can call me Joane Marlow now,” she finally said through smiles, her white teeth glistening even in the spare light of the cabin.

William faced her, moving steadily closer to her.

“I can call you something better,” he answered.

Her eyes widened, expectation was apparent in them.

“My wife,” he completed.

Joane laughed and placed her soft, silk-gloved palm on his neck. William placed his palm on it, caressing her skin. William moved his face close to hers, she drew close too. They met in a slow, sensual, fusion of mouths that unearthed all the tension that had charged William throughout the ceremony. He wrapped his hand around her waist, pressing onto her through the thick layering of her white gown. Joane laughed, breaking the kiss for a moment before putting her arms around his head. William dipped his neck into the softness of her bosom.

“I could hardly think in the hall. All my mind was on, is with me right here, right now,” William said.

Joane drew back from William and gave him a smile that lit his heart.

“What is it?” he said.

“Why not guess?” she asked him.

William tried to think but his mind was too charged to function properly.

“I cannot fathom, Joane.”

Joane lifted his left hand a slowly moved it to her stomach, resting his hand in the middle of her tummy. It was at first confusing, William did not understand what she meant. But the realization came, diffuse like showering rain then abrupt and sure as a clap of thunder.

“You are with child,” William said.

“I carry your child, William,” Joane replied.

William could not explain the joy that exploded in him. He looked into the eyes of his wife.

Life could not be sweeter than this.