Page 25 of Jillian’s Wild Heart (Ladies of Munro #4)

A loud bang reverberated through the noise, bringing it to an abrupt stop. A serious young man turned from the door on which he had just hammered. His tanned face and muscular frame were suggestive of a laborer, though his neat tweed jacket and voice of authority said clearly he was not.

“Now then, lads,” he chastised them. “We are putting Ermenbrough to shame. Mr. Bradford has been stood for all to see by your very selves, yet you offer him no respect. Let the man talk. I’m sure we all want to hear how our Miss Kinsey—beg pardon, Mrs. Bradford —is admired by her husband.

They say the city folk have a better way with words.

Let’s find out. If the groom does well, we’ll drink to their health. ”

A cheer rose up and died down just as quickly amid mildly drunken shushes.

Despite finally having the floor, Lewis was strangely tongue-tied. He had never felt this nervous before a judge. In front of these rapidly inebriating townsfolk, however, he sensed an expectation for something grand.

He turned to Jillian for inspiration. And found it.

“Here is my wife,” he stated simply. “You have known her a lifetime and been blessed for it. She is a beauty, it is true, but that is not why you have loved her. It is her openness of spirit, her abundance of natural joy, her ferocious loyalty that has won your hearts. And now I count myself among you lucky few who have known and adored her. I await the privilege of knowing that blessing for a lifetime too.”

“Now that ’s a speech!” cried a lone voice, followed by cheering and shouts of “to their health!” before Lewis stepped cautiously down from the table and lifted Jilly down by her waist.

Penelope came up to them, as did the stranger who had spoken up earlier.

“Well said!” They spoke in unison, turning with mouths open and eyes dancing to face each other.

“I yield the floor,” said the stranger, eyeing the long, ribboned knife still in Penelope’s hand. “At least while you are armed.” He smiled. There was no mischief in it, only a lightness of spirit that sat slightly awkwardly upon his otherwise-solemn face.

Penelope blushed and tucked the knife behind her back. “I did not mean to appear so war-like,” she said with uncharacteristic shyness.

Jillian made quick introductions.

“Miss Bradford, this is Mr. Simon Boyd. I have known him since we were children. Of late, he has been the land steward on the estate adjacent to Trenton Grange. Simon, this is Miss Penelope Bradford, my wonderful new sister. And of course, Mr. Lewis Bradford, my very own husband and speechmaker of note.”

Mr. Boyd nodded at them both but did not extend a hand to either.

“My work early this morning involved a rather more down-to-earth approach, if you take my meaning,” he explained.

“I have not been able to scrub my fingers as clean as I’d like for me to shake the hands of fine folk such as yourselves.

However, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. ”

“I wish we had a steward with your industrious qualities on our estate,” said Lewis.

“Our Mr. Cooper seems content to only do the minimum. I would be grateful if you could share your expertise with me before we return to Munro. I want very much to improve the way we manage our affairs. Would you have time to meet with me and walk me through your approach?”

“If you are willing to talk as we go, certainly,” answered Mr. Boyd. “I have little time for conversation unless it occurs in the course of my duties.”

“I can respect that. Perhaps the day after tomorrow?”

“I am usually done with the morning rounds and bookkeeping around two o’clock, if you would like to meet me at the main house. Then we can do the afternoon rounds before dinner and you can ask me what you will.”

“That is more than generous. I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me, Mr. Boyd.”

“Enough talk of business,” Jillian complained. “It is time to cut the cake. My first task as a wife shall be to feed my husband.”

Penelope handed the knife back to Jillian, who strode forward with it like a spear maiden to battle. Now that the speech and playful taunting was done, she had no further interruptions, quickly removing a slice and placing it on her palm.

“It seems you already have me eating out of your hand.” Lewis smiled and took a bite as Jillian lifted the cake to his lips.

It was decadent in a wholesome, earthy sort of way, its nut-rich sweetness coming from honey rather than the usual sugary layers of icing.

Jillian took a bite next and returned her syrupy fingers to Lewis to have another.

The last morsel was hers, and she began to lick the stickiness from her hand.

Lewis reached out and claimed her wrist, drawing her fingertips to his mouth and slipping them inside.

He slid his tongue across her sweet skin, savoring the flavor of his beloved bathed in honey.

Her cuff had slid back, the fine hairs on her forearm standing up as his touch thrilled through her, the pink of her cheeks deepening as blood rushed to the surface.

Lewis held her eyes with his own, letting her know he felt it too. That he wanted more. That he wanted her .

“Our guests…” she murmured.

“They hardly know we exist.”

“The cake…” she reminded him. But her heart was not in it.

Lewis took the knife gently from her other hand and passed it to Pen. “Cut the rest for us, will you? We wish to retire.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Lew,” his sister commented.

“It’s my wedding day,” he answered softly, lest the raw desire be heard in his voice.

Penelope hesitated a second, then nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lewis took his wife’s hand and led her through the crowd, who made pockets of room for them as they proceeded toward the staircase. They raced up the stairs before anyone might see them escape, arriving at the door of their room, breathless and laughing silently.

Jillian leaned against the door. “Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold?” she asked, her hands gripping his lapels and tugging Lewis closer.

Without another word, Lewis fumbled for the handle behind her and swung the door open. Twisting down, he scooped his wife into his arms and stepped into the room.

Jilly slipped slowly to the floor again but did not step away.

Instead, she tilted her head back, exposing the soft flesh of her neck.

The last semblance of his resistance crumbled.

Lewis splayed his fingers through her hair, cupping her head as his tongue found the hollow between her clavicles and followed the upward curve of her throat.

His heel pushed back. The door closed with a soft click. The bolt was drawn. They were alone at last.