Page 41 of Seven Nights with the Wicked Duke (Regency Beasts #3)

C ecilia had always imagined her wedding day would feel like the end of something: her girlhood, her freedom, the stories she told herself late at night to keep from feeling caged.

But standing in front of the mirror in her bright silk gown, hair pinned with golden combs and her mother's pearls resting just above her collarbone, she didn't feel like anything was ending.

She felt like everything was about to begin.

Lily stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, eyes shining with barely contained emotion. "If you cry, I'll cry," she warned, her voice thick.

Cecilia laughed, smoothing her hands over her skirts, "I'm not crying." She sounded more like she was encouraging herself.

"Yet," Lily corrected with a sniff. "And just wait until you see him."

Cecilia looked down at her fingers. They were bare now, but soon to wear a ring that would bound her to a man had kissed her like she was made of stars and told her he loved her like it would kill him not to. "Do you think he'll be nervous?"

"Oh, I don't think nerves have ever touched that man," Lily said with a smirk. "But I do think he'll cry when he sees you."

Cecilia's breath caught. "He won't."

"He will. He's a goner. You'll see," Lily responded with pride.

There was a knock on the door before it opened slightly and Magnus peeked his head in. "Are you decent?"

"More than decent," Lily said with a grin. "Come in, Your Grace."

Magnus stepped in, dressed in a dark green waistcoat woven in gold thread. He looked like the man of power he'd always been, but Cecilia saw the tightness in his shoulders. There was this tiny crack of vulnerability in his smile.

"You look…" he paused, the word catching in his throat. "Beautiful. Mother would've been proud."

Her throat thickened, and for a moment, all three stood in silence, as the weight of memories settled around them.

"Thank you," she whispered. It was all Cecilia could offer apart from joyful tears.

Magnus cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well. I'm only here to inform you that your groom has stopped pacing and is no longer threatening to punch anyone who looks at him wrong."

Cecilia's lips curved. "That's progress."

"I thought so." He turned toward Lily. "Would you give us a moment?"

Lily nodded knowingly and slipped from the room with a little wink.

Once the door clicked shut, Magnus took a step closer. "I know I've been… difficult."

"You were terrified," Cecilia replied softly. "And I understand that now."

"I just wanted you safe."

"I know. But safety isn't always quiet halls and untouched lips. Sometimes it's someone who walks through fire with you."

He smiled faintly. "And Theo does that."

"He does."

"Then I won't say more. Except, if he ever gives you a reason to doubt, come to me."

She nodded. "You'll duel him in the garden?"

"I'll duel him in hell if I have to."

Her laughter sounded loud, bright and full. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

He stepped closer and offered his arm. "Shall we?" It was time.

She took it without a second thought, heart fluttering not with nerves, but anticipation. As they made their way through the halls of the estate toward the private chapel where the ceremony was to take place, she couldn't help but think of how much had changed in such little time.

Cuthbert was in jail, awaiting trial for fraud, attempted extortion, and—most satisfying of all—an attempted assault against Theo that had gone very badly for him.

He'd limped out of the illegal boxing ring and into a magistrate's holding cell.

Hector, the coward, had fled to France, leaving only a pathetic note behind that read: "Tell Theo it wasn't personal. "

Theo had laughed for ten minutes straight upon reading it.

And now, here they were. A wedding. A new life.

The chapel was soaked in golden light. Sun streamed in through the tall glass, casting bright reflections across the audience. The room had been decorated with white lilies and the air smelled of summer rain and something sweet.

It was perfect.

She stepped into the holy room. And she found him. Theo. He was standing at the front, and his gaze found hers almost immediately.

His breath held at that moment. He couldn't believe his eyes.

She was radiant.

His wife to be was not just beautiful, she looked otherworldly. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. His hands were clenched tightly together to keep them from shaking.

"You're crying," Edwin whispered beside him, elbowing him slightly.

"I'm not," Theo replied hoarsely.

"Your face says otherwise."

"Shut up."

But the tears weren't the splashing sort. Just a warmth in his chest, rising until it flooded quietly.

As she stepped closer, Cecilia's lips parted slightly at the sight of his teary gaze. Her eyes flicked down to his stretched hands, and a blush rose to her cheeks before accepting his hands.

When it was time to speak the bows, they were simple, intimate, and worthy of every word.

And when the priest pronounced them husband and wife, Theo didn't wait for permission, his action causing everyone in the room to laugh.

"Come here, you angel," he had said before pulling her close and kissing her like the world depended on it, like their names were written in the stars and this was merely them catching up.

The chapel stood up with applause, everyone cheering and jubilant. And throughout every moment, Theo didn't let go until she was breathless.

He leaned in close, whispering into her ears. "Didn't forget to say I love you, did I?"

She smiled, dazed and joyful. "I'm sure you did. Countless times. Even without words."

The evening of the wedding was calm in contrast. Eventually, Cecilia and Theo were alone to enjoy their night together.

Standing on the balcony of their estate, there was nothing more beautiful to her. Her handsome husband had his shirt unbuttoned under the moonlight, his hair mussed, with a glass of wine in hand.

He looked like something out of one of her forbidden novels. Dangerous. Beautiful. Hers.

That idea alone was fantastic.

She slipped out beside him, arms wrapping around his waist from behind. "Well, husband."

He turned in her arms, smiling lazily. "Wife." He was getting used to that.

"I believe I'm owed one promise before we begin our life together."

"Already making demands?" he teased, setting his glass aside and turning to face her fully.

"I'm a duchess now. It's part of the package."

He tilted his head, amused. "And what promise am I to make, my fierce little duchess?"

"That you'll never return to those wretched illegal boxing matches."

He blinked. "Pardon?" His smile never tore away.

"You heard me." Her tone sounded both defiant and playful.

"Darling, I haven't even been in one since the last time I nearly got stabbed." Theo chuckled.

She arched a brow. "Which, as I recall, you described as 'invigorating'."

"It was. Terribly so."

Cecilia smacked his arm. "I'm being serious. I don't want to wake up one morning to a note saying you've gone off to duel a butcher named Clive in a barn."

"Clive was an excellent fighter, I'll have you know." He shrugged with another lazy smile.

"I don't care if he's the bloody Prince of Wales. You're not allowed."

He paused, staring at her with a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You do realize how ravishing you are when you're commanding?"

She gave him a look.

"I mean it. Positively terrifying. It's arousing." He raised a hand to pat her hair.

"Theo."

"I'm serious." He stepped closer, cupping her cheek. "You want me to stop? I'll stop. No more bruises. No more Clives."

"You swear?" Her brows furrowed slightly.

"On my life. On your smile. On that ridiculous list of yours that led to me being hopelessly besotted."

She leaned into his touch. "Good. Because I plan on keeping you in one piece for a long, long time."

"Selfish," he murmured, brushing a kiss against her lips. "You just want me in one piece so I can worship you properly."

"That, and I have plans for our future. Plans that require your face to remain symmetrical."

He laughed, full and warm. "What would you have me do instead?"

She smiled against his mouth. "Tend the garden. Help the staff. Write poetry."

"The garden," he said with horror. "Surely you jest."

"No. I want you to grow something. Feel the earth in your hands."

"Darling, the only thing I've ever successfully cultivated is scandal."

"And yet, I married you."

"God help us both."

She kissed him again, and the world spun a little. Like it always did when their mouth touched. Not from fear. Not from loss. But from the dizzying delight of having everything she had ever wanted—and knowing it had wanted her back.

The house was quiet now, calmed into stillness by nightfall and the gentle hush of distant waves breaking on the shore beyond the garden walls.

"It's so beautiful." Cecilia pulled from the kiss and walked barefoot through the marble corridors, her silk robe waving with every step.

She had changed from her wedding gown and jewelry some hours ago. She felt lighter without them. She didn't feel like a bride now, but a wife.

Theo kept his eyes on her from behind, watching her every move.

"Abandoning me?" he asked from the distance, his voice a low vibration across the balcony.

She raised a brow before turning around to look at him, "By your lawful wife? Perish the thought."

His lips quirked into a grin. "There it is. That duchess steel I've come to adore."

"You'll need to get used to it." She shrugged before stretching her hands towards him.

"Oh, I plan to," he said, tilting his head, before pushing himself off from the railings. He walked to her and grabbed her hands. "Every damn day," he added in a whisper. "Join me," he requested before dropping a kiss onto her mouth.

She immediately wrapped her hands around his neck without questioning him. She trusted him fully and wholeheartedly.

He wrapped his arms around her before lifting her up in a bridal style. Theo moved into the house, leading them into the bathroom.