Page 26 of The Spinster’s Secret Stake (Ladies of Opportunity #2)

TWENTY SIX

In Mitchel’s bedchamber

The Cottage in Blackheath, England

Several hours later–nearly five in the evenin

Where is he?

No sooner had Roxina asked herself the question for at least the hundredth time while glancing at the mantel clock, a quick rap echoed upon the door. She rushed to open it, and there Shelby stood, grinning with the license in his hand.

Before she could speak, he dropped a quick kiss on her mouth.

“Are you ready to become Mrs. Shelby Tellinger?” he asked, his voice rich with anticipation.

“I am,” she replied, breathless with relief and excitement.

Time had dragged on, each minute scraping by like a rusty wheel during the hours he had been away.

She had taken it upon herself to contact Reverend Pritchard, asking if he might be available that evening, should Shelby return at a reasonable hour. The reverend had graciously agreed, his wife, Mrs. Pritchard, offering to serve as a witness.

Roughly calculating how long it would take Shelby to travel to and from London as well as allowing time to procure the special license, Roxina asked the Pritchards to arrive at half past four.

She fretted they would grow impatient and leave, but both seemed content to wait for Shelby. The thick slices of gingerbread and constant supply of fresh tea she provided no doubt helped her cause.

Mrs. Beale had been delighted when Roxina asked her to bear witness, clapping her hands in excitement and declaring it an honor. Roxina couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s enthusiasm, grateful for her kindness and friendship.

Roxina had busied herself with preparations, desperate to keep her hands occupied and her mind from wandering into worry.

Dash remained faithfully by her side, sensing the tension and excitement thrumming through her. She stroked his soft ears absently as she rehearsed the vows she would soon speak. A mixture of nerves and anticipation made her heart race, but each thought of Shelby filled her with a sense of calm and certainty.

Now the moment was upon her.

She and Shelby stood on one side of Mitchel’s bed, Mrs. Beale and Mrs. Pritchard on the other, and Reverend Pritchard and Dash officiating at the foot.

Reverend Pritchard cleared his throat, his voice deep and steady as he began the ceremony.

“ Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted by God in the time of man’s innocency …”

His words wove through the room with solemn reverence, blessing their union and calling upon God to watch over them as man and wife.

Her focus fixed solely on Shelby, whose solemn gray gaze never wavered from hers, Roxina barely heard the formal phrases.

When it came time to exchange vows, Shelby’s deep voice resonated with such conviction that her heart swelled with emotion. “I do.”

In turn, she promised to honor and love him for as long as they both lived, her voice soft but firm.

Reverend Pritchard smiled, pronounced them husband and wife, and a soft cheer erupted from the gathered witnesses.

Dash woofed in approval, causing everyone to laugh.

The words echoed through Roxina’s mind like a bell tolling in a dream. “ I now pronounce you man and wife.”

I am Shelby’s wife.

Wait until her friends in the Ladies of Opportunity heard .

Roxina had won her secret stake after all—not just won but carried off the stakes and cleaned the house. A complete triumph, to be sure.

She barely heard Mrs. Beale, Reverend Pritchard, and Mrs. Pritchard as they offered their well-wishes, their voices blending into a hazy blur.

The moment seemed surreal, suspending her between reality and a wonderful, impossible dream. Yet it was true.

Roxina had just become Mrs. Shelby Tellinger.

Her hands trembled as she smoothed the soft folds of her gown—a stunning Mazarin blue creation that she had humbly confessed to sewing herself.

Mrs. Pritchard had marveled at it, and even Mrs. Beale’s eyes had widened with admiration.

Roxina met Shelby’s hot, hooded gaze, unable to contain the soft, giddy smile that tugged at her lips. She could scarcely believe this remarkable man was now her husband.

And tonight…

“Congratulations, Roxina. I hope you will be very happy with Shelby.” Mitchel’s voice, weak and raspy, pulled her attention to where he lay, pale and gaunt, on the narrow bed. The effort to remain awake through the brief ceremony had drained him, and his eyes already fluttered closed again.

Her heart twisted with a pang of pity, softened by compassion. She’d wanted him to be strong enough to see her married, to know she would be safe and loved when he was gone.

Standing at his bedside, sadness welled within her as she took in his slack features and the faint, contented smile softening his face. Despite the years of pain and the memories that lingered, she felt only pity now—no resentment, no bitterness.

Satisfaction glimmered in his tired eyes, almost as if knowing she was married and secure brought him some peace.

Relief and gratitude mingled in her chest as she watched him struggle to stay awake, his breathing shallow but peaceful.

Mrs. Beale pulled Roxina into a warm, fragrant embrace, patting her back with gentle affection.

“Congratulations, my dear. I knew this young gentleman was more than just an acquaintance.” She gave Shelby a knowing wink, and Roxina couldn’t help but laugh softly, though her cheeks warmed.

Astute old bird.

Mrs. Beale clucked her tongue and waved a hand. “I shall not accept no. I’ve prepared a lovely meal for the newlyweds—roasted beef with onions and potatoes, fresh-baked bread, a bottle of wine, and a berry tart for afterward. And I’ve put fresh linens on my bed and candles in the sconces. It’s humble, but my cottage is yours for the night.”

“A tad more privacy for your wedding night.” She slid Mitchel a covert glance.

Roxina’s cheeks blazed.

Everyone knew what she referred to.

“Mrs. Beale. How very considerate of you.” Shelby kissed her cheek, and she blushed like a schoolgirl. “I thank you.”

She glanced down at Dash, sitting at Roxina’s feet, ears perked and tail thumping lightly against the floor.

“I’ll keep this fine fellow with me tonight,” Mrs. Beale offered. “He’ll be just as pampered as you, newlyweds.”

Roxina hesitated, but the older woman gave a brisk nod of reassurance. “You’ve enough on your mind without worrying about him. I’ll see to him, never fear.”

Reverend Pritchard gave Mitchel a pointed glance. “I believe I shall stay for a while and offer Mr. Danforth comfort from the scriptures and prayer—that is, if my dear wife does not object to walking home alone.”

Mrs. Pritchard gave her husband an indulgent smile, probably accustomed to this sort of thing.

“Of course not, Mr. Pritchard.” She, too, gave Mitchel a knowing look. “The children and I shall say a prayer for Mr. Danforth tonight.”

A chill swept through Roxina as she gazed at Mitchel, and the terrible truth clawed at her heart—he was closer to death than she cared to admit.

“You newlyweds be on your way.” Mrs. Beale pointed to the door. “We have things well in hand here.”

“Very well. I know when I’ve been bested.” Roxina laughed and threw up her hands. At the doorway, she paused and turned to her brother. “Sleep well, Mitchel.”

He didn’t respond.

Shelby leaned close, his voice soft and soothing.

“Why don’t you gather a few things you will need tonight?” he suggested.

“Yes, I’ll only be a minute.” Roxina floated down the hallway, her heart light and hopeful despite the worry about her brother tugging at her. The realization hit her with such force that she almost stumbled—she was happy. Truly, undeniably happy.

She joined Shelby in the entry a few minutes later, and as they stepped out into the cool evening air, Roxina’s pulse thrummed with excitement.

Shelby gripped her hand, his warm and reassuring. They left behind the soft glow of the cottage windows and walked across the quiet lane toward Mrs. Beale’s cozy little house, where the older woman had promised them privacy for the night.

Once inside, the rich aroma of roasted meat and savory herbs greeted them, and Roxina’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since early morning.

What a momentous day it had been.

First, Mitchel appeared, and then she married Shelby.

Shelby caught her hand, a hunger glimmering in his eyes for something other than mere food. He offered her a crooked, endearing smile.

“We can eat later,” he murmured, drawing her close.

Roxina let out a soft, breathless laugh, resting her hand lightly on his chest as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

His gentle touch sent warmth flooding through her and ignited a spark of desire low in her belly. Cupping her face, he brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones and lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her lips with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

He pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with hers.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispered, his voice taut with emotion.

Smiling, she slid her hands up to his shoulders.

“I have always been yours.” Her voice trembled from the truth of her statement. “I just didn’t know it.”

Gaze softening, Shelby pulled Roxina close, cradling her firmly against the aroused heat of his body. He traced a slow, tantalizing path along the gentle curve of her waist, his touch igniting sparks beneath her skin. He kissed her again, deeper, more demanding this time, as if he could never taste enough of her, never hold her close enough, never claim enough of her passion.

Roxina matched his passion, her desire igniting like wildfire—fierce and unstoppable—spreading swiftly through her until it consumed every thought, every breath, leaving nothing untouched by its searing hunger. She threaded her fingers through his hair, relishing the sensation of the silky strands gliding through her grasp as she tugged him closer, desperate to anchor herself in the tempest he stirred within her.

Heat pooled low in her belly, radiating outward until every inch of her felt alive, aching, and yearning.

How had he stripped away her defenses so effortlessly, leaving her raw and vulnerable yet more alive than she had ever felt? He unleashed something primal inside her—a longing so potent she couldn’t resist even if she wanted to.

Lifting her effortlessly, Shelby carried her into the bedchamber. He set her down gently, trailing his hands over her shoulders and arms as he dropped to his knees before her.

Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the dancing fire bathing the room in a golden, flickering glow. Though modest, the bed, draped with a floral coverlet in soft shades of rose and ivory, beckoned invitingly. Embroidered pillows, plump and neatly arranged, added a feminine touch to the quaint chamber, while sheer curtains framed the small window, gently swaying with the faint draft from the door.

The chamber held a lingering hint of Mrs. Beale’s rose and jasmine perfume, mingling delicately with the warm air, creating an intimate, comforting haven.

Kneeling, his gray eyes darkened to flint, locked onto hers—intent and unwavering—as if he were determined to unravel every secret she hid behind her guarded heart. His shoulders rose and fell with each measured breath, his body taut as a bowstring, as if he struggled to control his desire.

The raw hunger in his eyes seared through her, mingling with a tenderness that both startled and ensnared her heart. Her pulse fluttered madly at her throat, and she swallowed hard, captivated by the dichotomy of his expression—a potent blend of desire, adoration, and reverence that sent a tremor straight to her core.

He saw her as something precious, something worth cherishing—and tears misted in her eyes.

He slowly lifted his hand, almost hesitantly, before brushing his knuckles along her jaw, his touch worshipful but cautious, as if he feared breaking the spell between them.

At Shelby’s tender caress, warmth spread through Roxina, tingling along her skin like the kiss of morning sunlight after a stormy night. She lacked the will and power to tear her gaze from his, mesmerized by the way he studied her face, as though memorizing every curve and contour, every nuance of emotion.

Her breath quickened as he kneeled before her, his focus never wavering. He traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips, gliding along the line to her collarbone, where her pulse hammered beneath his touch like a trapped songbird.

A soft sigh escaped her, unbidden and vulnerable, and Roxina yearned to reach for him again, to pull him back to her and lose herself in the safety of his arms.

How could he make her feel so unguarded, so precious, and so completely alive all at once?

Shelby kissed her hands, brushing his lips over her knuckles as if making a silent vow.

“I have dreamed of this—of you—far longer than you’ll ever know, Roxina,” he whispered, his voice guttural and raspy.

Roxina’s heart thudded in response, and she traced his jawline with trembling fingers.

“I never dared to hope for this.” Was that breathy voice hers? “For you to love me—want me.”

He quirked his mouth into a tender smile before kissing her once more, this time with unrestrained desire that made her pulse race. She leaned into him, craving his touch, desperate to feel all of him.

They shed the layers of propriety and expectation, leaving only truth and tenderness behind as they came together in love and wonder, consummating their pledge for all time.

When they finally lay together, satiated and cocooned beneath the quilt, Roxina nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Shelby stroked her hair, murmuring words of love and devotion that wrapped around her heart like a comforting embrace.

He kissed the crown of her head, whispering softly, “Now that you are finally mine, I shall never let you go.”

A tear escaped the corner of one eye, trailing down Roxina’s cheek, and she smiled against Shelby’s broad chest. She traced the soft, curly hair, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the rhythm, a promise of what was to come.

“You have claimed every piece of me—my heart, my soul, my very breath. I never knew love could feel like this. You’re the answer to every prayer I never dared to speak, Shelby. You make me believe in impossible things.”

He kissed her forehead, his lips warm and firm against her skin. “You, my darling, are branded into my soul—an unspoken vow that not even eternity can erase.”

They lay entwined in the afterglow of lovemaking, the firelight painting soft patterns across the ceiling as warmth and contentment wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. Shelby traced slow, lazy circles along her bare shoulder, gliding his fingertips over her skin as if committing every curve and hollow to memory.

Roxina rested her hand on his chest, savoring the steady rhythm of his breathing and the solid, reassuring heat of his body pressed against hers. A soft smile curved her lips as she let herself imagine everything he described—a life filled with love and laughter, partnership and purpose.

Shelby spoke of the manor house he’d just purchased in Greenwich, the rich timbre of his voice painting a picture of the sprawling estate. Set atop a gentle rise, the house overlooked manicured gardens and lush meadows that stretched to the horizon. He described the orchards brimming with blossoms in spring, the stables that would soon bustle horses, and the large pond reflecting the sky like a polished mirror and attracting several types of waterfowl.

With Roxina’s help, he intended to restore the old rose garden, tangled with years of neglect, and bring life back to the kitchen garden with fresh herbs and vegetables.

His voice animated, he spoke of their children—stubborn, spirited little ones with her eyes and his determination—who would race across the grounds, their laughter ringing out as they chased one another through the orchard or climbed the ancient oak at the garden’s edge.

Shelby’s eyes sparkled as he described the little ones demanding pony rides and tugging at his coat, begging for stories of grand adventures and daring feats. And the romantic tale of how Shelby had won their mother’s heart, and she captured his.

Roxina couldn’t help but smile at the images Shelby painted—vivid and achingly real, stirring something fierce and tender deep inside her.

Slightly startled at her brazenness, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, brushing her lips along the rough stubble prickling her mouth. A naughty impulse struck her, and before she could second-guess it, she slid her hand down his side and gave him a quick, teasing tickle just above his hip.

Shelby jerked, letting out a strangled bark of laughter before snatching her hand and pinning it above her head.

“You little minx,” he growled, eyes dancing with amusement as he loomed over her. “You think I’ll let you get away with that?”

Roxina giggled, squirming beneath him as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her cheek.

“You might, if you’re wise enough to know when you’re outmatched,” she teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sly smirk. “You think you can best me? Careful, love. You’re about to learn the consequences of provoking me.”

He swooped down, capturing her lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss that stole her breath and erased every coherent thought from her mind. By the time he drew back, she lay sprawled beneath him, thoroughly conquered and not the least bit sorry for her mischief.

Shelby gave a satisfied grunt, brushing his thumb along her jawline, his eyes gleaming as he watched her catch her breath. “I’ll let you get away with it this time,” he murmured, “but only because I’m too content to bother teaching you a lesson.”

“ Hmm. ” Roxina hummed in response, too wrapped up in the delicious sensation of his weight pressing her into the mattress to muster a retort. She savored the moment—this perfect, quiet joy that seemed too good to be true—and marveled at how love had found her and Shelby despite every obstacle and heartache.

In the quiet sanctuary of this humble cottage, clasped in her husband’s loving embrace, Roxina tipped her mouth into a contented arc. She had found what she sought her entire life—her soulmate.