Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,85
it occurred to her that Asher might want to wait for Talbot, if he was coming.
She glanced at Asher. “Is Talbot coming?” she asked in a low voice.
Asher’s brows dipped together. “I don’t suppose so. I’ve not seen him since before I left for Scotland. I did send word to him at the Mayfair house and heard nothing in return.”
She saw the consternation on Asher’s face, and it was her turn to comfort him. She squeezed his hand. “We will bring him round together,” she whispered.
“Together,” he echoed with a smile as the vicar cleared his throat.
The vicar began the ceremony, and Guinevere found herself wondering what her and Asher’s children would look like and how many they might have. Would they look like her or him or a mixture of them both? She was so engrossed in her musings that she was startled when the vicar said, “Lady Guinevere, do you wish to wed?”
She blinked, realizing everyone was staring at her. Her face heated, and she hastily nodded and said her vows.
Once the ceremony was over, and they were pronounced man and wife, Asher turned her toward him, cupped her face in his hands, and said, “Lass, from this day forward, ye are bone of my bone, blood of my blood. I give ye my body that we may be one. I give ye my spirit till my life be done.”
She was so stunned by his words that she could not speak. He smiled gently and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, one full of promise of pleasurable things to come.
“That,” he said, his Scottish brogue heavier than normal and his voice low for her ears only, “is part of the traditional vows in Scotland. We are one now—the gentle lady and the rough Scot.”
She realized then that was how he saw himself. Not as the new duke but as a man who had scraped and worked for everything he had. Pride filled her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him as he had her. “We are one,” she agreed.
The ride to Asher’s home after the wedding and luncheon was quick, but Guinevere found herself filling the time with mindless chatter. She was anxious. Not about going to the marriage bed—he had already made her his—but about telling him how she truly felt about him. The look of amused tolerance on his face as he listened to her babble on about the weather and the wedding ceremony, and then as she peppered him with dozens of questions about his distilleries, indicated he likely knew she was nervous. She considered blurting her feelings to him in the carriage, but it was a conversation she preferred to have in complete privacy. Though they were alone in the carriage, the coachman was just outside on the bench, and somehow that made her feel less alone.
When they arrived at Asher’s home, the butler greeted them with congratulations, followed by news that Talbot was home. Before either she or Asher could respond, Talbot appeared, looking as if he had slept in a carriage, but he swept a dramatic bow, rose, and surprised Guinevere when he stepped toward her, took her hand, and pressed his lips to her skin.
“Sister,” he said, his words a bit slurred and the scent of liquor wafting from him, “you look stunning.”
She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
He was clearly foxed, but he was harmless, and he’d always been kind to her. She would never forget how he had defended her once, long ago, when she was being teased. She had impulsively kissed him on the cheek in thanks that day, which had earned her a sound scolding from Mama. He had never mentioned it and neither had she, but she’d fretted over it afterward when her mother had told her she would find herself betrothed to him if she acted untoward with him again.
Looking at him now, Guinevere felt sorry for him. He seemed sullen and withdrawn, and she knew from Huntley that Talbot imbibed and gambled far too much. But he always had a smile for her and a kind word, and he’d asked her more than once to dance at balls the past few months since his father’s death, which made her wonder if it had not been his father who made Talbot withdrawn. She had hoped, she supposed, to hear word of Asher, even as she had hoped she would not, so she had accepted a few dances from Talbot, but he had never mentioned