Mistletoe Marriage - Page 8

“I only want you, Julia.” His voice now had lost the sharp edge.

“The things he said about me, that he told to the townspeople, Garrett, it's awful.”

He stiffened beside me. “Simpson spread rumors that he touched you?”

I shook my head. “No. That you did. He said you took my virtue and then left town.”

Piano music drifted from the church. I recognized the music as a Christmas carol.

“If we're to be shunned for doing all those wicked things, precious, don't you want to at least actually do them?”

That gave me pause. “With you, yes.”

“Hell, yes. With me. Only me.” He sighed. “I haven't done this properly, Julia, and for that I'm sorry.” His hand came up and stroked over my cheek. How his palm could be so warm, I had no idea. “Will you marry me?”

Tears filled my eyes, this time with joy. This was the man who I'd hoped—dreamed—would say those words. This was the man I'd hoped to marry me the first time. But that didn't matter now. Nothing mattered but the one simple word I uttered in reply.

“Yes. Oh yes.”

***

As owner of the town's mine, Garrett's house should have been as grand as Mr. Simpson's. It wasn't. In fact, it was quite small. I didn't care if we spent the night in the stable like Mary and Joseph had, I just wanted to be with Garrett. When we reached the front door, Garrett swung me up into his arms and carried me over the threshold, kicking the door shut with his foot behind us.

“Why didn't we stay for the Christmas Eve service as Reverend Smith asked?”

Garrett had led me into the church. For the second time in a day I was to be a bride. But this time as Garrett’s bride, his forever. As we waited for the minister to begin, his wife plucked a small bundle from the garland decorating the church benches and placed it in my unwavering hands—a small nosegay of evergreen and mistletoe. I thanked her with a quick nod. Yes, I was to be a bride.

Again.

It was a quick ceremony, but this time I was marrying the man I wanted and I did not mind. Instead of remaining for the holiday program, Garrett had led me home with a quickness to his step.

“Because I don't want to share you with anyone. Because I've waited long enough to make you mine.” He didn't lower me in the foyer as I anticipated, but instead carried me directly up the stairs and into a bedroom. His bedroom. Our bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed with me in his lap, taking my hands in his.

“They're cold,” he commented, rubbing his thumb over my palm. “I'll warm you. I promise.”

His dark eyes held mine. Only a few hours earlier, I'd longed for such a moment. I'd ached to be in Garrett's strong arms, his face close enough for me to reach up and touch, to feel the softness of his whiskers and the hard angle of his jaw beneath my palm. His scent, a mixture of wintergreen and pine, filled my senses. This was the first time we'd ever been alone, that he'd held me so intimately. We were wearing our coats and he couldn't have taken liberties with me with so many layers between us even if he wished to.

There was nothing preventing us from removing our coats and clothing and touching each other, kissing each other and doing more. Not even Garrett's honor. He'd held fast to his beliefs and now we were married. Now, he could do to me all the things he'd whispered, all the things Simpson had said we'd done. It was Garrett's words, those tawdry and very intimate words had kept me up at night, tossing and turning in my lonely schoolteacher's bed.

“Garrett, you...you promised,” I murmured.

He began to unbutton my coat. “Oh? Promised what?”

I glanced up at his face, but he kept his eyes on his hands' motions.

“All those things you said you'd do to me once we were married.”

Those words had the effect I wanted. His fingers stilled and he looked at me. He smiled and his dimple formed. “What did I say that appealed to you the most?”

I felt my cheeks heat and I squirmed in his lap.

“Come now, don't be shy. I'm your husband and soon—very soon—we will have no secrets between us.”

“I...I want to see you. I know you'll go inside of me, but I want to see how...how big you are.”

“Keep shifting like that and you'll feel how big I am.”

I stilled at his words and recognized the hard length pressing into my thigh for what it was. “Oh,” I whispered.

Tags: Vanessa Vale Romance
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