Shocked, trembling, Charis couldn’t have protested even if she wanted to. For one agonized instant, she remembered how he’d reacted yesterday. If he treated her like that now, she’d lose control of the scream building at the back of her throat.
Unsure, frightened, yearning, she raised her gaze to meet his. The black eyes were glassy. The hand on her arm was stiff. Not even the vainest woman could think he wanted to kiss her.
Then she remembered they needed to make a show of affection in front of their sparse audience in case Hubert and Felix challenged the match. She also remembered Gideon did this for her sake, and temper was poor repayment.
She summoned her courage and plastered a smile on her face. It felt like the rictus grin on a skull, but a glance at the jovial vicar indicated it convinced him.
“I’ll be delighted to kiss my beloved husband.” At least she didn’t have to lie about that.
Admiration lit Gideon’s eyes before he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. The shock of the contact made her drop her bouquet. A host of sensations overwhelmed her, vividly familiar even though they’d kissed only once before.
His clean scent. Lemon soap. Beneath that, the fresh, salty tang of his skin. He’d washed and changed. But still he smelt like the sea. His height. Occasionally, she forgot how long and lean he was. He was as hot as a furnace. Standing next to him was like standing next to a great blazing hearth. When she’d been cold forever.
His mouth moved on hers with subtle pressure. Instinctively, she parted her lips and drew his breath into her lungs.
The intimacy was astonishing. By far the most intimate moment she’d ever shared with anyone.
She closed her eyes. Tingling warmth seeped from his kiss. Down, down, to settle at the base of her belly. She sighed and leaned forward, lifting her arms.
She opened hazy eyes to see him step away. He looked pale but composed as he briefly shook the vicar’s hand. She realized she still reached out like a mendicant. Blushing, she folded her arms before her to hide their trembling.
Gideon only kissed her for show. Still, she’d clung to him like ivy clung to the walls of Marley Place. If she wasn’t careful, he’d grow to despise her for this endless need she couldn’t conquer.
“What a beautiful couple,” the vicar was saying. “I’m happy to be of service to such a gallant gentleman, a hero of the nation.”
Of necessity, Gideon had revealed their true identities to the man who married them. They’d booked into the hotel under false names. Mr. and Mrs. John Holloway.
Gideon’s expression didn’t change although Charis guessed the fulsome praise chafed. “Reverend Briggs, remember there’s twenty guineas if you keep my identity to yourself for the next fortnight. My wife and I seek privacy.”
“Of course. Of course. It’s an honor for my island to host your nuptials. The Hero of Rangapindhi here. Now that’s a tale I can tell my grandchildren.”
“Tell them in two weeks.” No mistaking the threat in Gideon’s voice. The trace of menace pierced even the vicar’s rapture.
“You have my word as a gentleman and a man of the cloth, Sir Gideon. No whisper of what passed today until you leave Jersey.”
“Good.”
Gideon turned to Charis and crooked his arm. Another action to convince their guests this was a normal wedding. Hesitantly, she rested her hand on his fine woolen sleeve. Beneath the expensive material, she felt his body’s latent power. She fought the urge to curl her fingers into his coat. Goodness, she’d touched him more in the last ten minutes than she had since he’d been insensible with illness.
“Thank you for your assistance.” As Gideon addressed the clergyman, he sounded lordly and cool, not at all the man who shrank from the brush of her hand.
The vicar closed his prayer book. “Will you and your bride join Mrs. Briggs and myself for a glass of madeira at the vicarage?”
Gideon’s expression became more remote. “I’m afraid that’s impossible although your invitation is kind. Do we need to sign further documents?”
The vicar shook his head, his face almost comical with disappointment. “No. You’re married right and tight.”
“Capital. We’ll wish you good day, then.” The arm under Charis’s hand was rock-hard with tension, but to any observer, Gideon appeared completely in control of himself and his surroundings. “Remember, not a word.”
Tulliver and William approached them as the vicar left.
“God grant you every happiness, Lady Charis,” Tulliver said quietly.
“Aye, my lady,” William said behind her.
Such simple wishes. Such impossible wishes. Furiously, she blinked away tears. She couldn’t cry now. She had to stay strong for what awaited.
“Thank you,” she said in a choked voice.