“I wouldn't marry you, Rogue Cavendish, if you were the last man breathing!” Bess said stubbornly.
“You will do as I bid!”
“It's the middle of the night!” she protested.
“What in the world of God does that have to do with anything? We'll rouse the bloody priest out of his bed and give Frances something to talk about. Now, are you going to get dressed or will I carry you down in your shift?”
Rogue's eyes were filled with such a teasing light, Bess knew he was capable of doing such a thing. She padded to the wardrobe. “Whatever shall I wear? I want to look beautiful.”
“You always look beautiful.” He had more good sense than to suggest what a woman should wear. “Hurry, I'll be back for you very shortly,” he warned.
Bess chose a cream silk gown whose sleeves were slashed with jade. She pulled on stockings and fastened them with jade garters. Gone was her lethargy; suddenly, she was bursting with energy and her heart was singing. When Frances arrived Bess apologized for the late hour.
“It's only two o'clock; I hadn't gone to bed yet. I've brought Cecily to do your hair. Everyone in London will be foaming at the mouth to have missed this. Cavendish is a madman; what on earth is his hurry?”
“I'll tell you what's the hurry,” William said from the doorway. Bess threw him such a desperate glance, his heart went out to her. “She's refused me again. No bedding without a wedding—what's a lusty man to do?”
Bess suddenly realized that it was August 20, the same date she had been evicted from Hardwick. A lump came into her throat. This was her fateful day, when either bad or good things could happen—things that would alter her life. She smiled through her tears and gave William her hand.
By the time they made their way to the chapel, Henry and the priest were awaiting them. Bess was surprised to find the seats filled with the Grey's noble guests. Sir John Port, who had recently been knighted at the young king's coronation, and his wife, Lady Port, were there, along with her family, the Fitzherberts. Also present was Sir John's daughter and her husband, the Earl of Hunting-don, and their friends the Earl and Countess of West-morland. Bess was amazed that William was on intimate terms with so many noble families and shrewdly guessed that it must be because of his position in the treasury.
As Bess stood beside William to exchange their vows, she felt that her heart might burst with joy. When William slipped a diamond wedding ring onto her third finger, all her doubts about his wanting to make her his wife disappeared forever. When they were pronounced man and wife, and Bess realized that at last she was Lady Cavendish, she was giddy with happiness.
The company hurried back to the hall, showering the newlyweds with rose petals that some enterprising guest had plucked from the gardens. When they arrived, the musicians were already playing their instruments and Bradgate's liveried servants were rushing about, providing food and wine for the celebration.
They danced until the sun came up, then William picked up his bride and carried her off to a hastily prepared bridal suite, where William firmly closed and locked the door, depriving the avid guests of the bedding they had been anticipating.
“My darling, when I told you to get dressed, I didn't mean for you to put on so many layers.”
“Did you expect to find me naked beneath my gown?”
“That's how I pictured you,” he said thickly, trying to undo the fastenings of her petticoat.
“In the chapel?” She pretended to be shocked.
“I would have laid you naked on the altar if we'd been alone. I've been starving for you.”
She brushed her breasts against him and decided to tease him. “But it's been only seven weeks; you told me yourself the days had flown past.” She danced away from him and left him holding her petticoat.
“The nights were sheer torture!” He came after her.
“Torture? You don't know the meaning of the word. Shall I teach you?” She inched up her shift, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of red-gold curls, then let it fall again.
“Cockteaser!”
The corners of her mouth went up. “I'm going to tease your cock until you beg.”
He threw her a wicked grin and began to fling off his clothes. He stood naked before her in rampant splendor.
“I suspect you are hot for me.” He lunged toward her and caught her. His hand dipped beneath the hem of her shift and a finger deftly stroked her cleft. “Scalding-hot and wet”—he licked his finger—“my little honeypot.”
She eluded him, but instead of running away, she walked a direct path to the big bed, while he watched her from beneath lids heavy with desire. Bess reclined against the pillows. “Do you like honey?” Her voice was sultry. She dipped her finger into her own honeypot and touched her nipples with the sweetness.
She was so splendidly uninhibited, William found her allure impossible to resist; it was impossible for him to leave her untasted. He came to the bed and rose above her, hungrily feasting his eyes where his mouth would follow. He knew he would love her all his days. He could hardly believe that at last the prize was his. Not only was Bess beautiful, sensual, and passionate, she was also clever, witty, and shrewd. He vowed that he would devote himself to her and love her enough to banish her insecurities and turn her into the confident woman she pretended to be. They remained in seclusion for two whole days and nights before Rogue Cavendish could bear to share her with anyone else.
Bess couldn't wait to take William to Derbyshire and show him off to her family.
“Why don't we surprise them?” William suggested.