The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Thirty-Two

For the "honest woman" he made out of her... ;)

Chapter 32

During the recital, it is certainly a matter of feeling how the parties concerned should behave; but if tears can be restrained, and a quiet modesty in the lady displayed, and her emotions subdued, it adds much to the gratification of others, and saves a few pangs to the parents from whom she is to part.

~ The Habits of Good Society: A Handbook for Ladies and Gentlemen (The Last London Editor; 1860)

They sprawling city of Paris was gradually dispersing as the carriage steered them into the countryside. Through the shadows of the evening, the rural landscape became increasingly evident by the sheer lack of buildings, replaced with small and few village structures and settlements. Inside the carriage, the horses’ hooves against the gravel road were loud and Vicky narrowed her eyes at the man cradling her in his lap. “Well,” she demanded, “where are you taking me? I was under the impression you were taking me home.”

“I am taking you home.” That damn, languid grin crept up his cheeks, dimpling them sensually. Her belly fluttered excitedly but she squelched the feeling heroically and focused rather on the unknown possibility of her predicament.

“You are being deliberately vague. Do you mean you are taking me to England?”

“Eventually.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What about Adrienne and Étienne? All my belongings are still there and it is terribly rude-”

“Everything has been taken care of, Victoria,” he told her meaningfully. “Stop worrying- the Girard’s will understand. I have left them instructions.”

His arrogance was astounding. He must have been very assured of his success with her to have prearranged every minor detail to perfection, leaving no stone unturned. “And if I refused to come with you?” she asked petulantly.

“I would have sent you home with Mrs Girard,” he explained. “But I would not have been happy about it.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “You still haven’t told me where you are taking me now, though.”

He didn’t say anything and after several more moments, he didn’t need to. The carriage pulled to a stop and Vicky scrambled off his lap to peer out the window. Immersed in darkness, the building they had stopped outside was only distinctive by one apparent feature: the pointed spire at the front. They were outside a chapel- a small, rural one at that, but a chapel nonetheless. “What are you planning?” she murmured speculatively, more to herself than to the man sharing the carriage with her.

His hands were on her waist, coaxing her back into his lap where she went voluntarily, entwining her arms over his broad shoulders and finding contentment in the strength of his body pressed intimately against hers. It didn’t matter where he took her or what he did with her, Vicky knew that she could trust him with her entire being, her entire soul, and as long as he loved her, she knew she was safe. It was a feeling that made her giddy and strangely lethargic, a silly grin threatening to tug the corners of her lips up. His mouth swooped down and claimed hers in a searing embrace of yearning, of need, of implacable desire, plundering her senses and making her eloquently aware of the longing she had craved for over a month. God, his kisses were drugging, addictive, and she was reluctant to part, perfectly happy to remain joined to his lips until the day she died. But part he did and bestowed upon her that lazy, Cheshire grin, dimples and all, his eyes luminous in the darkness, and said, “I, my dear, am going to finally make an honest woman of you. Shall we?”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “You lout!” she spluttered as he deposited her on the seat beside him and swung the carriage door open. “Honest woman, indeed!”