The Fairy Tale Bride

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The chill evening air that had swirled in with the opening of the carriage door brought a gasp from Miranda and a sharp return to reality to Simon. Briskly, he sat up and began rearranging his clothing. Fortunately, his servants were well-trained, and the door had shut almost as quickly as it opened.

He could hear Miranda frantically attempting to arrange her own clothing, and he had no heart to tell her how fruitless her attempts were. In the darkness, the clothing that had been so easily discarded would be impossible to right. He distinctly remembered feeling tiny buttons pelt his cheek when her bodice had finally given way.

A frantic elbow jabbed him in the ribs and a knee connected painfully with his hip before he relented. “Miranda, I’m afraid the task is hopeless.”

She stilled, and the rustling of clothing ceased so that he could hear the sob that caught in her breath. “It cannot be. I will not be seen like this by your ... our staff. What will they think of me.”

As if on cue, there was a timid knock on the carriage door. “Your Grace? Would you care to dismount — ”

There was an awkward pause, which Simon used to offer a thankful prayer that Miranda had no understanding of William’s careless double entendre.

William’s strained voice began again. “ I mean, Your Grace, would you and your bride care for any assistance?”

Before he knew what she would do, Miranda said imperiously, “Please hand in your lantern, my good man — and give me a few minutes. The pins have fallen out of my hair from the jouncing of the journey.” She opened the door only enough to receive the lantern. The light, however, served to reveal the disaster he had expected.

“Oh, my God, Simon. What have we wrought?” In the bright glow of the lantern, Simon could clearly see that the fever that had engulfed both of them had left Miranda. She stared at him with embarrassment and confusion, her hair down around her bared shoulders, her arms clutching the remains of her bodice to cover her breasts.

Surprisingly, he felt his desire flood through him again. If she did not look so much like a lost child, he would have ordered William to give them a half hour of privacy. It took great strength for him to remember that she was his bride and deserved a proper wedding night in a proper bed.

“What shall we do?” Miranda gave up trying to repair the disaster of her new traveling gown and stared at him in complete dismay. “I cannot be seen like this!”

“On the contrary, my dear. I believe I very much enjoy seeing you this way.”

Miranda’s gaze flicked with obvious annoyance over his own clothing. “Your attire looks no more rumpled than one might expect from such a journey. But I look as though ...” She blushed.

Reminding himself that Miranda was now his duchess and suffering from the indignity of having been discovered in dishabille by a servant in her new home, he put aside his own feelings for the moment. The night was young. And he was certain he could return them both to their abandoned state as soon as he closed the bedroom door behind them.

Swiftly, he covered her with his cloak and lifted her into his arms. She protested, embarrassed, but he swept aside her objections. “It is the bridegroom’s prerogative, Miranda, to carry his sleeping bride into his home so that she might rest in comfort on her wedding night.”

“Sleeping ... “ Her eyes searched his for a moment, as if for the first time she was realizing that what had passed between them in the carriage was not an isolated event. To his delight, a small smile curved her lips as she obediently snuggled her head on his shoulder and feigned sleep. For the first time since he had thrown caution to the winds and decided to spend his last few months in England with Miranda, he was unreservedly happy with his decision.