Chapter 3

"Your Grace, Mrs. Pierce wants to go over the menu with you whenever you find the time."

Killian rolled his eyes when his butler entered the study with this pronouncement. The female part of his staff kept nagging him for the last days about this and that. How many guests would come? If they needed to prepare rooms for guests who might need to stay for the night? About decorations and meals, and his head was about to explode with all these questions. But when he whined to Robin about it his friend just told him that the marriage might be only one of convenience for both parts, but that his bride might appreciate it if he put some effort into the whole ceremony, and not just treat it like he was signing one of his business contracts.

Killian knew Robin was right, and even though he hadn't spoken to Emma in person since she'd showed up on his doorstep ten days ago, he considered it his duty to make the day of their wedding as comfortable for her as he could. There was no love involved in their union, but he was adamant to treat her with respect. After all she would hopefully be the mother of his children one day, and he didn't want to have one of those marriages that were normal for the ton; spouses who hardly talked to each other and ignored each other most of the times. If it was possible he wanted to at least establish a friendship with Emma over the time.

Robin was also the one who told him that the marriage would be easier on both of them if he also made an effort to get acquainted with the child Emma would bring into the marriage, and not ignore him. Killian had to admit he felt a little queasy about that prospect, but Henry would live with them, and Killian still remembered his own childhood and how alone he would have felt if it hadn't been for his older brother taking him with him everywhere. So he'd gone to a wood carver a few days ago, and dazzled him with a considerable amount of one pound notes, so that the present he had in mind would be finished when the day of the wedding came around.

Killian wasn't trying to win Emma's heart with this gesture, he didn't expect to ever have deeper feelings for his soon-to-be wife, didn't want to have any to be precise, but he was hell bent on making the changes in their lives as easy as he could for all of them.

Emma was standing in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection with a critical eye. She was glad that she didn't have to ask the duke for money to provide a suitable wedding gown, suitable for the new Duchess of Hillsborough.

Now that the day of the wedding was finally here she couldn't calm her nerves any longer. She was about to marry a complete stranger, a man she needed to welcome in her bed with open arms because that were the conditions of their marital contract, and no matter how much she feared being intimate with the duke, she should feel grateful that he purchased a special license and would marry her before Neal came back from the country and could intervene.

Emma let her shaking fingers trail over the embroidered fabric of her gown, tried to force her thoughts away from what would happen in a few hours behind closed doors, instead she tried to concentrate on why she was marrying the duke in the first place.

For Henry.

"You look beautiful, Emma."

Emma locked eyes with Ruby in the mirror, forcing herself to smile at her best friend who'd helped her with her coiffure and dress, not wanting to let her see how anxious she really was about this marriage.

"Beautiful, mommy," Henry's voice came from the doorway, and tears pricked the back of her eyes as she looked at her son, being all proper in the small waistcoat and great coat she'd purchased for him, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Ready?" she asked him, stretching her hand out for him.

The talk with Henry had been easier than she'd anticipated, her son only wanted to know if the duke had horses, and if she thought he might let him ride them one day. Emma had assured him that the duke had a huge stable, assuming that he had, at least at his estate, and that Henry might get to ride a horse one day if he was behaving properly and politely. Henry had been nodding his head vigorously, promising her that he would be super good in front of the duke, so that he could ride the horses whenever he wanted. Emma really hoped she didn't have to let her son down if it turned out that Killian didn't want Henry to get in his ways. She hadn't really talked with the duke about it, and she realized belatedly that she should have talked about the boundaries he wanted to draw when it came to her son. But it was too late to worry about this now. Time would tell if Henry's wish would be fulfilled. Nothing she could do about it now.

Fortunately it would be a small ceremony, held in the duke's mansion, only their closest friends attending. There would be a formal dinner afterwards, but no great affair. She just wished it'd already be all over, and the wedding night behind her.

Henry's fingers closed around hers, and she smiled down at him, straightening her shoulders when Victor came into the room and announced that the carriage the duke had sent for her had just arrived.

There was no going back now. She had to be strong, and go through with it. For Henry.

A few doubts had flickered through his brain from time to time over the course of the last two weeks, if he'd be able to consummate the marriage without any difficulties. After all no real feelings were connecting him to Emma. No love, no passion. Just duty, and a sense of 'white knight in shining armor' syndrome. But when she stepped into the salon with her hair pinned up into complicated braids at the top of her head, her lithe body clad in a shimmering gown of pale yellow with flowers embroidered over her small waist, all doubts evaporated in an instance.

She was a beautiful woman. He didn't need to fear. He could already feel his loins stir to life when she walked towards him and stopped beside him, her eyes fluttering up to his for own brief moment. He told the pastor to hold out for a minute as he gestured towards his butler to bring in the present he bought for Henry, and he forced himself not to look for Emma's reaction as he kneeled down in front of Henry to give him the small carved wooden horse. The boy's eyes lit up, and he looked up at his mother, clearly asking for permission to accept the present. Apparently he got confirmation because a second later his small hands closed around the horse and he pulled it against his chest, shooting him a big grin as he mumbled a thanks before plopping down on his seat and staring down at the horse in his hands.

Killian felt a surge of satisfaction rush through him as he met Emma's gaze when he straightened, and saw the wonder in her eyes. It had been the right idea to buy her son a small present, and her shaky smile was a welcoming reward.

The ceremony started without further delays, and Killian casted glances towards her out of the corner of his eyes throughout it, suddenly wishing he could read her mind when her voice whispered the marital vows which made her his wife, wished he would know what she was thinking when she stared up at him while he recited the vows that would bind them together forever. But he couldn't read her expression.

At the end of the ceremony Killian intended to brush the skin of her cheek with a chaste kiss, but then he turned his head at the last moment and planted his lips on hers. Her mouth trembled under his, and he increased the pressure of his lips just a fraction, letting his tongue flick against her bottom lip. Her mouth opened in a soft, surprised gasp, and he was scoundrel enough to take advantage of it and surge forward, twining his tongue with hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her body flush against his.

She looked at him startled as he released her, her green eyes glued to his as she clearly fought for composure. He made it easier for her, and stepped back, letting the congratulates sweep them away, but he kept watching her throughout dinner, studying the slight changes in her facial expression. He wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her again. He didn't expect to feel anything for her, but he couldn't deny that lust coursed through his body when her laughter rang out as she listened to something Henry told her.

The boy was getting tired; Killian could see him rubbing his eyes every few minutes, and he called for the nurse, telling her to bring Henry to bed. Emma was hesitating slightly, clearly wanting to not let her son out of her sight, and Killian walked over to her, laid his hand on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper in her ear that she could join them in a few minutes, after they'd said goodbye to their guests, and he felt her relax under his hand, her mouth tilting up into a thankful smile as he pulled her chair back and hold his hand out to her.

When he closed the door behind the last guest, she excused herself and went up the stairs. He followed her with his eyes, deciding to go into his study for a last drink to give her a few minutes with her son and time for her to get ready for the wedding night, before he would join her.

Emma thought she could do it, thought it would be easier, but now as she was sitting on the bed with her nakedness barely concealed by the silk negligee, waiting for her new husband to join her in the marital bed, she didn't think she'd be able to consummate the marriage with him.

Her heart was racing in her chest, the muscles in her whole body were jumping as she tried to keep the panic at bay. She was telling herself over and over again that she could get through it, that she could separate her mind from her body and let him take her. The marriage needed to be consummated to be legal, and the whole point of this marriage was to keep her son safe.

She was doing this for Henry. She could do this.

Her son was sleeping a few rooms down the hall, and she was trying to distract herself with thoughts about him. The day had exited him beyond measure, and he had still been babbling nonstop when she'd stepped into his room to say goodnight one hour ago. He'd insisted on taking the carved wooden horse Killian gave him into bed with him, and Emma couldn't refuse him as he'd grinned up at her with pleading eyes.

She should hold on to that picture - Killian crouching in front of her son, presenting him the intricately carved wooden horse. Killian wasn't a monster, the whole day had showed her that he was a nice man, even the kiss after they'd exchanged the necessary wedding vows had been pleasant if surprising, but appearances could be deceiving, and her body tensed even more as she imagined his weight pressing her into the mattress while he forced himself inside of her.

Vision of Neal flickered over her closed eyelids, his menacing voice ringing in her ears, the memories of the pain he'd inflicted on her shaking her body, and her breathing became erratic, the urge to flee before her new husband came into the room was almost overwhelming.

She couldn't do it. This had been a mistake. She couldn't share her bed with her husband. She couldn't.

Her fingers fisted the sheet in a white-knuckled grip, and her legs jerked with the need to jump up and run out of the room, to take her son and flee into the night. She was about to push the sheet away and take flight as the door creaked, and her husband stepped into the room.

His wife was a vision, and Killian stopped in the middle of the room, taking her in, suddenly realizing how fortunate he could consider himself that his wife was such a beauty. He might have married her out of duty to the dukedom, but producing heirs with her might turn out to be more pleasure than work. The glow of the fire and the candles scattered throughout the room were bathing her in a golden light, her loose hair was spilling out over her back, and his fingers itched to thread through it, to open the bows holding her negligee together at her shoulders, to reveal her body to his hungry eyes.

He felt his cock stand up to attention, throbbing inside of his breeches, and the thought of slipping inside of her warm, wet sheath almost made him shudder with anticipation. But then a flicker of the flames showed him the anxious expression in her eyes, the rigid posture of her body, the fact that her fingers were curled around the sheet so that her knuckles were even whiter than the sheet itself, and it was as if someone had downed a bucket of ice cold water over his body.

She was afraid of him. She was afraid he would force himself on her, to cause her pain, and for the first time he wondered about the nature of her sexual experiences up to this point; it didn't look as if the Earl's illegitimate son had showed her the pleasures a woman should experience in bed. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes averted down now, and he gritted his teeth, fighting with the emotions coursing through his veins. Protectiveness, anger, the urge to hit something, to hurt the one who put that fear into her. But instead of acting on the wish to pull her into his arms and soothe her anguish, he decided to treat more carefully. He would never harm her, and he needed her to know that, to understand that she didn't have to fear him.

"It's late, milady," he said softly, trying to soothe her with the tender timbre of his voice. "We should go to sleep."

Killian didn't wait for her reaction, instead he walked around the room to blow out the candles, only ridding himself of his clothes when the room was only illuminated by the glowing fire, and for the sake of his wife he pulled out one of the nightgowns he didn't normally wear, before he slipped into bed with her.

He forced himself to breathe evenly to give her the illusion that he was falling asleep quickly, but he couldn't let sleep take him until he felt her finally lay down beside him, and he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her breathe out a sigh of relief as she relaxed into the mattress.

Killian waited until he was certain she'd fallen asleep before he turned to his side and watched her in the soft glow the dying fire was casting over her face and body. She was as beautiful in sleep as she was when awake, and he suppressed the urge to twirl a lock of her golden hair around his finger, ignored the stirring of his cock when he watched her chest rise and fall, saw the nipples of her firm breasts strain against the fine fabric of her negligee. Careful not to wake her, he pulled the sheet up to her chin, skimming his thumb over her cheek before he leaned back into the pillow again, and closed his eyes.

He was willing to give her some time to get used to him. He wanted their marital intercourse to be pleasurable for both sides, and not just a necessary act with the goal of getting her with child. If she needed time, he would give her time. They were both still young. There was no need to rush anything.