Free A Desperate Wager by Em Taylor Page B

arm. It is similar to the feeling before you regain that fully. That is how I feel from my waist down to here.” She placed her hand half way down her thighs. “And below that—nothing.”
    “ I see. Well you have sensation, so that is good. I may be able to bring you pleasure, after all. As for the… err… dampness, there are ways around that. We shall have to work it out on our wedding night.”
    “ I take it that is a good thing—if you can bring me pleasure.”
    “ Of course it is. I want to bring you pleasure, Freckles. I want ours to be a real marriage.”
    Sarah swallowed hard. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She tried to calm the thudding of her heard in her chest. He wanted her to be a proper wife, not just a convenience. A marriage like the one her parents had.
    The conversation became no more comfortable after that. He asked about the indoor privy and how many would be required. He also discussed the stairs in the townhouse and his country seat. Then how she was going to make it down the aisle at their wedding.

Chapter Nineteen
    Five days later, Sarah stood in the vestibule of St George’s Church, Hanover Square in a primrose-coloured dress, trimmed with beads and pearls. It had a fashionably high waistline and a square neckline, with a lace fischu to cover most of her décolletage. Her bonnet was made of straw and pretty yellow ribbons. The maids had pushed fresh spring flowers into the hat, making it look like a pretty floral bouquet sitting atop her bright red curls. She loved it, despite knowing it was slightly over-the-top.
    The footman had lifted her into the church and her father stood at her side, coughing, and giving her sidelong glances.
    “He is a good man,” her father repeated the words he had said a number of times already that morning.
    “ I know, Papa. He may not love me, but he will care for me.”
    It was all she could ask from a marriage if she was honest. And her father seemed to relax. Truth be told, she was doing this more for him than for herself. He had to go to the grave content in the knowledge she was being well cared for.
    Organ m usic played, and she began to walk slowly, ever so slowly, down the aisle of the church, determined to do it herself. He father walked patiently at her side but when the refrain started to be played for a third time, she grimaced at Nathaniel.
    Let them wait , he mouthed to her. She grinned at the man who cared naught of the foibles of the ton . She was nearly there. Nathaniel whispered into the ear of the vicar, who nodded. They both took the remaining steps towards her and stopped.
    “ You looked as if you were tiring,” he whispered.
    “ I was. Thank you.”
    “ You’re welcome.”
    T he vicar began the words of the wedding service as a chair was brought to her to allow her to sit through the service. She looked up into the eyes of the man who would be her husband before the hour was up and saw pride. Awareness jolted through her. He understood how hard that walk down the aisle had been and how much strength she’d had to muster to make it possible.
    Now, there really was no turning back.

Chapter Twenty
    Sarah lay in her new bed—the bedchamber of the Duchess of Kirkbourne. A room that could be accessed by a door leading from the bedchamber of the Duke.
    They spent the rest of the wedding day entertaining family, then the evening had been spent in the drawing room, reading companionably.
    Of course, Sarah had been too nervous to actually read. She smiled to herself. Nathaniel must be as concerned about their wedding night as she was because every time she had glanced over her book at him, he was staring at her over the tome he was reading on the 1745 rebellion in Scotland.
    When she had smothered a yaw n, he had offered to carry her to their suite of rooms, then left her to prepare for his arrival, winking at her over her maid’s head and sending a bolt of feeling through her. She suspected it was part excitement, part