Chapter Text
“ Penelope…”
Penelope saw, rather than heard her best friend whisper her name and had the fleeting thought that she did not believe Eloise had ever spoken so softly.
Eyes still wide with shock, Eloise took one step forward and then another. Penelope matched her slow progress forward until both women broke and rushed across the foyer, meeting halfway in a tangle of grasping arms and tears. The girls clutched each other, gasping apologies; half-asked questions about the other’s well-being spilling from trembling lips.
Finally pulling away enough to hold Eloise’s hands in her own, Penelope glanced behind her to see her mother standing where she had left her, uncomfortable but silent. Colin had moved closer, a warm smile brightening his eyes, ready to offer any support she may need.
“I am so happy to see you, Pen,” Eloise breathed through tear-filled laughter.
“And I you,” Penelope replied, releasing one of her friend’s hands to wipe her own tears away.
Eloise glanced between her and Colin, then over to Portia before landing back on Penelope. “Where have you been all this time?” she asked urgently. “We have all been worried sick since we were forced to leave you with the Queen.”
“That is a long story.” Penelope chuckled. “One which I’m happy to share with you soon, El, but first-” she paused and glanced over at her mother who was now standing beside them, wringing her hands nervously. “Am I to understand you and my mother have been writing to each other? About me?”
“We have,” Portia answered, giving Eloise a smile more genuine than Penelope had ever seen her give any Bridgerton, let alone the one she had once referred to as a ‘ruffian and malcontent.’
“After Cressida,” Eloise spat the name like a curse, “revealed your identity to your mother I sent her a note trying to explain your motives and motivations.” She looked over at Portia and shrugged almost bashfully. “One note led to two notes and eventually we were exchanging letters nearly every day.”
Beside Penelope, Colin made a frustrated sound. “Why did you not share these letters with me, Eloise?” he asked in a hurt tone. “Do you not trust me?”
Eloise sighed, obviously doing her best not to roll her eyes. “I do not share the names of all my correspondents with you, brother.” At his crestfallen expression she softened a bit. “It is not a matter of trust. It was all I could do to get you to discuss Whistledown with me ,” she explained. “I did not think you were ready to discuss it with anyone else.”
Colin frowned but did not argue further. Instead he stepped closer and took Penelope’s hand in his as though he found comfort in her touch. She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him before turning to her mother.
“I am not sorry for Whistledown,” Penelope said carefully, “she was a great comfort to me for a very long time… but I am sorry for the hurt I caused people I love,” she paused. “Including you, mama.”
Portia nodded, eyes misty. “I know you are, my girl.” She took a tentative step forward, reaching for the hand that was not clutched in Colin’s and said, “Can we start afresh as mother and daughter, do you think?”
Penelope was silent for a long moment, the warm, steady presence of Colin and Eloise soothing her beyond measure. “Yes,” she answered eventually, “but we must build that relationship slowly and carefully. I will not learn to trust you overnight, nor would I expect that of you.”
Portia nodded and stepped back, releasing Penelope’s hand to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief retrieved from the pocket of her gown. “I understand. May I come to Lady Danbury’s and have tea with you tomorrow?”
“Lady Danbury’s?” Colin exclaimed, tugging her hand to bring her attention to him. “Why can you not stay here?” He gestured around the foyer to indicate Bridgerton House. “We are your family now. We will prepare you a room and I will move back into my old chamber-”
“Colin Bridgerton! You will do no such thing!” Violet cried, stepping out from the office with Anthony, Kate and Lady Danbury just behind her. Penelope noted that the Viscount looked impatient, Kate unsurprised and Lady Danbury amused.
“Penelope is in my guardianship on the orders of the Queen,” Lady Danbury reminded the group and Eloise let out a quiet ‘oh!’ of surprise. “She must remain in my home until we depart for Aubrey Hall next week.” Agatha glanced at the clock mounted on the other side of the foyer. “In fact, we should return there now as you have been away too long already,” she advised, fixing Penelope with a knowing look.
“Pen,” Colin whined next to her, “I do not want you to leave me.”
Turning to him fully, Penelope raised a comforting hand to Colin’s cheek. “I am not leaving you,” she reassured in a quiet voice, just for him. “I will never leave you. But Agatha is right. I cannot risk angering Her Majesty any more than I already have.” Colin covered her hand on his face with his own and closed his eyes briefly before nodding at her.
“All right,” he whispered. “I do not like it, but I understand.”
“Agatha?” Penelope called, her eyes never leaving her financé’s. “Might we invite the Bridgertons for dinner tomorrow evening?” Colin finally smiled.
“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Agatha agreed with a mischievous grin in her voice. “Perhaps Mr. Bridgerton would like to arrive early to help us prepare for our guests?”
Laughing softly, Penelope turned to her friend and nodded. “I believe he would be of great assistance.” She sobered a bit then and looked at her mother. “I will see you for tea tomorrow then?” she asked carefully.
Portia nodded before glancing around, pausing and drawing Penelope into her arms for a brief hug. “I will see you then,” she said quickly. Then, turning toward the door, she took her pelisse from a waiting servant and swept out the door.
There was a weighted pause in Portia’s absence before Anthony spoke up.
“Well, we have worked out several details. The family will leave for Aubrey Hall the day before the season ends,” he stated, “and Miss Featherington will follow with Lady Danbury on Friday. This will ensure there are no whispers of Colin being alone with any unmarried woman save his sister,” he shot his brother a pointed look.
Colin threw up his hands in frustration. “I am a grown man, brother,” he frowned. “I am quite capable of controlling myself in the company of my fiancée.”
To their credit, no one quite laughed, although Eloise covered a scoff by clearing her throat and Kate’s face twitched suspiciously.
“Yes, well,” Violent interrupted diplomatically, “be that as it may, it would be better for everyone that no one knows Penelope is with us until we are safe in the country.”
“From there we will plot your route to Scotland,” Anthony agreed. “I will write the necessary letters to secure separate rooms for you at reputable inns along the way.”
“Scotland?” Eloise asked.
“They should change horses here in Mayfair,” Agatha piped up. “I would be happy to offer a spare carriage to take you as far as Bletchley.”
“Why are you going to Scotland?” Eloise asked a little louder.
“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” Colin said gratefully. “We can engage a hired coach from there and hopefully be in Gretna Green in less than a week.”
“Are we openly planning an elopement in the foyer?” Eloise blurted out, arms flailing slightly.
“Very well, then,” Agatha nodded and held a hand out in Colin’s direction. “Come, Mr. Bridgerton. Escort your bride and me to our carriage.”
Grinning happily, Colin bounded forward and offered one arm to Agatha and one arm to Penelope before leading them toward the door.
“Will someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on!?” Eloise shouted from behind her to Violet’s cry of ‘ language !’
Laughing, Penelope tightened her grip on Colin’s arm. It was so good to be home.
Colin was beginning to loathe Rae.
Penelope’s lady’s maid was still kind and attentive to his fiancée and Penelope obviously cared for her a great deal, but gone was the biddable, bribable young woman from earlier in the season. In her place was a gatekeeping guardian seemingly dedicated to ensuring he and Penelope were never alone together.
At Danbury House she chaperoned him with Pen during tea, joined them in the library while they passed pages of their writing back and forth and even followed behind them as they took a turn in the gardens on a particularly lovely afternoon. Every time Colin leaned down to whisper something in Penelope’s ear or even try to press an innocent kiss to her brow, Rae would loudly clear her throat or appear at Penelope’s side with an excuse to separate them. In desperation, he took to leaving flirtatious notes in the margins of his paper just to see Pen flush when she read them.
He had hoped for a reprieve once they reached Aubrey Hall, but from the moment Lady Danbury’s carriage arrived (Penelope flying out of the door and into Colin’s waiting arms as though they had been apart for a year rather than a day), Rae had been practically stitched to her lady’s side.
Even the one night he had managed to sneak unnoticed into Penelope’s bedchamber he discovered with horror that either Anthony or his mother had actually installed a second bed for the meddling maid. He had pressed a soft kiss to Pen’s cheek before slipping away as the women slept. (When he told Penelope about the misadventure the next morning she had laughed so prettily that he was almost glad he had failed. Almost.)
The only time Rae was absent from the room was during family time and then, Eloise was there in her place; pulling Pen away to speak in quiet corners, read books together or take seemingly endless walks around the grounds. Jealous as he was at the attention his wife-to-be paid to his sister, he knew how desperately they had missed each other during their estrangement. He could not bring himself to resent Eloise when he saw the constant smile Penelope wore in her company.
After their quiet departure from Aubrey Hall, Rae had joined them as promised and planned. Sitting resolutely next to Penelope as they trundled back to London, as Lady Danbury’s carriage rumbled toward Bletchley, as they moved to a hired hack. He had briefly wondered if he could find a reason to ‘forget’ her when they changed horses, but even in his frustrated state, Colin would never leave a young lady alone and unprotected, even one so determined to keep him away from his bride.
The entirety of their journey to Scotland had followed the same pattern. They would travel for hours, passing the time by reading or Colin telling stories from his travels that Pen had heard many times but never tired of hearing, until they reached their inn for the evening. After a chaperoned dinner, they would retreat to their separate rooms; Colin alone and Penelope with Rae. In the morning they would break their fast together, again, chaperoned, before starting all over again.
They reached their final stop, a beautiful manor house-turned-hotel called Gretna Hall, a full six days after leaving the country and Colin was going out of his mind with the need to really touch Penelope. He wanted to hold her, kiss her. He wanted to strip her bare, sink inside of her and never let her go.
And so now, in the quiet of his room a few doors down from the one Penelope shared with Rae (and a floor below the private suite he and his new wife would share tomorrow night) Colin scribbled a quick note on the corner of a piece of parchment, tore it off and slipped the tiny missive into his pocket. When Rae falls asleep, step out of your room. I will be waiting.
Smiling at his ingenuity, Colin shrugged on his waistcoat, deciding to forgo the cravat this evening, and headed into the hall where he walked the short distance away and knocked on the door to Penelope’s room. This evening they would share their final, chaperoned meal as a betrothed couple. First thing in the morning the blacksmith that Gretna Green affectionately called “Bishop” David Lang would marry them with a swing of his hammer. Colin was nearly vibrating with anticipation.
The door in front of him swung open, startling him out of his thoughts of the next day.
“Sir,” Rae greeted with a small nod.
“Good evening,” Colin replied politely. “I am here to escort you and Miss Featherington downstairs for dinner,” he explained, as though they had not done this exact dance five evenings in a row.
“Yes,” Rae agreed in a tone that made it clear she was having the same thought. “Miss?” she called over her shoulder, “Mr. Bridgerton is here.”
“Thank you, Rae,” Penelope called, stepping into Colin’s line of sight at last. She looked achingly beautiful in her lilac evening gown, hair swept into a loose braid and tumbling over her shoulder, pretty tendrils framing her sweet face. “Good evening, Colin,” she said with a bright smile.
“Pen,” Colin smiled back and extending both arms, one for each young lady, led them downstairs.
Dinner turned out to be lamb-filled Scotch pies, dish after dish of steaming carrots, onions and potatoes and thick oatcakes topped with soft, fresh crowdie. The dining area was full but not crowded, vibrant but not loud and comfortable without being overwarm. Colin tucked happily into his meal after making sure the women under his protection were seated and served.
Thrice during dinner, Colin surreptitiously emptied half his own mug of ale into Rae’s emptying cup before gesturing for a refill. Though her lady’s maid was seemingly oblivious, the twinkle in Penelope’s eye when she caught his gaze made it clear his scheme had not gone entirely unnoticed.
Once the dinner dishes had been cleared away by the kitchen staff, plates piled with tiny squares of shortbread topped with caramel and chocolate were brought to the tables along with more ale or snifters of brandy for those willing to lay out a bit more coin. Colin ate several of the sweet treats and sipped slowly at his own brandy while Penelope nursed the same ale she had been served with dinner. At her side, Rae sat drowsily nibbling a piece of shortbread, the telltale flush of intoxication high on her cheeks.
Colin was about to suggest they retire for the night when a single, clear baritone voice rose from a corner of the room.
Of all the money that e'er I had I spent it in good company
Colin blinked in recognition and smiled in the voice’s direction just as a second singer joined in from the table next to them.
And all the harm that e'er I did alas, it was to none but me
From across the room, a third man joined in to create a trio of warm, welcoming voices.
And all I've done for want of wit to memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all
Colin glanced over just in time to see sheer delight blossom on Penelope’s face as the entire dining room started to sing.
If I had money enough to spend and leisure time to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in this town who sorely has my heart beguiled
Reaching out, Colin caught Penelope’s hand in his, grinned and began to sing along with the merry group with whom they had shared their meal. He looked into her beautiful, coastal blue eyes and sang the next lines directly to her.
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, I own she has my heart in thrall
So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all
Penelope’s jaw dropped in surprise before she blushed and bit her lip bashfully. Colin squeezed her hand and continued the song with the men and women slowly preparing to head home for the night.
Of all the comrades that e'er I've had they're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had they'd wish me one more day to stay
But since it fell into my lot that I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call goodnight and joy be with you all
By the time they reached the final lines of the chorus, Penelope had figured out enough of the cadence to sing along and with a warm, happy smile, added her lovely voice to the choir and finished the song with him.
Come fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all
Goodnight and joy be with you all
“Where did you learn that?” Penelope asked breathlessly, her face still bright with awe as people around them began to slowly depart. She had moved closer to him as they sang and her leg was brushing temptingly against his under the table.
“Galway,” Colin explained, smiling fondly at his memories of the rolling hills in the beautiful riverside town. “It is an old Scottish folk song but the Irish sing it as well.”
Penelope’s eyes widened, “I did not realize you had been to Ireland this summer,” she smiled wistfully. “I have cousins there but mama has not taken us to visit in many years.”
“I would be honored to take you to Ireland when we are married, my love,” he promised. “With your fiery hair and those crystal eyes, you will become the most beautiful English-Irish lass on the Emerald Isle.”
“Colin,” she giggled shyly.
“I actually bought you a gift there,” he hinted, thinking of the ring hidden safely in his trunk upstairs, the ring he now intended to slip on her finger at their wedding in the morning, “but you cannot have it just now,” he teased.
A feigned pout scrunched her adorable features and she opened her mouth to protest when a raucous laugh from one of the remaining patrons echoed through the room. The abruptly loud noise startled Rae out of her slumping doze and she jolted upright, nearly spilling the dregs of her remaining ale onto the table.
“Miss!” she cried blearily, “I believe it is time to retire for the evening.” She stood and gave Colin as pointed of a look as she was able, given her clear exhaustion.
“Certainly,” Colin replied and with a thank you to the kitchen staff, led the ladies back upstairs to the rooms. At Penelope’s door, he made a show of searching the pockets of his trousers for her key before ‘remembering’ it was in his waistcoat. After opening the door, he reached for Penelope’s hand and kissed it gently, smiling at the way her eyes widened when she felt the scrap of paper he secreted into her palm.
With a satisfied smile, Colin crept down the hall to a cushioned bench tucked into a small recess, sat down and waited for his bride to emerge.
Penelope was not usually a swift riser. She preferred to wake slowly, luxuriating in soft bedding while mentally preparing herself for the day - especially when her days had so often been filled with the vapid cruelty of her sisters or the malicious neglect of her mother.
But today was different. She awoke to the early-morning sun streaming through the curtains no one had closed the evening before and sat bolt upright.
“It is my wedding day,” she whispered to herself, feeling a huge grin stretch across her face. She looked over to see Rae rubbing her eyes, still prone on the servant’s bed in the corner and said a bit louder, “it is my wedding day!”
“Yes, Miss,” Rae yawned, dragging herself out of bed. She grimaced and touched a hand to her brow. “I believe I may have overindulged at dinner last night, Miss,” she warbled and sat back down.
Knowing precisely what Colin had done last night to incapacitate her maid, Pen bit back a guilty frown and stepped out of bed to fetch Rae a glass of water. “Drink this,” she ordered gently, handing the glass off, “I will ready myself as much as I can while you rest.”
“Thank you, Miss,” Rae smiled gratefully. “I know I have said this before, but I am happy that Lady Danbury returned me to your service and I hope it is not too bold to say that I would wish to remain with you even after you are married.”
“It is not too bold, Rae. I will remind you that you should always be free to speak your mind with me,” Penelope replied warmly, “and I would be honored to have you in my household when we return to England.”
Rae smiled again, turning her head to hide her blush, and began sipping at her water while Penelope sat at her dressing table to comb out her hair. As she brushed through her wild curls, her mind drifted to the evening before.
When soft snores began to drift from the direction of Rae’s bed, Penelope slipped silently out of her own bed, donned a dressing gown over her nightdress and tiptoed toward the door which she opened as carefully as possible. She closed it quietly and turned to find Colin already directly behind her. She only just managed not to cry out in surprise.
Before she could even speak, he swept her into his arms and kissed her so passionately she was lifted clean off of her feet. She threw her arms around his neck and held on as he walked the several steps to his own room and let them in, firmly closing the door behind them and setting her on the edge of his bed.
“My god, Pen,” he murmured, trailing desperate kisses across her cheeks, against her lips and down her throat. “I have missed you so much.”
“Colin,” she laughed breathlessly, pushing her fingers into his curls as he dropped to his knees and pulled open her dressing gown so he could move his mouth to the tops of her breasts, running his tongue along the tender skin at the neckline of her nightdress. “We have been together constantly for weeks!”
“We have not been alone ,” he grumbled, rising up to capture her lips again, plundering her mouth with his tongue while his hands wandered down to pluck at her hardened nipples.
“Colin, wait please,” Penelope requested gently, pulling his hands away from her breasts and kissing them gently to soothe the sting of concern on his face. “I do not wish to disappoint you, but-” She broke off, eyes sliding down and away. Her mama had been very clear about a wife’s duty toward her husband and though she and Colin were not yet wed, she knew that formality meant little to either of them.
A tender hand against her cheek brought her gaze back up and she found Colin giving her a soft, encouraging smile. “I cannot imagine anything you could say or do in this moment that would disappoint me, Pen.”
“If it is all right with you, that is to say, with your permission, I-” she paused again, remembering that this was Colin kneeling patiently in front of her. He saw her as an equal, not someone who required her permission to make decisions regarding her own body. She squared her shoulders and said calmly, “I would like to wait until tomorrow night before we are… together again, if you understand my meaning.”
“Of course,” Colin replied with an easy smile. “If that is what you wish then that is what we will do.” He rose from his place on the floor and sat next to her, still holding her hands, thumbs brushing gentle circles onto her wrists.
“You are not disappointed?” she asked, still concerned.
Colin shook his head. “Disappointed is the incorrect word,” he replied carefully. “Of course I would love nothing more than to be with you tonight, but Penelope,” he squeezed her hands and looked intently into eyes, “nothing intimate will ever happen between us unless it is what we both want. You will be my wife, not my property.”
The relief that flooded through her was astounding and she could not help but to throw her arms around him and hold him tightly as they whispered ‘I love you’ to each other in the candlelit room.
After a while, they stood and Colin adjusted her dressing gown to cover her more fully. Quickly checking that the hallway was still deserted, he walked her back to her door.
“May I kiss you?” he asked after they had said goodnight again and at her smiling nod kissed her gently once, twice and a third time.
Penelope raised up on her tiptoes and whispered to him, “the next time I fall asleep in your arms, it will be as your lawful wife.” And with a smile at the heated, anticipatory desperation in his eyes, slipped back into her room and closed the door.
“Miss?” Rae’s questioning voice startled Penelope from her memories and she blinked at her reflection in the mirror, finally noticing her maid’s raised eyebrows. Rae wiggled the decorative silver comb she was holding in one hand and waved the brush she must have taken from Penelope’s own hand in the other. “Are you ready?”
“Oh!” Penelope startled, clearing her throat. “Yes, Rae. Thank you.”
As Rae worked to sweep Pen’s curls up on one side, secured with the silver comb, she caught Penelope’s eyes in the mirror and failed to fully suppress her smile. “I will not pretend to be ignorant as to the content of your daydreams, Miss,” she said knowingly, “but I also would not speak them aloud. I will simply say that if you continue those musings you will put the rouge makers out of business.”
Flushing even deeper to know how obvious her thoughts were, Penelope laughed in surprise and patted Rae’s hand that had come to rest on her shoulder.
After her hair was done, her eyes shaded with pale peach and her lips brightened to a pretty pink, Rae helped her into her stockings, chemise and corset before retrieving the dress box where Penelope’s wedding gown, currently draped across the frame of her dressing screen, had been stored since they had retrieved it from Danbury House.
“I found this when I laid out your gown last night,” Rae explained, handing Penelope a note wrapped in silk ribbons in a familiar shade of blue.
Pulling the ribbons away, Penelope opened the note.
Penelope,
Lady Danbury sent me word of your Scottish plans so I have taken it upon myself to finish your wedding gown. The garter ribbons I have used to bind this letter are my gift to you. I am certain your Mr. Bridgerton will find them almost as lovely as the woman who wears them. Enjoy your wedding night, ma chère amie.
Yours,
Genevieve
Blushing yet again, Penelope held the note out to Rae who read it quickly before barking out a delighted laugh. “I believe your modiste friend is correct, Miss,” she grinned, taking the ribbons and tying them securely around Penelope’s stockinged thighs.
“It was already so kind of her to finish my dress,” Penelope murmured, standing to run her hands along the soft satin of her wedding gown, “I certainly was not expecting a gift on top of it.”
“You are surrounded by people who care for you,” Rae began, helping Penelope step into her dress and working her way through the tiny buttons on the back of the bodice. “I know you are not accustomed to feeling loved,” she continued, clearly having taken Penelope’s advice to speak her mind to heart, “but I have no doubt you will learn quickly once you are a Bridgerton.”
“So, in roughly an hour?” Penelope joked and at Rae’s nod they both dissolved into giggles.
After they recovered, Penelope removed her betrothal ring and tucked it carefully into the small box of jewels on her dressing table. Once it was secure, Rae turned Penelope gently toward the full-length mirror near the dressing screen and fiddled with the skirts of the gown, puffing them out to give Penelope the full effect of the beautiful dress Genevieve had made for her.
The floor-length satin gown was visibly ivory but in the right light, the shimmering material shifted to reveal the barest ice blue undertones. The fitted French cut accentuated her hourglass figure while the neckline dipped into a deep vee, just this side of scandalous. At her throat glittered the diamond necklace Colin had given her as an engagement gift. Her shoulders were bare but for the sheer lace that gathered there and cascaded like mist down her arms to meet the ivory silk gloves at her wrists. Dotted up one side of the skirt, like a small spring trail, were tiny yellow and blue flowers fashioned from the most delicate chiffon Penelope had ever seen.
“I feel like a princess,” Penelope whispered just as there was a knock at the door.
“And there is your prince,” Rae replied before crossing the room to open it.
Turning, Penelope stepped away from the mirror and toward the now open door. Colin’s entire face went slack when he saw her, his breathing visibly quickening. Looking at the man who would soon be her husband, Penelope felt in much the same state.
His soft, fitted breeches perfectly matched the color of his deep blue, long-tailed coat. Pinned to the lapel, cheerful sprigs of blue and yellow flowers peeked from a silver boutonniere holder. The silvery sheen of his vest complimented the pure white of his dress shirt and drew Penelope’s eye to the royal blue cravat tied at his throat. He was so beautiful it was almost unreal.
After they had each looked their fill, Colin leaned down to whisper quietly in her ear, “I will admit, a not insignificant part of me wants to carry you to my room and rid you of that gown this very moment,” he paused and pressed a covert kiss to her temple, “but that would defeat the object of you having put it on in the first place.”
She could not help but blush yet again, especially as Colin stepped back, took her left hand in his and reverently kissed her silk-covered palm.
“Rae,” Colin began, his eyes never leaving Penelope, “I know you have been reluctant to take my coin as of late, but I hope you will allow me to pay you a generous bonus for your services these past several days as well as a little more so you may explore the town while my wife and I are… occupied after our wedding?”
“Colin!” Penelope gasped on a gasp but he merely shrugged at her.
“Certainly, sir,” Rae answered with a bit of cheek to her tone. “I must reacquaint myself with your coin as I am to join your wife’s household.”
“Lovely!” Colin cried happily and glanced over to press several bills into Rae’s hand. As she slipped the money into the pocket of her dress, Colin gave her a serious look. “Do not carry that all at once,” he advised, “just to be safe.”
“I understand,” Rae nodded and then began shooing the couple away. “Now go! The smith will be open for business any moment!”
With a bow from Colin and a wave from Penelope, the pair made their way downstairs where Colin had engaged a curricle so he could drive them across the village to the anvil priest who would marry them. It was a short drive, so short in fact that Penelope wondered why they had not simply walked, but looking at the pride on Colin’s face as they passed in the open air she realized he had done this so people would see her, would see them.
She felt an intense wave of love for this man who was so delighted to be with her that he had arranged transport simply to show her off. When Colin rolled the curricle to a stop, handing off the reins to a waiting servant, Penelope leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly, relishing his surprised but appreciative smile.
“I love you too,” he whispered knowingly before hopping to the ground and circling to her side. He lifted her easily from her seat and set her gently down next to him. Hands linked, they walked inside where a tall man was pulling a horseshoe from the shop’s forge, his leather gloves and apron incongruous with the black cleric’s hat and robe he wore as well.
“Mr. Lang?” Colin called out and then corrected himself, “Bishop Lang?”
The smith turned, eyeing them shrewdly before putting his tongs down on the hearth and removing his gloves. “Come to be married, have you?” he asked and the couple nodded. “Very well. £2 then, before the hammer swings.”
Colin passed Lang the coin which he quickly pocketed before turning his attention to Penelope. “How old are you?”
“Oh! I am twenty,” she answered, glancing at Colin who smiled, reassuring her with a look that this was normal.
“Are you married or betrothed to another?”
Penelope blinked in surprise before answering quickly, “No, sir, absolutely not.”
He nodded absently and turned to Colin. “And you?”
“Two and twenty,” Colin replied and then smiled down at her. “I am not married nor am I betrothed to anyone but the lovely woman standing here with me.”
“Witnesses?” Lang asked, ignoring their affectionate display. “I can call some in from the street if you need.”
“Yes, please,” Colin said politely. “We have no one with us.”
“No one?” A familiar voice rang out from behind them and both Colin and Penelope turned to see, of all people, Francesca and her husband, John walking through the blacksmith’s door. “Is that any way to refer to your favorite sister?”
“Frannie!” Colin cried, pulling his sister into a tight hug as John smiled and greeted Penelope with a gentlemanly bow and a serene smile.
“Lord Kilmartin, Francesca,” Penelope curtsied equal parts shocked and pleased to see Colin’s sister and her husband, “what are you - how did you know we were here?”
“Eloise.” Francesa explained once Colin had finally released her and moved on to embrace John. “When we reached the inn at Glasgow there was an express from her waiting for us. She told us of your plans and asked if we could forgo the Highlands long enough to ensure you had family at your wedding.” She reached out and took Penelope’s hand. “You and Colin, sister.”
Penelope felt her eyes fill with tears but before she could even respond, Francesca had wrapped her in a warm hug. “You have always been part of our family, Penelope,” she whispered, “marrying my brother simply ensures that you remain so.”
Squeezing Francesca tightly one last time, Penelope let go and stepped back, only to be gathered into Colin’s arms as he gently kissed away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks.
“Excuse me,” Lang interjected from behind the group, “but are we having a wedding here or not? I’ve got work to do.”
“Of course,” Colin placated, steering Pen back toward the anvil, “my apologies, Bishop Lang.”
The man seemed pleased by the use of his honorary title and nodded with a slight smile.
“All right then, say your words.”
Turning to each other, hands held between them, Penelope and Colin recited in unison:
“I promise to love thee wholly and completely,
Without restraint,
In sickness and in health,
In plenty and in poverty,
In life and beyond,
Where we shall meet, remember, and love again."
Lang raised his hammer but Colin pulled one of his hands free with a quick, “wait,” and, reaching into his pocket, withdrew a ring. Taking her left hand in his, he pulled her white glove off and held the ring just beyond the tip of her fourth finger. It was a bright, gleaming silver in the shape of two hands tenderly holding a jewel-crowned heart. It was beautiful. Penelope looked up at Colin to see him holding back his own tears even as hers spilled over once more.
Taking a deep breath, Colin slid the ring on her finger, heart facing inward, and softly vowed: “I shall not seek to change you in any way. I shall respect you, your beliefs, your people and your ways as I respect myself.”
Completely overcome with love for him, Penelope threw her arms around Colin and was about to meet his lips for a kiss when the blacksmith once again interrupted them.
“Och!” Lang cried, exasperated, “we’re not there yet, lass!” He raised his hammer yet again but before he could swing it, John stepped forward.
“If I could have a moment?” he asked in his calm, quiet voice and Lang lowered the hammer again, sighing and waving at John impatiently. “Thank you,” John nodded at the blacksmith before turning to face Colin and Penelope. With one hand on each of their arms and a warm smile dancing in his eyes, the Earl of Kilmartin blessed their marriage.
“May you both be blessed with the fortitude of heaven, the brightness of the sun and the brilliance of the moon. May you have the magnificence of fire, speed of lightning, quickness of wind, depth of the sea, stability of earth, and the sturdiness of rock. May your joys be as sweet as the flowers that blossom in spring and as radiant as the summer sun. May the shower of autumn leaves bring to you faith and fortune, and may your love be resilient amidst the long winter nights. Beannachd Dia dhuit.”
“Meal do naidheachd!” Lang shouted before anyone else could speak, and finally brought his hammer down on the anvil. The singing of steel against iron that legalized their marriage was sweeter than any church bells. “Now get out of my shop.”
With a cheer from Fran and John, Colin swept Penelope off her feet and into a deep, tear-filled kiss. And as he swung her in a happy circle, Penelope wondered if she and her Blue Bird might simply fly away with joy.
Back at the hotel, late morning stretched into the afternoon as Colin and Penelope celebrated with John, Francesca and any other patron who happened upon them. Colin made sure the long dining table in the public drawing room was well stocked with hearty breads and soft cheeses, a thick haddock soup and plates of potatoes, black pudding and wild berries served with honey and of course, plenty of Scotch whisky.
The merry party laughed and sang, telling stories of their childhoods and of Colin and John’s various travels. Before evening fell, Colin asked Francesca to play the hotel’s piano and begged a waltz from Penelope with the request that he would like to dance with his wife in the light of day.
Finally, with full bellies and aching feet, Colin and Penelope bid their family goodnight. John and Francesca would be resuming their journey to the Highlands in the morning and no one was even going to pretend the newlyweds would be ready to leave their room by then.
After one last round of hugs and wishes for safe travel, Colin lifted Penelope into his arms, bridal style and carried her up three full flights of stairs despite her laughing and half-hearted protests. The hotel’s staff had prepared the suite earlier that day and the banked fire combined with the candles lit by the grand four-poster bed bathed the room in warm, flickering amber.
After closing the door behind him with his foot, Colin set Penelope down on the bed, leaned down to kiss her and stepped away. He undressed himself quickly, eyes never leaving hers, removing layer after infuriating layer until there was a pile of clothes on the floor next to him and he stood before his wife (his wife! ) completely naked.
Moving back into her space, he pulled her to her feet, into his arms and kissed her again, parting her lips with his tongue, licking into her slow and thorough. As her hands explored his body, flicking over his nipples and mapping the contours of his back, his own hands wandered into her hair, removing the jewels and pins which he dropped blindly onto the table next to the bed.
After a long moment, Colin turned Penelope around and began working the buttons on the back of her gown, fingers teasing her soft skin as more and more of it was revealed. When the dress was fully open, he helped her pull it down and step out of it before draping it carefully across the back of a nearby chair. Turning back, he unlaced her corset, pulled it away and watched as she lifted her chemise over her head.
Finally, she stood before him naked, except for her necklace and wedding ring and - oh… His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her lush, shapely legs encased in sheer cream silk secured by Bridgerton blue ribbons.
Colin dropped to his knees, Penelope’s gasp barely audible over the rapid heartbeat of his own arousal. He kissed at her thighs reverently, running his tongue along the bare skin at the edge of her stockings and pausing to suck a dark, possessive mark into the tender flesh near her center. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the heady scent of her filling his senses.
Gently pressing her forward, he encouraged her to sit on the edge of the bed. The new angle allowed him to reach out for her breasts. As her fingers pushed into his curls, he brushed his thumbs over her tight nipples, relishing in the way her breath hitched, her gasps and moans filling the otherwise quiet room. When he closed his mouth around one of the sensitive peaks she cried out and gripped his hair, holding him to her as he sucked and licked at her.
Looking up he caught her gaze before quickly glancing down and back up, asking permission with his eyes. She nodded vigorously and he smiled before kissing his way down her soft curves until he reached her center once more. He felt the fingers still buried in his hair tighten in anticipation as he spread her open with his thumbs before flicking his tongue out to taste her.
“Colin,” Penelope moaned, the first coherent word either of them had spoken, “please.”
At the sound of her begging for him, any thought of teasing her was obliterated. Lurching forward he plunged his tongue inside of her, licking through her folds to delve in deeply again and again. He held one thigh up, keeping her open for him while the other rubbed relentlessly at the bundle of nerves above where she was dripping into his mouth. As her legs began to shake around him he moved his thumb away and concentrated on her little nub, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue around it in tiny circles.
Just as he thought she was about to release for him, the hands in his hair were gone and she was shimmying back and away, pulling frantically at his hands.
“Pen, are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes,” she gasped immediately, “but I need you up here, please.” She maneuvered herself backward to the top of the bed and laid back, the winter fire of her hair spilling onto the pillows beneath her. Colin crawled obediently on top of her, surrounding her small body with his and pressing his hard length into the silk of her thigh.
“Penelope,” he murmured, kissing up the exposed column of her throat and over the curve of her jaw, “you are the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.”
She gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms and legs around him until he had her fully pressed into the bed. “Colin,” she whispered, her voice edged with desperation, “do not pull away this time. When you - stay inside me, please.”
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “Are you certain, Pen? Do you understand what may happen?”
She nodded, running her fingers through his hair. “It would be a gift,” she whispered with a smile. “Creating a life with you would be a gift .”
Completely overwhelmed, Colin pressed their foreheads together and for a moment, they simply breathed, hearts racing even in their stillness. Then he blinked in surprise as her small hand slipped between them, seized his length and guided him to her slick-wet heat. Oh, yes, the seductive goddess he had married would be the death of him one day.
He snapped his hips forward and sheathed himself in a single, long stroke. Steadying himself on his forearms, he began a slow, steady rhythm, rocking into her again and again while she tugged at his hair with one hand, the other still between them, now teasing at herself to increase her own pleasure.
Within minutes she was riding the edge of release again as her back arched and her thighs trembled, the flush of arousal and exertion spreading prettily from her cheeks to her breasts. She rolled her hips with him, meeting him thrust for thrust in their inexorable climb to ecstasy. With a deep gasp and a sharp tug of his hair she tightened around him, the hand between her legs flying up to grip his shoulder, scratching trails off fire down the sweat-damp skin his back.
Between the erotic sight of his wife climaxing in his arms and the intense pleasure of her inner walls squeezing and stroking him, he had no choice but to fly over the edge with her, hips stuttering as he cried out her name on a broken moan. Both of them rode wave after wave of pleasure, eyes locked, unable and unwilling to look away.
Finally collapsing on the bed next to her, he immediately dragged her lax body half onto his, stroking his hands down her sides as she trembled in his arms. After a moment he realized she was whispering something over and over and he smiled, pulling her impossibly closer.
“I love you too,” he breathed into the wild tangle of her hair.
—
Much later, as they lay on their sides, her naked back pressed against his chest, he ran his left hand down the length of her arm and toyed gently with her wedding ring. The jeweled silver was breathtaking against the cream of her skin.
“Was this the gift you found for me in Galway?” she asked, voice soft in the peace of the moment and he nodded into her hair. “What does it mean?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the ring gently before moving it back into her eye line. “Love,” he said, tapping the heart with his thumb, “loyalty,” the crown, “and friendship,” the hands.
“Love, loyalty and friendship,” she repeated, a hint of amusem*nt in her voice. “And you say you bought this before you realized you loved me?”
Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Yes, well,” he reasoned, “my heart knew you were my wife a long time ago. I am sorry it took so long for my mind to catch up.”
“Do not apologize,” she scolded gently. “One of the great joys of my life is that our love is built on a foundation of friendship.”
“And loyalty,” he reminded her, stroking his thumb over her ring again.
Suddenly, she was turning in his arms, grasping his face in her hands and kissing him briefly but fiercely. “Love, loyalty and friendship!” she cried with excitement. “Colin, you are a genius!”
Rolling away, she leapt out of bed, pausing to pull off the stockings that had slipped down her legs as they made love, and dashed across the room to the writing desk in the corner. He sat up, confused, as she rifled through the drawers until finally crying out in victory. Quill in hand she turned toward him, gorgeous and unashamed in all her naked glory.
“Colin!” she exclaimed, “I know what to do about the Queen!”
