Page 100 of An Extraordinary Lord

My lady.God’s mercy, they were married, and she was officially a baroness. The realization struck her with enough force to halt her in her snowy tracks.

Merritt grinned and snatched her up into his arms, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her and laughter from their friends. “Too late now to change your mind, my darling wife.”

Wife…another name she would have to grow used to. But this one warmed her down to her soul. She caressed his cheek. “Never.”

He placed her into the carriage, then swung inside and closed the door. As the carriage rolled away, they both leaned out the window to wave goodbye.

The carriage turned a corner, and their friends and family vanished from sight. With a sigh, Veronica sat back from where she’d been leaning across Merritt to ease onto the seat beside him.

Strong arms slid around her and pulled her down fully across his lap. “It’s cold outside.” He took her long wrap of white ermine and velvet and tucked it around her. “Better stay right here and keep warm.”

“I’m warm enough.” Yet she slipped her arm around his neck and shifted herself closer.

The sage-green bodice of her velvet wedding dress slipped smoothly over the matching satin waistcoat he wore beneath his black kerseymere jacket. He’d looked so handsome and dashing that morning that she’d lost her breath when she saw him standing at the front of the church, waiting for her to join him. To joinwithhim, now and forever.

He grinned wolfishly as his hands slipped beneath the ermine wrap and caressed up her body. “Who says I was talking about you?”

She laughed. Dear heavens, how happy he made her! And now they would have the rest of their lives to laugh together, love together, and poke at each other with swords.

“I wouldn’t want you to be cold.” She pressed herself against him, her breasts flattening against his chest and sending his pulse spiking. When she brought her mouth to his ear, she seductively murmured, “Whatever can I do to make you hot, hmm?”

The tip of her tongue traced the outer curl of his ear in a wantonly suggestive gesture of what she could do to other parts of him if he would let her.

“Oh, I might have a few ideas,” he mumbled, his voice thickening with desire. “Starting with a cup of hot chocolate brought to you in bed.”

She smiled against his throat at his thoughtfulness, and for a moment, she lost herself in fantasies of leisurely breakfasts in warm beds on cold winter mornings. “I love hot chocolate.”

“Oh, it won’t be for you. It’s for me.”

She laughed lightly at his teasing. “For you? Why should you have it all?”

He brought his mouth to her ear. “So I can pour it over your naked body and drink you up,” he murmured the wicked promise. “One lingering lick at a time.”

A heated sigh of longing escaped her. “I didn’t realize I’d married such a libertine.”

“Did I shock you?”

“Not yet.” She nipped his earlobe in a playful bite that made him suck a mouthful of air between his teeth. “So you’d best keep trying if you want our marriage to be a happy one.”

He laughed and buried his face in her hair, holding her close as the snow crunched beneath the carriage wheels and muffled the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

Oh, she had a pretty good idea. As she’d convalesced at Charlton Place after the riot, he’d refused to leave her side while both her wound and her heart healed. More than that, he’d not gone after the man who’d killed Joanna. But for once, fate had been her friend and made certain that Merritt gave up the hunt, because the man’s body was found in a Covent Garden alley two days later, his throat slit from ear to ear. Most likely a victim of Scepter.

As for the others involved with the riots, they’d managed to escape Scepter’s wrath. Miss Jones had somehow magically disappeared after the Home Office had finished interrogating her about Scepter. When Veronica pressed Merritt for answers, all he would say was that the Duchess of Hampton was a very resourceful woman.

General Liggett had also vanished. When a storm forced his ship to seek shelter in the bay at Dakar, he managed to sneak ashore and hide until the ship sailed on. The last anyone saw of him was boarding a ship bound for Barbados. Clayton Elliott was certain he’d never set foot in England again.

The riots and the evil behind them had been stopped. For now. And at that moment, safe within Merritt’s arms, all that mattered was how much she loved him.

“Did you have a lovely day?” he asked.

She sighed. “It was perfect.”

Truly, it was. They were married at St George’s Church in a very small gathering of family and close friends, with Brandon Pearce standing as Merritt’s best man and his wife, Amelia, as her matron of honor. The Duke of Hampton’s niece, Pippa, practically danced through the church in her role as flower girl, showering red rose petals everywhere, much to the priest’s dismay. And Merritt’s father escorted Veronica down the aisle, the judge as dignified as ever despite the faint glistening in his eyes.

Even Madame Noir was in attendance. The woman had been genuinely moved by the ceremony, although she would never admit it of course. But Veronica knew—after all, Madame hadn’t once referred to Merritt as Snake all morning.

Veronica had barely had time to catch her breath before the ceremony was over, vows made, and the parish registry signed to make their marriage official. Then they were through the church doors, with Merritt tossing coins to the children and poor who had gathered on the steps, and into their carriage, and through it all, inundated by the rest of Pippa’s rose petals. By the time they reached Charlton Place, the snow had covered them and all of London in a light dusting. Neither cared. They finally had each other. Nothing else mattered.