Page 31 of Otters and Obstacles
It was only the sight of Peter standing at the altar, lit by the morning sun that streamed through the small chapel’s windows, that calmed her. When he turned to smile at her, she could not help but smile back, nervous as she was, and the leaping of her stomach settled down. When he took her hand in his, it was a little chilly, and she realized that, despite his façade of control, he was as nervous as she.
As the archbishop intoned the words of the service, Georgie added her own little prayer to be worthy of Peter. He was so good and kind, she almost felt as though she was taking advantage of him and his sense of duty.
She set her jaw. Shewouldbe worthy of him, and she would make him happy, whatever came. She would be the partner he deserved to repay him for being willing to marry her rather than throw her to the wolves.
And perhaps—just perhaps—he might come to love her someday the way she loved him.
She prayed for that most fervently of all.
The sun waslow in the sky and Peter was exhausted by the time their carriage pulled up outside the rectory. At the urging of the archbishop’s wife, they had stayed for an impromptu wedding breakfast after the ceremony, then taken an hour or two at a dressmaker’s in York to fit Georgie for a few mostly-finished day dresses and make plans for a larger order. Peter supposed he could write to her cousin to gather the things she had left behind,but she seemed so reluctant to contact him that he disliked going against her wishes.
With Mrs. Clarke safely returned to her brother’s cottage, Peter had been unable to think of any new topics of conversation, so the short ride to the rectory had been silent. A peculiarly tense silence, as his mind strayed to the evening ahead and then retreated.
As he handed Georgie down from the carriage, the front door opened and Mrs. Barwick emerged, with Annie peering at them from behind, a broad grin on her face.
“Welcome back, Lord Peter. Lady Peter.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barwick.” Peter offered his arm to Georgie and she accepted it, picking her way up the walkway. The dress they had chosen was a little too long, and likely ought to be hemmed once more.
“We wasn’t sure when tha would return, so there’s only a cold collation for supper.”
“That’s quite alright. We are not especially hungry.” He turned to look at Georgie. “Are we?”
“No,” she said a little breathlessly. He paused for a moment to admire her, marveling once again he could ever have thought her to be a man. The curve of her soft, full lips should have told the tale, if nothing else did.
He wanted to kiss her right there, but instead turned back to Mrs. Barwick.
“It has been a long journey, so we will likely want to eat and then retire. Some hot water to wash off the dust of the road would not come amiss.”
As he made to step over the threshold, Mrs. Barwick’s foot blocked his. She slanted a significant look first at him, then at Georgie.
Of course! He must not forget tradition.
He bowed to his wife with a flourish. “Shall we?”
Her puzzled frown turned into a shriek of laughter as he picked her up. Her arms clung to his neck as he maneuvered her, her breath soft against his cheek as she giggled. Her form was as deliciously curved against him as he had hoped, and his heart pounded as he stepped across the threshold under Mrs. Barwick’s indulgent eye.
He had certainly known lust before, even if he had never indulged it. Knowing he would be able to indulge it tonight with Georgie—hiswife!—made his head swim.
Once inside, he set her back on her feet, reluctant to let her go. He slipped an arm around her waist to lead her into the breakfast room where the promised cold meats and cheeses awaited them, and she leaned a little into him as they walked, his body tingling everywhere they touched.
If he was in a daze, Georgie seemed to be there with him. Every time she looked at him, she flushed and ducked her head back to her plate, concentrating on her meal for a few moments before she stole another look at him. But she seemed to welcome the brush of his hand as he passed her a wineglass and their closeness as they sat side-by-side to share the simple meal.
Afterward, they climbed the stairs and went to separate rooms to prepare themselves for bed, Annie trailing Georgie to help her with her gown.
As he undressed and washed and put his banyan on over his naked body, Peter found himself strangely afraid of the consummation to come. If he frightened or hurt Georgie in his ignorance, he would never forgive himself.
He walked the few steps down the hall to the bedroom they would share and paused with his hand outstretched. He was about to turn the doorknob to Georgie’s—hiswife’s—room. The very hallway of the rectory was strange to him now as he stood on the threshold of irrevocably changing both of their lives.
All would be well. There was nothing to worry about. They had become friends in their time together, and that friendship could remain. There was no reason for him to be so anxious about being alone with her when they had already spent weeks alone together.
No reason, except that everything was about to change between them.
At last, he turned the knob and stepped into the room. At the sound of the door, she sprang from her chair next to the fireplace and turned to face him, her hand clutched to her throat.
“Peter!”
“Er… good evening, Georgie.” He half-bowed, not knowing what else to do or where to look. Her form was silhouetted through her thin lawn nightdress as she stood before the fireplace. She seemed to have no notion that it was happening.
