Chapter 6


Thoreau sat at his desk, idly fidgeting while trying to concentrate on some of his business affairs. He, like Whit, had been neglecting several things during the search for his daughter. He neglected them still as he found himself unable to focus. His thoughts turned to Anastasia and his heart sank. He missed his girl very much. He remembered that the last words he had spoken to her had been in anger. He had yelled at her, and over such silly things. Who cared what all those people thought or said? She was his daughter and he had run her off.

He just prayed that she was safe, wherever she was. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head ached.

Just then he heard the front door burst open. What on earth, he thought. He stood from his desk and walked out into the entryway. There was Anastasia. Thoreau thought he might faint on sight of her. She was well, and looking lovelier than ever. She saw him and ran to meet him, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

“I missed you, Papa!” she cried.

“Anastasia! Where have you been?” Thoreau asked as he embraced her.

He held her arms and pushed her back from him, wanting another look at her. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.

“Let me look at you,” he said. “So beautiful. My beautiful daughter.”

He hugged her again.

“Welcome home, girl. It is good to have you back. You deserve several lashings for running away like that, but you’re too old for lashings and I’m too old to give them to you. We’ll just have to settle for bygones, won’t we? You’ll find your room just as you left it. Let me ring Clara; she’ll be out of her head when she hears you have come back to us.”

Anastasia beamed at him. She was so happy to see her father again. He looked tired, and she knew it was her fault. She would make it up to him; she promised herself that she would. She glanced toward the doorway. Her father followed her gaze and saw Whit standing in the doorway.

“Your Grace, didn’t see you there. Is this your doing?”

“Not at all. Found her by mere chance, actually. I can take none of the credit. All the men in Christendom couldn’t find this girl, and she was right under our noses.”

Whit sauntered from the doorway over to shake his future father –in-law’s hand.

“Good to see you again, Thoreau. You are looking tired,” he told the man bluntly.

“I am tired. Figure I’ll get my first good night’s sleep in ages tonight, though. My Anastasia is home and I can rest easy now having her back in the house.”

“Well, you can’t have her for long,” the duke said.

“What’s that you say?” Thoreau asked.

Anastasia looked from one man to the other, still smiling.

“Papa,” she began. “We’re to be married!”

Thoreau smiled and glanced at Whit.

“Talked her into it, did you? Wasn’t sure you could pull that one off, Wetherby, but I’m glad to see you did.”

Whit nodded his thanks. “I need to get back to Amberley and get some things in order. Will you still be here when I come back for you?”

He looked down at Anastasia who grinned mischievously up at him.

“Perhaps,” she replied. “You’ll just have to hurry back then to find out, won’t you?”

“Ah, the impertinence! So this is to be my life now, is it?”

He chucked her under the chin, then bent down to kiss her cheek. He whispered in her ear as he did:

“There are more and better kisses to be had, my love. I will see you soon.”

Anastasia blushed and her father coughed. He hadn’t heard what the duke said, only saw his daughter’s face turn even rosier than before. He was immediately suspicious. He planned to frown at the duke and perhaps even give him a piece of his mind on the subject, but Whit shook his hand and was out the door rather quickly.

“In a hurry, is he?” Thoreau asked.

“We’ve got a wedding to plan, Papa. I think he has much to do.”

The planning for the wedding was detailed, but fast. The duke used all of his connections to ensure that everything moved as quickly as he wanted. He wanted to marry Anastasia as soon as humanly possible but not soon enough to raise suspicion about her virtue. He knew that if they eloped or rushed off to wed too swiftly, the talk would be inescapable. They would say that she was pregnant, that he had compromised her and was now forced to wed her out of duty. As much as he had told Anastasia to ignore the talk and that she was above it all as a soon-to-be duchess, he knew that was one stigma it would be very difficult to escape.

So he would wait. It would be three months before they were wed, three months before he could make her his own. He bought her a gorgeous sapphire betrothal ring. It sparkled on her finger and matched her eyes perfectly as he had known it would. When he had seen it at the jeweler’s he knew it would be hers. The look on her face when he had given it to her would be forever etched in his memory. He had handed her the box, watched with eagerness as she opened it. Her jaw had dropped when she had seen the beautiful and sizeable jewel. She had looked up at him disbelievingly and then smiled with all the joy in her heart. He had slid the ring on her finger and his heart had swelled with gratitude that she was his. His ring was on her finger now and it was official. She belonged to him.

He stared out the window of the carriage, lost in thoughts of her. He was on his way to see her. They had been apart for two weeks while he had seen to several business matters and investments. He hated to be away so long, but his empire was not built on inheritance alone. Things needed tending. She had been to London to purchase her trousseau and had only arrived back at home the previous day. She wasn’t expecting him back yet and he couldn’t wait to surprise her. Just the thought of holding her in his arms buoyed him up for the long ride to the Thoreau manor.

Hours later, he strolled through the front door. The house was quiet and he wondered where everyone was. He looked at Clara who had opened the door for him, and before he could ask the most obvious question, she beat him to it.

“In the sitting room, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Clara.”

He strode quickly in the direction of the sitting room, unable to conceal his eagerness to see Anastasia. His heart beat quickly in his chest at the thought of smelling her, touching her. He entered the room rather quietly and was glad he had. She was curled up on the divan, toes tucked beneath her, thoroughly engrossed in a book. A lock of hair fell across her forehead and the sun shined through the windows on her, bathing her in gorgeous light.

He stood staring at her, unable to move at just the sight of her. She was beautiful. He could still hardly believe she was his. He had never been brought to his knees like this over a woman before, no matter how many mistresses he had taken over the years. No one had ever made his breath catch or his skin tingle.

She looked up from her book to see Whit standing there watching her. A grin spread itself across her lovely face, and she lit up like a candle. She jumped up and ran to him, leaping into his arms. He caught her deftly and hugged her. Anastasia giggled as he squeezed her body and laughed out loud as he swung her around the room in circles. Her laughter rang through the house such that no one had ever heard before. The servants all smiled to themselves, content that their mistress was so happy.

The wedding day dawned sunny and warm. Anastasia awoke in her bed, lost in a sea of down, and rubbed her eyes. She remembered what day it was rather suddenly and threw back the covers. She leapt out of bed and called for Clara. Clara, however, was already bustling around her room, getting things ready. Anastasia’s bathwater was prepared, fresh and warm. She soaked in it, lavishing in the warm bubbles and lavender scent. She thought of the day ahead of her while she rubbed soap into her skin. She was going to marry the man she loved. By the end of the day she would be Anastasia Thoreau Manderly, Duchess of Wetherby.

Clara watched as she got ready. The duke had immediately won the maid’s approval when she had seen how happy her girl had been since she came home. She had smiled more in the past three months than Clara herself had ever seen. Anastasia seemed to be lit from within, a new fire burned inside her since she had betrothed herself to the duke. The old maid swelled with pride just thinking about her little girl being married to a duke. The reverie was broken when she realized that same little girl was splashing giddily around in her tub. Clara sighed and went to work getting her ready for the wedding.

The church was beyond full. Anastasia arrived with Clara in tow to find that the entire city seemed to have come out for their wedding. Carriages lined up around the city blocks to drop off important guests. She made a dash for the dressing room and stayed there until it was time. She was nervous, but not scared. She knew Whit was the one for her. She knew they would spend the rest of their lives making each other happy. But her face flushed pink, hoping he would like her dress. She wanted very much for him to like her dress.

Clara signaled to her that it was time and she walked out of the dressing room to meet her father. She took his arm, and smiled up at him as he beamed proudly at her.

“You are a vision, Anastasia. Your mother would have been so proud of you. There has never been a lovelier bride.”

Anastasia’s eyes filled with tears as she kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Papa.”

The music began and they made their way down the long aisle to the front of the church where her future husband awaited her. He stood tall and unwavering, a vision himself in his midnight black tuxedo. He was so handsome, she thought as she walked toward him. He was smiling at her, a sly, gentle smile. She met his eyes and he winked. She almost giggled but caught herself. She gave him a mock-reproachful look.

By the time she was all the way down the aisle and standing next to him, they were both shaking with mirth. He squeezed her hand as they turned to the vicar.


The reception was a massive affair, held at Amberley. The guests from the city made the jaunt out to the country for the celebration. It was lavish and expensive, but Whit wanted to show Anastasia the time of her life.

“Annie,” he whispered in her ear as they greeted guests, “don’t drink too much champagne. We have a long night ahead of us.”

He winked at her again and she blushed gorgeously. She had had a taste of what he meant several times over the past months, stolen passionate moments between the two of them. She wanted to explore him, wanted to know him in every way possible. She thought the reception party would never end.

They stayed by each other’s sides all night, exchanging pleasantries with all the guests who came to wish them well. Anastasia would look at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and he the same. It could almost be said that no two people were ever happier to be married than these.

The evening grew late and the bride and groom soon took leave of their guests. His arm on her tiny waist, Whit escorted Anastasia to their new chambers. His rooms had been redone so as to accommodate the both of them and to be more pleasing to his new wife. Her mouth dropped open in an O of surprise as he pushed the doors open and led her inside. A large four poster bed sat on one side of the room and a glorious fire roared in the fireplace. The hangings on the bed and windows were shades of her favorite colors, green and burgundy. It was beautiful. She walked forward into the room and spun around to take it all in. She found herself facing her husband who was watching her reaction intently.

“Do you like it, my love?” he asked her.

”Oh, Whit. It’s beautiful. This is ours? This is really ours?”

Whit laughed at her disbelief.

“Ours,” he said.

She ran into his arms and he swept her up. He carried her over to the bed, holding her tightly to him. Anastasia was trembling slightly with all the nervous excitement built up inside her. Whit lay her down on the bed and she watched him as he undressed before getting onto the bed with her. His masculine body was gorgeous, all hard lines and muscle. She ran her hands over his skin and relished the feel of him. His body responded immediately to her touch. His desire for her overwhelmed him; he wanted her more than he could bear.

Anastasia looked at her husband. She was happier in this moment than she had ever been. Whit met her eyes and then brought his lips to hers. He drew her into the kiss, slowly, gently, becoming more and more demanding. It was a tender kiss that turned passionate and needy. Their need for each other was palpable. He tugged at her clothes as he kissed her, wanting to feel her naked body against his. Her dress did not come easily but ceded in the end. There she was before him. Anastasia. His beautiful wife. And she was glorious. Her skin was pink with the flush of being seen by a man for the first time, her eyes nervous but trusting, her body perfect and tiny.

He ran his hands over her silken skin. She was so soft he wondered that she didn’t break. Reaching up, he unpinned her hair and let loose a cascade of dark locks about her shoulders. Anastasia was patient and let him revel in her as she knew he wanted to. She wanted also to revel in him. They enjoyed looking at and touching each other for some time before the passion was ignited again.

It could not be held at bay forever, though, and soon enough Whit had tugged her tightly to him, holding her in his arms, and ravaging her with kisses. Anastasia returned his kisses with equal ardor, her body warm and smooth against his.

Their lips danced in a joyous union; they surrounded each other and became each other. Their world was in their shared bed and nothing else existed in that moment. Whit taught her the timeless act of love, showed her how they could please each other. Anastasia was overcome with desire and with love for her husband. They moved together, pleasure and delight filling their minds. He knew the moment was soon, the moment he would have her. So long had they waited for this he wanted it to be perfect for her. His hands reached between her legs to make sure she was ready for him. She was ready, her sex dripping and aching for him. Anastasia watched him as he loomed over her, poising himself at her entrance.

She put her arms around him and pulled him to her. Her back arched and she cried out as he entered her. He went slowly, achingly slow, increasing his speed only after he was sure he had not hurt her. She arched her hips to meet his thrusts and was lost. He filled her with such immense pleasure she could not think. His thick hardness inside her was more than she could bear. She came quickly. Whit’s heart swelled with pride at the knowledge that he had brought his wife, this exquisite creature, such pleasure.

Their bodies united as they both reveled in their lovemaking. Anastasia thought she would burst with all the feelings inside her, with pride and love and the most intense rapture she could ever have imagined.

Whit felt her in every inch of his being, she was inside him as much as he was inside of her. He was filled with her, body and soul. Her scent encompassed him, intoxicated him. She was beauty personified and she was his. He moved within her, taking her, loving her. He felt her shudder beneath him with another orgasm and knew he himself could not hold out much longer. She looked at him unabashedly even as she trembled under his touch. The look in her eyes sent him over the edge.

He pulled her to him as he poured himself into her. His seed filled her womb, and they lay on the bed, in each other’s arms, together shivering from the bliss they had just experienced. Never had there been such contentment as this. Whit kissed his wife on the forehead as he brushed her hair from her face.

“I love you, Anastasia.”

Anastasia smiled, and snuggled deeper into her husband’s arms.