How To Seduce A Sinner

Chapter Eleven

Dorothea tried not to look apprehensive. She took a few steps into the room, then paused. The large bed loomed directly in front, a stark reminder of what was to come, what she felt so suddenly unprepared to face.

Silently Carter pulled off his jacket, yanked his neck cloth free, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and tossed the garments haphazardly on a chair. He removed his clothes with an economy of motion and grace Dorothea envied, knowing she would look like a clumsy contortionist if she tried to struggle out of her gown herself.

He regarded her warily and she could only imagine how her odd thoughts appeared to him, reflected on her face. Annoyed with herself for showing so little fortitude, she glanced away. This was her wedding night, not a tooth extraction. She had wanted to experience this intimacy for a long time and had been privileged to choose this man as her partner. Such a skittish, hesitant reaction was ridiculous.

Tightening her jaw for strength, Dorothea lifted her chin. Wearing only an open shirt and black satin knee breeches, her bridegroom was a formidable figure. Dorothea could see the swirls of dark hair that covered the upper muscles of his chest peeking through the white linen. He was tall and powerful, broad and masculine, so incredibly…male. Her mouth went dry.

They stared at each other, exchanging thoughts and emotions without saying a word. Outwardly, she knew she looked calm and curious. Inside, Dorothea felt like screaming.

She forced herself to speak. “My lord.”

“My lady?”

His expression alarmed her. He appeared to be exerting a tremendous amount of control, looking for all the world as if he wanted to pounce on her. And eat her alive. Dorothea shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“Nervous,” she clarified. “I want very much to please you, my lord.”

“Carter,” he whispered. “I believe the intimacy that we are about to enjoy dictates more informal terms. Don’t you agree, Dorothea?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Now, the first thing we need to do is get you more comfortable.”

Before she could question precisely what he meant, Carter reached out and began removing the pins from her hair. The silky tresses fell across her back and shoulders, a showering golden mane. He stroked it softly, almost reverently, as if he were fascinated by the texture of the silken threads.

His large hands were gentle, the rhythmic caresses hypnotic. Dorothea felt her eyes slowly close as her body began to relax. But the languid feeling abruptly disappeared when he moved his hand forward to cup her breast. Her startled gasp echoed through the chamber as a bolt of sensation flashed between her legs.

“We’ll go slowly,” he promised. “’Tis better that way.” She swayed into him and he laughed, a short bark of mirth. “That is to say, as slow as I can manage. You are an extraordinary temptation, my dear.”

She felt her confidence soar, knowing he found her attractive, desirable. After his odd behavior this afternoon, it was the reaffirmation she needed, the assurance she craved. Dorothea reached up and ran the edge of her finger along his jaw. The surface was smooth, yet when she reversed the direction of her hand she could feel the rough edge of his whiskers. It was a strangely erotic sensation.

He put his mouth to hers, nibbling her lower lip until she willingly opened to him. Relaxing, Dorothea curled her tongue against his. She adored his kisses. Her hands came up to cling to his broad shoulders as the familiar excitement flared deep in her belly, making her feel hot all over.

His kisses moved from her mouth to her cheek, then drifted down the column of the neck. His light, teasing touch made her breath catch, her skin tingle.

He drew down her bodice, then tugged down the edge of her lace chemise to bare her breasts. Dorothea inhaled a sharp gasp, which Carter ignored.

She could feel his warm breath against her bare flesh. With light, soft flicks of his tongue, he headed toward her nipple. It tightened and rose to greet him as he drew closer, but he circled around it, nipping playfully with his teeth and lips.

Mindlessly, Dorothea reached up to clutch his head, lacing her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer.

“You are very sensitive, very responsive,” he murmured just before he took the fullness of her breast into his mouth.

“Oh, my,” she cried out in a shaky whimper.

Heat speared through her limbs and she moved her legs restlessly, urgently. His sharp tongue laved her nipple, then suckled deeply. Desire burned through her, shattering her thoughts, rendering her incapable of thinking or feeling anything but this extraordinary hunger.

“Too many clothes,” he rasped.

His hands reached around her shoulders to the middle of her back, working furiously at the various fastenings. The gown gaped forward and he tugged on it, forcing it away from her body. She next felt his hand reach under her hem. He ran his fingers possessively over the top of her stocking, smoothing the skin of her bare thighs. He rolled the delicate silk downward, kneeling before her as he held her ankle and pulled the fabric free.

At his command, she stepped out of the gown. All that was left on her quivering body was her partially open chemise and drawers. Dorothea shivered. Her hands moved instinctively to cover herself, modesty momentarily overtaking her desire.

“No hiding,” Carter insisted. Standing once again, his eyes locked on hers. “And no secrets.”

Dorothea felt an unfamiliar jolt inside her chest. The idea of being that close, that honest with a man was terrifying yet amazingly appealing. Was it possible? Could they forge a bond so strong, so true that it could withstand the frailties of their natures, that it could endure the test of time?

“No secrets,” she repeated, and to prove the sincerity of her words Dorothea reached down and untied the three remaining closed ribbons on her chemise. Forcing herself not to think about it, she lifted the garment over her head, then yanked off her drawers. She heard the swift intake of his breath as the last of the silk slid away, exposing her naked flesh to his eyes.

“Your beauty would unman a saint,” he declared.

Kissing her mouth firmly, Carter swept Dorothea off her feet and carried her to his bed, depositing her in the center. She bounced once on the firm mattress as he quickly removed his remaining clothing, tossing his shirt, breeches, and smallclothes to the floor.

He soon joined her in the bed, his hard naked flesh sliding against her own. It was startling, vulnerable, to be touching her whole self to him without any barriers between them. Startling and delightful.

She could feel the hardness of him engulfing her; his oak-hard chest, the strength of his corded arm muscles, the flatness of his lean stomach. She liked the feel of his body, so different from her own.

Liked the feel and liked the sight. In the glow of the candlelight she could see that the hair on his chest followed a line down his flat stomach, growing thicker between his legs. Feeling shy, she merely glanced there, and got an eyeful of his engorged, jutting penis.

Oh, dear. He was going to put that inside her?

Her rising desire tempered considerably. But her fear was soon distracted by Carter’s lips. He turned her on her side and seized her mouth in a fierce kiss. His hands were everywhere as they explored her body slowly, deliberately, thoroughly, arousing her with infinite skill.

A surge of embarrassment struck when he reached her womanhood and cupped the silken curls between her thighs. With incredible gentleness he drew his fingers over her. Barely touching, they traced a torturous line of excitement around the swollen, tender flesh, sending tremors of passion through her. Moaning as her head fell back, she started moving against his hand, following his rhythm and then creating one of her own.

He probed with his fingertips, parting her folds, sliding one finger up inside her. Dorothea lunged. There was moisture, a wetness that had come from her own body. It seemed to please him, for he growled in her ear and once again took her nipple into his mouth.

His mouth and fingers continued to work their magic on her untutored body. Dorothea could hear the small cries of pleasure coming from her own throat, a keening, almost animal sound of desperation and excitement. The feeling continued to build until she thought it would consume her. She couldn’t seem to get close enough. She tightened her hold on his shoulders, urgently seeking more, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts.

“Easy, love,” he coaxed, his voice a deep timbre. “Don’t rush it, let it come naturally.”

She tried to do as he asked. Honestly. The wetness flowed and her body turned to fire until at last the crest broke. Mindlessly, Dorothea arched her back as waves of sensation washed over her and a bolt of liquid hot pleasure shot through her entire being.

Eyes closed, she collapsed against the damp bedsheets, breathing hard, her body open and relaxed. Lost in a haze, she felt Carter smooth her hair back from her damp brow. She lifted her face toward his and he kissed her lips softly, gently.

“God Almighty, you are beautiful,” he rasped.

“That was incredible.” Dorothea smiled. A quiet, secretive, womanly smile. She did not know, had not realized it would be such a physical and emotional act, an intimate exploration of the secrets of the flesh between man and woman. A closeness that bordered on the spiritual.

But her languid pleasure was interrupted by a bold caress. She opened her eyes and found Carter looming above her, pressing her shoulders against the soft mattress, pushing her legs open with his knees.

She reached up and splayed her hands against the hard muscles of his chest. He truly was a beautiful man. A rush of emotions invaded her heart as she prepared herself for this ultimate intimacy, an edge of nerves mingling with a knot of anticipation deep inside.

Dorothea felt his hardness pressing against her, probing for entrance. It startled her and she tensed, remembering how large he was, but he pushed her legs wider apart and pressed on.

“Relax,” he murmured. His hands hooked her knees and he held her in place. “You are wet and open and ready for me. I will have you now.”

She tried to do as he bid, but the tightness and discomfort as he pushed his penis inside her had her wriggling beneath him, searching desperately for a means of escape.

“Bloody hell, Dorothea. Stay still!”

His strangled voice startled her. His breathing was hard as he seemed to struggle to maintain control. Struggle and lose.

Her grip on his shoulders tightened at the same moment he lifted his hips and thrust forward. The sharpness of the pain took her breath away. She groaned, but he misunderstood the sound, for he thrust forward again, harder. Arching upward, Dorothea dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to pull herself away, but that too was wrong, for it encouraged him even more.

Realizing the struggles were making it worse, Dorothea forced her body to relax. He pressed forward again, his huge, swollen penis stretching her flesh, filling her completely. The pain lessened as she gradually allowed herself to succumb to Carter’s possession. But the joy, the excitement did not return. She felt disconnected from what was happening and she yearned to recapture the earlier, urgent emotion.

She wanted to somehow verbalize this dilemma to him, but everything was moving so fast, so intensely, it was impossible. Her brain seemed to have shut down, along with her voice and the confusion between her mind and body and heart jumbled together inside, paralyzing her.

When Dorothea thought she could stand it no longer, when the words inside her seemed to finally rise up and were ready to release themselves, she heard Carter’s low, deep growl. He surged forward a final time, his body clenching and shuddering. She felt the warm rush of his seed spurt into her aching passage, then with a final groan he collapsed on top of her.

It seemed a long time before either of them could draw a calming breath. Strange, but the weight of him on top of her now, the weight that had felt so oppressive before was now a solid, warm comfort. Idly, Dorothea ran her fingers over his sweat-soaked back, listening to the sharp bellows of his breath tickle her ear.

She shifted her hips slightly and realized with a start that their flesh was still joined in the most intimate way.

Carter must have felt it too, for he laughed suddenly. “Jesus, I’m still hard.” He reached over and tenderly stroked her hair. “Give me a few minutes to recover and we’ll have another go at it, sweetheart.”

His words froze her blood. Oh, dear Lord! He wants to do it again? Her heart clamored with panic, her sore body tensed at the notion of another invasion. She struggled to find the words to tell him that she needed more time to recover. He pressed a tender kiss to her brow and cheek. She tensed, but he only continued with these sweet kisses.

And then finally, thankfully, she heard the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing and realized he had fallen asleep.

Dorothea stared up at the ceiling, uncertain what she was feeling. Her body ached and tingled in various unmentionable places. Between her legs, she was sticky and wet with her husband’s seed and the last remnants of her virginal blood. Beside her, Carter snored deeply and she hoped he would stay in that deep slumber for the remainder of the night.

It had all started so promisingly. She had been nervous, but Carter had calmed her nerves, distracted her fear with gentle caresses that had stirred her passion. He had been giving and generous, bringing her body skillfully to a crescendo of desire and then hurling her over the edge.

The sensations had been wondrous and all consuming. Yet as she drifted inside the joy and enormity of the moment, the pain had struck. Deep, sharp, and real. First physical, but next emotional. He had thrust himself inside her as though she was his possession, regardless of how she felt.

She had wanted to call out to him, to tell him to stop, to wait, but her voice had failed her. Instead, she lay pinioned beneath him as he plunged and withdrew. Thankfully, it did not take long for his control to break, for his body to jerk convulsively as his warm essence spurted into her tender body.

He had held her a long time after it was over, seeming to revel in the stillness. There were sweet, light kisses pressed on her neck, her cheeks, her lips. His tenderness and care had brought forth a rush of emotions she couldn’t define. She snuggled into his hard warmth, craving the connection that had eluded her when their bodies had been joined.

His announcement that they would repeat the act had put her in a total panic. Thankfully, he had fallen asleep before he could make good on his promise, still holding her tightly in his arms. She too had tried to rest, but it was impossible. Cautiously she waited until she felt his possessive hold slacken. Seizing her chance, she uncurled herself from his grasp and scurried to the relative safety of her side of the bed.

She lay there for hours, practically memorizing each delicate fold in the opulent silk bed hangings above her. She tried to remain still and silent, yet could not prevent the sighs that continued to escape. Fortunately she mastered any tears that threatened, for she honestly knew not why she wanted to weep.

From disappointment? Pain? Or something even more profound? She believed they were forming a solid relationship yet when he possessed her body she had felt a distance from him that was as wide and vast as the ocean, a distance from herself that she could not identify or understand. It had been a strange, frightening feeling that effectively pushed all chance of pleasure aside.

A sudden movement in the bed froze her thoughts. Dorothea stiffened, holding herself perfectly still, fearing even to breathe. Finally Carter ceased his rustling, rolled closer to the center of the massive bed, and fell back to sleep with astonishing speed, his scent and warmth surrounding her.

Dorothea listened to his deep, steady breathing and tried to do the same, but sleep was impossible while her heart pounded with such confusion and self-doubt. Had she made a dreadful mistake? Had she chosen the wrong man to be her husband or was she simply not suited to be a wife? Perhaps if there was a deep abiding love between them she would have felt more of a connection. As it stood, they were practically strangers.

Strangers who were now married, bound to each other for life. Strangers who shared embarrassing physical intimacies, yet knew so little of each other. Blinking quickly to hold back any tears, Dorothea scolded herself for being so maudlin, so melodramatic.

She deliberately closed her eyes, but her body was so tense, her mind so full, the blessed escape of sleep would not come. After another hour, or maybe two, she gave up the pretense and crept from the bed. She suspected one of the several interior doors in this bedchamber led to her own rooms, but feared her clumsy rustling about the chamber would wake Carter.

And she had a fair suspicion of what would happen then. She believed if she told him no, he would respect her decision and not force her. But he would demand an explanation, and that she was not yet prepared to give. It was all still too new, too raw, too confusing.

In the dim candlelight, Dorothea found the washstand. She carefully poured some clean water into the porcelain basin. She wrung out a cloth and ran it over her body, then pressed it between her legs, washing away the remaining traces of semen and blood. The water was cool, but it helped ease the burning, the soreness.

Desperate for something to cover herself, she picked through the mountain of clothes strewn about the floor. She found her chemise, but several of the front ribbons were missing. Tossing it aside, she grabbed the marquess’s wrinkled shirt and pulled it over her head. The long sleeves came down to her fingertips and the bottom fell to the tops of her knees. It was perfect.

Surprisingly, the soft, warm linen felt comforting as it draped around her skin. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Dorothea hugged herself and breathed deeply. The garment smelled of Carter, which might have made it objectionable when in fact it did just the opposite.

The familiar scent brought a sense of comfort, a reaction she could not fully understand. Like everything else about tonight, she decided with a shrug.

Padding barefoot to the large wing chair in the corner, Dorothea curled herself into a comfortable position and forced her body, and her mind, to relax. She suspected she would stay there until dawn broke, yet amazingly she soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Carter heard the knock on his bedchamber door, but he did not want to acknowledge it. His head was hazy with the memory of an erotic dream of Dorothea and he wanted to savor the image as long as possible.

She was a Siren, his brand-new wife. A beautiful, passionate temptress with a body made for sex and a spirited temperament that fired a man’s blood, assaulted his senses.

Deflowering a virgin was heady business, Carter decided. And unchartered territory for him. His previous lovers had always been experienced women. The novelty of tutoring a woman as passionate as Dorothea in the art of lovemaking had kept him painfully aroused for the majority of yesterday afternoon.

That was why he had left the carriage and ridden his horse when they stopped at the first posting inn yesterday, remembering well his vow not to take his wife’s virginity in a coach. Likewise, he had taken himself away so soon after they arrived at Ravenswood Manor. He had not wanted to turn into an uncouth beast, ravaging his innocent bride in the middle of the day, consummating their union for the first time in a hasty, rushed manner.

It had been the correct decision. He had relished the opportunity to explore her lovely form, to tease and excite her, to watch her climax as he readied her body for his possession.

His arousal had been painful in its intensity when he bedded her last night, yet her untried body had satisfied him as no other woman had ever done. She had been so wet and warm, so impossibly tight. He had practically spilled himself the moment he became fully sheathed inside her. Miraculously, he had somehow managed to control himself long enough to seek a full and satisfying climax.

Remembering it now made him rock hard. Reflexively, his arm reached across the wide expanse of his bed. Perhaps it was time to awaken. Time to awaken and experience again this heady bliss.

But when he opened his eyes, the bed was empty. Only the faint scent of her lavender perfume lingered, mingling with the earthy, appealing smell of sex. Annoyed, Carter sat upright.

The knocking persisted. “Come in!” he barked, his mood worsening. Where was his wife?

His valet, Dunsford, stood in the doorway. “Shall I have hot water brought for you to shave, or would you prefer a bath this morning, my lord?”

“Where is Lady Atwood?” Carter demanded, ignoring the questions.

The valet was so startled he took a step backward. “I, um…am uncertain.”

“Has she had her breakfast?”

“I regret to inform you that I am unaware of her ladyship’s schedule, but will be happy to ask Mrs. Simpson,” the valet offered in a voice laced with stiffness.

“Never mind,” Carter replied, tossing back the covers. “Have Mrs. Simpson instruct Lady Atwood to meet me in the drawing room in an hour.”

What Carter really wanted was to have his missing wife summoned to his bedchamber, but he would not embarrass her in front of the staff with such a blatant request.

After bathing and eating a hearty breakfast, Carter’s mood was much improved. He arrived at the drawing room before his wife and settled in comfortably to await her arrival.

She came precisely at the appointed time. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw he was already inside. He smiled and stood on his feet. Dorothea shut the elaborate gilded doors behind her, yet took only two steps into the room. Her hands twisted together nervously at her waist.

Carter thought the gesture naively endearing.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “Mrs. Simpson said that you wanted to see me.”

“Good morning.” He came forward and dipped his head, intending to kiss her lips. She turned as he drew near and he ended up kissing her cheek. “I missed you in my bed this morning.”

“I thought it would be strange if I awakened there with you,” she said quietly.

“I would hardly have minded,” he replied, his eyes searching her face. “We could have once again recaptured the pleasure of last night.”

“Ah, last night.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and began to chew on her fingernail. “It was very…um, emotional, was it not?”

Emotional? He thought it a damn sight more than emotional. It was bloody fantastic.

“Will you wish to repeat it again this evening?” she inquired.

This evening? He wished to repeat it right now, this very minute. He was hardly sated. Their initial coupling had only whetted his appetite for more. Yet there would be no pleasure for him unless Dorothea also undertook this journey to ecstasy. Was it the daylight that made her so shy, so reticent?

“I doubt I can wait until this evening, sweetheart.”

For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she gazed into his eyes, her features neutral. “Very well. What time shall I expect you in my bedchamber?”

Her stilted, formal reply was the first inkling that his bride had not enjoyed the delights of their nuptial bed to the same extent as he. Her small, nervous step away from him as he approached her was the second sign.

“Are you still very sore?”

“Carter, please. Must we discuss this?”

Irrationally, her quiet plea brought on his anger. “Yes. I will not have you cringing and cowering every time I approach you.”

Her eyes flashed. “I hardly did that, sir,” Dorothea said defensively. “Nor would I ever act in such a manner. I know and accept my duties as your wife. All my duties. And I should like to point out that I would not have said one word about last night unless you asked me.”

Well, she had him there. He had been the one to bring up the topic. But only because he anticipated a completely different response.

“I know the initial bedding can be difficult for a woman, but I thought I prepared your body well. I don’t understand what went wrong.”

“Ah, so you speak from experience? You have deflowered a good many virgins over the years?”

Carter winced. That comment rankled. She made him sound like a sexual deviant. Was that truly what she believed?

“You were my first, and last, virgin,” he stated emphatically.

“A rare honor for me, then.”

“Dorothea, what is wrong? Did I hurt you that badly?” He reached for her hand and held it between his palms, startled to feel its chill. He anxiously studied her face, but it was a mask of impassive stone. “We promised last night there would be no secrets between us.”

She squeezed his hand, then slowly pulled it away. “It wasn’t all horrid. It started out quite wonderfully actually, right until, well, you know.”

“Until what? Until I penetrated you?”

Dorothea groaned. “I really cannot have this discussion with you.”

“’Tis my fault. I should have taken you slow and easy, but you were so passionate, so giving. I lost my head.” He accompanied his apology with a boyish grin, designed to melt even the coldest heart. But Dorothea did not smile. She averted her eyes.

“I know it is different for a man. I understand that you were only being true to your nature. Rest assured, I will fulfill my wifely duties with all the passion I can muster.”

He made a gruff, impatient sound. “No matter how abhorrent they are to you?”

“I did not say that,” she insisted, crossing her arms against her breasts.

The gesture called his attention to her ample bosom. He recalled the luscious shade of her dusty rose nipples contrasting with the milky smoothness of creamy round breasts. The sight and taste of them had driven him to near madness, and the memory was more than enough to bring him swiftly to arousal again.

With effort he lifted his gaze from her luscious body. And then he saw it. The vulnerability on her beautiful face, the uncertainty and wariness shadowed in her eyes. It made him feel like an utter cad.

She had trusted him to treat her gently and he had failed her. Unintentional, but that did not make it any better. His passion and desire had made him selfish. It was hardly the way to treat a wife, and certainly not what she deserved.

She appeared to recover her composure, then attempted a smile. It failed. “It wasn’t that awful,” she whispered. “That is to say, well, at least the most painful part ended quickly.”

She released a long, slow breath, then straightened her shoulders, like a soldier determined to go into battle despite his fear.

Carter felt his gut clench. He had never been so wounded by a remark in his entire life. He knew how to pleasure a woman. How to make her pant with anticipation, move her entire body with restless desire, shout at the top of her lungs when she reached her climax.

“I can assure you, madam, that I have not taken you as my wife solely for the purpose of appeasing my rabid, unnatural hunger for sex.”

“I assumed that was what a mistress was for, poor thing.”

His head jerked up. His former mistresses were hardly poor things. Due to his generosity they were financially independent women, and he had never once heard a complaint from any of them regarding his sexual prowess. “We agreed before our marriage to honor our vows of fidelity. I will not take a mistress, nor do I want one. I want you.”

Her breath hitched. “Truly?”

“Yes. As my wife, only you can produce an heir.”

The hopeful expression faded from her lovely face at his final words. Instantly he realized he should not have admitted the last. Telling a woman he wanted her to bear his children was not a helpful approach to this problem. Besides, he truly did not want another woman. He wanted Dorothea.

“I know my duty, sir,” she said coldly. “I will not shirk it. There will be an heir, as you require.”

Carter sighed loudly, raking his outstretched fingers through his hair. “Saints preserve us all, I will not have my wife consider bedding me a duty. It will be a joy and a pleasure for both of us.”

She shrugged as if she had no earthly idea how to make that happen.

“You enjoy my kisses,” he said, almost more to himself than her. “My touch does not appear to revolt you.”

“I never said that it did. Carter, please, last night was not a complete disaster. I enjoyed it, well, all except for the very last bit. And I can school myself to endure that part of the act. It was over quickly enough.” She tilted her head to one side, her expression thoughtful. “Though perhaps the problem has more to do with size. Apparently I am small and you are rather, um, rather large. Maybe if we joined our bodies while your…while you…while it was much smaller it would bring me less discomfort?”

Carter sputtered. Another man might have been angry. She had insulted his skills as a lover as well as his lack of endurance. Over quickly, indeed! The one thing she had accomplished was compliment the size of his equipment, but that was unintentional. Enter her while he was small? Surely he had not just heard her spew such nonsense.

Carter had always prided himself on being a considerate lover, patient and lustful. Not since he was an untried lad had it been necessary for him to exert a great deal of effort in seducing a female. A few charming words, a sultry smile, a passionate kiss and they were in his bed, eager and willing. And they left it satisfied, often purring their contentment.

It would be so with his wife. Carter’s helplessness escalated, but he knew he could not unleash his frustration on her. She was blameless. He had misread the situation utterly, he had bungled it all badly and put a fear of copulation into Dorothea in the process. What an idiot. He knew he would have to dispense with the fear if he ever wanted an eager, passionate wife in his bed.

His path was clear. He would have to woo, to romance, to seduce his bride. He owed it to himself, but more importantly, he owed it to her.