Once Upon Forever

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  “The old gardener’s cottage is just over there,” Hunter said. “Let’s make a dash for it.”

  Moments later, they burst through the door of the snug little house.

  “This place hasn’t been used for years,” Hunter said. “But Mother has it kept tidy. She keeps saying that someday she’ll turn it into her own private studio where she can come to rest and paint her roses.”

  Larissa glanced about the two tiny rooms of the octagonal cottage. They stood in a sitting room with windows across one side and a cushioned seat beneath them. A game table, two chairs, and a tea cart took up most of the space. Beyond, a door led into a second chamber. Through the opening, she spied a daybed.

  “You’re soaked, darling,” Hunter said. “Here, let me help you.”

  Hunter took her to the long window seat. Once they were settled, he drew the gloves from her hands, easing the lace over each finger until the tingling flesh of her palms was naked to his touch.

  He kissed her hands with warm, soft brushes of his lips. When she sighed with pleasure, he grew bolder still. In one slow, sensual slide, he drew off her damp, cobweb-thin shawl. A moment later, his hands touched her bare shoulders, tensing and relaxing on her flesh. And then his mouth and tongue took up the lazy, wonderful work.

  Larissa might have felt faint on the dance floor, but now she was near swooning. If ever a man was made to give her pleasure and bring joy to her heart, Hunter Breckinridge was that man.

  When he drew her into his arms, kissing her with slow deliberation, Larissa shivered against him.

  “You’re cold, aren’t you?”

  She wasn’t cold. Far from it!

  “Hunter, I wish we were married already. And I wish you never had to go away.”

  “Hush, love,” he cautioned. “Let’s don’t talk about my leaving. We’ll have time before I go to create some wonderful memories. I’ll take them with me when I ride out. I’ll take you with me, in my heart.”

  Larissa knew what she longed to say. But dared she be so bold?

  “Hunter?” She paused, the words difficult to form.

  “What is it, darling? What’s bothering you?”

  “Would it be so wrong if we began creating those lovely memories tonight?”

  In answer to her question, Hunter let out a pent-up breath. He drew her back into his arms and held her. A long, intimate silence passed between them. Then his mouth came down on hers and his hand found her breast. No words were necessary after that.

  Her complex question had a simple answer: Love.

  Larissa felt her whole body come alive as Hunter touched her breast and kissed her open mouth. For a long time, there in the dark, silent cottage, he held her and caressed her. He kissed her so many times that she lost count of the number. She lost track of time and of the world outside their own sweet, intimate space.

  At some point, she heard him whisper, “We’re on stolen time, my love.” At that point, they began shedding their clothes. Hunter helped Larissa out of her gown and hung it gently over one of the chairs. His own coat rested already on the other.

  A moment later, he lifted her in his arms and strode the short distance across the small room to the door … to the daybed. The coverlet smelled of lavender and summer sun, and she knew that she would always remember those scents when she thought of their first making love.

  When he lay down beside her moments later, she felt his bare flesh. There was no way she could disrobe completely in the dark, removing stays, petticoats, and other underthings too intimate to mention. But with Hunter’s help, she removed what she could manage.

  Larissa trembled at the thought of what they were about to do. She knew something of lovemaking from the French novel she’d read. She knew she would probably weep, but for joy, not for pain. She knew, too, that like the French hero, Hunter could not be kept waiting. She reached for him, murmuring his name.

  He pressed hard against her, letting his hands knead her aching breasts. When she moaned softly, he dipped his head to kiss the proud peaks. Larissa caught her breath as fire raged through her body. She arched her back toward him.

  “You want this as much as I do, don’t you, Larissa?” Hunter’s voice betrayed his surprise and his delight.

  Any other woman might have blushed at such an accusation. Not Larissa. She defended herself boldly. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And why shouldn’t I? I’m going to be your wife.”

  “You’re wrong about that, my darling.” His voice was dark with, urgent desire as he positioned his body over hers. “You are my wife—my own—as of this moment.”

  His thrust was quick and sure. Larissa felt heat like lightning striking through her. A moment later, they were moving together as Hunter ventured ever deeper. Larissa’s eyes were wide open, staring at the wonder of him through the darkness. She could see the sharp planes of his face, enhanced and highlighted in the play of shadows. But more than that, she could feel him moving inside her, lighting fires that had never known flame.

  And then the room began to swirl and the whole world turned upside down. She felt nerves twitch in her toes and fingertips and somewhere deep down inside her that she couldn’t name. That nameless place throbbed and pulsed, then turned her whole body into something too wondrous to describe. All feelings, all sounds, all pleasures, all colors.

  She was flying high above, playing with the stars, dancing across the moonbow, and Hunter had taken her there. Hunter on a silver stallion with wings on its heels.

  Larissa heard Hunter moan her name. She opened her eyes at last. The rain was over. The full moon was shining in the window, glowing softly with all colors of a rainbow.

  “Look, darling!” she whispered. “The moon has watched you love me. The moon knows our secret.”

  He kissed her deeply, then sighed and rested his head on her bare breasts, teasing her nipple with his lips. “But the moon won’t tell what it knows.”

  “Hunter, when you leave me…”

  “Sh-h-h! Don’t talk about that.”

  “I must. Only this once,” she promised. “While you’re away, let the moon be our messenger. I’ll stare up every night and send you a kiss by our moon.”

  He smiled and Larissa thought she saw the glint of a tear in his eye. “Yes, we’ll have the moon to share. And I don’t mind at all that it shares our secret. I feel like shouting it to the whole world. I only wish we could stay here all night.”

  Larissa gave a sharp cry. “What if they come looking for us? We’d better get back to the party.”

  “One more kiss?” Hunter begged.

  She turned back into his arms and he held her for a long time, kissing her, touching her, wondering at what miracle had made her his for all time. But her total happiness was marred by two things—the thought of Hunter and Jordan going into battle on opposite sides and her terrible dream. Even as they made love, for a fleeting instant, Larissa had felt the hot pain in her arm and seen the dreaded flames.

  Chapter Two

  Although Larissa and Hunter thought their long absence from the party the night before had gone unnoticed, they were mistaken. One person, other than the man in the moon, had kept a close watch on them all night. And by the next morning, Jordan Breckinridge was nursing a hangover and a grudge, while making plans to cause his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law an equal amount of suffering. The note he sent to Larissa bright and early the next morning set his plan—and her fate—into motion.

  Larissa hadn’t slept particularly well. She’d thought all her problems would be solved by her marriage. But life wasn’t that simple, she realized. All night she’d tossed and turned, dreading Hunter’s leaving only two days after their wedding, and wondering what she could do to change Jordan’s stubborn mind. When a servant brought Jordy’s note that morning, she knew what she must do. She dressed quickly in her new riding costume of heather-colored gabardine, told her mother that she needed a gallop through t
he fields to clear her head, then struck out for Broad Acres.

  Thunder rumbled off in the distance as she rode away from Bluefield. Another storm was approaching. The very air had a sickly yellow cast that brought with it a sense of foreboding. Larissa was tempted to turn back. She knew it was foolish to meet Jordan alone, especially so soon before her marriage to his brother. But if she could change Jordy’s mind about joining the Confederacy, then Hunter would never have to know that they had met privately.

  She drew courage from reminding herself that she was doing this for Hunter. Jordan had said last night and again in his message this morning that only she could make him rethink his decision. She owed it to the entire Breckinridge family to do what she could to keep peace between the brothers.

  “And if I can make Jordy see the light, then the risk I’m taking will be well worth it,” she told herself, taking a measure of comfort from the sound of her own voice.

  Larissa reached a grove of cedar trees a good distance from the house. She tied her horse there, not daring to ride on in broad daylight. She couldn’t risk being seen. On foot, she could follow the high yew hedge along the drive or duck behind a tree if anyone approached.

  After a long, hot hike, the old mansion loomed ahead—a ramshackled pile of columns and verandas that had been magnificent in its prime, back in the early part of the century when the first Breckinridge settled in Kentucky. Larissa eyed the place closely, imagining how it could be, if only Jordan would invest the time and money needed to restore it to its former glory.

  What the place needed was a mistress. And what Jordan needed was a wife. Of course, he continued with this nonsense about never marrying. But Larissa had a feeling that was just an act to make her feel guilty for choosing Hunter.

  Suddenly, she remembered their dance the night before—how closely he’d held her and how suggestive his gaze had been. She remembered, too, the kisses he’d stolen on the garden terrace the day she told him she meant to marry Hunter.

  “That,” she assured herself, “will never happen again! I’m wise to you now, Jordan Breckinridge.”

  In order to move more quickly across the patchy expanse of lawn, Larissa lifted her long riding skirt and hurried toward the back entrance of the house. She knew that Jordan had only two house servants, and the rest of the slaves would be in the fields at this time of day. She could slip in quietly and no one would ever know she was there. They would talk. She would leave. And afterward everything would be fine between Hunter and Jordan. Then she could stop worrying and get on with the business of enjoying her wedding and brief honeymoon at Bluefield.

  Exactly what she would say to Jordan to persuade him to join the Union army and ride with his brother, escaped her for the moment. But she felt sure the right words would come to her. She would do whatever she had to in order to make Jordan come down off his high horse and confess that he was only doing this to spite Hunter.

  “Well, I simply won’t let him spoil things for all of us,” she declared determinedly.

  With one final dash, Larissa made it across the backyard and to the steps that led to the hallway door. Crouching behind a huge gardenia bush, she held her breath and listened. Suddenly, she heard Jordan’s voice from an open window on the second floor.

  “That’ll be all, Pompey. Shut the door on your way out. I don’t want to be disturbed the rest of the morning.”

  Larissa tingled with nervousness at his words. She hadn’t bargained on this turn of events. But she might have guessed that he’d stay in his room, nursing his hangover till noon or after. It was so like him to force her to confront him there instead of meeting her downstairs like any civilized host.

  She crouched lower still as she heard Pompey head for the back door. Jordan’s old valet came out and crept down the stairs, then turned toward the kitchen a distance away across the yard. Larissa waited until he entered the cook house, then made her move. She couldn’t let that old gossip see her here.

  Her heart thundering, she raced up the stairs and into the cool, shadowed hallway. Once inside, she flattened herself against the wall until she could catch her breath. She listened. Not a sound came from above.

  “Jordan?” she called.

  No answer.

  After two more times with the same lack of response, she shrugged, then started up the stairs to the second floor—to Jordan’s bedroom.

  She froze halfway up when a board groaned under her slipper. She wasn’t concerned that Jordan might have heard, but somewhere in the house was the maid, the second servant who always hovered about. After a moment’s thought, Larissa decided that she must be out in the kitchen now, preparing the master’s noon meal.

  Larissa moved on confidently, certain that she and Jordan were alone in the house. All the way up, she kept hearing her mother’s voice, reminding her that no lady ever enters a gentleman’s chamber. The admonishment was almost enough to make her run away, but not quite. She was perspiring, trembling. But too much depended upon this meeting, and she’d come too far to turn back now.

  Finally, she stood outside Jordan’s room. She paused and listened. She heard a rustling sound and then a low laugh. He must be reading a humorous book, she concluded.

  She knocked briskly and called his name. When she heard his muffled voice from the other side of the door, she took that as permission to enter.

  In the next heartbeat, Larissa turned the knob, then froze. Her face turned quickly to pale horror. She longed desperately to flee, but her body refused her urgent command. She stood in the doorway—eyes wide, mouth agape.

  “What the almighty hell?” Jordan roared. “Jesus Christ, Larissa!”

  Larissa felt her lips move as she tried to form words, but not a sound came from her. She heard only her heart thundering and a warning buzz in her ears. She was going to faint and that would be dreadful—she knew it, but there was no help for it.

  Had she swooned a moment sooner, she might have been spared the second shock—the sight of Jordan, completely naked, rushing his dark-skinned and equally unclothed bed partner into the next room. For a moment before the beautiful young slave disappeared, she turned and looked Larissa right in the eye, her dark gaze bewildered and pleading.

  And then the floor rushed up to meet Larissa.

  A short time later, she came around, the acrid odor of smelling salts stinging her nostrils. She was stretched out on Jordan’s rumpled bed. He was leaning over her, clothed only in a tobacco-brown silk robe, his handsome face smiling down into hers.

  “Had I known you’d really come, I would have waited for you, little darlin’.”

  He leaned closer, as if he meant to kiss her, but she shoved him away.

  “You bastard!” she cried. “You set this whole thing up. That note you sent—‘Such a dilemma … how can I ever decide without talking to someone who understands…’ Well, I hope you’re satisfied, Jordan Breckinridge. You certainly pulled the wool over my eyes. I feel like the world’s greatest fool. How dare you?”

  He rose up and glared down at her. “How dare you? This is my bedroom, therefore, I dare whatever I please. As for your coming here at my invitation, I assumed you would arrive like any other guest, in a carriage and announced.”

  “You know I couldn’t do that. Why, if anyone found out I was here, my reputation would be ruined. Hunter would be forced to cancel our wedding. It would be the scandal of the century!”

  A slow smile, lacking all warmth, curved Jordan’s lips. “Yes. Wouldn’t it!”

  Larissa felt suddenly like a small trapped animal, a wounded bird, a stupid child. Jordan had planned this, all right, and she’d walked right into his trap.

  She lurched off the bed and past him.

  “Wait a minute! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Back to Bluefield! Back to Hunter!” she called over her shoulder.

  “I thought we were going to talk.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. Do whatever you please.
”

  She was almost at the door before he rushed ahead of her and barred the way. “Is that an invitation?” he said with a smirk. “If so …”

  Slowly, he bent and kissed her cheek. Larissa gasped and tried to pull away, but it was too late. He had a grip on her arms, holding her so that he could steal a longer, deeper kiss. Larissa felt tears pooling in her eyes.

  You will not cry! she ordered silently.

  “Come on, little darlin’. You know you’ve always wondered what it would be like with me. Now’s your chance. You can compare, before it’s too late, and see if you’ve made the right choice.”

  Larissa gasped softly.

  “Don’t try to act like a startled virgin, for God’s sake. I know what you and Hunter were up to last night in the cottage.”

  “You spied on us?” She could hardly get the words out. The thought of Jordan doing such a thing turned last night’s time with Hunter into something tainted and shameful.

  “Like you always used to say, darlin’, ‘All for one and one for all.’ Now, it’s our turn. Hunter never has to know.”

  Larissa felt as if she were choking. Her cheeks flamed. She wanted to scream at him, scratch out his eyes, beat him to a bloody pulp. But when she opened her mouth to shout the obscenities she felt boiling up in her throat, all that came out was a trembling whisper. “You’re a terrible person, Jordan Breckinridge!”

  He nodded. “Yes, I am. And ornery and good for nothing and a cad, and I think you’d better get out of here before I decide not to let you go. As for my joining Hunter’s cavalry unit, I’ll think about it, little darlin’, since you’ve asked me to.”

  “Don’t bother!” she flung at him. “U.S. Cavalry officers have certain standards to uphold. I’m not sure Hunter would want you in his troop.”

  Before Larissa could get past him and escape, Jordan offered one final insult. Turning toward the door to the adjoining room, he yelled, “Arabella! Get back in here. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Then looking back at Larissa, a cunning smile on his face, he said, “I now intend to resume where you interrupted me. If you’d like to stay and observe, feel free. A lesson might be helpful on your wedding night.”