Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Check out Donna's other books and short stories:
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
A word about the Author
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Loving Byrne
by
Donna Dalton
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Loving Byrne
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Donna Dalton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First American Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-870-7
Published in the United States of America
Check out Donna's other books and short stories:
Irish Destiny
Irish Charm
The Cavalry Wife
The Rebel Wife
The Gift
A Christmas Stalking
Blue Ice
Her Rodeo Man
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my wonderful group of
“Old Timers” — ex-co-workers
from Henrico County Police and Fire Dispatch.
Your support and friendship is most appreciated
and inspiring.
Chapter One
City of Washington
February 1874
Her gentleman officer was a thief.
His gaze, dark as midnight and intense as a bonfire, robbed her of all good sense. Determined lips stole the breath from her lungs. Prowling touches fleeced the strength from her legs until all Victoria Manning could do was slump in the rock-hard embrace holding her captive.
He pulled her closer, his palms scorching her skin through the gown’s thick material. Practiced fingers skimmed over her ribs and hunted their way to a breast that ached for his touch. He thumbed a nipple, circling and brushing with butterfly softness. Warmth blossomed inside her like a bud opening up to the sunshine.
“Stephen...” she pushed out on a raspy exhale.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“You...I...”
His warm breath grazed her face. “We what?”
She closed her eyes and splayed fingers over his broad chest, the Army wool uniform scratchy beneath her fingertips. He smelled of soap and aftershave. Something spicy. Her head reeled. She could dine on him for the next hundred years and never be sated.
A door slamming shut deep in the hotel plunged through the desire clouding her head. She pushed away, more to restrain herself than him. “Stop, Stephen.”
He dipped closer as if to resume his plunder, and she tilted her head aside. “Not here.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The gas-lit hallway was deserted, but it wouldn’t stay that way. Due to the upcoming social event, The Willard Hotel nearly bulged with out-of-town guests. She dropped to a whisper. “Someone could come along and see us.”
He barked out a laugh and scooped up her hand. “Come. I know a place where we can have some privacy.”
“What about your assignment?” She nodded at the closed door behind him. “As much as I want to visit with you, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for leaving your post.”
“Always my loving protector. It’s what I love most about you, darling.” He pressed a kiss to the base of her throat. “We won’t be gone long. Besides, the drunken dolt is done for the night. I had to help him into bed less than an hour ago. Hear that god-awful snoring?”
She cocked an ear. The noise filtering through the wooden door sounded more like a boar rooting for grubs than a man breathing. She shook her head. “I can’t believe Mr. Hammond would take to drinking the night before his wedding.”
“Not just the night before. Every day since he arrived. Morning, noon, and night. The man’s a tosspot.” He nuzzled her earlobe. “Among other less desirable traits.”
His nibbling teased a giggle, and she danced away, the picnic basket she’d brought swinging wildly on her arm. This new and unbridled passion was exciting, yet frightening at the same time.
She pitched a glance at the thankfully still-empty hallway. “Is Senator Grover aware of this behavior? I can’t imagine he’d allow his daughter to marry such a reprobate.”
Stephen countered her retreat with a quick step and palmed her lower back, his fingers urging her forward while kneading her spine at the same time. “I’m sure he’s aware of it. General Babcock’s instructions to those of us guarding the British envoy were very clear. Hammond is not to venture outside of the hotel for any reason. Nothing will prevent this wedding from taking place tomorrow. Not even the groom himself.”
Legs trembling and breaths coming in shallow draws, she ran a hand down his arm, gaining strength from the firm muscles beneath his sleeve. “Poor Nellie. The newspapers say she’s besotted with her Englishman. That the two met on a cruise while crossing the Atlantic and began courting in the moonlight. They stole away to the darkened decks...while her chaperones lay bedridden with seasickness.” She pulled in a much-needed breath and heaved a sigh. “Such a romantic story.”
Stephen stopped in front of a door midway down the hall and reached for the knob. “No more talk of Hammond or the Grovers. We only have a short time together. Let’s not waste it on idle gossip.”
As he tugged her through the open doorway, the heady smell of beeswax and fresh laundered cotton enveloped her. Crisply folded linens and towels lined the floor-to-ceiling wall shelves. A scarred but clean work table occupied the middle of the room. The maids’ closet. Not exactly an ideal trysting spot, but it would have to do.
“Are you hungry?” She certainly was. But not for food. However, what she craved would—for the time being—have to stay shelved.
She placed the basket on the table and pulled back the cloth covering. “I brought some of my sister’s fresh baked bread. And cheese from Howard’s store. The herbed goat cheese you adore more than anything else.”
Her brother-in-law stocked his mercantile with only the best wares. No cheap goods for Howard Taylor. She’d tallied the receipts often enough to know while helping with the bookkeeping.
Stephen moved behind her and peeled off her cloak. “There’s nothing I adore more than you, my darling.”
She smiled. He always said the sweetest things. Theirs was the true romantic story. He’d swept her off her feet from the moment they met. Literally. She’d been high on a ladder, wiping dust from a shelf in the mercantile when her foot slipped. She’d plunged into the arms of a dashing Army officer who’d walked through the door just in time to catch her. From then on, not a day went by that Lieutenant Byrne didn’t come by the store. His brief visits turned into long dinners with her and Annabelle and Howard, and two months later, he’d asked for her hand in marriage. She couldn’t ever remember being happier.
She fished the bread and cheese from the basket and set them on the table. “I packed your favorite wine, too. The same brand we had at our engagement part
y. And some sweet berries from the market.”
Still standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Not as sweet as you, I’d wager.”
She tipped back, relishing the whisper of firm lips gliding over her sensitive flesh. “You should eat something, love. It’s going to be a long…ahh…night standing guard.”
“You’re all the sustenance I need.”
Her limbs went limp as porridge. Over the past few months, they’d enjoyed many a stolen kiss but never had they taken their desires to such a fevered pitch. Their wedding night was sure to be wondrous. A jolt of sanity shot through her. Wedding.
She straightened and leaned away from him. “I didn’t come here for kisses and such.”
“No?”
“No. I came to discuss our wedding. It will be here soon. We need to make some decisions.”
He trailed a finger along her shoulder blade. “What is there to discuss?”
A shiver chased after his touch. She moistened lips gone dry as a summer pond. “Flowers, for one thing. Blue forget-me-nots or pink roses? And the cake. Buttercream or chocolate? Oh, and we have to set a date with Pastor Dean for our final counseling session.”
He branded her nape with a poker-hot kiss. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”
Warmth spread down her backbone and pooled in a smoldering hollow. She reined in a groan of pleasure. Wanton reactions would only spur his assault. “This is important, Stephen.”
Lips and tongue tickled the flesh behind her ear. “Hmm. So, it is.”
He clearly wasn’t referring to their wedding plans. “It’s your wedding, too. I want you to be happy with our choices.”
He spun her around and pulled her against him. “I am happy. Very happy.”
His thigh molded her woman’s mound and ignited a blaze that rivaled Satan’s hearth. All thought of restraint went up in smoke. She arched her back and pressed into him. “God, Stephen...”
“You like that?”
“Hmmm.” She reached up and played fingers through his downy locks, the only softness on his supple body. “I liked it far too much I’m afraid.”
“Why afraid?”
“We agreed, love. To wait until we were wed.”
Deft fingers made swift work of the buttons on her blouse. “That’s fourteen, long, lonesome days from now.” He pushed open the unfettered folds. “Are you sure you want to wait?”
Cool air marched over her bared flesh. A delightful shudder coursed through her, and feckless knees threatened to give way. Only her hands, clamped on his broad shoulders, kept her from collapsing. “Two weeks is not that lon—”
Lips latching onto an exposed nipple stripped away her words. Fire surged in her veins. Her bones turned to aged butter. She swayed and fought to remain upright.
Stephen’s hands went around her waist and guided her backwards until her backside greeted the table. Then, before she could resist, he began burrowing beneath her skirts and undergarments. A finger found and fondled the sensitive flesh between her thighs. Her insides ignited into an inferno. She gasped his name.
“You still want to wait, darling?”
“I...we...shouldn’t.”
He stroked the small curls covering her fleshy folds, tugging and teasing. Ripples of desire raked through her. She shuddered again. Such marvelous sensations. She wanted more, much more.
She flexed her hips and rocked against his hand. Chastity be damned. “Stephen...”
“Yes, sweetheart?” he whispered, his breaths coming like hers, in quick, shallow-heated pants.
“You play...unfairly.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No. No stopping. I want you. Now.”
His mouth rounded into a devilish smile, and he reached for his belt buckle. “As you wish, my—”
A loud thud echoed in the hallway.
Then, a deep voice rang out, and then another.
Stephen stilled, brow furrowing. He closed his eyes as if gathering himself and pushed out a frustrated growl. “I should go. Check on Hammond.”
She tamped down her own groan of disappointment. Duty before pleasure. Such would be her life as the wife of an Army officer. Yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Go. But hurry back.” She treated him to a coy look. “Before your supper goes stale.”
He winked as he headed for the door. “Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll be back before you can draw your next breath.”
She smiled and reclined back on her elbows. Her insides throbbed with a pleasing ache. She wanted him. Tonight and every night from now until eternity. Stephen Byrne was everything she could ever want in a husband—kind, caring, dedicated to making her happy. A man just like her wonderful brother-in-law.
Ten years ago, she and her sister Annabelle had met Howard Taylor while accompanying their father to deliver produce to Howard’s mercantile. It was love at first sight. Annabelle and Howard were wed a month later. When their father died from a lung illness, Howard took her in and made her part of his and Annabelle’s family. Only nine years old at the time, motherless from birth and then fatherless, Victoria had latched onto the older male, looking for love and guidance. And Howard had been a true king among men. He treated her as a beloved sister, providing food, shelter, and a fine education. She couldn’t be more blessed to have found a husband just as devoted.
Boot heels rapped in the hall, and then Stephen filled the doorway, his face white as the starched linens stacked on the shelves.
Victoria pushed upright, her heart skipping. “You look upset, Stephen. What’s wrong?”
“He’s gone. Hammond is gone.”
****
Eyes blue as the ocean and just as wide washed over him. “Gone? What do you mean he’s gone?”
As Victoria bolted off the table, her exposed breasts jounced like fresh stirred cream. Heat rifled through him. Hot, primal heat that took his breath. Stephen stiffened against a rush of desire. As much as he wanted to take her right there on the maid’s table, he couldn’t afford to indulge the pleasure. Later, perhaps. If he wasn’t swinging from the gallows.
He snatched her cloak from the table where he’d tossed it. “We have to go.”
Worry lines furrowed her brow. “Go? Why, what’s happened?”
Everything. He snapped his teeth down on a curse. He’d fouled up good this time. Royally. “Hammond somehow got out of bed and left his room. He’s not supposed to go out unescorted.”
“Good Heavens. Where could he have gone?”
“With any luck, to the bar in the hotel lobby. That’s where he spent most of the afternoon and evening.” He tossed the wool cloak around her shoulders and cupped her upper arms in a comforting grip. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It looks as if our special night together will have to wait after all.”
Her anxious expression softened. “We have a lifetime of nights ahead of us, my love.”
From her pretty lips to God’s ears. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My ever-optimistic angel. What would I do without you?”
She gathered the open folds of her blouse and gave him a brazen, sidelong glance, the same one that nearly stopped his heart earlier. “Not so angelic when I’m around you, it appears.”
He chuckled. Schooling her in the delights of the bedroom was going to be pure heaven. Too bad that education had to be put on hold. Damn Hammond’s ornery hide. He scooped his hat off the table and held his arm out to her. “Come. Let’s find Hammond and make sure we’re able to have that lifetime together.”
Her frown returned. “What about the food?”
“Leave it. Hopefully we won’t be gone long. If not, the maids will find a tasty treat.”
“All right, but wait just a...” She turned her attention to the buttons on her blouse. The lush bounty quickly disappeared behind refastened material. Once more presentable, she rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “There. All set. Lead on, my gallant lieutenant.”
Not so gallant with a noos
e decorating his neck. General Babcock would surely string him up for letting Hammond slip away. He had to find the English bastard. And fast. Before Sergeant Denton arrived at ten tonight for his assigned shift. Bootlicker Denton had Babcock’s ear and wouldn’t hesitate to rat out a fellow soldier.
Stephen returned her smile and led her into the hallway. Much as he wanted to break into a run, he kept his pace even and steady. No sense worrying her needlessly. He would find Hammond and get him safely back to his room. He had to. If anything prevented the Grover bridegroom from attending tomorrow’s ceremony, he and Victoria could kiss their own wedding good-bye.
They descended the broad flight of stairs and entered the lobby. Only a handful of patrons occupied the vaulted room. Two were familiar. Senator Conkling from New York and Admiral David Porter, advisor to the Secretary of the Navy. Both were in town to attend the Grover wedding. Hopefully they were unaware of Hammond’s latest escapade.
He guided Victoria to a padded bench encircling one of the marble pillars studding the lobby. The seat faced the entrance to the bar and would make keeping watch over her easier. “Stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back shortly.”
She nodded and sank onto the bench. “Good luck, love.”
He’d need more than luck if the Englishman had decided to go elsewhere. Once inside the bar, he made a quick check of the smoke-filled room. Several men stood belly-up to the polished brass and oak bar counter that ran along the far wall. Another group sat at a small table, playing cards and tossing back shots of whiskey. None were Hammond.
He fisted the hilt of his sword. Where the hell was the miserable sot? The Englishman deserved a gutting for all the trouble he’d caused.
Standing near the end of the counter, the burly barkeep looked up and nodded. Big Jim Stossel. He’d passed many a night trading stories with the retired Army sergeant while waiting for his duty shift to begin. The Pennsylvania farmer who’d sold his farm and joined the Army to fight the Johnny Rebs had plenty of tales to tell. Hopefully he’d have some information on Hammond.
Big Jim’s face crinkled into a smile as Stephen drew up to the bar. “Lieutenant Byrne. You here for a drink?”
Loving Byrne Page 1
