A deep cry bolted out of her. She felt tearing inside. A stab of pleasure and pain. It was bitter sweet.
“Good…God.” Stephen surged upward to meet her. “Wait.” He locked his hands around her hips and held tight, panting, his face contorted. “Don’t move, or this will be amazingly…brief.”
The hot flower of pain wilted. A feeling of fullness sprouted in its place, putting out roots, surging for the sun.
Stephen’s hands clenched around her, then relaxed. “God, Victoria. You’ll be the death of me. Does it hurt?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Yes. It feels…strange.”
He took a deep, ragged breath. “I wanted this to be slow and magical.”
Magical. He need not worry. Her insides were blooming with enchantment. She shifted her hips, searching for something that seemed just out of reach.
“Stay still, love. I’ll try to go slow.”
His fingers slid down to open her soft, sensitive parts. He eased himself deeper inside. Pleasure folded around his entry. She gasped and arched her hips to meet it.
“Softly, sweetheart. Wait.”
“I…I can’t.”
“You can. Go gently.” He pressed her down to him, holding her still. “We’re in no hurry.”
She didn’t try to answer. Couldn’t. An overwhelming sense of urgency gripped her. A frantic need to ride upon him. It was impossible to keep still. A forest of light grew around her. Building. Intensifying.
He must have felt the change within her. He loosened his grip and let her move upon him. She rocked her hips back and forth. Her insides smoldered and caught fire. She increased her pace, rushing toward the promise of something wonderful.
Stephen gasped and thrust upward, pushing deep inside. Yes. Yes. Yes. She threw back her head and cried out, joining him at the pinnacle of pleasure.
****
The Meeting Hall resembled a botanical garden and smelled just as sweet. Lily of the valley, tuberoses, and spirea adorned the ribbon-wrapped columns, windows, and the massive chandeliers. White roses formed a large bell that hung over a raised dais placed in front of a bank of windows. Hundreds of elegantly dressed guests milled about, chatting softly as they awaited the wedding procession. Victoria sighed and fingered her store-bought gown. She was as out of place as a crow in a songbird aviary.
Earlier, Mr. Hammond had come upon her and Stephen in the hotel lobby and had invited her to attend the wedding as his guest. Had begged, actually. Said he needed her presence to help bolster his confidence. She couldn’t refuse his earnest entreaty. So, she’d gone home and changed into her Sunday best, which wasn’t anywhere close to the elegant gowns being worn by the American royalty in attendance. Hopefully the service would be over quickly, and she and Stephen could slip away unnoticed.
“Are you all right, Miss Manning? It is overly warm in here with this mad crush and the windows and curtains pulled shut.”
She turned to face her companion, Sir Edward Thornton, the British Ambassador, who was standing in for the absent Hammond family. “Stephen told me General Babcock ordered the windows and curtains closed. To keep the newspapermen from intruding.”
“Stephen?”
“My fiancé. Lieutenant Byrne. He was assigned to look after Mr. Hammond.”
“Ah, Lieutenant Byrne. A fine officer and gentleman. When is your wedding?”
“In two weeks.” She waved a hand to encompass the room. “It won’t be anywhere near as grand as this. But we’re happy with our plans.”
And she was happy. Flowers and cakes and decorations didn’t matter. What mattered was that she and Stephen would soon be bound together. Forever. That could happen in a barn full of animals for all she cared. As long as she had her love by her side.
She turned to locate him in the press of bodies. He and dozens of other Army officers had formed a human corridor running from the entrance to the raised dais. He was easy to pick out among the uniformed men. His broad shoulders and dark, glistening mane were as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Her blood heated as she recalled their night together. The way his hands had played over her body. Like a piano maestro plying ivory keys. He’d taken her from the soft opening notes to the crashing climax with little effort. And she had many, many more nights just like that awaiting her.
A hush fell over the crowd, and Mr. Hammond entered the room, dressed in a stylish black evening suit. His expression was peaceful, almost happy. Good. He should be happy on his wedding day. He and his best man made their way to the dais where they stood at the foot. Mrs. Grover then paraded down the officer-lined corridor with her two sons. She was followed by the bridesmaids, each wearing a white gown trimmed with blue forget-me-nots and pink roses.
A marine band began playing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, and Senator Grover emerged from the doorway with his daughter on his arm. Victoria drew in a breath along with the hundreds of other guests. Nellie looked like a princess in a white satin gown and trailing comet-like train trimmed with Brussels lace. Her face radiated with joy and happiness.
Victoria sighed again. She would experience the same happiness soon. Very soon.
As the pair drew closer, Mr. Hammond moved forward and took Nellie from the Senator. They then stepped up onto the dais and faced the reverend. The music died down and the ceremony began.
Just as she’d hoped, the reverend was soon introducing the newly wed couple to the guests. The smiling pair left the dais and filed down the officer-lined passage, ducking beneath the archway of raised swords. As they disappeared through the door, the meeting hall erupted with conversation and activity.
Victoria backed away from the crush and found a less noisome spot near a marble pillar. She liked people. She just preferred them one at a time.
A warm breath fanned her ear. “Boring wedding reception or a picnic on the river bank?”
She smiled. No choice at all. She turned her head just enough that her lips brushed his. “Will soap be involved at this picnic?”
“All ready stowed in the basket.”
She gave his arm a gentle shove. “Fall in, Lieutenant Byrne. We have a river bank to secure.”
A word about the author...
Donna Dalton lives in Central Virginia with her husband, two sons, and a pitbull mix named Gizmo. An avid reader of historical romance, Donna uses the rich history of the “Old Dominion State” to craft action-packed stories set during and after the American Civil War.
Visit her at www.donnadalton.net
or on Facebook at DonnaDaltonbook.
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