“Well then,” Caroline began again, “perhaps it’s time I confess.” She looked a little apprehensive. “It was me you saw, Tonio, riding the black that day in the meadow.”
“I knew it!” He laughed. “But why wouldn’t you admit to it?”
“It was foolish of me, I know, and I ask your forbearance. Neither Hal nor I usually tell lies. But, you see I was in mourning and quite…depressed in those days. Demon and I…well, we grew up together. The early morning rides I took on him were my only solace during that unhappy time.” Caroline met his eyes again, wanting him to understand the bond between her and the stallion.
He nodded.
“I was able to forget my grieving…at least when I was on him. He never tolerated a sidesaddle. Therefore, I rode out early and never met anyone until—Well, I couldn't let you catch me, could I? My brother would have had a fit. I was worried Hal would make me stop what I was doing, and I simply could not give up my solo jaunts. At the time any argument would have caused all manner of discord between Hal and me.”
Caroline saw the way Antonio watched her; she knew he understood her reasoning.
“When you were so determined to find the trespasser, well, Hal knew it had to be me. He was forced into a position of denying what he guessed was true. It became much more of a horrid coil than it should’ve been. Can you forgive me…us…for fabricating a small lie?”
She saw his eyes gleam with mischief. That sly smile of his lifted the corners of his mouth. “Only if you are willing to pay a penalty,” he answered slyly, mischievously. His eyes told her what he wanted.
Caroline would never forget the first penalty he exacted from her. She’d like nothing better than for him to ‘punish’ her again. Warmth gathered between her thighs while anticipation escalated. Her nipples tingled, rubbing against her shirt when she sucked in a deep breath.
“Umm, I’m to pay for my sins again, it would seem,” she replied, her eyes shining with the same desire she saw in his.
“Find a place for us, Caro,” Antonio said huskily, urgently. “You know these woods better than I.”
Caroline took the lead at a measured trot, moving them deeper into the trees, then slowed and turned into an overgrown path. It opened onto a small grassy area ringed by sheltering bushes, canopied by tall trees. It was dim and cool. Only a tiny bit of the clear, blue sky was visible through the leaves overhead.
Both riders halted and slid quickly to the ground. Antonio tethered the horses.
As he strode back to Caroline across the grass, her heart was already racing. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever known. And now, he was hers.
Reaching Caroline, Antonio didn’t hesitate. He crushed her in his arms, his mouth taking hers in a fierce kiss that left no doubt where it would lead. They savored each other, tongues and lips exploring, searching and finding, desire simmering in a flood of hot blood, infusing their kisses with passion.
“Caro, ah Caro,” he murmured, lowering her willing body to the soft grass. “Dios, do you know I’m wild for you?” On his knees, he grabbed her hand and ground her open palm across the visible mound of his burgeoning erection.
She gasped, feeling the size and power of his need.
She recalled Antonio’s lovemaking, learning two days ago of what he was capable. He had catapulted her into a new world of sensual exploration. With such a tempestuous and caring lover, no other need apply.
“Caro, I can’t wait much longer,” he muttered. “You're killing me. I must have you…now. Please, mi amour.” As he turned to remove her boots, she hurriedly unfastened her breeches and slid them over her hips and down her legs. Soon she was naked below the waist with the exception of her stockings. He was astride her, pushing up her shirt where she laid waiting for him on the cool grass, sans ground cloth. She reached for him. His talented fingers played over her like a stringed instrument. Delicious chords of sensation thrummed over her sensitized breasts, gently pinching and caressing. His hot, wet lips finally dipped to suckle her through the abbreviated chemise. A wordless chorus of delighted sighs escaped her lips in counterpoint to his coaxing. Antonio’s engorged shaft pulsed against Caroline’s belly, and she wriggled to bring her nerve center closer to him.
They were both breathing heavily. Antonio took her mouth again, his tongue surging in and out in metered rhythm while his hands played music on her breasts.
Working to open his shirt, Caroline’s fingertips surged inside, running fingers through the curls of dark hair on his chest, searching for the coin-shaped nipples. Finding them, she licked circles around them, feeling them harden like cherry pits, just like hers.
Antonio groaned with pleasure. Her lips opened wider against his chest, tasting more bronzed, warm skin.
“Ah, querida, I love it when you touch me. I want you to know my body as intimately as I wish to know yours. There’s no need for modesty between a wife and husband.”
When she ceased her ministrations, Antonio buried his face in the cleavage between Caroline’s breasts. His palms squeezed them together, clamping them around his cheeks, nuzzling his nose and lips, and inhaling her scent as he licked the valley between the soft mounds. Then, his tongue went to work in earnest. He slipped her chemise off her shoulders, teasing her nipples, one, then, the other until Caroline writhed beneath his ardor. Moving lower, his loving expertise followed a path to her navel. He ringed the indentation with his tongue then pushed into it with the pointed tip, until she yelped in pleasure.
“Tonio, oh dear Lord,” she whimpered. “Everything you do to me feels so wonderful. Please, don’t ever stop making love to me.”
Her entreaty was music to his ears, and Antonio forged ahead to gratify her. His expert hands stroked the insides of her thighs, spreading them wide as he knelt between them. Eyes closed, concentrating on the erotic sensations he caused, her hips slowly began to pump in anticipation of his entry.
“Tatu…” she begged. “Come into me now, please.” She was almost incoherent with the need to have him inside her, starving for the soul-searing pleasure he could give her.
His nose nestled into her pubic hair, inhaling her womanly perfume and sucking it into his lungs. His swirling tongue tasted the Venus mound between her thighs. His teeth nibbled at her skin, until he gently spread her plump folds wide with both thumbs and sought Caroline’s love center. He swiped a hot tongue between the pouting lips, searching for her anxious clit.
She jolted upward “Oh…oh…no! You mustn't! Oh God, Tatu! This is wicked!”
“Let me, mi amour. I need to…eat your sweetness…or I’ll die of hunger wanting you.”
His unrelenting mouth licked and pulled on her sheath and its tiny, hidden bud until it engorged with pulsing sensation, drowning Caroline in a sizzling cauldron of wild, unyielding desire. She heard a scream echoing amongst the treetops and realized it came from her. She bucked with the power of her climax, every nerve alive, consumed with fiery heat as she spun headlong into a world of ecstasy and wonder. Hanging on with all her might, she rode the crest of an unbelievable swell of carnality brought on by Antonio’s mouth, until it crashed over her, and she was pulled into the undercurrent of sensuous abandonment, sobbing…breathless…unashamed.
Motionless, Caroline still shuddered inwardly from the aftermath. Quick to fill her body with his cock, Antonio surged into her sensitized core with one swift, powerful stab, thrusting in hard, sliding out fast, again and again, urgently seeking his own release. He was so big, so hard, so pulsing, Caroline was sure he touched her innermost place.
Antonio came quickly, throwing his head back, and emitting a howl of pleasure into the treetops, crying out Caroline’s pet name. He filled her womb with his seed, his body wracked with a series of pleasurable spasms as his semen spurted. Breathless and panting, he was soon as limp and powerless as a kitten, slumped on top of her, pressing her languid form into the cool earth of the grassy field.
“Querida, querida. Por Dios!” At first, it was all he could manage to
choke out. Nombre de Christo, she’ll be the death of me yet!
“I have no strong bones left in my body,” he gasped. “Everything inside of me has melted. Never has anyone…drained my strength and left me so weak and too helpless to move.”
“Umm, is that so?” Caroline murmured almost silently, her lips stretching into a grin. “Was it good?”
Antonio nodded against her shoulder where he had buried his face.
“I’ve been wondering how I might take you down a peg or two, Tonio. Now, I know how…”
“Wha—t?”
“Never mind.” Her lips twitched in a smug smile as she lightly kissed his temple. “Just lie quiet, Tonio. I like having you as a blanket to cover me.”
Silence invaded the green glade. They lay together in complete repose, still joined, their heavy breathing slowing to a normal pace. Finally, Antonio roused himself and slid his limp penis out of her, his manhood wet with her body’s slick dew. Caroline didn’t move, breathing quietly, her eyes still closed.
“Caro? Enamorada?” Gently, Antonio caressed her arm. “Forgive me, I couldn’t stop myself. I must be loco, a madman, when I am close to you.”
Slowly, Caroline rolled her head to one side, gazing up at him. Her half-closed eyes and languid smile told him she was happily satisfied. “I’m fine, my new husband-to-be,” she whispered, huskily.
Antonio bent and kissed her smiling lips, taking a moment to linger on her beauty mark with the tip of his tongue. “I’m glad, amour,” he murmured back, his grin widening like a schoolboy’s. “I swear that I’ll make love to you as often as you wish,” he promised, reaching down and moving a silken strand of hair off her cheek.
Looking down at his fiancée, the duke was prompted to tell her what he felt, but wasn’t yet able to do so. His feelings were too new, too unformed, and too hard to put into words. Instead, he chuckled, planted a kiss on the tip of her nose and said, “We must find indoor bedding soon, mi amour, or our horses will learn all our secrets.”
Antonio rose slowly. He adjusted his clothing, pulled Caroline to her feet, and helped her on with hers, sneaking tiny kisses as he did so.
Antonio was being so lover-like Caroline was tempted to tell him how much she loved him. But the moment was lost when he glanced over at Demon, who was chomping grass.
“You brought food for us, I hope, Caro. I’m ravenous! I could eat a wild toro on the hoof!” He grinned, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “I see how I must keep up my strength if I’m to have you in my bed.” He graced her with a most wicked smile.
“I’ll make certain you’re well fed, Your Grace,” Caroline responded, mischief beaming from her greenish eyes. “For your benefit and, of course, for mine as well.”
The lovers spent the next half hour devouring cold, sliced beef, bread, and a few ripe apples Caroline had packed in a cloth square. They gave the apple cores to the horses, and they ate them quickly. Meanwhile, the pair discussed their wedding plans—it would be a simple affair with only immediate family attending. Antonio promised he would host a gala ball afterward and invite the world, but for now, their marriage was to remain a secret.
It was nearing midday when Antonio escorted Caroline back to Crestwood. Hal was nowhere to be seen. Antonio left his betrothed on the gravel drive, winding his arms around her and kissing her adios with a totally improper embrace.
Many smiles crossed the faces of the house servants. Ripley reported the incident to the rest of the staff, since he had peeked out a front window and seen what had taken place.
Antonio arrived at Westhaven Hall with news that the special license was issued, and he and Caroline could wed anytime. Thurmond also sent the names and direction of three well known and favorably-established, Irish stud farms. The Kilburn Stud was in Tara, County Meath just miles from the Duke of Weston’s holdings in Ireland. Terence Kilburn’s name and title, Earl of Landoon, was well known in Thoroughbred racing circles. The other two stud farms were some distance from Dublin, but Antonio was assured that Kilburn Stud bred the type animal in which the duke was primarily interested.
* * * *
Hal and Caroline arrived the evening before the wedding and were quartered in the west wing of Westhaven Hall. Hal, of course, would give the bride away. Briella would stand up for Caroline, and Carlos, for Antonio.
“Milady, you’re more beautiful this morn than I’ve ever seen ye,” Daisy told her beaming mistress.
And, indeed, it was true. Caroline's happiness shone from her hazel eyes, glowed in her petal soft cheeks, and widened her generous lips with a lovely smile. It happened so quickly, and so scandalously, but she was determined not to spoil any part of her wedding day by worrying. She loved Antonio, and she would make him love her, too.
Without time to have a proper wedding gown made, Caroline chose the misty silver gray she had worn to the Cromleys’ ball. Daisy swept her mistress’s luxuriant tresses up and off her face, fashioning some of them into an elaborate coil atop her head like a crown. Creamy, tiny, white rosebuds from the Crestwood garden were tucked into the elegant coiffure. Silver ribbons streamed down Caroline’s back like a veil, mingling with the rest of the reddish locks that cascaded down her back and ended at her waist. Caroline wore her grandmother's diamonds in her ears but no other adornment. A wispy shawl of silvery gauze wrapped her bare shoulders. Daringly, the soft mounds of her breasts peeked above the low décolletage. Long, white kid gloves left a few inches of bare skin showing between them and the capped sleeves of her gown. Her tiny waist was made even smaller by a lightly boned corset. Several petticoats and a hoop supported the yards of fabric fashioning the gown’s skirt.
Briella came to Caroline's room just minutes before they were to go downstairs. She wore a gown of sea green. It was a perfect foil for her raven hair and dark eyes. Her lady’s maid had entwined soft pink roses into a circlet around her head.
The two beautiful ladies in the blush of youth walked slowly into the Westhaven chapel at the precise hour of ten o’clock that morning. Briella entered, followed by Caroline on the arm of her rugged-looking, but unsmiling brother.
Antonio and Carlos waited at the top of the short aisle, standing before the altar with Father Jerome. Both men chose to wear the formal dress of a Spanish caballero. The resemblance between the two handsome relatives was striking. Antonio's face was solemn, but his gaze locked with Caroline's as she and Hal approached him in the chapel. Finally, he smiled, showing his perfect white teeth.
At the top of the aisle, Hal relinquished his sister’s hand to Antonio. The bride and groom turned to face Father Jerome. Their vows were spoken in clear tones. The priest blessed them, then duly pronounced them husband and wife. Antonio bent to place a tender kiss on Caroline’s waiting lips, his eyes pulling her gaze into their bottomless depths. There, she saw all the dreams she’d ever wished or could have hoped for. Though he hadn’t yet spoken the words, she knew he cared deeply. It was the happiest moment of her life.
Only family and a few of the upper servants were present. The official announcement of the marriage would be publicized in three weeks when Antonio and Caroline returned from their wedding trip. All guests were sworn to secrecy.
He and Caroline left for Ireland almost immediately after the wedding breakfast. The ducal coach was headed toward Holyhead on England's west coast. From there, the newlyweds would sail across the Irish Sea to Dublin. The coach trip was to be leisurely, with several stopovers. The new lovers didn’t wish to spend the first few days of their marriage spent riding inside the carriage, no matter how well sprung.
Chapter 22
“Ahoy, above,” Captain Ryan shouted to his conder. “What do you make of that? There to port?” The lookout turned and pressed his glass to his eye.
The woman’s tresses floated about her like a pale golden halo. The green seawater rippled with a muted shade of ripened flax. It was the gold mass that caught the attention of the captain's weathered eye as he roved his spyglass across the watery hori
zon.
“Blast me, Captain!” the seaman shouted. “It looks like someone's floating in the sea!”
Captain Ryan took an extended look, then exclaimed, “By Davy Jones’ locker! Why would anyone be swimmin’ here? It’s too far from land!”
Lorena and James Thorndyke were weak and dead tired, about to sink into a watery grave. They had paddled aimlessly, keeping their heads above the waves, but heard nothing until a boatswain's mate in the long boat yelled and whistled to gain their attention.
“Tweeet! Ahoy, there! You in the water! We've come to take you aboard!”
Heads swiveled as James and Lorena spied their rescuers. Lorena exclaimed, “Oh, thank God, James! Someone’s come to save us!”
Several pairs of brawny arms lifted the pair into the long boat. “Get on wi' it now, lads,” the boatswain's mate urged the men pulling at the oars. “We'd best be gettin' these folk aboard the Ballinger right quick. God save us! They look like drowned rats.”
Neither James nor Lorena had the strength or breath to speak with their rescuers. Lorena kept an arm around James as they huddled on a cross plank, shivering, where a sailor had wrapped a blanket around them.
Strong arms and backs pulled on several pairs of oars, and the long boat soon brought the swimmers beside the steep side of a large sailing vessel. Helped to scramble up the rope ladder, the Duke and Duchess of Weston were taken aboard. The captain had crew members help the shaky pair to his small, crowded cabin where two fingers of brandy were quickly poured into glasses to ease the couple’s trembling. Even Lorena was grateful to sip the restorative liquor.
Only then did the captain inquire what happened.
“What, by all that's holy, were ye doin' swimmin' out to sea?” Captain Ryan asked. Bushy brows met above his nose. He cast a questioning glance at Lorena when James didn’t answer.
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