by Andrea Kane
Thomas turned back to his drink.
Hamilton also was studying Monique and George. Sipping his champagne thoughtfully, he took note of the tension that seemed to spring up between them, then subside. Patiently, he waited to see who else Holt might speak to, what else he might inadvertently disclose.
But, whether it was out of deference to his daughter’s wedding day or because there was no one present he needed to approach, Holt’s actions appeared completely innocent. Hours later, the Secretary had learned nothing.
“The two of you need only stay a short while longer,” Lenore said quietly, coming up beside Dane and trying desperately not to laugh. Her son had been staring at the parlor clock for the past thirty minutes.
Hearing his mother’s voice, Dane turned and gave Lenore a wry grin. “Am I that obvious?”
“Truthfully? Yes.”
Dane chuckled. “Honest enough. Accurate as well.” His hungry gaze found Jacqui, who was across the room, deep in conversation with Greta. “How long is a ‘short while’?” He muttered the moot question aloud.
Lenore squeezed his arm. “I’ll rescue your bride from her maid’s evil clutches.” She raised her skirts and made her way to where Jacqui was, Greta scowling by her side. “Jacqueline? Pardon me, but may I have a word with you?” Lenore asked politely.
Jacqui was more than ready to be interrupted. She had just finished arguing with Greta, who was terribly offended over Jacqui’s firm request that the housekeeper make herself … and Whiskey … scarce once the reception ended. Greta was adamant that Jacqui required assistance in preparing for her wedding night. Jacqui was equally adamant that she did not, specifically because she had no intention of waiting for nightfall to begin enjoying her role as Dane’s wife.
Gratefully, Jacqui responded to Lenore’s request. “Of course, Lenore.” She shot Greta a warning look. “Greta and I have completed our discussion, have we not, Greta?” There was no mistaking the command in her voice.
With an indignant sniff, Greta rose to her full height and folded her arms across her ample bosom. “We have, Fräulein Holt,” she managed through tight lips. Then she blinked, realizing her error. “Forgive me … Frau Westbrooke.”
Jacqui giggled, undaunted by Greta’s obvious annoyance. “That particular form of address is going to take some time to accustom myself to.” She patted Greta’s arm. “Have a glass of champagne and try to relax, Greta.”
“I prefer to keep busy.” The housekeeper wasn’t going to give in graciously.
Assessing the situation, Lenore interceded. “If you wouldn’t object, Greta, I would be terribly relieved if you could oversee my staff in straightening up after the reception.” She gave Greta a winsome smile. “You are far more experienced than many of Greenhills’ servants.”
A slight softening of the housekeeper’s features told Jacqui that Lenore had won. “It would be a pleasure, madam.”
“Wonderful! Then, after I’ve spoken with Jacqueline, I’ll return to you and we shall discuss what needs to be done.” Lenore took Jacqui’s arm and led her off. “Cleaning up should take, oh, perhaps ten or twelve hours, shall we say?” Lenore murmured for Jacqui’s ears alone.
Jacqui’s lips twitched. “Thank you, Lenore.”
“You are quite welcome.” Lenore was moving purposefully toward the doorway. “Have you said goodbye to your father?”
Jacqui looked across the room and met her father’s loving wink. “Yes,” she answered past the lump in her throat. “I have.”
“Fine.” Lenore paused, pulling Jacqui away to one side. “Jacqueline, I know how close you and your father are, but I’m not certain how comfortable he is discussing things of a personal nature with you.” She watched Jacqui’s face carefully. “I will not patronize you with silly euphemisms, but will simply ask you in a forthright manner … has anyone prepared you for what to expect tonight?”
Jacqui bit back her laughter. “Yes, Lenore. I am quite prepared.”
“I see. Why do I suspect that your ‘preparation’ has been provided firsthand and certainly not by your father?”
“Perhaps because you know your son.”
A hint of mischief danced in Lenore’s warm hazel eyes. “Not, apparently, as well as you do.” She glanced over Jacqui’s head to where Dane had begun pacing near the doorway. “Oh, dear, I believe your bridegroom’s patience is wearing thin.” She took Jacqui’s arm. “We’d best not keep him waiting any longer.”
Dane looked up as his mother made her way through the crowd, Jacqui in tow.
“As promised.” Lenore grinned, easing Jacqui forward. “Your bride.”
Dane was engulfed by a sense of reckless euphoria as the reality of the situation stormed his senses. His bride. His. At last.
Without thought, he reached out and slid his hands down the curve of Jacqui’s neck to her shoulders, stroking his thumbs over the cool satin of her gown. “Shall we go, Mrs. Westbrooke?”
His touch, the rich timbre of his voice, blazed through Jacqui like a brushfire, igniting a need too long silenced. “Yes.”
Dane dragged his burning gaze from Jacqui’s. “Mother, you’ll make our excuses?”
Lenore nodded, moved by the tangible emotion that hovered between her son and his new wife. “With pleasure.”
“Good.” Dane was already heading for the entranceway, tugging Jacqui with him.
On the front steps, Lenore kissed them both, a wealth of emotion on her lovely face. “May your future be paved only with joy … and contentment,” she said, striving to control the silly tears that threatened to erupt. She took a deep breath, wanting to offer Jacqui and Dane the wisdom granted her by age and experience.
“Always look to each other for solace and for strength,” she said at last, speaking from her heart. “Share your thoughts and your feelings. Respect one another and be honest … with each other and with yourselves. These are the elements that keep a marriage whole.” A sad, faraway look came into her eyes and was gone. “Be off.” She blinked quickly and ushered them toward the waiting coach. “I shan’t expect to hear from you anytime soon,” she continued in a teasing tone. “Oh … and I hope you won’t be requiring Greta’s services today. I believe I shall need her until quite late this evening.” She gave Jacqui an innocent look. “Is that all right?”
Jacqui bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Quite all right, Lenore.” She leaned forward impulsively and hugged her. “Thank you,” she whispered, just before she swept up her full skirts and climbed into the carriage with her new husband.
The footman closed the door behind them and the horses sped off for the return trip to Philadelphia.
Dane drank in Jacqui’s pink-cheeked excitement with a wicked grin. “Your gown is lovely, but a bit uncomfortable for traveling, is it not?”
Jacqui smoothed the elegant satin layers that draped across the carriage seat and onto the floor. “A bit.” She shrugged. “But changing would have taken time.”
“I would have waited.”
Jacqui raised midnight blue eyes, showering Dane with sparks of fire. “No, you wouldn’t have. Neither would I.”
Her words burned through Dane’s body and his smile faded instantly. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have.” He leaned forward to take her into his arms, then abruptly checked himself. “God, I want you,” he breathed, his fists clenched at his sides. “But once I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.” He exhaled sharply and leaned back in his seat. “This ride is going to be endless.”
It was, aeons passing before the horses came to a halt in front of Dane’s house on Pine Street. Neither Jacqui nor Dane spoke, silently waiting for the footman to assist them from the coach, the air between them charged with anticipation.
The house was deserted, Stivers having been given strict instructions not to report to work today. Dane guided Jacqui up the stairs, pausing before the bedroom that they would now share.
“Would you like some time alone?” he asked hoarsely.
Jacqui s
tepped into the room, slowly appraising her new domain. Her personal things had been delivered this morning, at the same time as Greta’s, and now waited patiently to be unpacked and hung away … something Jacqui planned to do … later.
“Jacqueline? Shall I leave you to get settled?”
Jacqui turned to her husband, making no attempt to hide her open eagerness. “No.”
In two strides Dane was beside her, kicking the door shut behind him and dragging Jacqui into his arms. By the time his mouth took hers in ravenous possession, Dane had dispensed with Jacqui’s buttons and was urgently tugging the elegant gown down to her waist. Jacqui helped, shedding her layers of clothing as quickly as she could without freeing herself from Dane’s enveloping grasp. Their kisses deepened, grew hotter, wilder, broken only by the sound of their sharp, rasping breaths, the soft rustle of fabric as it struck the floor.
Dane scooped Jacqui into his arms, carrying her the short distance to the bed, dropping heavily onto it with her. He lifted her lacy chemise over her head, tossing it down to join the rest of her discarded attire. He slid his shaking hands into her tumbled curls, pulling out the pins and letting the dark tresses cascade down over her naked body.
Raising up, Jacqui unbuttoned his shirt, gliding it off his massive shoulders. She ran her fingers down his powerful biceps, through the dark hair that curled on his chest, over the flat planes of his abdomen, down to the buttons of his breeches. Dane made a wordless sound, pulling away only long enough to shed the remainder of his clothing before he pressed her into the bed, cupping her face in his hands and capturing her mouth for another endlessly eloquent kiss.
“I don’t want to wait,” Jacqui breathed, struggling to open her legs, unable to free herself beneath the weight of his lower body.
“I do,” he surprised her by answering.
Jacqui blinked up at him, her face flushed, her eyes widening with surprise. “Why?”
Dane nibbled lightly at her lower lip, repressing the force that commanded him to take her … now. “Because for once, for this first time as my wife, I am going to love you the way you were meant to be loved. Slowly.” He kissed her parted lips. “Totally.” He trailed kisses down the side of her neck. “An inch of you at a time.” He licked a lazy circle around the hollow at the base of her throat, glorying in the shivers of pleasure that ran through her in dizzying currents. “Until you think you’ll die of it,” he whispered, breathing in the scent of her perfume, “die without it … die for it.” He raised her arms above her head, intertwining their fingers, raking her with his melting silver gaze.
Jacqui could barely speak. “No,” she managed, shaking her head from side to side.
“Yes.” He buried his lips in hers, demanding that she meet him on his terms.
“Dane … please,” she whispered into his open mouth.
“Soon … not yet,” he answered, battling her desire and his own.
She tried again, unsuccessfully, to open her body to his. “Why are you doing this?”
The naiveté of her question, the bewilderment on her beautiful, glowing features, reminded Dane once again that, despite their two passionate encounters, despite Jacqui’s naturalness in his arms, his new wife was a total innocent when it came to the savored joys of lovemaking. He kissed her cheeks softly, tenderly, feeling something warm and wonderful unfurl within his chest. Silently, he vowed that this time would be everything a bride could ever dream of.
“Dane?” she whispered again, her palms warm against his. “Do you want me to beg?”
“Never.” He fondled her earlobe lightly with his tongue.
Jacqui shivered. “Then why must we wait?”
“To enhance your pleasure, my darling.” He kissed the furrow between her brows. “I want you to experience the sun and the stars … every touch, every taste, every shimmering sensation. …” He closed his eyes, undone by his own words.
“I’m no longer an innocent virgin, Dane,” she protested, her fingers tightening within his. “I know what to expect.”
Her only answer was a dark smile and a murmured, “Do you?” And then he silenced her objections with his mouth, kissing her until she was limp and weak beneath him, lost in the words of love he breathed into her mouth, her hair, her scented skin.
Nothing they had shared previously had prepared Jacqui for the relentless, tormenting pleasure of the next hour. As long moments melded into one, Dane slowly, expertly awakened every nerve ending in her body with prolonged, lazy caresses, light, nibbling kisses and hot, explicit promises of what would follow, until Jacqui was melting into the bed, drowning in a bottomless well of desire. Her breath was coming in short, hard pants, her body covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Still Dane continued the exquisite torture he inflicted on them both, refusing to give in to their bodies’ demand to be one. He held both Jacqui’s hands tightly in one of his, letting his other hand explore her perfect curves and hollows, following the same path with his lips and tongue. “You’re so beautiful.” He stared down at her swollen breasts, the nipples he had drawn into hard, damp points of need. Jacqui arched her back, moaning softly, and Dane answered her body’s plea, bending his head to her breast, drawing the tip into his mouth with an erotic suction that made Jacqui cry out.
“No more,” she gasped, shaking her head frantically. “Dane … I can’t bear it.”
To her relief, he eased her legs apart, gliding his hand up the softness of her inner thigh. “Can’t you?” he murmured against her other breast. Without hesitating, he opened her to his touch, entering her with his fingers, immersing himself in the hot, melting wetness that told him how much she wanted him. “Jacqui …” He pressed his face into the satiny skin of her abdomen, wanting her with a ferocity that stripped away everything save the primitive drive for possession.
“Now … now …” She repeated the word mindlessly, opening herself more fully to his touch, her hips lifting in lush, silent invitation, grateful that, at last, he would fill her, put an end to the fire he’d ignited inside her.
He fueled it instead.
With a ragged groan, Dane released her hands, wedging himself totally between her parted thighs. But, rather than moving up and entering her as Jacqui had expected, he slid lower down, cupping her soft bottom and lifting her to his seeking mouth.
“Dane?” Her confused whisper ended on a sharp cry of pleasure as Dane found and tasted the flowing sweetness he’d created. Shocked and exhilarated, Jacqui tangled her fingers in his hair, white-hot sensation shooting through her in great, unchecked currents. She threw back her head in helpless abandon, chanting his name over and over in a litany of stark, utter madness.
Dane was lost to everything but the very essence of his wife. Her intoxicating flavor, the utterly feminine taste and scent of her permeated his senses, while her wild little cries echoed inside his head, pounded through his blood like a hammer. Never had he imagined desire this intense, hunger so acute that he actually shook with it.
He could take no more.
In one fluid motion, he was over her, meeting her astonished gaze with eyes that glowed molten silver. Urgently, he lifted her legs around his waist, burying himself deep within her in one hard, primitive thrust. He felt her body’s natural resistance, heard her sharp inhalation of breath, and he forced himself to still.
“Am I hurting you?” he managed, his eyes closed with the agony of holding back.
Jacqui couldn’t speak. She was floating on the brink of a sensation so acute, so magnificent, that every fiber of her being was focused on achieving it. When Dane paused, broke her ecstatic fall, she knew she was going to die. Helpless to stem the tide of pleasure that hovered just out of reach, she arched her back, dug her nails into his shoulder blades, silently begging him not to leave her a mere heartbeat from completion.
Dane understood her plea, felt the tightening of her body around his, and, with a guttural cry, he released all the wildness that had been building up inside him, plunging into her
once, twice … catapulting them both over the edge together. He met Jacqui’s rhythmic contractions with an endless, explosive release, shouting her name again and again with each scalding burst of heat, filling her body with all the love that filled his heart.
A long time passed before either of them moved. Finally, Dane raised up enough to see Jacqui’s face, brushing damp tendrils of hair off her forehead. “Ah, Mrs. Westbrooke.” He kissed her closed eyelids. “You are a fantasy come true.”
Jacqui’s lids fluttered open and she gave him a weak, sated smile. “And you, evidently, have had a great deal of prior practice from which to judge.”
He chuckled, rolling to one side and cradling her against him. “Do you still think there are no surprises that await you in our marriage bed, chaton?” With a thrill of surprise, he felt her curl more closely against him.
“I shall have to alter my opinion, I suppose,” she replied, exploring the muscled planes of his back with her palms.
“I’m glad to hear that.” He breathed in the sweetness of her hair, already contemplating the delightful possibilities offered by the long hours still ahead.
“Dane?” Her voice was muffled, her face buried against his chest.
“Hm-m-m?”
“How long do we have to wait?”
He looked down at her and blinked. “For what?”
She gave him an exasperated look and dropped her pointed gaze to their still-joined bodies. “For this!” She wrapped one slender leg intimately about the powerful length of his thigh, gliding the sole of her foot along its hair-roughened surface.
Dane shook his head in amazement, renewed desire crashing through him like a tidal wave. “You stun me.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, lifting her face for his kiss.
“Why?” She wound her arms about his neck, the look she gave him pure seduction. “Don’t all brides ravish their new husbands repeatedly while the sun is still high in the sky and but a few hours have passed since the vows have been exchanged?”
Dane rolled onto his back, pulling Jacqui up to straddle him. “I don’t care about all brides,” he said huskily, gripping her hips and teaching her the motion, “only the impossibly outrageous one who belongs to me.”
