Harlequin Historical November 2015, Box Set 2 of 2
Page 18
He untied the ribbon of her camisole without lifting his head and she heard his murmur of approval that she wore no corset. Surely he’d known that all evening, as close as he had held her.
He shrugged off his shirt, then brought her hands to rest on the belt at his waist. “Scandalous?” he suggested.
She unhooked the metal buckle and tugged down his trousers, waited while he shed shoes and socks and then skimmed his drawers off over his hips. She stepped out of her petticoat and bent to remove her stockings but he stopped her.
He lifted her, set her down on his bed and knelt before her. Slowly he rolled the thin lisle stockings over her knees and down her calves. Her flesh prickled when his fingers grazed her skin. His touch made her feel more than scandalous; it made her dizzy with wanting.
He swung her bare legs onto the quilt and began removing her hairpins, one by one, until her hair fell in waves around her bare shoulders. He wove his fingers into the curly mass, then stretched out full length beside her and began smoothing his hands over every inch of her body—her rib cage, her breasts, her thighs, moving in slow circles and following the path of his fingers with his mouth. He licked a slow path over her throbbing nipples and she sucked in her breath.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes.” Her voice was unsteady. On impulse she ran her tongue over his bare chest, across his flat brown nipples.
“Do you?”
“God, yes,” he whispered. “Oh, God, yes.”
He slid down, rested his palm over her mound and waited. “And this?”
More dancing stars. Millions more. She had never felt anything as glorious as Zane’s hands touching her. He slipped one finger inside her and she cried out. She heard his low, satisfied chuckle and that made her bold.
She brushed her fingers over his member and he hissed in a sudden breath and lifted her hand away.
“Do you not like me to touch you?” she asked.
“I do. Right now I like it too much.” He bent forward and slid his hot tongue back and forth across her entrance. Again she cried out.
“Winifred,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I’m so in love with you I can’t see straight.”
He rose over her, positioned himself and filled her with one swift thrust.
“I am yours, Zane. You know that.” She sought his mouth and rose to meet his thrusts.
“I don’t know how to survive without you,” he said against her lips. His movements were slow and deep but she could tell by his breathing he was at the edge of losing control. Instinctively she tightened her muscles around him and suddenly he stopped moving.
He panted for a few seconds and then thrust hard.
She was climbing, reaching for that exquisite pleasure she had felt before with him, and then she was floating, soaring on the crest of something shattering.
Zane caught her cry under his mouth and then he thrust deep and called her name. She clung to him, sobs racking her body. He brushed her hair off her forehead, kissed her eyelids, her face.
“Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, no. I felt... I don’t know, something just welled up inside.” She reached up and pulled him down to her. “Don’t move,” she whispered. “Stay inside me.”
“Scandalous,” he breathed.
“Yes. It was not like this before, Zane.”
He moved to roll off her but she wrapped both arms around him and held on tight. “Don’t stop.”
“Winifred, I need to rest.”
She smiled up at him. “For how long?”
He laughed, and then sobered. “Ten minutes?”
“Too long,” she sighed.
He moved off her anyway. “Winifred, there’s something I need to say to you.”
“Yes?”
“I—I don’t think I can stand it when you go back to St. Louis.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
His entire body jerked. “Yes, of course I want you to stay. I didn’t want to press you, but—”
“Press me,” she murmured.
Zane wrapped her in his arms and lay still, trying to digest her words.
“You know that I love you,” he said at last.
She nodded.
“And I think...at least I thought, that you loved me.”
She nodded again.
“Winifred, look at me. This is serious. You know that, don’t you? I’m about to propose marriage to you.”
“Yes,” she acknowledged.
He stuffed down his frustration. “Shall I proceed?”
Her smile flickered. “Oh, yes, Zane. Please do.”
He drew in a deep breath and steeled himself to get his heart broken.
“Winifred, I do know that your music career at the conservatory is important to you. But I can’t lose you. Ever. I’m asking you to marry me. To stay here in Smoke River and be my wife.”
He held his breath while she smoothed her hand across his cheek. “Yes, my career at the conservatory is important to me. Very important. I have worked for it all my life. But...”
She brushed her thumb over his lower lip. “But it is not as important to me as you are.”
“What?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What do you mean?”
“It’s simple, Zane. I love you. I want to be here, with you. And Rosemarie. The cost would be too high to miss this during my lifetime.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you I sent a telegram to the conservatory director.”
“Yes, I remember. You didn’t tell me what you said in that telegram, however.”
“I wired my resignation. I knew the minute I saw you lying in that hospital bed that I’d never be able to leave you again.”
“I asked you to marry me the last time you were here,” he reminded her.
“I remember. But I wasn’t ready then. Then I didn’t think I could give up my conservatory career. Now I know it is you I cannot give up.”
With a shaky sigh he gathered her close, and after a number of kisses they made love again. And again.
In the morning, a smiling Sam and Yan Li moved quietly about the house, careful not to disturb the couple sleeping behind Zane’s bedroom door.
* * *
Zane stood quietly at Celeste’s grave, Rosemarie’s tiny hand clasped in his. Very deliberately he knelt and laid a bouquet of yellow roses on the soft earth.
Someone had planted flowers of some kind, daisies he guessed; they spilled over the site and twined up the gray headstone. Perhaps Winifred had thought to do this.
He plucked a single golden bloom and nestled it behind his daughter’s ear. Then he lifted her into his arms and turned toward the small, peaceful town and the road that led home.
Epilogue
Smoke River Sentinel
December 24th, 1873
BELOVED PHYSICIAN MARRIES!
Dr. Nathaniel (Zane) Dougherty was joined in matrimony on Sunday with the former Winifred Von Dannen of St. Louis at a candlelight ceremony at the doctor’s Smoke River residence.
The bride wore a simply cut gown of yellow peau de soie and carried a bouquet of honeysuckle and yellow damask roses. She was given away by Rooney Cloudman and preceded to the altar by her niece, Rosemarie Winifred Dougherty. Dr. Samuel Graham stood up with the groom, and Reverend Anthony Pollock conducted the service.
Dr. Dougherty is cofounder of the Samuel Graham Hospital and a respected physician and surgeon in private practice, serving both the Smoke River and Gillette Springs communities. The new Mrs. Dougherty was a respected concert pianist and professor of music at the Adamson Conservatory in St. Louis, Missouri.
Following the ceremony,
a spectacular seven-layer wedding cake, created by Ming Cha, owner of Uncle Charlie’s Bakery, was served along with lemonade and champagne punch.
The couple will reside in Smoke River, where Mrs. Dougherty intends to open a music school.
* * *
Smoke River Sentinel
January 30th, 1874
NEW MUSIC ACADEMY OPENS!
Winifred (Von Dannen) Dougherty announced the opening of her new music academy at a tea hosted by Sarah Rose Cloudman at Rose Cottage. Private lessons at the school will be offered in piano, violin and voice; in addition, classes will be offered in choral performance and in rhythm band for children. Mrs. Dougherty has expressed interest in locating a teacher of both violin and woodwind instruments.
In the fall, Winifred Dougherty will be performing concerts with both the Portland and San Francisco symphony orchestras and she will be presenting recitals with various chamber groups in those cities.
Classes at the new music academy will be held in the upstairs rooms over the new Smoke River Bank & Trust Building.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460387702
Smoke River Family
Copyright © 2015 by The Woolston Family Trust
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Adventures of an English debutante
The perfect diplomat’s daughter, Mary Manning spent her young life following her father around the world, behaving in the most agreeable way. So stealing a kiss from military hero Sebastian Barrett was most out of character, and a mistake she’ll never make again!
A mission to Brazil seems the perfect way to escape his tempting emerald eyes. But when he, too, arrives upon the sultry sands of Rio, Mary realizes there’s no running from the perfectly wicked way Sebastian makes her feel...
“Miss Manning, have you met the great hero of the day?” Lady Alnworth said.
He turned to smile at Mary, and it took all her long years of careful diplomatic training to keep her own polite smile in place. A chivalric knight of old, only in a red coat instead of gleaming armor. On him, that uniform seemed...different. Exotic. Alluring.
“How do you do, Miss Manning,” he said, bowing over her hand. His breath through her glove made her shiver. His hair was a golden brown, shimmering as if he spent much time in the sun. It gave him such a warmth she wanted to get close to. So very vital, burning with raw, energetic life.
Yes, she thought. No wonder all the young ladies of London were in love with him. If she wasn’t careful, she would soon be one of them!
Author Note
I don’t know what this past winter was like where you are, but here it was cold, gray and long! (And I am not a winter person—ever...) So I definitely loved escaping to the warm beaches of Brazil, even if it was only in my imagination.
I also loved watching the romance of Mary and Sebastian unfold against the palm trees and real-life political intrigue of 1808 Rio. They started to feel like real friends, two people whose adventures I loved following every day. I was never sure where they would go, but I knew they definitely belonged together—two strong, kindhearted, brave people who were too honorable and stubborn for their own good! Maybe I was just feeling extraromantic after my own wedding last summer! I hope you enjoy their adventures, too...
For more behind-the-book history and deleted scenes from The Demure Miss Manning, be sure to visit me at ammandamccabe.com.
Amanda
McCabe
The Demure
Miss Manning
Amanda McCabe wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen—a vast epic, starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class. She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including a RITA® Award, an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award, a Booksellers Best Award, a National Readers’ Choice Award and a Holt Medallion. She lives in Oklahoma with her husband, one dog and one cat.
Books by Amanda McCabe
Harlequin Historical
and Harlequin Historical Undone! ebooks
Bancrofts of Barton Park
The Runaway Countess
Running from Scandal
Running into Temptation (Undone!)
The Chase Muses
To Catch a Rogue
To Deceive a Duke
To Kiss a Count
To Bed a Libertine (Undone!)
Linked by Character
The Winter Queen
Tarnished Rose of the Court
Stand-Alone Novels
Betrayed by His Kiss
The Demure Miss Manning
More Harlequin Historical Undone! ebooks
by Amanda McCabe
Girl in the Beaded Mask
Unlacing the Lady in Waiting
One Wicked Christmas
An Improper Duchess
A Very Tudor Christmas
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Author Note
Chapter One
London—1805
‘I hear he is the handsomest thing ever seen!’
Mary Manning tried not to laugh at her friend Lady Louisa Smythe’s enthusiastic words. Instea
d, she smiled and nodded at the people they strolled past in the park, and adjusted her lace-trimmed parasol against the bright afternoon sun. Lady Louisa did tend to get so very excited over titbits of gossip, especially gossip about good-looking young men.
And a good-looking young man who was the newest hero of the war against Napoleon, after his valiant behaviour at the Battle of Caldiero—well, Mary was surprised she hadn’t swooned quite away with enthusiasm yet.
But Mary had to admit even she was intrigued by the tales of Lord Sebastian Barrett, third son of the Marquess of Howard and a captain in the Third Hussars, and his heroism. Just a tiny bit.
Lady Louisa took Mary’s arm as they turned along a winding, narrow river path. Mary automatically studied the people gathered there, strolling in pairs or laughing quartets, talking together by the sun-dappled water. Her father had worked in the diplomatic service for as long as she could remember, and she had been his hostess since her beautiful Portuguese mother died a few years ago.
Sixteen had been young to organise dinners and card parties where foreign envoys and their sophisticated wives could make alliances with the English representatives, especially in such dangerous wartime days, yet there had been no one else to do it. Mary had already learned much from watching her gracious mother, listening to her parents’ conversations, asking questions. She loved the work, loved having a purpose. Loved learning new things. With her father, she had seen Italy and Austria, lived in Russia for many months, only returning to England a few months ago.
Yet sometimes—well, sometimes she almost wished she could giggle and whisper like other young ladies, be carried away by the wild wings of flirtation and infatuation. Just for a moment. That was why she so enjoyed being friends with Lady Louisa.
‘The handsomest man ever?’ Mary said. She and Lady Louisa stopped in the shade of a copse of trees where they could watch the crowds flow past, the children sailing their toy boats on the water, the bright flutter of beribboned bonnets and silk parasols. ‘Better looking than the Prince de Ligne? You swore last week he had quite won your heart for ever.’