My head snapped up and I gawked at him in disbelief. What? He wrote five letters and not one was delivered to me? This was too much to grasp in one go. My head was spinning with all sorts of questions, and nobody could answer them now that my grandmother was dead. My shoulders slumped before I realized the answers to my questions were probably still back at the house.
Without a minute to lose I bolted out of the bed, quickly slid into my clothes and left the room at a run, followed closely by Diogo.
“Sarah, wait. We’ll take the Jeep, it will be quicker.” He didn’t have to ask where I was going, he just knew.
* * * * *
We entered my grandmother’s library, a place where in the past weeks I’d enjoyed looking at family albums to learn about my ancestors, and went straight to her roll-top desk. I opened it without the slightest hesitation. I was sure if she’d kept Diogo’s letters they would be there. I quickly combed through bills and notes, newspaper clippings and old postcards, and just as I was starting to despair, I saw a box tucked away in the back of one of the drawers.
I gasped. “This is it!” I said, barely holding my excitement, hoping I wasn’t wrong.
“Open it,” Diogo urged gently, his tone soothing, though he had to be as nervous and anxious as I was.
I slowly opened the lid and stared in wonder. There lay all five handwritten white envelopes. Tears long held back streamed down my face. How could she? Diogo pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, rocking me through every heart-wrenching sob. When I finally stopped crying I felt as if I’d cleansed my soul, and I settled into Diogo’s arms on the sofa and began reading his first letter.
It was a lovely letter and so were the following ones. My heart went out to him, how saddened he must have felt when he got no answer from me, and then I loved him even more.
When I picked up the last envelope one other remained in the box, this one addressed to my grandmother. “Why is this here?” I wondered out loud.
“Maybe she put it there by mistake,” Diogo offered.
Curious, I turned it over in my hand and read the return address. “Francisco de Sousa Carvalho. Rua Sao Jose, Lisboa.” I felt Diogo stiffen and glanced up inquisitively. “Do you know this person?”
He answered without hesitation, his face closed. “Yes, I do. He was my maternal grandfather.”
Why would my grandmother keep Diogo’s grandfather’s letter together with Diogo’s?
“Open it.”
I began to suspect Diogo knew the contents of the letter. “Do you know what this is all about?”
He nodded slowly. “I believe I do.”
“Tell me.”
He curled his lips inward before he spoke, as if he was trying to find the right words. This was clearly a delicate subject he didn’t want to mess up. “Our grandparents were high school sweethearts, then my grandfather went away and he ended up marrying a girl he met in college. I believe he broke your grandmother’s heart, actually I’m sure he did because she never spoke to him, or his descendants, ever again.”
I gasped in astonishment. Oh my God! How hurt she must have been to hold such a grudge her entire life… No wonder she went berserk when she’d found me in bed with Diogo, the grandson of the man who had ditched her for another, and broke her heart in the process.
I read the letter, and more than the words, the tear-stained paper told me of a broken heart that had never mended. How sad. I felt so sorry for her, though I had nothing left in me to give but my sympathy. My energy and attention were channeled to the man cradling me in his arms, petting me with light kisses and soothing words, showering me with his love.
She still had no right to withhold those letters from me all this time. Of course not, but I could understand her. Now that I was sure of Diogo’s love it was easier to be merciful toward Grandma Ana and forgive her for her wrongdoing. I sighed deeply, chasing away all the residual effects of the emotional turmoil I had gone through in the past hour.
“I think you need some comfort food and a nice long bath to help restore your emotional balance.”
These were great suggestions from a very caring man—my man—but not what I wanted. I felt too languid, too needy, too in love to be bothered with food and a bath right now. I wanted to stay cradled, my head on his shoulder, his arms around me. And I longed to feel him inside me, moving slowly as I gazed into his beautiful eyes, melting as much from desire as from love, wishing he’d go on kissing me forever and knowing in my heart he felt the same way. That’s what I wanted. All I wanted was him.
I gave him my most alluring smile. “I was thinking of another way to restore my emotional equilibrium.”
Attuned to my mood he raised one dark eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s that?” His question sounded perfectly innocent but his sexy lips curved slightly as he dragged my dress up, just enough to caress my bare thigh.
I drew his head toward me, our lips almost touching. “Love me, Diogo,” I rasped.
“I do,” he said, his loving gaze tender as he feathered his thumb across my bottom lip, kindling a warm desire in my belly. “And I always will.” My lashes fluttered closed as my heart swelled in my chest. God, I loved him so much! I hugged him tight.
“Marry me, Sarah.” My lashes fluttered open as joy filled my entire being and elation blossomed within me.
Marry me, Sarah!
“Oh Diogo,” I breathed, my eyes brimming with tears as the significance of his words registered. But while my world tipped on its axis and my heart burst with love for this man—this wonderful man I loved so much—my emotions were still tempered by doubt. Was it really possible that after all these years I was finally keeping my prince?
“Are you sure?”
An adoring smile appeared. “Totally,” he said as he placed a kiss on the tip of my nose.
A tear slipped down my cheek. He wiped away the moisture with his finger. “Say yes, Sarah, and make me the happiest man on earth,” he coaxed me tenderly.
I bit my bottom lip and nodded jerkily. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll be Mrs. Diogo Vilas-Boas,” I murmured, the sound and meaning of the words starting to ring true in my head.
Diogo chuckled, amused as he held my face between his palms. “That’s the idea, though in Portugal you would be known as Dona Sarah Vilas-Boas.” His wink released some of the tension swirling inside me as I sniffed and smiled.
He glided his hands up my thighs and over my hips, dragging my dress up my torso and over my head until I lay in his arms in my sexy underwear. “How have I lived the last seven years without you in my life?” he asked, his tone awed.
“I think it was meant to happen this way,” I said, and I knew it to be true.
The past was the past. There was so much to look forward to in the future and I didn’t want to waste another minute dwelling on bygone issues.
The sassy look in my eyes was meant to tempt and tease him, as well as to focus his mind on more pressing, happier matters. “I believe we should seal our love with a special celebration, don’t you think?”
His gaze connected with mine and he grinned, ready and willing to accommodate me, now and for the rest of our lives together. “Yes ma’am, I do.”
My heart rate accelerated and I felt the blazing heat of his gaze on my lips. “Same room?” he asked, and I nodded.
We moved swiftly into the corridor that led to my old bedroom. Planning on staying only the summer, I hadn’t bothered to move into my grandmother’s bigger and more comfortable room. I wish I had, the bed was wider in there, but the thought of starting a new chapter with Diogo in the same room where another chapter had ended seven years before felt like a sweet vindication to me.
“This place hasn’t changed,” Diogo said, looking around as he tugged at his clothes.
“No.”
He returned his attention to me, but finding me in the process of removing my bra he put his arm out and covered my hand with his. “Allow me…please.”
Butterfly wings fluttered in my chest at
the sound of his low voice and gentle touch. His hands clutched my shoulders as he stared into my eyes, the desire in his expression leaving me spellbound. He slid his thumbs under the straps of my ivory bra and ran his hands over my shoulders, taking the garment with him. When he leaned forward and brushed his lips over my exposed skin—his kiss but a caress—I shuddered, causing him to smile as he stroked my breasts.
“Diogo,” I breathed, closing my eyes, relishing his hands loving my breasts.
His hands moved to my shoulders and he kissed me again.
It started out slow, a soft, light kiss, just the joining of lips. Then he pressed a little more and I tugged him tighter, my arms closing around his waist. His tongue swept my lower lip, then he nibbled it. I inched a little closer, my hands moving up his back, his trailing up my neck to the back of my head.
“You’ve got the most beautiful lips,” he said with almost religious fervor, his thumb slowly contouring them, and I relaxed my jaw and they fell open.
His roving gaze paused over my mouth and he let out a low groan. “Jesus, Sarah, how do you do it?”
Huh? “Do what?” I asked, puzzled.
He gave a short chuckle in response. “You still don’t get it, do you?” Confounded by his words, I just stared back at him, waiting for him to explain further. “Everything about you turns me on.”
Bolts of electric heat raced through my body, converging between my legs, soaking the little strip of cloth still covering my pussy as an overwhelming rush of love swelled in my chest.
“The flip of your hair, the sway of your hips, the biting of your lower lip when you’re thinking hard, your teasing look, your lazy smile, your happy smile—any of your smiles—bloody hell, I’m mad about you!”
I shuddered and laughed with joy when lifted high in the air. Then he placed me in the middle of the bed before joining me there. “So I’m better for you than ice cream and a hot bath, is that right?” he teased before resuming the kissing.
This time our mouths opened in simultaneous accord, and he thrust his tongue, stroking, sucking mine hard, bringing us to a state of arousal so high it could only be satisfied by an immediate release.
I reached for him and guided him to my moist entrance. I breathed hard, quivering with anticipation.
He plunged inside me. “Oh Jesus,” we groaned together.
I couldn’t think. The feeling of him stroking me as he sank deeper and deeper into my tight, slick channel was indescribable. I closed my eyes, my thighs circling his waist, my fingers kneading and clawing the skin and muscles of his back as he ground hard to get deeper.
“Oh God, Diogo, I love you,” I said in a rush of breath and pressed my pelvis farther into his.
He buried his face in my neck, his warm breath and moist lips on my soft spot, and I began to spasm, my hot insides flooding us as he grounded and pulled back, grounded and pulled back until he brought us to the edge. One more plunge and he began to shudder. Oh dear God. A wave hit me, then another, and another and another. I thought it was never going to stop. My ears began to ring and then everything went black. When I surfaced again Diogo was panting heavily, his full body weight on me. I kissed his shoulder, then let my arms and legs slide off him. I was drained, lightheaded and completely sated.
“I’ll move in a minute,” he mumbled.
I smiled and closed my eyes. “No rush, I’m not going anywhere.”
Not going anywhere. Staying right here with you…forever.
Lulled by this thought, I slipped into a deep sleep.
The End
About Francesca St. Claire
I was born on a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. This unique event set the scene for an exciting life of romance and adventure, basic ingredients for my sexy short stories.
After having experienced life in six different countries, I'm currently living in southern Europe with my incredibly supportive husband, 1 of our 5 children, and my beloved 14 years old cocker spaniel.
When not writing, I enjoy watching period BBC series, trekking and baking for myappreciative family and friends.
As a new author with three books published in my first year, and two more to be released in the next six months I'm grateful to my publishers for having believed in me, and to readers and critiques for giving me the incentive to continue to write.
Francesca welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Francesca St. Claire
In-Flight Delight
Sinful Weekend
Triple Pleasure
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Lusitanian Stud
ISBN 9781419949173
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Lusitanian Stud Copyright © 2013 Francesca St. Claire
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
Cover photography by romancenovelcovers.com, mari art/fotolia.com, iloveotto/dreamstime.com
Electronic book publication October 2013
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