A Wedding Code

by Jacki Delecki

  Amelia had a pretty good idea where this trail was taking them—they were on their way to the dower house. Her grandmother had lived there after her husband’s death, but since her death no one had inhabited the two-story Georgian home.

  “My brothers know nothing of your plan?”

  “No, only your father and Jarvis, who were both sworn to secrecy. With family and friends always underfoot, we never have any time to ourselves. I want this night to be special, a way for the two of us to begin our marriage.

  Amelia’s heart beat fast with the ardent promise she heard in Derrick’s impassioned voice. She pulled on Derrick’s hand, stopping his forward motion. “I’m so glad you had the foresight to plot an escape from my family.”

  “Speaking of escaping your family…”

  Amelia resisted the feeling of guilt that inevitably followed thoughts of leaving her family.

  “I have a wedding present for you.”

  “But you gave me the modiste’s as a wedding present.”

  “But that was months ago, before you were my wife.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her palm.

  Heated awareness blasted along her spine to the backs of her knees. She went on tiptoe and pressed herself flush against his hard body. “I don’t need any gifts—only you.”

  Derrick wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her close. He whispered into her ear, sending shivers dancing along her skin. “Don’t you want to hear what your wedding present is?”

  Amelia rubbed against the hard length of him, pressing against her abdomen. “I don’t need you to tell me. I can feel it.” She giggled.

  Derrick’s abrupt laugh wafted his warm, lime-scented breath across her face. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m excited to find out. You’ve been making promises for weeks now. Let’s hurry. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  Derrick swept her into his arms and proceeded down the trail. “I guess you don’t want to hear about your present.”

  Amelia draped her arms around his neck. “Something to do with my family, who I don’t want to think about tonight. I don’t want to think about anyone but us.” Because of the late night, Derrick had foregone his cravat and his shirt was open. She snuggled closer to him to savor the smell of lime, sage, and the clean, masculine scent of Derrick.

  “I purchased the Livingston estate.”

  Amelia pulled back to get a better look at his face. “You did? But how? Lord Livingston’s nephew inherited the estate.”

  “The nephew isn’t interested in rusticating in the country and has gambling debts. And since it wasn’t entailed, I purchased it.”

  “But it means we’ll be living close to my family.” Tears gathered behind her eyes. She had longed to be close to her father and brothers, hadn’t been able to imagine going for months without seeing Drew and Colin, who were more like her children than her siblings.

  “You’ll be forced to see my father and brothers all the time,” she added.

  “Well, when you make it sound like that, I might have to change my mind.” He shuddered dramatically, getting her to smile. “I know how important you are to your family, and I couldn’t bear being the cause of the separation. If I must leave England, I want you to be near to your family and friends.”

  Amelia’s joy deflated in an instant. Derrick might be leaving her. She took a slow breath and tried to recover the elation of the past moment, when the future was bright and hopeful.

  “You already have an assignment?” Amelia hated the quiver in her voice. She was proud that her husband was part of his majesty’s secret underground, but she certainly didn’t want Derrick to leave England and put himself in danger again.

  “No, but France has plans to invade Ireland, and I might have to travel north.”

  “Ireland?”

  “It is a possibility. We have to find the ways to protect the entire kingdom from a French invasion.”

  “Of course you do.” She respected Derrick’s bravery and loyalty. She understood the need for all English men and women to join in protecting their country. She must not think only of her feelings when so much was at stake. “For tonight, let’s not speak of the war.”

  Derrick swooped her up and spun in a big circle. “I agree wholeheartedly. Tonight we take time for ourselves.”

  “I like the idea of time simply for us.” She nuzzled the tender skin of his throat. “Thank you for planning tonight, and being so thoughtful of my feelings for my family. I’m the luckiest of women.”

  Derrick tightened his hold on her when Amelia planted soft wet kisses from his neck to his ear. She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth before exploring with her tongue.

  Derrick’s strong chest heaved like a bellows against her body. Amelia’s heart fluttered at the tightening of his muscled arms and the excited sounds of his breathlessness.

  She tried to unbutton his shirt one-handed. “You have too many clothes on.” She skimmed her hand down the front of his shirt. “I can’t wait much longer to be alone with you without your clothes.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” He laughed. The deep sound reverberated against her skin.

  “I would hope so.” Amelia giggled, feeling light with relief to finally be alone with her husband. They had saved themselves from a trained killer, and she would not spend her wedding night worrying about what might threaten them in the future. She was a married woman, and she was happy. She refused to let a little war with France stop her from celebrating tonight.

  Derrick quickened his pace. “If it weren’t so blasted dark, I’d run, oh impatient wife of mine.” She liked hearing the lilt of happiness in his voice.

  They came around the curve in the trail to the driveway leading to the dower house. Candles were lit throughout the house, shining into the darkness, lighting their way.

  “Are the servants here?” Amelia didn’t want to think about having tomorrow’s breakfast served by Jarvis, who had been with the Bonningtons since she was a little girl.

  “No, they’ve all gone back to the mansion.”

  Amelia stretched up to kiss Derrick. He lifted her higher while his head descended. Their lips met and clung.

  Derrick pulled away. “We need to get to the bedroom.”

  She was breathless, tingling with anticipation.

  With Amelia in his arms, Derrick opened the front door and ascended the stairs to the bedroom chamber. Candles illuminated the length of the winding hallway.

  “I love your primitive approach, but I could walk to let you save your strength for more important matters,” she whispered over the sound of her heart thumping loudly in her ears.

  Derrick reached around to open the door to the bedroom. A fire blazed in the hearth, the heavy damask covers were pulled down on the bed, and a table was set near the window. The silver cloth-covered table held an open bottle of champagne, sparkling glasses, an assortment of cheeses, meats, and bread, and a bouquet of the same red roses which graced their wedding and ball.

  “This is perfect. When did you have time to plan all of this?”

  Keeping her pressed against him, Derrick slowly lowered her, rubbing her against his hard, aroused body.

  “Jarvis did all the work. All I told him was to have champagne and roses, since I know how much you love them both. But he must have realized that we would be hungry after the long ball.”

  Amelia wrapped her arms around Derrick’s middle, holding onto the brave man who had become her husband. “I’m hungry only for you.”

  Amelia had anticipated this moment—when Derrick told her at the ball that he couldn’t wait to unwrap her as his gift of a lifetime.

  She had changed out of her walking dress after her maid left her, and into a French concoction she had designed especially for tonight. A nightgown of white silk with tiny satin ribbons that held the plunging neckline together, and a silk dressing gown that wasn’t for warmth, but simply for its sheer, sumptuous fabric. Her heart thrashed as heat crept
up her skin.

  He bent to untie her cloak. “Let’s get rid of this…”

  With his closeness, Amelia could see his face flush with color and hear the quick catch in his breath.

  “My God, Amelia.” His voice was raw, almost strangled.

  His passionate desire fed hers, setting her heart into a whizzing rhythm.

  He clutched her upper arms, moving her closer to the fire and into the light. Feeling self-conscious under Derrick’s slow and careful perusal, she didn’t know where to look. “My own design. What do you think?”

  “I would have sprinted in the dark if I had known what was waiting for me.” Derrick’s attention focused on her breasts caused her nipples to tighten as if he were touching her.

  Derrick lifted her into his arms again. This was becoming a habit with her husband—carrying her in a prehistoric, possessive way. He set her next to the bed, pulled her hard against him, and took her mouth with a desperate hunger.

  She answered the demand in his rising need. Suddenly she was in the arms of a primitive being who wanted her with a passion she had never imagined, much less experienced. But she wasn’t frightened by his vehement demands. She was enthralled. Alive, liberated in her feminine power.

  She kissed him back, surrendering to his hunger. His desperate kiss found a desperate response in her.

  “Amelia, I could have lost you tonight. I can’t stop replaying that moment when Pisspot held the knife next to your throat. I’ll never forgive myself for placing you in danger.”

  He was kneading her bottom, pulling her against his manly parts grinding himself against her. “My God, what if I had lost you?”

  He always appeared so sure of himself, a man who would never admit to fear or fright, in command of every situation. His love and need moved her as never before. She stopped thinking of herself and thought only of him.

  “I’m sorry,” she panted, barely able to speak. “I was afraid, too. If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t want to go on living.”

  She felt the strong shudder of his body against hers as she fastened her lips desperately to his and clung to him. If he was upset, so was she. He was only a man, a man who couldn’t stop a knife or bullet.

  “We need to get out of these clothes. Too many damn clothes, and I need you so badly.” Derrick tore off his waistcoat, pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside.

  Amelia followed, discarding her dressing gown.

  Derrick knelt and kissed along the border of her neckline. His tongue traced the lace while he undid the ribbons. The backs of his knuckles brushed against her hot skin, eliciting cascades of goose bumps.

  Amelia ran her hands over the dark hair covering the muscled wall of his chest.

  He trembled with her touch. “I need you.”

  He spread the nightgown apart and took her breasts into his hands, squeezing the sensitive mounds. Amelia gasped before leaning into his touch.

  He circled her nipple with his fingertip before taking it into his mouth. The heat and arousal overwhelmed her, making her weak, as if she might faint.

  Derrick moved to her other nipple and sucked hard. She threw back her head in abandonment, spreading her feet apart, since she felt her legs buckling. “I need to lie down.

  His eyes were dark, his breathing shallow and quick.

  He lifted her nightgown over her head. She gasped with the cool air and his ravenous stares. “Don’t be shy with me, Amelia. I’m your husband.”

  She dug her fingers into his hard shoulders, wanting to be close to the fire radiating off his strong chest while he lifted her onto the bed.

  Derrick kicked off his boots, flinging them against the wall, and yanked down his breeches and smalls in one quick motion, his eyes full of sensual promises.

  Where she was pale and soft, he was dark and hard and powerful. His broad shoulders tapered to solid, muscular thighs. His sex was long, thick, and jutted from a dark nest of coarse hair. She swallowed hard. She had never seen him unclothed in the bright light. She shook with rising excitement and trepidation.

  “Look at me, Amelia. I’m only a man, a man who wants and loves you.”

  How could she resist him? She opened her arms. “Oh, Derrick. Love me.”

  He lay next to her and began to caress her again with his lips and tongue, but with less restraint. His arms clamped around her, dragging her as close as they could get. She was carried away by the sheer magnitude of his desire, the wild and wanton demands of his hands and mouth. Primitive needs were becoming unbearable. She arched into him, heedless in her desire.

  “Amelia, I can’t wait.” He spread her legs and entered her, thrusting into her heavily, lunging, filling her completely, and scorching her with waves of pleasure. Her skin was hot, and an ache deep within intensified with his every thrust.

  He kissed her fiercely, hotly, then, cupping his hands around her bottom, he lifted her to him and drove into her over and over again, taking them both over into a tumult of light and heat. She trembled in ecstasy, feeling him empty himself into her with deep, hard, convulsive thrusts.

  He collapsed onto her, his body enveloping her in heat and sweat. She was light-headed and filled with love. She didn’t want anything more than to feel his body pressing her into the softness of the bed.

  She ran her hands along his strong back. The smells of Derrick and their lovemaking were new to her, but enveloped her with contentment and a deep sense of safety.

  He ran his whiskered chin along her neck, his sex soft and still inside her. She didn’t want to move. “Amelia, I promise it will be better next time. I…needed you too damn much after tonight’s threat.”

  Amelia wrapped her arms around his back, melting into him. “If it gets any better, I’ll not survive.”

  His deep-throated chuckle got the response she hoped. She didn’t want to relive the betrayal by someone she considered a friend. She wanted to savor the love and passion of her husband.

  Derrick rolled off her, but took her with him so she wasn’t deprived of his body’s warmth. He gently pushed back the hair falling across her face and kissed her lightly. “My fiery redhead. How did I get so lucky? You aren’t in the least intimidated by my ardor, are you, my love?”

  “Lucky for you, I grew up surrounded by men.” Amelia laughed “Well, not that way. You know what I mean.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that you had men around you throughout your childhood. What was Kendal whispering to you at the ball?”

  Amelia sat up abruptly. “Really, after this moment?” She didn’t have words for what they experienced together tonight, but she recognized love. She threw up her hands in frustration. “How can you possibly still be jealous of Michael?”

  He pulled her down next to him, his fingers skimming her arms with tender touches. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Amelia, you might not be intimidated by men, but you don’t understand how men’s brains work. We are very simple and possessive. I will never stop being jealous of other men being near to you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest. But he pressed his finger over her lips. She was tempted to bite it.

  “I know you think of Kendal as a friend. And I will tolerate his closeness, but I won’t like it…ever. I want to hoard every one of your smiles and touches for me alone.”

  Amelia stretched half across him, her breasts rubbing against his coarse chest hair. “Michael is a dear childhood friend. And he was teasing me about a secret code.”

  “Secret code?”

  “At first I thought he was serious about a code he had deciphered, but he asked me whether I knew the Wedding Code.”

  “There is a Wedding Code? This is news to me. What is it?”

  “To always hold your love’s heart tenderly in your hands.”

  The End

  Excerpt from

  A Cantata of Love

  the Fourth Book in the Best-selling

  The Code Breaker Series!

  by Jacki Delecki

  Michael Harcourt
, the Earl of Kendal, woke to the soft voice and the delectable smell of a woman. She smelled like wildflowers. And her voice was soothing and sweet. Last night must have been one hell of a night of dissipation since he remembered nothing. He dreamt about his French mother crooning to him.

  What was wrong with him? He had been in bed with a French woman and he thought of his mother. His head ached as if horses had trampled over him. He tried to remember her name—Yvette? Or was it Mimi? He cracked open one eye. Big blue eyes the color of cornflowers stared down at him, and a pink lush lower lip was pouting. How could he have forgotten this angel’s name? Yvette. Definitely Yvette. “Yvette?” Or maybe Mimi? “Mimi?”

  He needed her again to refresh his memory. He raised his arms to pull her against him. He grabbed for her, but his arms felt weak. Thank God the rest of his body wasn’t that tired. She yelped when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. “Yvette, darling. Don’t fight me. I need you.”

  Yvette gasped and tightened against him. He rubbed himself against her slender body. Not his usual type he noted. Clearly not an opera dancer by the slender frame. What had he drunk last night that he couldn’t remember this delicious handful?

  “Let go of me.” She hissed.

  He whispered against her soft, tender neck, kissing her ear. “Were you this feisty last night?”

  “Let me go, you brute.” She shouted next in his ear, causing his head to feel as if it were cracking wide open. She jumped back, tripping on the bedclothes and knocking the water canister from the side table. The loud crash reverberated in his head.

  Women didn’t fight him. He was a generous lover. Obviously he had overlooked something about last night.

  Michael looked at the disheveled, beautiful woman glaring at him. Her blond hair sparkled in the morning sunlight, but her bright eyes were now dark and stormy.