His hands moved over every inch of her he could touch, marveling that she could want him the way she did. Dillon caught the nape of her neck and turned up her head to fasten his mouth to hers. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t feel gentle. He wanted to devour her. He fed there, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples.
She was driving him crazy with her bold caresses, stroking him even as her mouth was mating with his. Hot silken kisses; the earth spinning madly. The water running over their bodies and the steam rising around them. She was soft and pliant, as her body moved against his. One leg slid up to the curve of his hip, she pressed close, as wild as he was.
Dillon bent his head to the terrible bruise on her shoulder where Paul’s elbow had cracked her hard enough to send her flying toward the edge of a cliff. His tongue eased the throbbing ache, and traveled lower to trace the outline of her breast. He felt her tremble in reaction. His mouth closed over her hard nipple, his teeth teasing gently before he suckled strongly. She gasped in reaction, arcing more fully into him. His hand shaped her every curve, slid lower to push into her body. She was wet and pulsing with her own need and he wanted all the time in the world to love her. To just he beside her and bring her so much pleasure so she would know what she meant to him.
Jessica leaned forward to catch a little drop of water that ran from his shoulder to the muscles of his chest. She wasn’t fast enough. Her tongue followed the little bead of moisture as it traveled across the ridges over his heart. She couldn’t quite catch up and her arms slipped around his waist as she ducked her head to lap at the droplet, racing it over his flat belly. Her hand was still wrapped proprietarily around his heavy erection. She felt him swell more, thick, and hard, as she breathed warm air over him, as her tongue lapped at the droplets on his most sensitive tip.
Dillon went rigid, his body shuddering with pleasure as she took him into the heat of her mouth. The water cascaded down, sensitizing his skin. The roar started in his brain, the fire burned in his gut, a sweet ecstasy that shook him. Strains of their music penetrated into the shower, and fired his blood even more with the driving, impassioned beat. Her hips moved against his hand, her muscles were tight and clenching around his fingers.
“Jess.” He said her name. Called to her. A pleading. A promise. “I need you now, this minute.” Because there was nowhere else he would rather be than in her, with her, apart of her.
Her green gaze slid over him as she straightened. Took in every inch of him, the perfection of his face, the scars on his body, his heavy, thick evidence of his need for her. And she smiled in welcome. In happiness. Deliberately she turned and placed her hands carefully on the small half bench in the corner, presenting her rounded bottom and the smooth line of her back.
His hands went to her hips as he pulsed against her. She was more than ready for him, slick and hot and as eager as he was. Even as he pushed into her tight sheath, she pushed back, so that he filled her with a single surge. Molten lava raced through her, through him. He groaned, began to move hard and fast, thrusting deeply, wildly, a frenzy of white-hot pleasure for both of them. She was meeting every stroke, demanding more, her body gripping his, clenching and building a fiery friction that shook him all the way to his soul. And then she was rippling around him, milking him of his seed, so that his own orgasm ripped through him with such intensity her name was torn from his throat.
She always managed to surprise him. His Jessica, so unafraid of life, of passion, of showing her true feelings. She cried out with her release, her body spiraling out of control and she gave herself up to the pleasure, embraced it the way she did everything. It seemed to last forever. It seemed over far too fast. They collapsed together, holding each other, kissing each other, their hands greedy for the feel of each other’s body.
Dillon caught her hair in his hand. “I can’t get enough of kissing you.” His mouth devoured her ravenously. “More, I need more.”
“I thought you said everyone was waiting for us. It’s been a lot longer than ten minutes,” Jessica pointed out. “They’ll send the twins.”
“Promise me when you marry me, which will be very, very soon, I can spend a couple of weeks in bed with you. Just touching you. I love the way you feel.” He reached past her to turn off the water.
Jessica stilled, stared up at him with the water running off her lashes. “You never mentioned marriage.”
Dillon blinked down at her, managed to look boyishly vulnerable. “I’m old-fashioned, I thought you knew I meant for life.” He looked around, saw his jeans carelessly discarded on the floor. “I have a ring.” He said it like a bribe.
“Dillon!” Flustered, Jessica wrapped her hair in a towel, staring at him wide-eyed. “You have a ring?”
She looked so beautiful with the confusion on her face, with the water beading on her petal soft skin and her large eyes bright with happiness, Dillon wanted to start all over again. He found the ring in his pocket and caught her hand. “I want us to be forever, Jess, forever.”
The diamond sparkled at her as she smiled down at it. Then he was catching her up, throwing her on the bed in a tangle of sheets and arms and legs, his tongue lapping at every bead of water on her skin.
It was considerably longer than either of them expected before they were dressed and ready to join the others. Jessica’s face was slightly red from the shadow on Dillon’s jaw and the insides of her thighs held matching abrasions. She went with him willingly, confidently. Together they could manage to bring off Christmas.
She stopped in the doorway of the large room where the tree had been set up. Hundreds of tiny lights were woven in and out of the branches, highlighting the ornaments they had all made.
“So this is what you’ve been doing all this time,” Jessica whispered, joy coursing through her as she looked at the lights on the Christmas tree, at the mound of brightly wrapped presents beneath the branches. “You’ve been playing Santa Claus.”
He grinned at her, with his boyish, mischievous grin. “I’m into the miracle business in a big way these days. I couldn’t let Tara and Trevor be disappointed. They wanted their father back, didn’t they?”
Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and claimed his oh-so-beautiful mouth. Happiness blossomed inside of her. She had thought Paul’s betrayal would have been the last straw, that it would have broken Dillon’s spirit totally. Instead he had emerged to the other side, whole once more.
His kiss was gentle, relaxed, tasting of passion and hunger. Behind them Trevor groaned. “Are you two going to be doing that all night, because there are other rooms where you can be alone, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Don’t tell them that,” Brian slapped Trevor on the back. “We’ll never have Christmas if you give them any ideas.”
Dillon took his time, kissing Jessica. It mattered, kissing did, and he made a thorough job of it while the twins tapped their feet and the band members nudged one another. He lifted his head slowly, and smiled down into her upturned face. “I love you, Jessica, more than I can ever express, I love you.”
She touched his mouth with a trembling fingertip. “Surprise! I love you right back.” She would count that as her Christmas miracle. Dillon. Her other half.
“Dad!” Tara squeaked impatiently. “We all know what’s going on here, so don’t keep us in suspense. Are you or aren’t you?”
Dillon and Jessica turned to look at the expectant faces gathered around them. “What are you talking about?” He put his arm around Jessica’s shoulders, drawing her into the shelter of his body.
Trevor threw his hands up in the air. “So much for being suave. Jeeze, Dad, get a clue here. A little action on your part, you know?”
Don shook his head. “You disappoint me, Wentworth.”
“Boyo,” Brian slumped against the wall, a hand to his head. “You’ve destroyed my faith in true love.”
Brenda stepped forward, caught Jessica’s wrist and yanked her left hand up to their faces. “Oh, for heaven’s sa
ke, you are the most unobservant group on the face of the earth!” The ring glittered beneath the light.
“Holy cow, Dad,” Trevor grinned from ear to ear. “You’re amazing. I apologize. Profusely.”
Jessica was kissed and hugged until Dillon rescued her, pulling her to him and waving the others off with a good-natured scowl. He turned off the overhead lights so that only the twinkling Christmas lights shone. A multitude of colors sparkled and glowed. “It’s midnight. We should sing Christmas in,” he announced, leaning down to steal another kiss.
Brenda settled close to Robert, resting her head on his chest Brian sat across from the couple, on the floor, stretching out his long legs toward the tree. Don followed suit, dropping to the floor, his back against the couch, sprawling out, leaning back to look at the lights.
Dillon laced his fingers through Jessica’s as he sat in the large armchair and pulled her beside him. Tara and Trevor immediately found a place on the floor close to their father and Jessica. Robert reached behind the chair where he was sitting and casually pulled out an acoustic guitar. Dillon’s oldest, not expensive, but one he had carried with him for years. Robert handed it across the floor to Trevor who held it out to his father.
“Play for us tonight, Dad,” Trevor said.
Jessica could feel Dillon stiffen beside her. He shook his head, took the guitar out of his son’s hand and tried to give it to Jessica. “You play. I don’t play anymore.”
“Yes, you do,” Jessica said, ignoring the instrument, “you just don’t play for large crowds. We’re family. All of us here together tonight. We’re you’re family, Dillon, and it’s okay to be imperfect. Just play, don’t be great, just play for us.”
Dillon looked into her eyes. Green eyes. Guileless. Sincere. He glanced at the others watching him while he made his decision. The lights flickered and shimmied, winking at him as if in encouragement. He didn’t have to do it all himself, he didn’t have to be perfect. Sometimes people did get second chances. With a small sigh, he capitulated, bringing the guitar to him, cradling it in his arms like a lost lover. His longtime companion. His childhood friend when he was lonely. A small smile curved his mouth as he felt the familiar texture, the grain of the wood, the wide neck.
His fingers found the strings; his ear listened to the sound. He made the adjustments automatically, without thinking. He lived and breathed music: the notes that took on a life in his head. He still had that, a gift beyond comparison. He had his voice. It spilled out of him, his signature, a blend of edgy smoke and husky blues. He sang of hope and joy, love found, and families together. While he sang, his fingers found the familiar chords, moved over the strings with a remembered love. He didn’t have the dexterity to play the fast riffs and the intricate melodies he often heard in his mind and composed, but he could do this, play for his family, and take pleasure in the gift of love.
They sang with him, all those he loved. Jessica’s voice blended with his, in a perfect melding. Brenda was slightly out of tune, but he loved her all the more for it. Tara’s voice held promise and Trevor’s held enthusiasm. The pleasure of sitting in his home, surrounded by his family on Christmas Eve, was incomparable. His miracle.
A slight noise at the window distracted Jessica from the music and she frowned, looking beyond the glass pane to the darkened, wild storm. There was a small fluttering of white that settled on the outside windowsill. A storm-tossed bird, perhaps lost in the dark of night and the violence of the squall.
“There’s a bird at the window,” Jessica said softly, afraid if she spoke too loudly the white dove would vanish before anyone else saw it. She made her way with caution across the room while the others stayed motionless. “Birds aren’t out at this time of night. Did it fly into the window?”
The bird looked bedraggled—a wet, unhappy, shivering dove. Jessica carefully opened the window, crooning to the creature, not wanting to frighten it away. To her astonishment, it waited calmly on the windowsill while she struggled to push one side of the window out against the fierce wind. Almost at once, the bird hopped onto her arm. She could feel it shaking, and immediately cupped its body in the warmth of her palms. It was carrying something in its beak. She could just make out the glint of gold between her hands. There was something else: a band on its leg. Jessica felt it drop into her palm as the bird rose, flapped its wings, and launched itself into the air. It flew around the room. As the bird passed over the twins, it opened its beak and dropped something between the twins. The bird made another fast circuit of the room while the lights played over its white feathers in a prism of colors that was mesmerizing and beautiful. The dove flew out the window, back into the night, winging its way toward some other shelter.
“What is it, Tara?” Trevor leaned in close as his sister lifted a gold chain for all of them to see. “It’s a locket.” It was small, heart-shaped, and intricately etched on the outside.
“I think it’s real gold,” Trevor said, lifting it up to peer at it more closely.
“Is it for me? Did someone get this for me? Where did this come from?” Tara looked around the room at the band members who had fallen silent as she held up the necklace. “Who gave it to me?”
Dillon leaned forward to get a closer look. Brenda’s hand went to her throat in a curiously vulnerable gesture. Her gaze met Dillon’s across the small space and she quickly shook her head. “I didn’t, Dillon, I swear I didn’t.”
“It opens, doesn’t it?” Trevor wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulder and peered at the delicate locket. “What’s inside?”
Tara pressed the tiny catch and the locket popped open. There were two smiling faces, a two-year-old girl and an identical two-year-old boy. Both children were smiling. Their black, wavy hair framing their faces.
“Dad?” Tara looked at her father. “It’s us, isn’t it?”
Dillon nodded solemnly. “Your mother never took that necklace off. I didn’t even know the pictures were inside of it.”
Tara turned to Jessica, an awkward, uncertain expression on her young face. She didn’t know what to think or feel about such a gift. Everyone was stunned, and had shocked looks on their faces. She didn’t know whether to hug the locket to her, or to throw it away and cry a river of tears.
Jessica immediately hugged her. “What a beautiful gift. It is a day of miracles. Every child should know their mother wanted and loved them. I remember how precious that locket was to your mother. She wore it always, even when she had much more expensive jewelry. I think the necklace is proof of what she felt for you, even when she was too ill to show you.”
Brenda caught Jessica’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Vivian always wore it, Tara—I teased her about her preferring it to diamonds. She said she had her reasons.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “I know why now. I would never have taken it off either.”
Tara kissed her aunt. “I’m glad you’re here, Aunt Brenda,” she confided. “I love you.” She handed her the necklace. “Will you put it on me?”
Brenda nodded, her heart overflowing. “Absolutely I will.”
“It was for both of us, Trev,” Tara said. “She loved both of us after all. We’ll share it.” She leaned over to kiss her brother on the cheek.
Jessica settled in Dillon’s lap, waited until the others were crowded around the twins, and she slowly opened her hand to show him what lay in her palm. The small ring was a mother’s ring with two identical birthstones in it. They looked from the ring to one another without speaking.
Jessica closed her fingers around the precious gift the dove had left behind. It was better than diamonds. The most important gift ever given. Dillon’s scarred fingers settled over hers, guarding the treasure, holding it close to their hearts. Trevor and Tara were theirs. They had their Christmas miracle and it was exactly what they needed.
LADY OF THE LOCKET
Melanie George
chapter
1
THE CASTLE ROSE OUT of the heavy mist like a phoenix emerging from the
ashes, a looming monolith seemingly born of its craggy foundation, perched on the uppermost edge of the earth for the purpose of lording over the village in the distance.
A trio of crenellated towers reached for the sky, where slim fingers of scarlet-tinted sunlight endeavored to wedge through the damp December fog that enshrouded the entire jagged coast of Inverness, Scotland.
To Rachel Hudson, who had stopped her rental car in the long gravel-strewn driveway leading to the front steps of Glengarren, the castle echoed of things past, of secrets long held—imposing, yet somehow tragic.
The sight left her breathless as she pushed open the car door and got out, letting the brisk winter air sting her cheeks and whip at her long hair.
An acute sense of isolation struck her, an almost palpable aura that warned people to stay away, to turn around and hasten from its unhallowed grounds.
Rachel could picture a tormented Heathcliff ranging its windswept moors, or imagine that she caught a glimpse of a woman’s ghostly figure disappearing among the ramparts, as in Rebecca, Rachel’s favorite novel, by Daphne du Maurier.
“ ‘When the leaves rustle, they sound very much like the stealthy movement of a woman in evening dress,’ ” she softly recited. “ ‘And when they shiver suddenly and fall, and scatter away along the ground, they might be the pitter-patter of a woman’s hurrying footsteps, and the mark in the gravel the imprint of a high-heeled satin shoe.’ ”
Rachel felt as though she finally understood what her parents had found so fascinating about this place, its mien of romance mingled with bittersweet despair.
Her mother and father had met here thirty-one years ago. Her mother had come to spend Christmas with relatives, and her father had been visiting his old college friend, Ian MacGregor of Glengarren.
Her parents’ paths had crossed and they fell in love during that magical holiday. The following year, they returned to Scotland together, marrying twelve months to the day after they had met.
A Very Gothic Christmas Page 21
