The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga)

by Tommie Conrad

  He felt her jump. “What was that?”

  He laughed under his breath. “You tell me, ma’am.”

  “Not that,” she said, pressing their mouths back together for a moment. “I heard it again.” She trained her ears on the whinny of a horse.

  “Maybe we’d better go investigate.” He took her by the hand and they strolled out of the studio, around the house until they’d reached the front drive. Taylor’s mouth fell open in shock. Parked in front of the house was an old-fashioned open-topped carriage, hitched to a pair of magnificent horses. Now she could account for those noises. She just couldn’t get over her shock, her surprise, the utter joy of the moment.

  “How?” she asked.

  Chandler hitched his chin toward the horizon, where Mark’s red truck headed out of sight, a horse trailer behind it. “I’m just as surprised as you are, sweetheart.”

  He met her tender stare. “How?” she repeated. “There was no guarantee I’d come out here.”

  His blue eyes swept gently over her. “And there was no guarantee I’d come to my senses. Mark acted on blind faith this time.”

  “Smart guy,” she said with a lift of her eyebrows.

  “Best friend a man could ask for.” He pecked a kiss onto her lips. “Care for a ride, milady?”

  She laughed enthusiastically. “My ability to say no to you has officially flown out the window.” He was glad of that fact as he helped her into the carriage, patting her gently on the hip. When they were seated, she gave him a meaningful wink. He lifted the reins with ease and the horses settled into a gentle trot. He reflected back on the past two years; so much had changed, various pieces of his life falling into place. Life would continue to evolve, each day bringing something new. With Taylor at his side, he no longer had to fear the unknown. He wondered if this was what it was like anytime you found the person who completed you, filled in the crevices of your soul and made you a whole being. How could it get any better?

  He pulled the reins to a stop when they’d moved a safe distance from the house. She leaned against him and their eyes turned simultaneously toward his corner of the ranch—it’d be theirs now. They’d raise their family here, grow old under that roof, surrounded by the cobalt sky.

  His eyes turned and focused solely on her. “Having a good time, beautiful lady?”

  “The best.” She kissed her index finger and placed it to his lips.

  “Me, too,” he agreed. “Look, T, I want you to share all of this with me. This ranch, this house, this life. And I want to give you everything you could ever want and need.” She saw his eyes fill with emotion. “I don’t want to replace what you had with Liam and Riley, and I don’t want to replicate what we had when we were kids. What I do want is to build a future with you, be the husband you’ve dreamed of, the father to your children and the only woman I’ll ever watch dream at night.” He whipped the box from his pocket and popped it open with his thumb. “Taylor Holt, will you marry me?”

  Her hands covered an audible gasp. “Yes, yes, hell yes,” she said with fervor. Both arms cuffed around his neck and pulled their mouths together. A second later he laughed.

  “Did you want me to put the ring on, make it official?”

  She really, truly studied the ring for the first time. The large, rectangular diamond was as clean and pure as a drop of rain, faceted around the edges so that it captured light. He was trembling as he slid it onto her left hand. “We’re gonna be happy, aren’t we?”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “For at least the next fifty years—maybe longer, if we’re lucky.”

  They retraced their path back to the front door, the horses calm and collected, as though this was part of their daily routine. Chandler reined them to a halt and helped Taylor out of the carriage. He found his key and unlocked the front door. She glanced up at him curiously. “Who’s going to take care of the horses?”

  “I figure Mark will be back to take care of them soon. He probably went home to check on Christa and the boys. Besides,” he said with a playful grin, “that carriage is on loan from the courthouse.”

  “I thought it looked familiar.” She gasped in surprise as he scooped her off her feet and into his arms. Then she laughed as he kicked the door closed behind them and carried her slowly up the curving staircase. Their kids, she hoped, would mischievously slide down that bannister someday. She’d scold them and smile the entire time, remembering how overjoyed she was in this moment, when Chandler brought her home for keeps.

  Inside the bedroom he set her on both feet and appraised her for one electrified moment. He turned her around next to the bed, pressing her against him with one arm. He lifted one leg at a time and tugged off her boots. Then he shocked her, happily, by tugging on her earlobes with the edge of his teeth. He turned her again until they were face-to-face. He found the hem of her dress, pushed it slowly up her body, his palms hot atop her skin. Her stomach did a flip as he, with a roguish grin, gathered the dress high above her head and flung it across the room.

  He looked her up and down, his eyes admiring her body the way he’d never admired a piece of art. The white lace of her undergarments sent a mind already flushed with heat on a collision course for insanity. He removed his hat and set it on the nightstand. When she tugged the tails of his shirt out of his jeans and ripped the snaps open, trailing her fingers across his stomach and shoulders before she pushed it to the floor, he lost his patience completely. In a matter of seconds he was sitting on the bed, with her atop him. Her fingertips prodded his back and before he could draw another breath, her tongue was searching the inside of his mouth. A powerless groan emanated from deep in his chest. He ran his hands through the soft brown velvet of her hair, parting their mouths just long enough to ask an unexpected question. “You know, sweetheart, I can take a shower first if you’d like. I must smell like a horse.”

  She nosed her cheek alongside his face, finding the sharp, masculine scent at his hairline. He did smell like a horse, and hay, and sweat, and heat. And she’d never smelled anything better in her entire life. She looked him square in the eye and bracketed his face with both hands. “Hell, no,” was her swift answer.

  “Suit yourself,” he drawled. His hands deftly slid across her torso, unfastening the bra and removing it. His lips met hers again, greedily, their hot breaths mingling. He pushed her head back and kissed along her throat, sliding his tongue in the hollow at its base. Lower he maneuvered, until his mouth hungrily found her breasts, turning the peaks hard against his tongue and teeth. He encircled the tips with his thumbs, marveling as the skin changed hues. Settle down, cowboy, he said to himself. She’s not going anywhere.

  He brought both of them to their feet again, just long enough for them to strip each other bare. He laid her against the pillows with considerable ease, nestling himself between her thighs. He tantalized her with each passing second, framing her face with both hands, sliding his lips across her throat again. “You’re beautiful,” he said amongst a litany of garbled expletives. “And gorgeous. And I love you.” She felt the downward slide of heat when he finally entered her, the moment lasting for what seemed like several minutes. His thrusts were gentle and probing, and she lifted her hips to gather every last inch of flesh. Her body was sizzling, humming with anticipation, and she hooked her arms over his shoulders, holding on for dear life, praying the flash of lightning would befall her, then hoping it never would.

  He always had the subtle fear in the back of his mind that he’d hurt her, driving against her slight frame. Instead she clutched him instinctively, taking all he had and somehow begging for more. Their bodies melded together, to the point where it was hard to find where he ended and she began. He drove deeper and harder, listening for the sounds of ecstasy from her mouth, praying he could make this moment last for as long as possible. Her body met his everywhere, the synapses in his brain firing with the roar of exploding heat. He felt it assemble between them and spark like a match to gasoline. His release was blinding, whit
e-hot light forming across his field of vision. He hung onto her with every last ounce of strength in his body.

  The strange waves of pleasure rippled through her as she heard the broken gasp of his voice above her face. She lifted high into the air and tumbled slowly back to earth in the safety of his arms, feeling the aftershocks tug at her as he continued to pulse between her hips. Every part of her body twisted and shook, the slightest touch of his fingers or mouth sending another charge through her. It was hard to catch her breath, and he felt heavy atop her—but, God, there was nothing better than knowing she would have days, weeks, years of this. It was a heady feeling.

  Afterward he lay alongside her, a sheet covering their lower bodies. She stared briefly through the uncovered windows at the back of the house. The sunset cracked the blue sky with golden fissures, the most beautiful sky she could ever remember seeing. For a day that had started with anxiety, it was ending perfectly.

  One of his hands was entwined with hers. With the other, he traced lines across her body, eyes surveying the flush of her skin. He encircled one nipple, pushed at the tip. Their eyes met. “I’m so lucky,” he whispered.

  “You are,” she agreed. He laughed at her grin, took his finger on a circuitous path across her flat stomach. His mouth would definitely have to venture there later. Then his hand moved still lower, eager to stoke the fire once more between her hips. One finger teased more than the rest, and she closed her eyes slowly. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmured.

  He moved his hand yet again, clutched her hip and pulled her onto her side. “It won’t always be like this, you know.”

  She kissed his chin. “How’s that?”

  “I won’t always be this cute.”

  Her eyes snapped open and were greeted by a devilish grin. “If you think I’m gonna let you get fat just because we’re married, you’ve got another thing coming.” His body was hard as stone but always pooled to liquid in the comfort of her arms. “You’re gonna be working this ranch every chance you get.”

  He kissed her eyes, the tip of her nose, and her lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She felt his readiness against her, looked forward to it. “Hey, Chandler?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Didn’t your brother also get engaged on Labor Day?”

  He glanced at her quizzically, and then nodded. “Yeah, but he didn’t have the good sense to make it legal right away. I plan to marry you sooner rather than later.”

  “When?”

  He rolled atop her, entering with one swift stroke. He kissed her gently, his movements light and tender, belying the hunger in his blue eyes. “As soon as we drag ourselves out of this bed,” he answered hoarsely. “Which I don’t plan to do for a very long time.”

  Chapter 30

  “Your mom sure put this wedding together in a hurry.”

  Chandler looked in the mirror, where Mark stood over his right shoulder. Chandler had just worn a tuxedo the other day, at the charity auction where his painting was sold. Mark was wearing one for what he figured was the third time in his entire life.

  “She was crying when we told her,” Chandler replied. He fiddled with the ends of his bow tie, ready to say screw it and just get hitched without the damned thing. He wouldn’t disappoint Taylor like that, though. He’d promised her no foul-ups, even though she assured him the best, most memorable weddings always experienced a few snafus. “When I gave her the timeline of two weeks, she didn’t even flinch.”

  “Your mom has always been unflappable—mine too, for that matter.” Mark placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s a lot of work, keeping that gallery going in town now that you’re back on the ranch. But it’s been damned good to just drive over a few hills and pull up to your front door.”

  “Thanks, Mark.” Chandler smiled and a meaningful look passed between the two of them.

  “Last man standing,” Mark asserted, “until today.”

  Chandler nodded. “I had to start going with my gut, huh?”

  “Head, heart, or gut—whatever works, bud.”

  They were interrupted by two balls of fire that raced into the room. Chandler scooped a nephew into either arm and laughed. “You cowboys ready for your big debut?”

  Little Chase tugged at his miniature bowtie. “Mom says I look handsome.”

  “What about me?” Max asked.

  “You both look like your dads,” Chandler stated firmly. “That makes you handsome by default.”

  CJ ran through the door, half out of breath. “Anyone told you this house is too danged big, Picasso? Those two got away from me before I even know what was happening.”

  “That has nothing to do with the house,” Mark joked, “and everything to do with you helping your wife into her dress.”

  “I gotta hand it to Taylor,” CJ said. “Those dresses don’t show an ounce of skin but still make our wives look sexy as…” He trailed off as Chandler gave him a comical look.

  Chandler set the two boys on their feet and gave them gentle pats on the back. “Go check out the playroom but don’t get dirty.”

  “Playroom?” CJ asked once they were out of earshot. “Planning ahead, eh?”

  Chandler fumbled with the ends of his tie again. “Can you think of a more fun thing to do on your honeymoon?”

  CJ looked to Mark, and then back to his brother. “No,” he replied. He slapped Chandler on the back. “Need any advice?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “How do you keep a woman happy, year after year?”

  “That’s the great mystery of life,” Chase said, stepping swiftly into the room. “Sorry it took me so long to get up here. Your mom is, well, falling apart, but in a good way.”

  Chandler turned to face him. “How bad is it?”

  Chase took the ends of Chandler’s bowtie in his aged fingers and knotted them deftly together. A professional couldn’t have done a better job. He straightened it, appraised his son, and smiled warmly. “She won’t be able to bring herself in here and talk to you beforehand, so advice falls on me. Hope I do I good job.”

  “Don’t be so modest, Chase,” Mark countered. “You’ve never steered any of us wrong.”

  “Give him hell, Dad,” CJ said with a wink as he and Mark took their leave. “See you in a few.”

  “How nervous do I look, Dad?” Chandler asked his father. Chase gripped him by the shoulders and smiled broadly.

  “When you were a little boy, I put you in the saddle and you showed no fear. Maybe you were too young to know any better. Things are different now, son. You’re all grown up, got a better head on your shoulders than I did when I was your age. It’s funny. Sometimes I feel like you didn’t need me at all.”

  “That’s crazy, Dad. If anything, I needed you more because I was the youngest.”

  Chase shook his head. “Your brother needed my guidance to show him how brave he was. I’ll be damned if it didn’t work. Your sister needed me to remind her how strong she was. She’s such a great teacher that kids don’t wanna leave her classroom. But you were different. I taught you how to ride a horse and afterward you seemed to know that it was all inside you.” He rested one fingertip over Chandler’s heart. “You’re gonna be a great husband and father because there’s no limit to the amount of love you choose to give.”

  He felt his eyes sting and his throat well up with emotion. “I learned from the best.”

  Chase pulled him into a tight hug. “I haven’t cried this much since you were born. I’ll see you downstairs, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  When Chandler was alone, he took one final look in the mirror and exhaled until he was sure there was nothing left in his lungs. “Let’s do it.”

  ***

  “Come on, you look great.”

  Taylor glanced at herself in the large bathroom mirror in the master suite. Alison was perfecting her hair and securing it into place. “You’re sure this looks okay?”

  “Please,” she replied. “Chandler is going to see you walking
down that aisle and lose his mind.”

  Christa entered the space, having just fed Matt. She wasn’t even sure how much longer he’d be able to sleep in a crib; he was growing faster than she wanted, and had this wedding taken place a week later his small suit would no longer have fit. “Chris,” Alison inquired, “how are you going to corral Matthew and be a bridesmaid?”

  “In a word? Mark.” She smiled at each of them. “We’re all in the wedding, even your mom and dad. It was kind of hard figuring out what to do. I certainly wasn’t going to pawn him off on Grandma and Grandpa.”

  Alison shook her head. “I should know better than to ask a teacher how she deals with kids. The answers are always too well-thought.” She glanced around anxiously. “Speaking of which, where are my two?”

  Christa remained composed, as per usual. “Our boys are in the playroom, behaving like tiny gentleman. Bree is with Mom and Susan. And our husbands are waiting for us in the hall.”

  “I’ve gotta watch them closer,” Alison chastised herself. “This is a big damn house.”

  “The balcony and staircase are both safety-gated,” Christa reassured her. She surveyed Taylor’s makeup. “You look as nervous as I did on my wedding day, but otherwise beautiful.”

  Taylor frowned. “I’ve been through all of this before. Why am I scared now?”

  “Because this time,” Alison reminded her, “it’s for good, and you know it. To love, and be loved infinitely, is an incredible feeling. Enjoy this day,” she implored. “You make such a beautiful bride.”

  “And you get the two of us in the deal,” Christa pointed out. “How can you refuse?”

  “I almost forgot that part,” Taylor said, smiling at each of them in turn. She saw Bryn standing in the doorway, a stalwart woman turned emotional by the day’s events. She moved into the room, and Alison and Christa stepped outside to provide them a private moment.