by Lower, Becky
“I never thought I’d see any other country than England,” she murmured as she and Parker made their way to his lodgings at the inn for one final night.
“And I never thought I’d remarry. So I guess we’re even.” He nuzzled her neck, his lips tracing kisses down her jaw from her ear to her collarbone as they covered the distance between her father’s establishment and the inn Parker had called home. Violet’s excitement bubbled over as she pictured the room and what would be happening behind the closed door tonight. Her heart beat against her ribcage so hard she thought surely Parker could hear it thumping. He placed his arm around her waist and held her close for the entire stroll.
Violet glanced at the room once they entered, curious to see if it matched up with what she’d envisioned. She’d had dreams about Parker in his room after a day spent with her and wondered what he did in the evening. His sketchpad lay open by the window, and a small bed occupied one corner. Her heart rate kicked up another notch as she stared at the narrow bed. How ever would both of them fit? Parker had taken her emotions to heights previously unknown the time in the hothouse when they’d lost control of themselves. There had to be more to lovemaking than what he’d done with her then, and her mouth dried as she tried to figure out exactly what would come next. A sudden moisture between her legs told her the next thing had something to do with the area Parker had already visited with his hands. She could barely wait. Every nerve ending in her body tingled in anticipation.
Parker set down her overnight bag and took her hand. “You’re shaking, Violet.” He leaned in and kissed her softly.
“You are as well, a little.” She brushed the hair from his forehead and wrapped a hand around his neck.
“This is a momentous occasion, wouldn't you say? I thought you’d be a part of my history, but now you’re part of my future.” He kissed her fingers before he undid the black buttons on her gown. She shivered in anticipation as his fingers worked, exposing her skin.
“I caught a glimpse of your nipple the other day when you were changing in the greenhouse, and it’s taunted me ever since,” he whispered into her hair as he held her close. “Now it’s my turn to taunt.” He lowered his head and placed his mouth on her chemise over her nipple. She couldn’t stop the intake of breath at his touch, nor the moan that elicited from her body. Her knees grew even shakier, and Parker’s grasp tightened, holding her up as he took her entire nipple into his mouth and sucked. He moved the cloth of her chemise out of the way, and his lips met her hard little peak, causing rivulets of pleasure to wash over her and extend to every part of her body. His tongue glided over the tip of her nipple, and her entire body shook.
His thumb stroked her other nipple, and Violet reveled in the sensation emanating from her breasts, which were burning with need to be further explored. The tug of Parker’s mouth sent a shock wave through her body that pooled at her core. She sought relief by grinding against him, bumping up against his hard shaft. Her mouth watered as wave after wave of emotion rolled over her. Her breath was nothing more than a series of gasps, short and sharp, and her head lolled on her neck.
Parker stepped to the bed with her in his arms and gently set them on the edge, still entwined. His mouth slid to her other breast, and she became embarrassed by the mewling sound she made. This time was better than their hasty experience in the greenhouse; far better. For one, they were on a bed rather than a pile of dirt. Second, Parker had never touched her breasts during their first encounter. He’d only explored her bottom half. He laid her back on the bed and slid on top of her. Subconsciously, her hips rose to meet him.
“You’re driving me mad, Violet.” His voice came out ragged and shaky. She wiggled against his manhood again, and he moaned. Her lips curled upward. And her hand crept downward. She cupped his bottom, holding him close as she increased her motion, taking pleasure in giving him as much pleasure as he had done for her.
He raised his head from his ministrations on her breasts, and she stared into his face. His bruises had almost faded completely. Both of his gorgeous blue eyes were open and staring back at her. His split lip had healed somewhat, but now appeared plump from kissing her. The dampness between her legs became more noticeable, and she shivered in delight.
“We have all the time in the world, Violet. It’s my wish to take it slow with you tonight, because it’s your first time, and make it memorable for you.” Parker finished unbuttoning her dress and tugged it down so it pooled around her hips. The chemise slid off easily, and he stroked her naked breasts as he spoke. His hands dipped to her waist and below as he tugged on the little wedge of hair at her core. She gasped and wiggled under his grasp.
“Already, you’ve made this night memorable, Parker. But we need to sleep at some point. We have a hard couple of days ahead, getting all your merchandise to Portsmouth.” She inhaled through her teeth again as his tongue flicked over her nipple, and instantly both of them were back to full arousal.
“Do you wish me to stop now? We have the rest of our lives to sleep. If we show up tomorrow sleep deprived, people will be so envious of us.” Parker’s comment made her blush as she pictured the scene tomorrow. All her work with male and female plants, pistils and stamens, pollen and sticky substances, had led her to this moment. Parker had the right idea. They had a journey across the Atlantic facing them, which would certainly give them ample time to catch up on their sleep. And to teach her more about lovemaking.
Her fingers raced as she undid the buttons on Parker’s shirt. “No, I don’t wish for you to stop. I need to experience your lovemaking. So far, what you’ve done is driving me crazy. I can’t wait to see what else you’re going to show me.”
“Well then, allow me to enlighten you, Mrs. Sinclair.” Parker then proceeded to be the teacher this time. And she the willing student.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Day Twenty-One
Technically, Parker told himself, he could flip over the calendar to the twenty-first day of his visit to England. The clock in the center of town had struck midnight several hours ago, but he couldn’t sleep yet. He craved more of his wife. Fortunately, after a bit of initial discomfort, Violet had enjoyed the evening as much as he had.
He nuzzled her from her light doze as his hand slipped between her legs again and started to rub her. Her eyes flickered open as he continued to stroke her, and her breath became ragged. He slipped a finger into her, and she reached a climax almost immediately.
“Parker, you have me at a disadvantage, because you were married once before,” Violet whispered as she brushed his forelock back from his face.
“I’ll be happy to teach you anything you want to know.” He nuzzled her neck and stroked her breast, taking great pleasure in her tortured breathing.
“Does this part of married life ever get stale? Will there be a time when I won’t welcome you into my arms?” She wrapped a leg around him.
“Not if I can help it. My goal, for the remainder of my life, is to make yours as pleasurable as possible. We’ll work hard, raise fine children, and love each other until death parts us.” He brushed a hand down her spine and cupped her bottom. “That is, if I can keep my hands off you long enough. Right now, I need to spend the rest of the night familiarizing myself with every inch of your body.”
She lowered her hand to his hardened shaft. He’d doubted he could get any harder, but Violet’s innocent questions and her fingers sliding up and down his shaft made him so stiff he nearly cried out in pain.
“And I need to explore each inch of yours.” Her fingers grew tighter around his manhood, and her kisses scorched a path down his torso.
“Please help yourself.” He offered himself to her, and she didn’t hesitate. Her sweet hot mouth wrapped around him and he lay back on the bed, savoring this moment. Her tongue explored him tentatively, and the little hum in the back of her throat nearly sent him over the edge within seconds. He gritted his teeth together and prayed he would be able to control himself for a few delicious minute
s.
She lifted her head and stared at him. “You have a salty taste. Could that be right?”
“Any more right, and I’d be a dead man.” He placed a hand on the side of her head and gently tugged her back to him. Her ministrations became surer, and within a few minutes, he flipped her over and entered her willing body. Flesh slapped against flesh as they drove each other to satisfaction.
Life didn’t get much better. And they still had three weeks aboard ship, with nothing to do but water the plants and share a small bed. Parker may have been in a bad mindset on the voyage over, but the voyage back would be an entirely different experience.
They lay together, arms and legs entwined, and still touched each other even as they drifted into sleep. He was uprooting Violet from the only life she had ever lived, from everything familiar, so he had a huge responsibility to take care of her. During the time they’d be in America, he’d set aside an area of the greenhouse for her and let her spend her days working with her plants, breeding them and possibly starting up an American version of the Royal Horticultural Society. Then, by night, they’d give each other pleasure and maybe produce some little seedlings of their own. For Americans to survive, they needed seeds from Europe to grow crops to sustain a growing population.
And those seeds were not limited merely to foodstuffs. America needed more people, of all nations and colors, in order to be vibrant, as Parker had once explained to Violet how Mr. Jefferson hoped his rose bed would be. Every person who immigrated to America carried with them a bit of their own country’s soil. Sowed their seeds in a new land. It had taken less than a month for Parker to come to the conclusion some good British people were needed in America to drown out the images of the bad ones. And possibly for Americans to settle in England. To erase the memories from both the Revolutionary War, when his father suffered a debilitating wound so he couldn’t work and provide for the family, and then the War of 1812, when he had been wounded and couldn’t protect his own family. Parker wrapped his arms around Violet, drawing her close, more than happy to do his part.
The next morning, they set off for Portsmouth, Parker and Violet each driving one wagon, Edgar another, and Lily taking control of the fourth. Four days later, they loaded the roses and the rest of Parker’s order onto a ship bound for America. Violet and Parker stood on deck, waving goodbye until they could no longer see the shore. Parker wound his arm around Violet’s waist as she took a final look toward England.
“How are you feeling about all this?” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck.
“Excited but a bit apprehensive. I never thought I’d be the first to leave home, and I never thought I’d be the one to leave England, even for a little while.” Violet rested her head on him.
“There’s no need for apprehension, dear Violet. I’ll take good care of you.” He brushed her riotous curls from her face. “Not that you really need my help.”
Epilogue
Twenty-Four Days Later
“Land ho!” the sailor in the crow’s nest aboard ship cried out, bringing goose bumps to Violet’s arms. America lay straight ahead. Rough weather had added a few days to the trip, but even with her fear of water, she felt safe with Parker’s arms around her. Now, she faced her next challenge. America. She could barely make out an outcropping of land on the horizon.
Parker strode up behind her and encircled her waist, and she melted into his chest. “Soon, we’ll be there, darling.”
“I’ll admit to being anxious but excited, too. We didn’t lose many roses on our journey.” She stared up at him, and he caught her lips. “Although I’m kind of sad to be leaving our honeymoon ship.”
“The honeymoon needn’t be over simply because we leave this ship,” he replied as he captured her lips again.
“But things will be different. Although I can’t wait to see McMahon Nursery and Philadelphia, I’ll be viewed as the outsider, the Englishwoman.” She placed her arms over Parker’s, hoping that between them, they could quell the butterflies in her stomach, which insisted in fluttering in perfect unison to the waves slapping the ship.
“Everyone will love you, Violet. You’re beautiful, cultured, charming, an accomplished lover . . . ” He nuzzled his head against hers.
She swatted his hand. “You will be the only one to have the knowledge of my prowess in the bedroom, silly man.”
“I certainly plan to be your only man. We should get below and begin our packing, as we’ll be disembarking by this afternoon. Perhaps you can show me again how much you’ve learned in the past few weeks.” Parker dribbled a row of kisses from her earlobe to her collarbone, and she sighed in contentment as she took his hand and led him to their chambers. A lifetime with this man would not be enough.
• • •
By mid-afternoon, all the roses were hauled on shore, along with the rest of the merchandise from the Mulberry Hill Nursery. Parker arranged for two large wagons and a hired hand to transport the merchandise and his new wife to the outskirts of Philadelphia where the greenhouse and Thomas McMahon awaited them. At least he hoped his missive to Thomas had arrived before him and the greenhouse had been emptied out in anticipation of his arrival. He’d written to his employer about all the roses, but he refrained from telling him about the Violet he was also bringing along. Not that he needed the McMahon stamp of approval, but Violet was his concern, and, right or wrong, their idyllic crossing of the Atlantic had been a kind of cocoon for their early marriage, and he didn’t want any intrusions. But intrusions were coming whether he gave advance notice or not. The docks were alive with all kinds of accents and languages, so her presence went unnoticed. But once they began heading into town, Parker noticed Violet’s stranglehold on her handkerchief.
He placed his hand over hers and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. “Everyone will love you, Violet. There’s no need to be apprehensive.”
Soon enough, they arrived at the nursery. Thomas McMahon emerged from the office when the rumbling of the wagon made their arrival apparent. Parker jumped from the wagon and latched onto Thomas’s shoulder. “Good to see you, Thomas.”
“And you as well, Parker. Did the roses survive the crossing?” Thomas glanced at the full wagon before his gaze skittered to the woman on the seat. His brow rose in question as his gaze returned to Parker, who smiled.
“In addition to the roses, Thomas, I’ve also brought to America the rose expert herself. This is Edgar Wilson’s daughter, Violet.” Parker assisted Violet in her climb from the wagon, and she smoothed her skirts. “Violet, this is my boss, Mr. McMahon.”
Thomas took hold of her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Wilson.”
He then shifted his gaze to Parker. “A word, please.” He latched onto Parker’s shoulder and led him away from Violet. “This is certainly unusual. I didn’t authorize passage for a person along with the roses.”
“I know her presence is unexpected, but please allow me to explain.” Parker grinned before returning to Violet’s side and placing an arm around her shoulders.
“Thomas, I came back with more than roses. Violet is my new wife.” His arm tightened around her.
Thomas shook his head and then extended his hand to Violet again. “So you managed to bring this brooding man to his knees, did you? Congratulations and welcome to America.”
Violet’s face brightened, and she got a true smile on her face for the first time since land had been sighted. “Thank you, sir, for your welcome.”
“I can’t wait to see what stock you’ve returned with. Mr. Jefferson has sent me several pieces of correspondence in your absence. He’s most eager to get his rose bed in place.” Thomas removed the protective hemp grain sack cloth from the shrubs and glanced at the closest roses, reaching out to touch their leaves. He nodded his approval before shifting his gaze back to Violet. “I presume you’ll want to help us deliver Mr. Jefferson’s roses?”
“If I may be involved, I’d love to go to Monticello and assist Parker in creating the bed we drew on paper tog
ether.” Violet spoke softly, as if the words would explode if she said them too loud.
Parker waited for Thomas to nod his agreement. Mr. Jefferson’s roses were what had begun this trip. It was only fitting that Violet be on site when they did the installation of the Jefferson rose bed. It was only the start of what they’d create together.
“Of course you are invited. Mr. Jefferson would love to talk to the expert about your hybridizing techniques, something we’re only beginning to understand here in the States.” Thomas took hold of her hand again. “Allow me to escort you into our greenhouse, your new home.”
Parker put up a hand to stop Thomas. “Uh, there’s one more thing, Thomas. Once we plant Mr. Jefferson’s roses, Violet and I will return to England. Violet’s work there is too important. In fact, right before we left, she got a letter from the Royal Horticultural Society inviting her to join their lecture tour. And her father, Edgar Wilson, has offered to make me a partner in his business.”
Thomas stood quietly as he processed the information. Violet searched his face and the play of emotions that were evident. Shock, resignation, amusement, and pride paraded across his features, one after the other.
He clasped Parker’s shoulder. “Well done, Parker. I will miss you, but it’s time I took the reins of the business anyway. Since Father died, you’ve been running things here more than me, but you’ve been a great teacher. McMahon Nursery will carry on, especially now we’ll have a good friend at the finest nursery in England.”
Violet breathed a sigh of relief. And then a sigh of excitement. She would get to meet Mr. Jefferson, help plant the rose bed she and Parker had designed together, and then they’d head back to England to begin a new chapter in her life. She’d tour England a bit as a lecturer, she’d continue her experiments, and hopefully, she and Parker would raise some hybrid children of their own in the coming years. Life didn’t get much better than this.
