Wildwood Flower

by Dayna Quince

  “Worship me after. I want to be yours in every way possible. Please Christopher.” She was melting, her bones turning to heavy syrup as he took her breast again, sucking and licking, teasing and then soothing. He moved to the other. Charlotte tried to find more words of protest, but her thoughts had scattered. Perhaps a little bit of worshiping could be tolerated. She bucked her hips against him, riding the firm length of him, coating him with her slickness, and taunting herself. She ached with need, her core throbbing.

  His hips moved in response, knowing exactly how to torture her, to drive her mad with lust.

  “Christopher!” she cried.

  He chuckled, low and husky. “My how impatient you are.” He claimed her mouth again. Charlotte was about to protest, but he shifted her, aligning their bodies. He slowly thrust into her, the blunt head of his erection parting her.

  She held her breath, more excited than afraid. She’d waited for this moment eagerly. Her body stretched around him. He felt larger and harder the farther he drove. He paused, withdrawing a little, then returning. More stretching. She expected the tightness and was prepared for pain. Needle-like tingles began, pricking, stinging. He backed out and returned as he had before, going further. The tingles turned to a searing, steady pain. She gasped.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte.” He huffed. His back was rigid stone under her hands. He was being so careful, trying his best to remain slow and controlled.

  It was making it worse.

  “Faster, Christopher,” she urged. She kissed his shoulder, her hands scoring his back. She needed him to move more. This blazing purgatory of pain was unbearable.

  He retreated again and surged forward. She couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her, but he kept going, back and forth, and miraculously, the pain eased. The stinging ebbed, replaced by heat and friction. She relaxed into his hold.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She gasped. It was oddly wonderful. He rocked against her, the grinding of his hips against her mons sending shoots of lovely pleasure through her body. She helped them grow, meeting his thrust with her own.

  “Yes, Charlotte.” He moaned. He slid a hand under her bottom and tilted her hips more. The effect was instant bliss.

  She held him tightly, running her hands over his shifting back. She would never grow tired of touching him. There was something so primal about their joining. She felt connected to him and to life in a new way. Together they would make new life, a piece of her and a piece of him.

  Her love surged inside her, and with it came a release so powerful she sobbed, tears coming unbidden, scalding her lashes and cheeks. Her legs shook, her body shattered. She came apart, and then piece by piece fell back together again, remade, reborn as a new Charlotte, a stronger Charlotte.

  He held her tightly, groaning her name. He reached his climax, slowing. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. She was afraid to let him see her tears. He might mistake them for sadness or pain. She turned her head side to side to wipe her face, but he caught her. He held her face.

  “Oh, Charlotte.” He moved away from her, holding her to him and rocking her. “I’m so sorry. I promise it will get better with time. I thought you were enjoying it. I’m such a—”

  “Stop.” Charlotte laughed.

  He looked down at her. She couldn’t hide the fresh crop of tears that rolled down her cheeks.

  She kissed his nose. The poor man looked devastated.

  “I loved every minute of it. I love you.”

  “But…but you’re crying.”

  “Happy tears. I’m happy. I’ve got everything I could possibly want.”

  His whole face changed. He blinked, tormented eyes glowed fiery blue. Thunder rumbled over them, lighting flashed, white and blinding. He never looked away from her.

  “Thor…n.”

  He smiled slowly. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name like that.”

  “I’m surprised you remember.”

  “I remember everything about you since the moment I first saw you,” he confessed.

  “I suppose I must admit that when we first met, I drew some parallels between you and a certain god of thunder.”

  His smile widened to a grin. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I was reading a lot of Norse mythology. It happens.” She shrugged one shoulder. She pressed closer to his body, enjoying the slippery way their sweaty skin moved together.

  “I wouldn’t mind if you called me Thor. In private, of course. Particularly when we’re in bed.”

  She giggled. His hands wandered over her back and bottom. She sighed pleasantly.

  “If you insist.”

  “I love you, Charlotte.” He grew somber.

  Her heart skipped, his words settling into her bones, never to be forgotten, never to be doubted.

  “I love you.” She lightly touched her lips to his. It wasn’t a kiss to ignite passion, just a gentle brush. “I dreamed that one day Thor would rescue me, but you’re better than Thor.”

  “I am?”

  “You didn’t just rescue me, you showed me how to rescue myself.”

  He pulled her closer. She could feel his heart beating against her breastbone. “I wish I could have done it sooner. I should have tossed you over my shoulder that first day in the meadow and gone straight back to the boat.”

  “No regrets.” Charlotte smoothed his hair. “We’re together now, for better or worse.”

  Epilogue

  November 10th 1823

  Dear Rose,

  You’ll be relieved to know we made it to New York! I cannot begin to describe this city. It is nothing like London. We have made it to Christopher’s family farm. He once described the land as aggressive but I must disagree. It is so beautiful it will take your breath away. The trees look like they are on fire. The colors of the leaves are so vibrant and varied in red, yellow, orange, and gold. If I had any talent for painting, I would try to recreate it. I wish you could see it. I truly do.

  I’ve met his family and though he gave sufficient warning, I find them lovely but quite loud. I’m still growing used to them. They were speechless when Christopher introduced me. He had quite a laugh at their expense. They didn’t believe him at first. His brother accused me of being a hired actress! I took no insult, because it was apparent he was only teasing his older brother, a family dynamic I shall have to get used to. They are full of life, these New Yorkers. I hope to hear from you soon.

  * * *

  Your friend,

  Charlotte Thorn

  Charlotte set down her quill and put on the fur-lined cloak Christine, her new sister in law, had purchased for her. They were going shopping. Charlotte’s wardrobe was deemed unforgivably small. Mrs. Thorn, Angela, she insisted Charlotte call her, had made the sly comment that they should purchase gowns with room to grow, her gaze darting to Charlottes mid-section. Charlotte had managed to hide her smile. She wasn’t certain yet, it was far too early to know, but since they set out from England she hadn’t had her courses. She could only hope that new life had taken root, but for now she was enjoying her time with Christopher. Her memories of Shelding Manor faded more every day, replaced with moments of laughter, fierce debates about politics with Christopher’s young brothers, and quiet moments with Christopher’s father. He was a quiet man, a man at peace. Charlotte hoped Christopher could see the pride that shone in his father’s eyes every time he looked at him.

  Christopher spoke frequently of their struggles when he was a boy, but there was no evidence of it today. She still had so much to learn about him and about her new home, but every day was a revelation.

  She hurried from their shared room, eager to spend time with her new family. His mother and sister waited in the family parlor. Charlotte could hear them as she rounded the corner. She slowed, they were talking, and she didn’t want to intrude on a private conversation.

  “I saw this bonnet in the milliner’s yesterday. She must try it on. It’s perfect for her
, I tell you. It has darling little blue jays on the rim. And I want to take her down the south road where the trees are particularly lovely.”

  “Yes dear, but don’t wear her down.” Angela laughed.

  “I’ve been surrounded by brothers, and now I have a sister. I’m going to enjoy it to the fullest before she realises how insane this family is and runs away.”

  Charlotte pressed back against the wall, biting her knuckle to keep from laughing. She wasn’t going anywhere. She closed her eyes, absorbing the warm feeling inside her. She had a sister, and brothers, and in another four months she would have a niece or nephew. Her life was once empty of all these things. Now she was ready to burst from the fullness of her heart. She took a deep breath, harnessing her wild, happy emotions. It wouldn’t do to enter with tears in her eyes, even if they were happy tears.

  She turned the corner, smiling at her new sister and mother-in-law. “Good afternoon, Christine, Angela.”

  They greeted her in return, Christine looping her arm through Charlotte’s. “We must be off, mother, but I promise we won’t be too long.”

  “Enjoy yourselves.” Angela beamed at them.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Charlotte asked.

  “Go on without me. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had an afternoon to myself.” Angela sat and picked up her knitting, a little bootie beginning to take shape.

  Christine turned her to the doorway and leaned close. “Before you know it, she’ll have knitted an entire wardrobe for our future children before they’re conceived.”

  Charlotte looked away to hide her blush. “She’s just excited.”

  “Don’t I know it. She’s been pestering us for grandchildren since I turned eighteen,” Christine sighed.

  Charlotte examined her new sister. She had the same coloring as her brother. All the children took after their father, who was still handsome even though most of his blonde hair had turned white. But Christine carried herself like her mother, strong yet graceful. Her long, sooty lashes framed arresting blue eyes, just like her brother’s. Charlotte wondered what their children would look like. Longing filled her. In her head, she prayed her suspicions were true, and that she’d soon have a son or daughter of her own with those same eyes.

  They entered the hall just as the front door opened and Christopher entered.

  “Where are the two of you off to?” He smiled, his eyes lingering on Charlotte and his smile warming.

  Christine stepped aside. “We’re going shopping. I won’t have you steal her away, but I know how newlyweds are, so I will give you five minutes, and then I expect to see Charlotte in the drive.” Christine pointed a finger at her brother in warning.

  He shooed Christine out the door and closed it, returning to Charlotte’s side. Charlotte giggled as his arms came around her.

  “We are not alone in this hall,” Charlotte warned.

  “Were alone enough for one kiss.”

  Butterflies danced inside Charlotte’s chest. It was wrong to be this happy, wasn’t it? Tears pricked her eyes.

  Christopher pulled away, tipping up her chin. “Why are you sad?”

  “I am not sad.” Charlotte smoothed the lines between his brows. “These are tears of happiness. I have you and I have a new family. I am more blessed than I could ever ask for. And it is all because of you. I love you.” She took a shuddering breath, and his arms tightened around her. As she stared up at him, all her joy and love poured from her, wave upon crashing wave. He stared back at her, his eyes growing brighter. He took a shaky breath. “I am glad, Charlotte, because I love you, and there is nothing in this world more important to me than your happiness.”

  “Then kiss me.” She arched up on her toes, sifting her fingers into his tawny wind-swept hair.

  He grinned. “With pleasure.”

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  About the Author

  Dayna Quince was only fourteen when she developed a serious addiction to romance novels. What began as an innocent desire to read became an all-out obsession with the romance genre. She gave book reports on romance novels, got in trouble for reading during lectures, and would rather spend her time reading than attending high school parties. After all, high school boys could not compete with the likes of Stephanie Laurens Devil Cynster. After getting her first job, her addiction only got worse. She now had her own money to spend and a car to get to Barnes and Noble as frequently as she wanted. She managed to maintain a somewhat normal life, marrying her high school boyfriend who was aware he was competing with fictional men for her attention. Dayna soon began writing her own romance novels, inspired by her love for all things romance. Dayna and her husband live in Southern California with their two children and three fur babies. Dayna is happiest at home where she can be with her family and write to her heart’s content.

  For more information about Dayna, please visit her website, “like” Dayna on Facebook and follow her on Twitter or Instagram. Sign up for Dayna’s newsletter to be notified about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at daynaquince@gmail.com.

  Also by Dayna Quince

  The Fated for Love Series:

  Mine, All Mine

  Sweet Torture

  Storm on the Horizon

  To Love, Honor, and Obey

  Desperate and Daring Series:

  Desperate for a Duke

  Belle of the Ball

  Just One Kiss

  Anything But Innocent

  An Unconventional Innocent

  Mad About You

  Withered Rose

  Wildwood Flower

  An Undesirable Duke

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