Wolferton ushered her to his bed where she removed the unnecessary jacket. Their oriental kaftans rested on a chair ready for use…eventually. Halbert had thought of everything.
Wolferton’s amazement at the desire he held for this woman grew stronger by the moment. Take it slow, old chap. Bloody hell, he was a hungry man, but he paced himself, careful to remember that Jaclyn was a maiden not experienced with men and bed sport. Grateful for that biological fact, his body was anxious to show her the other side of heaven. The thought of causing her brief pain, though a necessity, did not sit well for him.
Chapter Sixty-Four
At Long Last—Happily Ever After
Jaclyn had her right elbow under her head as she lay on her side. The ravenous response to his touch confused and amazed her. She patted the bed for him to join her. Wolferton reclined in a nearby chair and sipped the last bit of his cognac, his full arousal too obvious, too intimate, and too searing. She enjoyed how his eyes glazed over her body, first from her toes and then up her legs, where he stopped for a moment. At the arch of his brows at her, she smiled. The scorch behind those eyes moved upward to her waist, her breasts, and her throat. That lustful look might just have well been his hands touching every inch of her.
Wolferton stopped. He arose and lay alongside her. She sensed he didn’t feel fulfilled and mentally prepared for his physical entry remembering it could hurt a bit, but she also trusted him and his gentleness.
“I look at you like this, hair in wild disarray, and realize I’m a lucky man. The curves of your body are an allure I await seeing every day for the rest of my life. I want to embed this vision in my mind.”
Jaclyn longed for more of his potent, drugging kisses. Just the touch of them was a delicious sensation. The glint of his furry chest held a curiosity for her anxious fingers. As they wandered, she sensed the thrill of his firm rod-like member and that she could do this to him with a single touch was a powerful sensation.
The stroke of his fingers on her bare skin scorched like a lightning bolt. Shivers of delight followed his continued exploration. The degree to which she responded to him stunned her. Jaclyn opened her arms to him. Wolferton gathered her in a strong embrace, placed Jaclyn on her back, and soon covered her with his weight. Uncontrolled passion, hungry desire, and a need to experience ecstasy again spiraled through her. Her untried body still craved his magical hands, but it was his masculine member that wielded the curiosity of the best yet to come. The heat of his torso journeyed hers in further discovery that ignited every place it touched. Passion inched through Jaclyn’s veins. Dormant sensuality started to peak. A tremor inside heated her, and liquid pooled between her legs. The pit of her stomach spiraled into a wild swirl. She yielded herself to him with reckless abandon, her body aching for his touch.
****
Wolferton measured her responses and it was time for him to insert his manhood into her. He kept his voice soft and whispered, “Dammit, I don’t want to hurt you.” He murmured those words time and time again. “Keep your gaze locked on mine. It may sting a little, but then you’ll experience paradise again, like before, with my fingers.”
He smothered her lips with demanding mastery, showering her with wet kisses while his member inched closer, teasing, searching, and hungering for its mate.
She wrapped her arms around him like a woman about to drown, hanging on for dear life, restricting him somewhat. Wolferton continued with a calm voice to soothe her. He withdrew. He centered himself, acknowledging the fear on her face. “Love, remember the ecstasy you experienced? It will be again. Trust me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then felt her quiver. “Think a pleasant thought. We’re together on puffy clouds and the warm winds catch our attention. It feels like an embrace to our bodies. You’re touch on my body ignites my passion and my kiss—this kiss, enflames you.”
The dreamy, wondrous smile crossed her face and at that moment, he gently pressed at her maidenhead. She startled at the intrusion, gasped, and wide eyes questioned. He hated himself for the pain inflicted. Ever more gentle, he penetrated inch by slow inch, until she calmed. Another smile emerged, for he now brushed his lips to her breasts, licked her nipples to proud points, and then laved at her neck hungrily. As her passion became aroused, his grew stronger, harder, and demanding. He now rolled his cock inside her to touch wet, hot walls of her sex core. Her arching, eager response pleased him. He showered her mouth with wild kisses, encouraged her again to arch her body, and fully accept his engorged member even further.
“I’ll never have enough of you, Jaclyn. Do you like how this feels?”
“It’s glorious,” she answered in a hurried reply. “I want more.”
“And more I shall give you, my darling wife.”
Sensing her increasing ardor, he thrust with more force until she bucked underneath him. Wolferton cast his gaze to his cock as it sank into her body only to re-emerge slick with her hot juices. After re-entering, Jaclyn tightened around him again. Mercy, he didn’t want to leave such sizzling, marvelous heat. He slipped slowly—painstakingly so—out of her, so his cock touched every inch of her hallowed walls. A bright flame of desire sparkled again in her magical eyes.
Jaclyn’s hands scratched his back, and a soul-drenching rhythm ignited. An awesome tide of passion raced through both while the world spun on its axis and comets collided in a burst of meteor fire. She shattered first, moaning with erotic pleasure. Music to his ears, Wolferton followed with a roar, and then welcomed exhaustion as he collapsed upon her. Conscious of his weight, he moved to the side and showered her with kisses, which she returned time and time again.
The warmth of her naked body to his was more than any man could want. He pulled the counterpane over them and whispered, “What will you write in your journal tonight? I’d like to read it.” He grinned and touched her cheek.
“Oh, I will not be writing in it ever again, husband. For I now have you and I will not need reminders of our passion. I will simply allow you to kindle my fires, so to speak.” Her voice held a sultry invitation, which he enjoyed.
“You won’t have to try hard, my love. I’m kindled already. You did say you wanted children. Will a dozen suffice?”
For which he received a gentle punch. “If you think you’re up to it. I’m still in a delicious daze. Would you like to try again, Your Grace?”
Then his voice teased, “I love a challenge. Would you like to beg me to make you scream my name again? It arouses me even more.”
He raised his head and growled like a preening red wolf.
Epilogue
Wolferton enjoyed the familial scene played out in front of him. The warm morning breeze filtered through the stone veranda highlighting his wife’s hair, disturbing a curl or two, and brought back memories of the night before when they made love for several hours to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary. His passion never ceased. The most fortunate of men, she still responded to his advances with the eagerness of a first night lover. Where had the time gone?
Because Jaclyn did have an interest for most things Turkish, he decided to surprise her with a visit to Pera, Turkey, outside of Istanbul. They were at his favorite hotel where surprisingly the staff remembered him.
He enjoyed staring at his wife, even after the years of their marriage. She gazed at him and that smile he so loved told a story as joy bubbled in her laughter as she played games with their two children and the governess. Hiding behind bushes and then ambushing their mother who begged for mercy. Jaclyn was their pretend prisoner and the children were pirates who demanded ransom.
The Marquess was the captain and little Lady Camilla enjoyed the role of co-captain. Wolferton laughed contentedly at their antics, but the dreamy expression on his wife’s face pleased him. The four-year old boy, and the three-year-old girl, were busy searching out corners to hide and tease the nurse they so cherished. Then when she pretended to cry, both stomped out and ran into her arms.
Withdrawing from the embrace, Little R
adolf ran to his father and Camilla embraced her mother. “I set you free, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, my darling. You were gentle. Come taste the baklava and honey-drenched desserts. They are as sweet as you are.”
His son wore his toy sword on his belt, and having spied the tin soldiers on the table, pretended he was the commandant of the tin soldiers. “Papa, come play. I’ll lead and you can follow me.” Such a joyous grin escaped as the boy brandished his sword.
Wolferton couldn’t be happier, for Jaclyn was in a family way again. In three days time, they would leave for England. The new addition to the family was unexpected and Wolferton wanted to be home where he could assure she would get the best medical care.
Under a tent, the breeze cooled. Wolferton reached to his wife and held her hand. He had found his peace at last. “I love you, my dearest,” he whispered with a bold grand smile. “I’ve never been happier, but I worry about our trip home.”
“Posh, I’m as strong as a…red wolf,” she joked.
Out of the corner of his eye, a boy with dark red hair and blue eyes, about ten or eleven years old, he guessed, stood in the distance holding on to his mother’s hand. When the woman turned, he thought he recognized Yasmin. He blinked and the pair disappeared. He left it as a figment of his imagination and the memories of the lovely country. Of course, the mother and boy weren’t there. Yet, a strange sensation crept up his spine. He determined nothing would disturb their happiness and took another sip of a lemonade liqueur.
This place in Turkey held many memories—good and bad. His mind played tricks on him, but he dismissed it as a wayward thought of his past. Wolferton would not allow anything, or anyone, to threaten his happiness with his wife and children.
Yet, if he cared to admit it, he held a major curiosity about the little boy. To him, Turkey remained a country of wonder, mystery, and strange happenings. He learned a long time ago not to seek answers to questions that weren’t asked.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Dear Readers:
This novel was a daring departure for me to move from my comfort zone of traditional Regency Romance into the genre of Regency Fantasy Supernatural. An eighth of the way into the book, I woke up one night, and saw the vision of the Guardians—the red wolf and the archangel. It presented endless possibilities and I followed where it led me.
However, the main thrust of the story is about the romance between two unlikely people, each yearning for the other, who wanted to believe in their predestined love and were tested by circumstances, legends, and fate. I do hope you enjoy the read as I did the authorship.
The Red Wolf
About the research on the red wolf, (binomial name: canis rufus), it is one of two species of wolves in North America, the other being the gray wolf, (canis lupus). As their name suggests, red wolves are known for the characteristic reddish color of their fur most apparent behind the ears and along the neck and legs but are mostly brown and buff colored with some black along their backs. Intermediate in size to gray wolves and coyotes, the average adult red wolf weighs 45-80 pounds, stands about twenty-six inches at the shoulder and is about four feet long from the tip of the nose to the end of the tail. Red wolves are social animals that live in packs consisting of a breeding adult pair and their offspring of different years, typically five to eight animals. They are most active at dusk and dawn and are elusive and avoid humans and human activity.
They are considered an endangered species in the United States, mostly on the East Coast in the Carolinas to Florida, and as far north as Pennsylvania. They are smaller than a gray wolf, dens in dead tree trunks, and are wickedly clever. Wildlife enthusiasts are concerned that because of their small numbers, they are breeding with coyotes, and a new species is evolving. Conservationists are trying to save the species from extinction by breeding them in captivity and reintroducing them to the wild and sterilizing territorial coyotes. An estimated fifty to seventy-five red wolves roam the wilds of northeastern North Carolina, and about two hundred comprise the captive breeding program. The red wolves are beautiful with blue or amber “bedroom” eyes. Who’s to say human intervention is good or not?
In a search online, it appears the red wolf was discovered by the Europeans when they reached the eastern shores. Of course, they were hunted until brought to the edge of extinction. A species of gray wolves populated Welsh and European territories. Around 950 AC, kings demanded wolf skins as tribute instead of gold or silver. Punishments for crimes required an annual income of wolf tongues. The war between humans and wolves raged on until near extinction around the time of Henry VII (1485-1509). Bounties remained in Europe until the nineteenth century. Wolves were a threat to livestock and people, dug up graves for food, and terrorized the human population.
The survivors are a hearty species of gray wolf living in the Russian territories. They started reintroducing wolves to Europe (around Germany) in 1999.
In the 1800s—the period of my novel—wolves would have been rare, and red wolves would be indigenous to America and have the reputation of being more of a survivor than a predator or threat to humans. They’re carnivores but dine on small rodents rather than livestock.
It is my author hope that a small picture of this splendiferous creature will appear on the cover along with my Duke of Wolferton and possibly the Guardians. Of course, this is too much to ask but I will try.
The Black Rose
The initial research early this year for the Turkish Halfeti Rose appeared to verify that Halfeti, Turkey was the only place in the world where these unusual roses prospered. The pitch-black rose appeals to women because of its rarity, and also its association with darkness. It depends on whether you seek the dark side of the rose in its morbidity or the light side in its magic.
We are told these roses appear black to the naked eye and are grown only in small quantities in the village of Halfeti, Turkey, which our hero, Wolferton, Duke of Wolferton, visited on occasion. Water that seeps in from the Euphrates River is noted for its unique pH level. On a first viewing, the rose is black unless one takes a magnifying glass to inspect it. Black roses aren’t a natural variation that you can purchase from your local nursery; they’re much more elusive and expensive than that.
Sometimes called black roses, they are also known as the Turkish Halfeti Rose, Arab Bride, or Arab Beauty, and bloom in small numbers.
This unique rose is extremely rare and strangely beautiful. It doesn’t bloom in petals of ebony immediately, however. The rose blossoms a dark red, but this scarlet shade fades to black as the summer progresses. While it is claimed the Turkish Halfeti Rose is only grown in this very specific part of the world, its limited availability wasn’t immediately known until the residents of Halfeti were forced to relocate. If you wish to know more about it, visit my website at: http://www. authorsandramasters.com and click on the Blog section in the dashboard about the black rose.
Numerology & Tarot Card Reading
I depended heavily on the knowledge of two critique partners with regard to numerology, and one critique partner for numerology and tarot card reading. While I’ve had tarot card readings, it is quite another aspect to write about it. Those two partners are mentioned in the Acknowledgment section. But the numbers and cards play a significant part in the story and were rewritten to reflect just enough information for the average reader to be aware of the basics, and for a student of the metaphysical to approve the explanation.
Waterloo and Wellington 1815
Useless slaughter led by a Napoleon in absolute disregard of the value of life disgusted many a military man. Hundreds of thousands died where the French dictator sowed the seeds of destruction for his ego-maniacal cause.
The war was between the First French Empire of Napoleon Bonaparte and the Alliance of the Seventh Coalition, under the main allied commanders, the Duke of Wellington and General von Blucher of the German States. Many do not know that the actual battle of Waterloo wasn’t in Waterloo, but three miles south of the to
wn in two of the villages along the Mont Saint Jean Ridge. It is not commonly known that Wellington may have been British, but the army was multi-national (Irish, Welsh, and Scottish.) Over one half of his forces came from German states, with Dutch and Belgian soldiers as well. Wellington’s army consisted of more than 50,000 Prussians under Marshal Gebhard Leberecht von Blucher who arrived on the battlefield in late afternoon and turned the tide of the fight to victory.
And if all of this is more information than you cared to know, I apologize, but do hope you understand the vast amount of research it involved.
SANDRA MASTERS
http://www.authorsandramasters.com
[email protected]
I enjoy hearing from my readers. Feel free to contact me.
As to the foreword for future works-in-process, I’m working on a trilogy novella stand-alone series entitled, Masquerade where each book features a couple at the masked ball.
Work also progresses on another trilogy series, Saints, Sinners and Scoundrels about broken, brazen, brooding men and the women who come to love them.
If you enjoyed The BLUE-EYED BLACK-HEARTED DUKE, Book Six, in The Duke Series, check out Sandra Masters’ other five books.
Book One: ONCE UPON A DUKE
Serena, an artist and widow, has no desire for another husband. When she meets Geoffrey Austen, attraction sizzles to a scorch. Stolen days and nights ignite forbidden passion. Geoffrey asks Serena to become his mistress, but she wants commitment, love, and marriage, not an affair with a notorious rake.
Geoffrey realizes Serena might be the one woman who can care for his tortured soul, and maybe release his demons. The magic they shared is shattered when he learns she’s been forced into betrothal with another and held captive. He vows to save her even at the cost of his own life.
Will Geoffrey’s gallantry prove he truly loves Serena?
The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke Page 31
