Authors: t
Eyes glittering with fervor, Christopher gritted, “En garde,” seconds before he lunged at André, trying to catch him unawares.
André, caught off guard by his suddenness barely parried his blow. His left arm tucked behind his back, he lunged in turn, both men dancing around each other with studied precision.
Christopher drew first blood, when he got past André’s defense and nicked his upper arm.
A complacent smirk parted his full lips, when a bright blossom of blood started to soak the whiteness of the shirt.
Until that moment André had merely toyed with the younger man, his mind not completely on the task at hand. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from hissing against the stinging pain. Fury pumped adrenaline through his veins. It gave him a sudden spurt of energy that blurred the need to go easy on the young fool. Apparently, first blood was not enough for him.
His eyes narrowed. He’d hoped to tire the young fop, but apparently he was in better shape than he had anticipated. However, he noticed that Christopher had abandoned some of his earlier swagger. Encouraged, he pressed his opponent by wielding his saber in a rapid exchange if intricate maneuvers.
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With André bearing down on him at a furious pace, Christopher lost his rhythm. Sweat dotted his forehead as he struggled to parry. And suddenly he slipped on some wet leaves.
André did not think twice. He leaned in and with a twist of his saber he disarmed him.
To add insult to injury, he knocked him to the ground. His mouth set into a grim line, he nicked his neck with a ceremonial cut that was paramount to a win. “My honor is satisfied, Salisbury.” He bowed and walked away.
“Well done, André.” Trevor beamed with pride. “There was a moment, when I had my doubts about your ability. I see the young pup is scrambling to get out of here.” He grinned a bit lopsided, when André merely snorted.
The stillness of the early morning was broken by the sound of approaching hooves. The men exchanged glances, before they made a mad dash for the waiting carriage. André took the reins. “Let’s get out of here, lest we are arrested for unlawful fighting.”
A lone rider charged around the bend, leaning low over his mount. He rode as if the devil incarnate were after him. It took all of André’s strength to keep his team from bolting.
André looked aghast at Trevor. “Bloody hell, it’s Stormy. How did she know where to come?”
Trevor allowed himself a deprecating snort. “Never underestimate my daughter. But seeing that she is dressed like a boy, you had better get her into the carriage without delay.”
André stopped the carriage and jumped out to catch Stormy in his outstretched arms. He kissed her in full view of her father. “I am all right, love. I told you I would win.” Not alluding to her unconventional manner of dress, he simply said, “Let’s get you home, before you catch cold.”
Stormy wriggled out of his embrace to spear him with a heated look. “Don’t ever fob me off by trying to distract me. You, sir, need to have this wound tended to. I can do that, while you guide the carriage. Father won’t mind riding home on my mount.”
Trevor rolled his eyes at André that said more than words as he reached for the reins of the horse Stormy had been riding. “You had better listen to her, André. She can be rather hard headed that way.” He chuckled as he vaulted into the saddle and was gone before André had hustled Stormy into the carriage.
Once inside, he dragged her into his embrace. His mouth swooped down to capture her lips, while his hands caressed the underside of her breasts. “You never cease to amaze me. You turn my insides to liquid fire.”
She tried to protest that his arm needed attention, but he wouldn’t let her come to word.
Trying to make him see reason, her hand accidentally brushed against the front of his trousers.
The moment she came in contact with his arousal, she forgot all about his wound.
Her whole being focused on the way he plied her lips with his. How his tongue plundered the sweetness of her mouth. She felt his fingers on the front of her jacket, hardly surprised at his skill to undo the tiny buttons.
Cool air whispered across her small breasts as they spilled out into his waiting hand. She offered them freely to him. Moaned, when he bent his dark head to nuzzle each in turn.
She was vaguely aware that he muttered that they needed to go, heard his labored breath and marveled at the passion reflected in his eyes. It burned to her soul. Without conscious thought she suddenly straddled his lap. “Just let me feel you,” she whispered, wriggling against his hardness, tensing against the tightness in her loins, the dampness pooling low in her abdomen. God, she wanted him inside her now. She couldn’t wait. Her mouth opened over his, her small tongue slid inside and started a mating dance of her own.
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André was utterly lost to the sensation of her damp heat pressing against the front of his trousers. He feared that his arousal would pop the buttons at any moment. His mind decried his actions, but his body urged him to forget convention.
He pulled the curtains to give them a modicum of privacy. They were all hands and legs, breathing hard while they struggled to free each other from their confining garments. He sucked in a harsh breath, when he looked at her flushed face, her breasts his for the taking and her smooth thighs straddling his lap, opening her to him in a most tempting way. How could a man resist?
“You look a wanton, madam, but it is a most enticing sight. When we are married, I won’t let you out of bed for days.” He pushed into her in one sharp stroke, reveling in her gasp of pleasure.
Stormy’s damp heat clenched around his arousal the moment he impaled himself. She screamed her release into his mouth, riding him with a furor that caused him to lose his control.
It was over in a few strokes, but they both sighed with contentment.
André kissed her deeply, then set her away. “I’m sorry it was over so quickly. I would like to make it up to you by making slow love to you again in a few minutes, but we have to be off. Christ, we’ll have to think of a good excuse why we took so long getting back.”
André adjusted his clothes in record time, but Stormy was still struggling with her jacket, when he slapped the reins across the horses’ backs.
They’d only driven a few yards, when Stormy gasped. “Your arm! I need to put a bandage on your arm.”
He looked at his arm, hardly surprised that it still oozed after their heated lovemaking.
“Well, do the best you can. We can’t tarry any longer.”
When they arrived at the Cormac apartments, Trevor and Annemarie watched them from behind the curtains. He glanced at his wife. “Were we ever this young and needy?”
Her hand stole to his semi-erection as she hugged him from behind. “We aren’t old yet.
Besides, what do you call the episode that played out in the library of the Duke of Wessex? It couldn’t have been more daring, if we tried. No one expects us to still be passionate about each other. We can make love whenever we want.”
Trevor cast a questioning brow at her, a smile tugging at his sculpted mouth. “Is that an invitation, madam?”
A devilish glint lit Annemarie’s sea-green eyes, but she wisely danced out of his reach.
She giggled. “Later. We can pretend to need a nap. But right now we need to see to André’s arm and allow Stormy to get into some clothing.”
Everyone gathered half an hour later in the morning room to share breakfast. Stormy looked charming in a pale blue muslin dress, while André wore a shirt borrowed from Trevor.
“This is such a delight,” Marry exclaimed. “And since we are all together, may I inquire the date you have set for the wedding?”
For a moment a stunned silence reigned in the room. She looked aghast. “Have I said anything untoward? I meant no harm.”
Stormy jumped up from her chair and ran to her great-grandmother to give her a big hug.
“I am so glad you brought that up, grandmamma.” She straightened, her chin tilted at a challenging angle. “I’ve never wanted a big wedding. All I ever wanted was someone to love, someone like Mama had found.” She went to stand next to André. “I think I have found that man and I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary. If it is all right by all of you, I would like to have a simple ceremony, just among family and a few friends.”
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André half rose from his chair, his blue eyes alight with wonder. He grasped her hand and kissed it. “I believe I still have a few favors coming to me. If everyone agrees, I will apply for a special license and we can be married by the end of the week.”
Annemarie started to protest, but one look at Trevor and she knew what he was thinking.
The slight shake of his head said it all. They were both aware that André and Stormy were attracted to each other in the same way as they had been. Maybe a grandchild was already in the making. She made a becoming moué intended solely for her husband.
Marry clapped her hands in approval. “We could have the ceremony right here, if you like?”
Trevor shook his head. “My parents and brother would never forgive us, if we didn’t make use of the family chapel at my parents’ London estate.”
“In that case, I suggest you pay your parents a visit and we send a messenger to Thomas, so he and the family can pack up and come here.”
André slapped his forehead. “I also need to get word to Sir George Fitzsimmons. He is residing at Greenbriar and seeing to restoring some of the chaos there for me.”
The conversation quickly touched on the state of Greenbriar and the morning slipped away.
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Even though there were over one hundred invited guests crowding the family chapel of the Mowbray estate, it was considered a small affair by London standards.
Matthew Hutton, the current Archbishop of Canterbury graciously consented to conduct the nuptials. He stood arrayed in robes of white and red before an altar bedecked with pink roses, waiting for the bride to approach at her father’s arm.
Stormy’s heart fluttered like a frightened dove in her chest as she entered the elegant chapel. Dressed in a billowing gown of white tulle over silk with a shoulder-length veil, she looked ethereal … more like a fairy princess than the tomboy lurking beneath all that finery.
Trevor felt her tremble beneath his hand covering hers. He leaned over to speak softly into her ear. “Put your apprehension aside and look ahead. Your groom is trying to catch your eye.”
Stormy raised her head … and her eyes found André’s and the world around her stopped to exist. Her lips parted into a smile, and she saw him smiling in return. It took an all our effort not to break away from her father and run to him. He was her destiny, the love of her life.
The ceremony passed in a blur of words and emotions. Stormy answered automatically, glad that her arm rested on André’s, for he squeezed her hand reassuringly every few minutes.
She did not dare take a deep breath again until they walked out into the sunshine, where the guests had formed a corridor for them to pass through. Rose petals were strewn along the path that led into the formal dining room.
Stormy’s face fell a little, when she spied the elaborate table settings of fine china and gleaming silver. “Will this day never end?” she mumbled in an aside to André.
Pressing her arm against his side, he chuckled. “One would think you are an unhappy bride. Instead of worrying about the few hours expected of us to play their little games, think of the night ahead. I have a carriage waiting at the side entrance. When dinner is over and we have danced the first dance, I will whirl you over to the door leading to the terrace. Everyone will assume I am trying to steal a kiss, but instead I will steal my bride and carry her off to places unknown.”
Stormy’s mood brightened immediately. “You are as devious as I had pegged you from the moment we met.”
True to his word, André whirled her once around the dance floor, before he guided her toward the door leading to the terrace. A murmur of approval from the guests followed them out.
With a quick glance over his shoulder he scooped her into his arms and rushed down the shallow steps, where his carriage stood waiting. The driver held the door open and André jostled his bride inside. “Hurry, my good man before anyone gets wise to my scheme. Take us to my apartments on a roundabout way.”
“I can’t wait to take you into my arms and slowly undress you,” he murmured heatedly as he playfully nipped her earlobe.
“That makes two of us. But do you think someone might come looking for us?”
“It won’t matter. My domestics have strict orders to deny our presence.”
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The roundabout way took a good half hour at which time Stormy could barely contain herself. “Another moment and I will forget my good intentions and straddle you like a strumpet.”
“Don’t tell me such things, or I will take you up on that offer.”
They hurried up the stairs to the second floor of his apartment, barely acknowledging the good wishes of Mr. and Mrs. Billings, who waited in the foyer.
Stormy’s breath hitched, when André opened the door to reveal a large four poster bed, strewn with pink and white rose petals, candles scenting the air. He picked her up and carried her inside.
“Welcome to your honeymoon suite, Countess de Villeneuve.”
He set her down gently, amazed when she turned to snuggle against his hard chest.
Touched, he tipped her chin up with one long finger and looked deeply into her eyes. “Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.”
Tears of joy gathered in Stormy’s eyes, but André quickly kissed them away. He continued with kisses to the hollow of her shoulder, while he deftly undid the buttons at the back of her dress.