Wildblossom

by Wright, Cynthia

  "Where shall we start, huh, Viv?" Bart was saying in a coarse tone. "Up here, on the balcony?" He jerked the tie that bound her wrists, bringing her along with him up the steps. Vivian's eyes were closed and she was sobbing through the gag.

  On the top step, to Shelby's stunned disbelief, he held the flame of the lamp to the stair rail that ran the length of the balcony. Slowly the fire began to catch and spread, illuminating the centuries-old portraits of Andrew and Micheline and their family.

  "You like that fire?" he asked Viv. "Remember the night your family died—how they screamed—"

  "That's it, you bastard," Shelby muttered to herself. Leaning around the doorway, she raised the rifle to rest in the hollow of her shoulder. However, the moment she cocked the hammer, Bart's head jerked up. He went for his own pistol, all the while searching the fire-illumined shadows for his enemy.

  Shelby's heart thudded. Why doesn't he stand still? she thought wildly. His own gun went off then, the bullet narrowly missing her to lodge in the paneled wall.

  Bart reached for Vivian and pressed the pistol to her head. "Put down yer gun and come out, or I'll kill her!" he snarled.

  The sight of her weeping friend, gagged and tied and trembling with terror, swept Shelby's own fear aside. Croll gave her no choice! Employing the speed she'd worked so hard to perfect at Earl's Court, Shelby aimed through the fire for his heart, preparing to shoot even though a near miss would mean wounding, perhaps killing, her dearest friend.

  Crack! Her bullet found its mark and he staggered backward, pulling Viv with him into the flames that licked the balcony floor.

  "Burn, you bitches!" Croll yelled. "I won't die!"

  It was Vivian who recovered her senses long enough to wrench free of his death grip. She reached out then with her bound hands and gave her husband a shove that sent him crashing through the burning rail of the balcony.

  "Hurry, Viv! Come down the stairs!" Shelby cried. To her relief, her friend obeyed, and they met moments later. Their tears mingled with soot as Shelby untied Viv and held her close. "He's gone. Dead! You and I did it together, and he'll never hurt anyone again."

  The echoing gunshot had roused the entire household, and footsteps already sounded in the corridors. Soon they'd all be there to help put out the fire before it spread farther, but one person had silently witnessed most of the drama.

  "I say," Edith, Dowager Duchess of Aylesbury, exclaimed from the doorway. Her hands were pressed to her ears in reaction to the deafening rifle shot. "Good show!"

  * * *

  The wedding was postponed a couple of days to allow for notification of the proper authorities, the disposal of Bart Croll's body, cleanup of the fire damage, and an airing out of the sixteenth century chapel, which adjoined the great hall. Most guests were notified of the delay by telephone, and the others simply arrived early and waited patiently.

  It seemed, however, that the mood at Sandhurst Manor was one of celebration rather than tragedy. Bart Croll, who had been haunting their lives, was unequivocally dead, and Viv no longer had to carry the burden of believing that she was a murderess.

  It was as if a cloud had lifted. Better still, Shelby was not only the bride-to-be, but a bona fide heroine. To her own astonishment, Edith could not stop telling anyone who would listen that Shelby had saved their lives as well as one of the family's ancestral homes and all its irreplaceable, historically significant contents.

  The morning of the wedding found Manypenny helping Geoff to dress.

  "Have I told you, Your Grace, how pleased I am for both you and your bride?"

  "Yes, you have." Geoff pointed to a speck of dust on the shoulder of his morning coat.

  "Now that you are settled and you no longer need me to steer you clear of ruin, I have been thinking of retiring."

  Geoff had been checking his reflection in the mirror while pinning a white rosebud to his lapel, but Manypenny's bombshell brought him up short. "What? But what would you do?"

  "Might I remind you that I am eighty-two years of age? Do I not deserve a few years of leisure?"

  "It's just that I can't imagine you sitting in the servants' quarters with your feet up, Manypenny."

  "Actually... I intend to return to Cody, Your Grace. I would like to end my days on the veranda at the Sunshine Ranch."

  Geoff's expression of outrage was tinged with jealousy. "Do you truly intend to just go away and live apart from me?"

  "You are free to join me, Your Grace. And I should assure you that I have received permission from the future duchess. We've discussed this matter at length and she approves completely."

  "Naturally." Geoff frowned. "Well then, good luck."

  The manservant turned away, smiling to himself. "I appreciate your generous good wishes, Your Grace. I know that we will both be very happy in our new lives."

  It killed Geoff to think of Ben, Titus, Manypenny, and the boys all enjoying the pleasures of the Sunshine Ranch while he endured Royal Ascot. "Do you know, old fellow, I wonder if I ought not reconsider our plans to honeymoon in France."

  "I thought you might, Your Grace. As I recall, Wyoming is simply spectacular by the end of May."

  The duke gave him a grudging smile. "Just so, cunning old fellow."

  * * *

  Upstairs, Shelby's rooms were filled with women. Maddie, Consuelo, Vivian, and even Edith were all chattering happily together while Meg Floss helped Shelby dress. It could not have been a finer spring day, and the air was redolent with romance and joy and the scents of the garden wafting through the open windows.

  When the bride was ready, Viv put a bouquet of trailing white roses, lilies of the valley, and lilacs into her hands, and the other women stood around to compliment her beauty.

  "How excited you must be to become the Duchess of Aylesbury!" Meg cried, awestruck.

  Shelby's smile seemed wider and more radiant than ever, and her teal-blue eyes sparkled with joy. "Actually, my only thought is to be Geoff's wife. The duchess part is—" Edith was listening intently, so Shelby censored herself. "—a wonderful added bonus!" Turning to Consuelo, Duchess of Marlborough, she put out a hand. "I mustn't forget to thank Her Grace for her generous assistance... and friendship, freely offered. I am so honored that you've agreed to be an attendant today."

  Consuelo's dark eyes were soft with affection. "It is I who am honored to be a part of this wonderful celebration."

  Maddie went to give her daughter a last hug. "You are so beautiful I want to cry," she murmured. "We must all go down to the chapel now. It's time."

  Consuelo went ahead to see if her husband had arrived, but Vivian lingered behind with Shelby, grateful for these last minutes alone with her friend.

  "You look lovely," Shelby told her, then fussed with one of Viv's curls that wanted to droop a bit. "How are you feeling? Better?"

  "I keep remembering your advice: to remind myself, over and over, that Bart was an evil man and nothing that happened was my fault—"

  "And that Charles is not Bart. Just give yourself time with him and I am convinced that you'll begin to open up like one of these roses."

  "I already am. I feel... lighter now. The thought that I'd poisoned and killed him was a terrible weight on my conscience—and then, those dreams, and the times I saw him in London..." She shivered at the memories. "I actually thought I was going mad!"

  "But you were not, and all of that is in the past. Look how well everything is turning out, Viv! Even Geoff's mother has changed her tune!"

  "We are very lucky, aren't we?"

  "Incredibly so."

  "Charles has been wonderful to me these past two days. He felt terrible that he wasn't here to save me himself, but the realization that our lives can only get better is becoming clearer all the time. My demons have gone." Vivian actually smiled dreamily, a gleam of true romance in her eyes. "I think everything is going to be all right."

  "Dear friend, I'm so happy!"

  Laughing, they shared a handkerchief to dab their eyes, then ch
ecked Shelby's veil and Viv's champagne-and-rose gown and bouquet, and then they went out into the corridor where Fox was waiting.

  "Look at my little hellion." He shook his head in wonder. "I never would have believed that you could go from being a cowgirl in curly angora chaps to a duchess in Belgian lace."

  Beaming, Shelby took his arm. "The secret is, I've always known I could be anything—so nothing has ever seemed out of reach."

  "I'm very proud of you." Fox kissed her cheek. "Are you ready to go to your bridegroom?"

  "Oh, Daddy, I'd run to the chapel if I could!"

  From the floor below, Shelby heard Bach being played on the organ. Holding tightly to her father's arm, she waited for Viv to lift her train, and then she stepped out with anticipation toward her new life.

  Epilogue

  Rowing in Eden!

  Ah, the sea!

  Might I but moor

  To-night in thee!

  Might I but moor

  To-night in thee!

  ~ Emily Dickinson

  ~

  "I, Shelby, take thee, Geoffrey..."

  Her voice quivered with emotion. Each word of Shelby's vows held special meaning for her, as if the time-honored speech had been created just for these two lovers.

  The chapel was bathed in a golden light that seemed to soften the guests' faces and dim the sound of the vicar's voice, until all that remained were Shelby and Geoff and their rich bond of love.

  "With this ring, I thee wed," Geoff declared as he stared into her eyes in a way that made her shiver. "This gold and silver I thee give. With my body I thee worship..."

  Every inch of the chapel seemed to be filled with flowers, more spectacular than all the treasures in Westminster Abbey. There were pink-frosted blue delphiniums, together with fairy spires of columbine and coral bells, while ruffled tulips mingled with sun-drenched daffodils. The altar was banked with bouquets in glorious disarray: lilacs, old roses, blue cornflowers, foxglove, stephanotis, and regal lilies. A trailing ivory moiré ribbon adorned each pew, the bows crowned by jewel-toned primroses. The effect was opulent and unpretentious at the same time.

  Shelby couldn't believe how handsome Geoff looked in his cutaway coat and gray-striped four-in-hand tie, and he thought she was utterly exquisite; glowing and womanly. All his ancestors seemed to be smiling down on Shelby, who wore her heirloom tiara and fragile lace with grace. Even the most regal guests looked pleased now that they had seen Geoff's American bride for themselves.

  "I now pronounce you husband and wife," the vicar intoned, and Shelby went into Geoff's strong arms, dazed and delighted.

  "Can we leave now?" he whispered. "Alone?"

  Her heart raced. "Meg's promised candied violets on our wedding cake. I have to see it before you—"

  "Better not say it in church."

  They were both wearing broad smiles as they turned to face the waiting the guests. The strains of Bach's "Wedding Cantata" filled the chapel, and Shelby trailed Belgian lace and sunbeams in her wake.

  * * *

  "How many other women have you lured into this pool?" Shelby called teasingly to Geoff, who was getting undressed in the next room. She was reclining in the deep-tiled Moorish pool-bath that was sunken into the floor of his decidedly decadent bathroom. Geoff had lit countless candles in brass holders, and they flickered exotically on every inch of dry tile.

  He paused in the doorway, his eyes darkening at the sight of her luscious form, barely discernible under the water. Shelby's cinnamon-hued curls, so carefully coiffed for the wedding, were now pinned up loosely. The scented water lapped just above her nipples.

  "You do me an injustice," Geoff protested. "I have only enjoyed this room in solitude, until tonight... although I may have dreamed that you were here with me."

  "I've been wondering all day if we're not dreaming together. Can real life be so... so—"

  "Never mind. There isn't a word for this. I know, because I've been puzzling over it myself, without success." Geoff had already removed every piece of his clothing except for his white shirt. It pleased him to see Shelby admiring his sculpted legs, and watching as he took off the stiff wing collar and cuffs, then removed the shirt studs, one by one.

  "I suppose it's very bad form for a duchess to stare at naked men," she remarked with mock solemnity.

  Geoff bit back a grin. "If none of the duchesses who instructed you mentioned that particular rule, then I wouldn't give it another thought."

  "It's all right, then?"

  "Yes, but only if the naked man in question is the duke," he corrected. "Your own duke. Not Devonshire or Marlborough or Cumberland, you see."

  "That's fine." Shelby's face was illuminated by a winsome smile. The clock on the bedroom mantel struck midnight, but she wasn't a bit tired. It seemed that the euphoria of her wedding could carry her through endless days without sleep. "I think I'm delirious."

  "Think nothing of it." With his white shirt open, so that she had glimpses of his muscled chest, Geoff brought in an icy bottle of champagne from the bedroom. He eased the cork out and let it fly in the direction of the pool. Giggling, Shelby splashed to safety.

  "Is there room enough for me in there?"

  Her blush was visible even in the rosy glow of dozens of candles. "I'm all mixed up," she admitted, accepting the glass of champagne Geoff had poured. "I feel very... passionate, yet shy, as if we've never been... alone together before."

  "Well, it has been a long time. Forever, it seems!" With that, he doffed his shirt, and met her wavering gaze. "Will I do? No second thoughts?"

  For a moment Shelby couldn't speak. He was magnificent—still the lithe, powerful golden lion she'd imagined one night long ago at the Sunshine Ranch when, after their rustling adventure, Geoff had lifted her into his arms in the kitchen and carried her off to teach her the wonders of physical love....

  Her expression ended the banter. Geoff joined his bride in the pool-bath, the long muscles in his thighs flexing as he immersed himself in the warm water. "I think a sip of champagne is in order for your case of wedding night nerves, scamp." When they both were holding the crystal flutes of shimmering gold liquid, he murmured, "Here's to the best day of my life, and to a magnificent future. I love you, Shelby, and I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

  His unspoken meaning was not lost on her. They touched glasses and drank, and instantly the bubbles seemed to race through her veins. "Uh-oh. This must be very special champagne. It's working already!"

  "Then perhaps I shouldn't give you any more. I don't want you keeling over."

  She held fast to the stem and sipped again. "I have to make a toast of my own. Here's to the best day of my life, which must mean our life! I am going to be a very good duchess, so that you won't have to make any more sacrifices for my happiness."

  They both considered their toasts, sipped again, and then Geoff's fingers grazed her breast under the water. Immediately his body reacted. "Before we move along to the, uh, grand finale, I ought to tell you that I've decided we both deserve a temporary reprieve from all this ducal nonsense."

  "Our honeymoon in France, you mean?"

  "Honeymoon, yes, France, no." He slipped his hands around her slim waist and drew her close so that they bobbed against one another. It was delicious torture. "Manypenny has persuaded me, nay begged me, to bring you to Wyoming for the summer."

  "Manypenny?" she echoed in confusion. "But Percy wants to retire from your service! He is looking forward to the peace and quiet. I hardly think that he would attempt to persuade you, certainly not beg—"

  "Never mind that. Additionally, I don't think we should feel obligated to spend this Season in London. People will understand that you miss Wyoming and cannot make this adjustment so suddenly."

  "First you blame Manypenny, and now me!" She tried not to smile. "I'll go with you to the ranch for our honeymoon, Your Grace, but only if you are man enough to admit to your wife and your peers that it's you who desperately miss Wyoming."


  "I've been away longer than you have."

  "Have I your promise?"

  "You drive a hard bargain, Your Grace." Geoff was laughing now, holding her on his lap in the water, and the pressure of her breasts against his chest nearly drove him mad. "Yes, I'll promise, but only because I know you'll make plenty of promises of your own before this night is out! Ha-ha!" His voice rose dramatically, rather like a mad pirate shouting from his quarterdeck.

  "I do hope the servants can't hear you, darling," Shelby chided. "They'll be whispering for days."

  Chuckling, he found a cake of almond-scented soap and began to wash her back, and then her arms. It was keenly sensuous work.

  "This is sweet," she remarked. "We must do this often."

  They took turns, lathering one another bit by bit, touching gently, expertly, tantalizingly, and sharing plans for the future. The anticipation built, and Geoff turned on the taps to let more hot water into the bath.

  Finally, when they were both slippery clean, rinsed, and feverishly aroused, Geoff's eyes turned predatory. "Come here, my little Wildblossom."

  Thrilled, Shelby straddled his hips, and his hands clasped her hips in welcome. No longer timid, she slid her arms around Geoff's neck and kissed his eyes, nose, cheekbones, and then the mouth she so adored. He made a low sound somewhere between a growl and a purr as he deepened the kiss, turning her in his arms and parting her lips so that his tongue might explore completely.

  "God, how I've missed you."

  "You've mentioned that in the past," she gasped, "but perhaps now that we're married, you won't have to miss me anymore."

  His kisses seemed to burn away the water on her neck, throat, and breasts, inspiring her to come up on her knees and bring more of herself out of the water. They kissed hungrily for long minutes, savoring each long-awaited taste and sensation. Finally, as she dropped her head back, he nipped at her throat, shoulders, and took a nipple into his mouth.

  Sensing magically just what it would take to bring her to the brink, he suckled and kneaded each breast in turn. They swelled in reaction, and Shelby felt the blood surging into her nether regions as well. "Oh—Geoff! What—how—"