Mariah threw her bouquet at him. It was somewhat ineffective though, because on the way to the inn, Marcus had stopped to kiss his wife—again. The donkey next to them had snacked on the flowers while the bride and groom were otherwise occupied. Little was left of the floral arrangement other than a few half-chewed petals and some crushed stalks.
Marcus caught it in one hand. "Should I put this in water?"
Mariah rolled her eyes. "No. Although it's a shame that beast ate so much of it. I don't even have one flower to save and press as a remembrance."
Marcus stripped off his shirt and unfastened his breeches. "You have something much better."
"I do?" She blinked.
He dropped his breeches to the floor and stepped toward her, naked and aroused. "Yes. Me."
"One of the things I find so attractive about you, husband, is your extraordinary modesty." Mariah turned and let Marcus unfasten her gown.
"There's a lot of things I find attractive about you, wife." His hand caressed her naked back through the unlaced dress.
"I'm glad." Mariah laughed and freed herself from her clothing.
She turned and Marcus' breath caught in his throat. He stared at her creamy skin, her dark hair, the breasts full and their nipples already budding with excitement.
He spoke one word. "Mine."
Mariah gave him back look for look, her gaze traveling from his legs to his face, lingering at a variety of different places along the way. "Yes. All mine."
By mutual consent they moved to each other, slowly and cautiously touching as if it were for the first time.
Marcus was struck by the magic of this moment, the unique night when he would claim his mate as his wife. "I bullied you shamefully." He muttered the words as he began to drop tiny kisses along her neck.
"Yes, you did. But I love you. It was worth being bullied." She arched for him, sighing as he nipped the tiny spot where muscles merged and her shoulder curved.
"We will make it work, you know." His tongue tested the flavor of her earlobe. It was—tasty.
She shivered in response. "I know. I'm still afraid, though."
"Of what?" He drew back a moment, regretfully abandoning his investigation of the whorls around the outside of her ear.
"Of not being able to be the woman you should have married."
Marcus sighed, then picked up his bride and dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. He came down on top of her, pinning her in place, lifting her arms above her head and holding her still with one hand.
With the other, he cupped her cheek.
"For once and for all, you are the woman I love. I want no other, nor shall I in the future. Ever." He kissed her, hard, holding her face where he wanted it, pushing his tongue into her mouth and stroking the soft velvet he found within.
Mariah moaned and Marcus broke the kiss.
"You are everything I could desire in a woman—a friend, a lover and now a wife." He continued to make his point by bending to her breasts, sucking each in turn, bringing a rosy tinge to their peaks and another whimper to Mariah's throat. "You are, and always will be, my heart. My life..."
He stopped as a sob broke from her lips. "Oh, Marcus, I love you so much. The thought of you leaving was tearing me apart."
"I couldn't leave. I hoped you knew that. I would have spared you the pain, but you were so bloody stubborn."
"I know. I'm sorry. But—"
He stilled her protests and settled himself between her thighs, staring at her even as he hardened in readiness for their loving to come.
"Mariah. Here's the thing. I want to stay with you. Here, in Buckler's Hard."
She shifted beneath him, but he shook his head. "Listen to me for a minute. I've lived a full life in London. One I don't regret, but one I don't want to revisit. It holds nothing for me now. Yes, I have a small estate—which is probably falling to the ground since I haven't been there in too long. There's nothing there for me but bad memories of a time I've put behind me. I have a cousin who is quite content to live there and act on my behalf. I do have money, so we'll want for nothing, but I need to know...would you be content here? In this farmhouse? With me?"
"Of course I would, you idiot." She moved again, lifting her hips urgently against his cock. "How can you even ask?"
"Just as you worried about being Lady Camberley, my love, I worried that you might not want to stay here in these—er—rustic surroundings once we were wed."
"Rustic?" One eyebrow went up.
"Well, I would like to maybe add on a room or two." He nuzzled his head between her breasts. "And if you'll forgive me, I will be investing in a larger bed for us at the earliest opportunity."
Mariah laughed then, a soft sound that flooded Marcus with heat and the warmth of pure joy. "Anything you want, my love. As long as you'll be content being plain Farmer Camberley."
"I can't wait." He slid down to kiss her pussy and tickle her with the tip of his tongue. "I believe Ned would like some goats."
"Good for Ned." Mariah arched as he found her sweetness and sucked.
"Maybe even a sheep or two and some more cows?"
"If you say so, my dear." Her voice was getting ragged.
"Oh, and I think we might give Peg and Ned a little more money every month. After all, they'll have more work now, won't they?"
"Give them the moon. I don't care. Just love me, Marcus." Her thighs tensed. "Now."
And like every new husband, he did as his wife told him.
He loved her.
Right then—and for every moment of the rest of their lives.
The End
(For more about the delightful Colonel Rogue Chambers, please visit Ellora's Cave Publishing and look for Sahara Kelly's short story/Quickie titled "Rogue's Diamond".)
About the Author
Sahara Kelly is always happy to explain to editors that her spelling errors aren't really errors, since she was born and raised in England, where an extra "u" is quite in order. She likes to think it adds colour to her writing. Sadly, it's not a widely held belief, so she'd like you to know she still retains a lot from her English childhood even though you won't see much of it in her stories.
Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris' Saint novels and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara's new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings. (She still cherishes that extra "u" though.) Life in New England became complete with the publication of her first novel just after the birth of her son, and over two decades later she's still writing.
Now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene, she's looking forward to many more such experiences, both with older favorites like this one and lots of new stories as well. Being freed of restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words "Once upon a time..." (or however it sounded several million years ago.)
To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:
http://www.saharakelly.com
Since she has jumped into the world of private enterprise literature, Sahara has formed her own little publishing company. You're also welcome to come and check it out at the address below.
http://www.skprivatelabel.com
She has quite a few books available for your eReaders, novels from various publishers at various prices. Some are older titles re-released at a greatly reduced price for those readers who may have missed them the first time around. You can find almost all of them here at Smashwords if you search for "Sahara Kelly". Some are brand new from SK Private Label Publications.
Please keep an eye on Sahara's website or
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Happy Reading!
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