by Bird, Peggy
• • •
Maxwell Cooper’s gaze ricocheted from Rosemary to Henry and back again. “So you were a stool pigeon? You ran to Henry with the news about my conversation with your father?”
“I’ll handle this, Rosemary,” Henry replied, as he took the mask and sword from her hands. He faced his father. “Rosemary didn’t need to run to me with the results of your conversation with Mr. Fitzpatrick, Father, because I’d already had a conversation with him. I had guessed correctly that you’d probably sell the business rather than admit Marguerite has a brain in her head.”
“Marguerite’s brain has nothing to do with this.”
“Really? I don’t see it that way. You were willing to sell her off to the highest bidder when all she wanted to do was to make her own way in the world and try to find some of the same happiness you claim you had with Maman.”
“Women need a man’s protection to make their way in the world, Henry. I don’t want to have to worry about her forever. I’m no longer a young man.”
“No, Father, you’re not. The world is changing, and if you can’t change along with it, you should step aside. This publishing house has a few great authors, one of whom is in the form of a woman. This woman. My fiancée.” He pulled Rosemary to his side. “And it has a great mind keeping track of the finances, in the form of Marguerite. It also has a company head who is in no way threatened by either. I’m buying the business, Father. I signed the papers at the bank yesterday. I’ll run the company the way I see fit now, not the way you believe it should be run.”
Henry’s lips formed a tight line as he spoke, but his face nearly split into a grin at his father’s varied reactions. Maxwell Cooper sputtered as he paced the room, taking in the comments. He turned once and lifted his hand, about to speak. Then he glanced at Henry and dropped his hand. But he didn’t turn away.
“So it’s your company now, is it? And what are your intentions? To turn it into a fencing studio?”
“Not at all. I intend to turn it into a profitable venture. Beginning with the creation of a monthly magazine geared to the people who live and work here in New York City. I’ve been paying close attention to James Lowell’s The Atlantic Monthly and seeing what works and what doesn’t with it. You think so highly of their organization, so I believe I should as well. I’m the first to admit you are a most astute businessman, even if your thinking is a bit backward. I’m going to offer a chapter a month from Rosemary’s next novel in the magazine, to stimulate sales. And we might implement your idea of a whistle-stop train book tour out west. I also think it’s a great idea.”
Maxwell sputtered again, before he turned and left the room. He slammed the door on his way out.
Rosemary reached out to Henry and wrapped him in her arms. They stood silently for a few minutes. Henry rested his chin on the top of her head, drinking in the fresh scent of her shampoo and her signature patchouli perfume. The physical activity they’d engaged in prior to Maxwell’s arrival had stimulated the release of the fragrance. Henry’s body calmed with the familiar odor and the embrace of this woman in his arms. Her body was becoming familiar to him as well.
She reached up to him and gave him a kiss. “Do you think you and your father can ever mend fences?”
Henry sighed. “I hope so, especially after what Marguerite told me about why he sent me away. I need to hear the whole story, and from him. If he truly loved my mother, instead of being embarrassed by her as I thought, it means he does have some feelings. If we can weather this storm, we could become, if not friends, at least civil to one another.”
“I think you will. But now, since you are the owner of the company, does it truly mean your unconditional proposal of marriage to me is back on the table?”
Henry took a step back, out of her embrace for a moment. “Well, yes, I guess it does. I did just call you my fiancée.”
“Then my answer is yes. Let’s celebrate.”
Henry smiled. “And how do you propose to celebrate?”
“Let me show you.” Rosemary went on her tiptoes and kissed Henry with all the passion she had previously only shown in her writing. She backed him up to the wall, and he allowed her to do so. His knees were weakening with her ministrations, and the wall provided a welcome support. His tongue begged for admittance into her mouth, and her slight gasp allowed him access. Their tongues dueled, just as their swords had earlier. And, just as had happened earlier, he performed a riposte, going from the parry position to the target. He dribbled kisses down her swan-like neck, and opened the first few buttons on her shirt. His mouth claimed her exposed flesh as his own. His lips moved down her body, settling on the curve of her breast. He hoped his advances wouldn’t be brushed away.
She shuddered under his hands, which were wrapped around her small waist. He pulled her toward him, so she could feel his erection. His manhood swelled even more at the contact, and he set up a rhythm against her. She moaned, a low, soft, sound that set him ablaze even further. One hand left her waist and captured a breast as he finished undoing the buttons of her shirt. She thrust forward to meet his embrace.
“Oh, Henry.” Her whispered, drawn out words were wrapped in a sigh, but the force of them nearly buckled his knees. He lowered her to the rug behind his desk and pelted her body with more kisses. His lips encircled a nipple, and he suckled her, his tongue alternately pulling and laving. Her breathing developed a hitch as she struggled to control her emotions. Henry’s fingers were as busy as his mouth, fondling her other breast before they moved lower. He ran his hand down her body, over the swell of her hip, and began to loosen her breeches. She moaned again, and her body rose of its own accord to meet him.
Henry pulled off her boots, tossing each to the floor with a thud. Her breeches slid off easily enough, and Henry had only a slip of cloth between himself and his prize. He pulled his eyes from Rosemary’s core, where her nub of sex awaited him, and, with a ragged breath, backed off and caught her questioning look.
“If we don’t stop now, there will be no turning back.”
In response, Rosemary reached up to capture his face, and brought his lips to hers. “I don’t want to stop. I need you as much as you need me, Henry. We just may have to speed up the wedding a bit.”
“Perhaps I should lock the door, then.”
Henry rose, and in a quick motion, locked the door to both the hallway and to Marguerite’s office, loosening his shirt and trousers the whole time. When he returned to her side, he quickly divested himself of his remaining attire, and lay next to her. His engorged member throbbed as he pelted Rosemary with more kisses. He ignored his own needs for a few moments, again feasting on her breasts and running his hands over her body, exploring her fully for the first time. He’d imagined this moment many times over the past several months, but the reality of it bested his most torrid fantasies. His fingers curled around her center, the springy dark hairs tickling his hand. Rosemary groaned in delight. And Henry did the same. She was damp with desire, and Henry’s hand became slick. He gently slid a finger into her, while his thumb grazed her little bundle of sex. She rose again, into his hand, her body matching the rhythm he set up.
He could sense her reaching the edge of desire. Her body tensed, like a string on a violin, before she cried out one final time and slid over. He slowly eased up on his finger’s thrust, and pulled out, his eyes on her.
Rosemary’s face was relaxed, and her eyes finally fluttered open.
“My goodness, that was delightful,” she purred.
“I’m afraid the next part won’t be so delightful, at least for a little while.”
“Does it involve the use of this?” She wrapped her fingers around his manhood, and he gulped as her touch nearly made him spill his seed. Her fingers explored his long shaft. “So soft, and yet so hard,” she murmured as her fingers slid up and down.
Henry groaned, long and gutturally, lying on his back so he could enjoy her ministrations. Her grip became tighter, and her fingers moved up and down, set
ting up their own rhythm. Henry gritted his teeth. Such exquisite torture. He reached out to still her hand.
“I want to be inside you.” He rolled over so he was on top of her, and positioned himself at her entrance. He tickled her core with his shaft and was pleased she was still damp for him. Her musky sex smell nearly drove him wild with desire. His now-slick manhood cautiously made its way home, an inch at a time. He’d been with other women before, but his experiences had never been so fulfilling. He wanted nothing more than to embed himself in Rosemary for the rest of his life.
When he reached her maidenhood, he stopped and caressed the side of her face. “It will only hurt one time, I promise.”
Rosemary stared up at him and then wriggled her body. “Then get on with it.”
Henry grinned, and pushed his manhood through the barrier. Rosemary gasped and her body tightened. Tears clogged her eyes, but she blinked them away. Henry waited for her body to accept the intrusion.
“Allez,” she whispered to him after a minute.
He pulled his shaft out slightly, and plunged in again.
Soon, their bodies were in sync, as they dueled with each other, thrusting and parrying with tongues and body parts instead of swords. Henry held himself in check as long as he could, since he wanted to make certain Rosemary’s first time was as good as he could make it. He sensed she was about to crest again when he let go, and he spilled into her as her muscles pulsed around his shaft, squeezing every drop of seed from him. His drenched body collapsed on top of hers, and they both fought for control of their breathing.
He rolled off her small body slowly, and wrapped her in his arms. He tasted her sweet mouth yet again as they stared at each other. “I think we will really need to hasten the wedding, since I can’t abide being without you in my bed one more night.”
“But I’m perfectly fine rolling around on the rug with you every time I come for a meeting …” Her saucy grin made his manhood swell with need again. She encircled his rising rod and began to rub up and down. He had thought he was fulfilled, and was surprised at the quickness with which his body recovered and was ready to go again.
With a groan, he reached for her. Work could wait for another hour.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Marguerite stood in Henry’s office with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “I don’t care if you don’t want to. You must come to dinner with Father and me tonight. Now that the papers are signed, he’s heading back home to Boston in the morning. I will not have the two of you fighting with each other because of me.”
How had his mood shifted so quickly? Just an hour ago, he said goodbye to Rosemary after a most satisfying afternoon of making love with her. His intended. And the sooner the better. Now, he was about to go into the lion’s den with both his father and his sister.
“Fine.” His response was clipped, and his mood darkened considerably. “I’ll go, if only to prove to you that you’re not the only reason for our discord. Will my appearance there make you happy?”
“Oh, Henry,” Marguerite countered. “Don’t be such a dunce. I’ve told you why Father sent you off. You resemble our mother, and his heart broke again every time he set eyes on you. For no other reason, despite what you say or think.”
“Fine,” he replied again. “I’ll be there. But right now, I need to get some things done here. If we’re to start a magazine, I need to find some people to write articles, sell advertising, work the presses. I have copy ready for posters that I want to place around town. I need to get to the pressroom. I’ll meet you and Father at the appointed hour.”
After a busy afternoon putting his initial plans into place for the magazine, it was with some trepidation that Henry walked the blocks to his father’s hotel later in the day. His father and sister were already waiting for him in the dining room. As he took his napkin from the table and placed it in his lap, he nodded his head toward the man who’d given him life.
“Father.”
“Son.”
Marguerite glanced from one to the other before she raised a hand, swirling it in the air. “Well, I’m glad we got our titles sorted out. And I’m the daughter, the one who’s causing all the trouble. So, let’s talk.”
Henry and his father glanced at each other, but neither spoke.
His father cleared his throat. “All right, then. I’ll begin. While I don’t appreciate the backhandedness with which it was done, I do applaud you, Henry, for a brilliant business move.”
Henry blinked. He had not been expecting such a response from the man across the table. “Thank you, sir.”
“So, what are your plans?”
Henry shifted in his seat. “Well, one brilliant business move deserves another. I thought your idea of a whistle-stop train ride to sign books was a good one, so I think I’ll line it up for Rosemary’s next book. We’ll certainly create a buzz when it’s revealed who the true author of the Harry Hawk series is.”
“But before any kind of train ride out west happens, Father, Henry and Rosemary will marry, so you must return for the wedding ceremony!” Marguerite clapped her hands together at the news.
“Is it true, son? You plan to marry within a matter of weeks?” Maxwell’s head swiveled from his daughter to his son.
“Yes, it is.” Henry smiled through clenched teeth at his sister. He had not planned on telling his father of his hasty marriage plans yet.
Maxwell Cooper was silent for a long moment, as he played with his fork. Then his eyes lifted to Henry. “I hope she’s half the woman your mother was, and that you’ll be as happy as I was with her.”
“So what Marguerite has been saying is true? You loved our mother, in spite of how she impacted your acceptance into society?” Henry’s eyes bounced from his father to Marguerite and back again
“Yes, of course it’s true.”
“And the reason I was sent away wasn’t because you were ashamed of my appearance?”
Maxwell reached across the table and took Henry’s hand. Henry was surprised at the contact, and even more surprised to find tears in his father’s eyes. “I’ve never been ashamed of you a day in my life. I was a desperate man who couldn’t bear the sight of you because you have your mother’s coloring. It broke my heart all over again every time you came into view, so I did the only thing I could think of to preserve my sanity and to continue to live, instead of doing what I truly wanted, which was to follow your mother to the grave. I had you two children to take care of, and I did it the best way I could. I sent you off to live with your uncle, while I healed.”
“I had no idea.” Henry sat, stunned by his father’s confession.
“I have many regrets, Henry, and this is one of them. By the time I began to be aware of things again, I realized I’d done serious damage to you and our relationship. It seemed an impossible situation to overcome, so I let our feelings for each other deteriorate into anger instead of love. It was easier than trying to explain my reasons.”
“But what about your status within Boston’s society? I know how much you cherish your association with the other Brahmins.”
“I didn’t give a fig what they thought of me. I loved your mother in spite of what proper Bostonians thought. Her exotic appearance was intoxicating. And, in private, more than one man mentioned they were envious of me. It seemed they wanted someone as enticing as she for themselves, but only as a mistress, not a wife. When they shunned me because I chose to marry her, it hardened my resolve. I became a tycoon, buying up all their sorry businesses and turning them into profit centers. I had something to prove. The fact that they now have welcomed me back makes me smile. I’m too important in the business environment for them to shun me any longer.”
Marguerite glanced from one man to the other. “Didn’t I tell you so, Henry?”
“Yes, you did.” He turned to his father. “So I can be the prodigal son and return home anytime I want?”
“I’m still not in favor of you keeping Marguerite here and providing her employment w
hen she should be finding a husband, but as for the rest, certainly.”
Henry sat silent for a moment. Then his eyes locked on his father’s. “What caused such an abrupt change of heart?”
Maxwell shrugged. “What can I say? I admire a man who employs good business tactics. You bought the business out from under me when I was so angry I just wanted rid of it, so you got it at a discounted price. You are going to start up a monthly magazine, something I’ve wanted to do in Boston, but James Lowell and his partners beat me to it. And you realized I had a good idea for promotion with the whistle-stop train tour, so you are going to use it. All sound business ideas. I didn’t think you had a head for the business, but I see now that you just didn’t have a head for business the way I was running things. I commend you.”
“Thank you, Father. It’s good to know I’ll be welcome when I return to Boston. But you’ll be coming back to New York before I head back to Boston. Rosemary and I are getting married as soon as we can. I’m sure her mother will want a formal wedding, but we don’t want to wait. The ceremony will take place soon, although I’d prefer it to be days instead of weeks.”
Maxwell reached across the table and clamped a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I understand. Your mother and I didn’t want to wait either. When it’s right, you just know it. But it would not do to begin your marriage by irritating your mother-in-law. Especially not one who’s raised such a fine woman as Miss Fitzpatrick. Let Rosemary and her mother plan the ceremony they want. Believe me, a bit of patience now will pay off in the long run.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Penelope’s eyes were round as saucers as the pirate keeled over dead. She ran into Harry’s arms. With one hand still holding a smoking gun, he wrapped her in an embrace. She was shaking like a dog that had just come in from the rain.