Promise Me Forever

by Kimberly Nee

  He growled deep in the back of his throat, his eyes squeezing shut as if in mortal pain. A shiver rumbled through him and he reached between them to catch her hand, to tug it away as he managed to grit, “Your innocence is pushing me far too close to the edge, love,” and flipped her onto her back.

  His mouth seized hers in a scorching kiss as he covered her body with his, surging deep inside her. She cried out at the delicious fire engulfing her as he lifted her hips to accept him completely and, with a powerful thrust, spun her into another world entirely.

  He made love to her, there beneath that creamy moon, with the world fading into nothing, leaving only them. For Heather, it was magic, slow and sensual, thought and feeling combined as they reached that blissful crescendo and peaked together, each one clinging to the other. Their voices rose together to split the peacefulness of the still summer evening. For that one perfect moment, they had truly become one.

  * * * *

  Heather couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so wonderfully sleepy as she did lying there wrapped in Drew's arms. Everything was so perfect. She had everything she'd ever hoped for and more than she'd ever dreamed possible. She opened one eye a crack to peer up at him. Her heart felt so light, she wouldn't be the least bit surprised to see it take wing and fly off into the balmy summer night. He loved her. She only wished she'd had the courage to speak her true feelings long before now, that she could recapture some of those moments on board the Aphrodite and make them even sweeter.

  She couldn't help but smile as she studied his profile through lowered lashes—that wayward lock of black hair that constantly tumbled over his forehead, the dark brows he could arch at will and send a shiver racing down her spine with, the proud, straight nose, and soft lips that caressed her own with such gentleness. This handsome, sexy man lying beside her loved her and she could now truly claim him as hers. Who would have thought a virginal strumpet could ever find such magic in a place such as Delilah's?

  "Drew?"

  "Yes, love?"

  She thought she would never grow tired of hearing him call her that. She propped herself up on one elbow. “What happens next?"

  He smiled sleepily, which only added to his seductive appeal. “Well, as much as I hate to say it, we have to take ourselves from here eventually. Eyebrows will be raised if we absent ourselves from this. Not to mention, this is to celebrate our impending wedding."

  "I meant, after tonight. When do you wish to be married?"

  "As soon as possible."

  "Well, yes I know that.” She sighed softly. “Otherwise, people will speculate if this child is born too soon after our wedding."

  He chuckled, stroking her cheek with a gentle forefinger. “I'm not even thinking of that, love. I just wish to make you my wife. That is all. I want you to be mine officially."

  She smiled up into his eyes. “You know, it's amazing, really, how much you and your brother look alike."

  His smile faded as he said, “I hear that quite often."

  "Oh no, don't go into a snit now.” She snuggled up to him, draping her arm over his hips. “If you ask me, I think Rebecca was mad for desiring him, or anyone else for that matter, instead of you. There is no comparison. None at all."

  "Well, there is no accounting for taste, I suppose."

  She heard the tightness in his voice, and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I would never make so foolish a choice. Your brother might be handsome, but he lacks your charm, your sense of humor."

  "Ah, I am unique.” The teasing note had returned to his voice.

  "Yes, you are. And I am so glad for that. It's nice to know there is no one else like you in the world.” She ran a hand over her belly. “At least, not yet."

  He smiled, a soft laugh bubbling to his lips. “That remains to be seen, love.” He bent forward to nuzzle her softly.

  She sighed contently, remembering how comfortable he looked with his niece in his arms. “You are going to make a wonderful father. I don't doubt that for a moment. This child is incredibly fortunate to have been sired by you."

  He brushed her lips with a kiss. “I suppose we should dress and make our way up to Shadowbrook."

  She glanced at the mighty river, rushing along like a black ribbon with its swift currents. “Perhaps this was not such a good idea,” she muttered, turning back to him. “I am going to make quite the entrance, with my hair all mussed and my gown crushed. It will create quite the fuss, you know."

  He reached for his trousers. “Hardly. I took the greatest of pains to make certain nothing was too badly damaged.” He got to his feet and walked over to a square of checked oilcloth spread out on the ground, where he'd spread her elegant ball gown to keep it from becoming stained and crumpled. “See? It's in perfect shape."

  She wriggled into her silk chemise, pausing as she heard a series of snaps and crackles in the distance. “What is that?” she whispered, feeling her heartbeat quicken.

  Drew shrugged, apparently unconcerned as he finished dressing and turned to help her into the lush gown. “Most likely an animal bringing supper home to its family."

  "Oh."

  She dressed as quickly as she could. It was one of the gowns he had sent her back to Mary Cartwright's for and she had been saving it for a special occasion, such as this. Sewn of a beautiful rose-colored taffeta, the skirt split down the middle to show the deep ruby silk underskirt. The sleeves were slightly puffed, rose with ruby silk ribbon accents woven through the hems. The bodice was also the same shade of rose, with ruby ribbon laced vertically along the boning. It was snug, a bit low-cut for her tastes, but Drew assured her she looked most beautiful in it.

  She wasn't so certain about her hair, though. Luckily, since she'd had to style it herself, it was a most simple chignon, but she couldn't help but worry that it had gotten hopelessly destroyed by his manhandling. Still, she wished she had a mirror to peer into as she reached up to tuck a stray wisp back in place.

  "Trust me, Heather. It looks fine,” he told her, pressing her ruby satin slippers into her hand. “No one will ever suspect you spent the earlier part of the evening making love on the banks of the Raritan."

  Her cheeks flushed with satisfied heat as she eased her feet into her slippers. Even if they did suspect, it was absolutely worth the embarrassment, in her estimation. Still, she shook her head. “I hope not."

  He grinned. “My lady, in a few months everyone will know what I've done to you, so you had best prepare yourself for it."

  She couldn't help but chuckle. “I don't suppose I might argue that point."

  He fastened the gown for her, leaning forward to brush her nape with a feathery kiss. “Don't ever lose those blushes, Heather. Not ever. I love them as much as I love you."

  She turned to face him. In the pale silver moonlight, he looked more handsome than ever. His trousers were black, his silk shirt and stock were stark white, and he wore a dove gray waistcoat that made his eyes seem even bluer. He shrugged into a midnight blue velvet frock coat accented with dove gray and tugged on his dusty Hessians. “I'll brush them off when we reach the house."

  She helped him gather the blankets from the ground, folding them and draping them over Samson's saddle. “Does your family host these parties often?"

  He held Samson's reins in one hand, offering his free arm to her. “Not as often as my mother would like. Of course, that will change, as Diana is now old enough to receive suitors. I've a feeling we will be attending many such balls."

  She sighed, slipping her arm through his. It felt so comfortable, strolling through the woods as they made their way back towards the main house at Shadowbrook. Her stomach was still a bit unsettled, but it felt a bit better than it had been feeling and she was hopeful that the awful morning sickness would soon abate completely.

  As they neared the house, Heather could see lights blazing through the thinning trees. Her eyes were drawn to the east wing of the house, to a row of French doors overlooking a sumptuous garden. The room shone gold with light
, the doors opened and the sounds of an orchestra tickling her ears.

  "The ballroom,” Drew explained as they turned away from the house, heading west, towards the stables. “Let me drop Samson off and I'll be right back."

  "You wish for me to wait here?"

  "You're perfectly safe here. I won't be but a moment."

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he didn't wait to hear it, as he swung up onto Samson's back and galloped off towards the dark shadow of the stables. “Well, of all the nerve,” she muttered, tapping her foot against the solidly packed earth. “Leave me here alone, in the dark, will you?"

  She wasn't truly angry though, for she was still feeling the warm glow that came with hearing Drew tell her he loved her. She doubted she would ever grow tired of hearing him say those words. She smiled in the direction he'd gone, shaking her head slowly. Somehow, she didn't think anything could upset her this evening. With as wonderful as she felt, Heather was quite certain nothing would ever bother her again.

  Thirty-one

  The ballroom at Shadowbrook overflowed with people. It seemed almost all of Brunswick's population had come out to celebrate the upcoming marriage of Drew Kennedy and Heather Spencer. Servants bustled about, bearing silver trays of refreshment and pastries while the orchestra played quietly in the background.

  Heather and Drew stood in the narrow hallway, just beyond the threshold. She slipped her arm through his, smiling up at him. She was nervous, although this was hardly her first ball. Still, as it was her first foray into Brunswick society, she was anxious to make a good impression for Drew's sake.

  She scanned the faces all around them. Her fingers tightened, pressing into the solid bulk of his forearm as she thought about having to step into that room.

  He smiled down at her. “You needn't look as though you are going to your execution, love,” he whispered in a teasing voice. “Simply think of it as practice for our nuptial ball."

  Her feet felt leaden as she reluctantly allowed him to guide her into the large, rectangular room. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, the flames of hundreds of small, white candles bathing everything in a creamy ivory light. She spotted Warren and Samantha Kennedy chatting with several other couples and relaxed a bit, thinking, This isn't going to be so terrible.

  As she stepped further into the ballroom, several heads turned to see who was on Drew's arm. Heather couldn't help but smile up at him as they cut easily through the throng. He seemed so at ease in the crowd, absolutely unaware of the eyes on him.

  Samantha smiled as they approached. “Good evening, Drew, Heather. I was beginning to wonder if the two of you were ever going to show up."

  He leaned forward to brush her cheek with a kiss. “As you can see, we have arrived,” he said with a grin. “Tell me, is everyone else here already?"

  She nodded, glancing around the room. “It does appear that way.” She smiled out over the crowd. “Diana has already begun filling her dance card, I see. Warren, do stop glaring."

  Warren, who had indeed been glaring at the young man chatting with his youngest daughter on the far side of the room, shook his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry. It's a habit I cannot break."

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Always the guardian, aren't you. Funny, I've never seen you watch your sons quite the way you watch your daughters."

  Warren grinned at Heather and then his wife. “Now, that would be silly, wouldn't it? Drew, did I ever have to worry about you or your brother?"

  Drew chuckled wryly, saying, “No, but I'm fairly certain plenty of other fathers lost a bit of sleep."

  Both men laughed over this, which earned them glares from both women. Still, Heather couldn't help but feel as though she had been accepted into their family. It was quite the pleasant feeling, really. It had been a long time since she'd felt a part of any family. Even when her father was still alive, they never shared this type of affectionate closeness. Matthew Spencer became a mere shell of what he had been before his wife's death, his grief leaving no room in his heart for anything else, including his only child.

  She pushed the troublesome thoughts away. She did not want to think about her father right now. It would only serve to make her angry, to remind her of why she had to lie about how she'd met Drew. Anger was the last emotion she wished to feel at that moment.

  Samantha reached over to swat Drew's arm with her ivory fan. “Oh, that will come back to haunt you one day. Just you wait and see. You will be the father losing sleep."

  He had the grace to blush at that as he slipped an arm about Heather's waist, giving her a surreptitious squeeze. “But I am proud to say, those days are behind me now."

  Heather gave him a loving smile. “I should certainly hope so."

  He gave her another squeeze. “So, in all seriousness, I suppose now that we are here, the festivities can begin."

  Samantha nodded, turning her smile to them. “I think it only fitting that we finally begin, as we've been waiting on your arrival. And, since this is your occasion, I think it only fitting that the two of you lead everyone in the first dance."

  Drew gave Heather another gentle squeeze. “I do hope you don't mind being the center of attention. All eyes will be on you, you know."

  Heather was well aware of the eyes already upon her. All around, she could see heads swivel in her direction, could hear the whispers and see fingers pointing at her. Still, despite the nervous knots in her stomach, she was able to smile up at him. “I'll try not to blush too badly, then."

  Samantha reached out to touch her shoulder with a light hand. “You will adjust fine, dear. Simply pretend that they are not there. I find that to work for me."

  Drew was smiling down at her as he said, “You've nothing to worry about, love. Ignore them, or simply imagine them all naked."

  "Drew!” Samantha gasped, her eyes wide with horror but a smile tugging at her lips. “What a thing to say!"

  Warren covered his smile with a hand, but could do nothing to stifle his chuckle. “Actually, I think he might have something there. Some of the ladies in this room would blush even more than our Heather here, were it to be true."

  Samantha tapped her husband's arm with her fan. “You are incorrigible, just like your son."

  Warren shook his head as he draped his arm about his wife's neck and drew her close. “You've that backwards, sweet. He is incorrigible just like his father."

  "Be that as it may,” Drew broke in, clearing his throat. “I suppose we ought to make our way out there, shouldn't we?"

  "Most definitely,” Samantha said, nodding again. “I will go alert the orchestra that it's time to begin."

  Heather swallowed down her rising nervousness as Drew covered her hand with his and swept her out onto the dance floor. The orchestra fell silent and all talk ceased. Heather felt the heat in her cheeks as Drew brought his right hand down to rest upon her hip, catching her hand in his left. As the silence descended, he smiled and winked at her and she relaxed at once.

  All around, she could hear the whispers, could practically hear the who is she? questions reverberating through the spacious room, but the soft buzz faded into nothingness as the orchestra resumed playing and she lost herself in Drew's blue eyes.

  His hand on her hip didn't remain still, his fingers pressing lightly into her as he pulled her closer, murmuring, “Come, love, I've no desire to feel any space between us."

  "Drew, you are being most improper,” she scolded, unable to keep the smile from her face. It was hard to truly care about creating a spectacle when his body felt so very nice against hers.

  "Ask me if I care. Even before the announcement is made, I wish everyone in this room to know that you belong to me and that I belong solely to you."

  "Is that so?” she asked as he whirled her past a cluster of young women who appeared more than a bit crestfallen.

  "Lady, if you keep doubting me, I am going to kiss you right here, in front of all these oh-so-proper people."

  She didn't doubt
for a moment that he'd make good on his threat. Then again, she didn't doubt for a moment that it wouldn't make her the least bit angry. Squeezing the hand that held hers, she whispered, “Would I be terrible if I confessed I'd not mind that at all?"

  His slow, sensual grin almost melted her into a puddle on the floor. Leaning close, he whispered, “Of course you would, love. Terribly brazen. You ought not tell me you'd not mind, as I might think you serious."

  She couldn't hold back her laughter. It had been a lifetime since she'd last felt so happy, so carefree, as she did right then. Drew's eyes grew tender at her first peal, his voice a low growl as he said, “I only hope I can keep that laughter in your voice, Heather. It is the sweetest of sounds to my ears."

  "Oh, Drew, you are good,” she teased, giving his hand another squeeze. “Keep saying things such as this and I highly doubt I will ever stop laughing."

  "As it should be. Just you wait, lady. When it's our actual nuptial ball, I am going to take every liberty I might get away with. You are in trouble."

  "Ah, but we'll be married then and there'll not be a whit anyone will be able to do about it."

  After that first dance, the crowds gathered along the perimeter of the room slowly made their way out to pair up. Heather remained in Drew's arms, quite unwilling to move from them. Andie and Garrett joined them, as did Kendall and Julian. Heather felt every bit a part of the family as, after the waltz ended, both Julian and Garrett came up to grab Drew by the arms, tugging him from her.

  "Enough with the women,” Garrett said, giving his brother a devilish smile. “It's time to celebrate the waning days of your bachelorhood the way they ought be spent."

  "With other men,” Julian broke in, bowing low to Heather. “If you'll excuse us then, Miss Heather. We promise to return him in one piece."

  "More or less.” Garrett grinned over one shoulder as he and Julian dragged Drew in the direction of the bar.

  Kendall rolled her eyes. “Well, if that isn't just like a man—seeing marriage as the kiss of death."

  "Oh, I'm not so certain about that,” Andie said, shaking her head as she turned to face them. “You need to remember, Garrett missed out on this particular rite."