Blaylock's Bride

by Cait London

  The bumpy ride down the hill was short and not dangerous, and Kallista found herself giggling as Roman cursed. The pickup smashed through a corral, tangled in barbed wire and came to a stop in the middle of the pasture, surrounded by white-faced Herefords.

  “I like the sound of that,” Roman murmured, easing her hair back from her cheek. “You sound happy.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him and smiled coyly. “I’m about to get what I want.”

  But Roman was staring at her breasts. “You’re so pale and soft, so delicate, like that orchid. I could hurt you easily,” he whispered unevenly, his fists squeezing the steering wheel until it creaked.

  She didn’t feel delicate; she knew exactly how a volcano might feel before bursting into the sky. Roman’s gentle exploration along her back and the confining lace had been frustrating. “The hook is in the front.”

  “That’s something new, isn’t it?” he asked rawly.

  “It’s not new.”

  “To me, it is,” he admitted shakily. “Lace isn’t—”

  Her finger stopped the rest of his words. She wanted Roman’s chest against hers without lace barriers. She shook with the need to fit her body close to his, to feel the beating of his heart on her, within her, pulsing deeply....

  Roman jerked his gaze away from her, groaned and shoved open the door. He stepped onto the pickup’s bed and leaped to the moonlit ground. Holding out his arms, his order was hushed, careful not to wake Titus and Dusty in the bunkhouse. “Jump. Trust me and jump.”

  Kallista eased to the running board, studied the way Roman stood, his legs wide, braced upon the pasture, his shirt open and his hair rumpled. His boyish grin and chuckle surprised her. “You think I won’t?” she asked, then gathered herself to leap.

  “Afraid of me?”

  There was Roman’s old fear, never far away. “Never,” she said, meaning it.

  Roman caught her firmly, laughed aloud as though delighted. When she placed an orchid in his hair, he stopped, his look fierce and passionate and then he began to run to Boone’s house. He didn’t stop until he’d carried her up the stairs to the big four-poster bed and dumped her on it, following her down with his body. He grinned at her. “Now, Miss Sassy Mouth, what have you got to say?”

  “Love me,” she whispered, aching for him, to tether the restless need haunting her since she’d last touched him.

  Roman’s smile died, his gaze slowly taking in her body. Again, in that humble gesture, he placed her hands on his face, as though all he could be, would be, rested in her keeping as he kissed her palms. “Let’s do this right this time, Kallie,” he whispered unevenly and stood to undress.

  Kallista stood on the other side of the bed, shaken by the depth of her emotions—not only the need to have Roman’s body fill hers, but the need to hold him close and keep him safe, and deeper needs, which terrified her.

  Undressed now, Roman’s body gleamed in the moonlight as he eased beneath the sheet, and lay down, his head upon the pillow. “Come to bed, honey...leave the cameo on,” he murmured softly, and she knew that tonight was the wedding night that Roman wanted.

  She undressed slowly, aware of Roman’s hunger as it pulsated around her, hurried the urgent tempo in her. When she was draped in moonlight and terror of the emotions within her, she slid Boone’s moon earrings from her. She placed them on the starched doily beside a picture of the old man she had loved. She eased beneath the sheet and turned to look at Roman, a new man whom she both feared would change her life and whom she needed. “This is some first date.”

  He wrapped her hair around his finger, bringing it to his lips. “I want to make an impression.”

  Then he lay down and put his arms behind his head. Her mouth dried and her body trembled, waiting.... Roman looked at her. “I can’t think about anything but you. You fit my arms perfectly, honey.”

  She’d heard prettier words, but Roman’s affected her more deeply and again that strange, unfamiliar sense of coming home curled around her. The night fell hushed and warm upon them, a fragrant breeze rustling the curtains at the window. He turned to her, his hand over hers. “I like how you laugh. It ripples out of you like a fresh spring brook.”

  She hadn’t laughed very much in her lifetime and as she adjusted the orchid in Roman’s sleek black hair, she knew that this man could awake passions she hadn’t known, tenderness she hadn’t experienced....

  She closed her eyes, savoring the sweet moment, as Roman’s arms went around her to draw her close to his body. He held her gently, stroking her hair, and there in that dear, sweet room, filled with memories of a kind old man, Kallista gave herself to Roman’s gentle, trembling, sweeping touch. He gathered her to him as if he’d found a treasure, as if he wanted to make her a part of him forever, for the good times and bad, as if when he loved her, he’d still love her the same way when they were old and rocking on the front porch. His reverence was magic, calming her restless spirit. She opened herself to him, sighed when he slowly filled her, stretching her and waiting until she adjusted. Then so complete nothing could tear them apart, she held him close. Kallista felt as though she’d fought the world to be here, now...with Roman. She trusted him now, loved him....

  Kallista shivered, Roman’s hard, bare chest dragging against her nipples as he bent to place his mouth upon her breast, the gentle and warm suction causing her to open, to meet the rhythm of his easy thrusts, his hands cupping her hips, lifting her higher, higher... Out there on that burning plane, she burst into pieces and sensed that she would never be the same.

  With Roman resting over her, heavy, secure and warm, she found the peace she’d been seeking all her life. When she sensed him preparing to move away, she kept him close, protested with a murmur, smoothing his back, his hips, his thighs resting within hers.

  Peace. She’d found what she’d needed, she thought drowsily, as Roman nuzzled her face with his, a gentle, sweet claiming.

  Twice more before dawn, they made love, with Roman protecting her as he had that first time—bodies hungry, hearts pounding, and then the heavenly, gentle release. Roman’s shudder and release were leashed, his body trembling, damp, sleek, rippling with the aftershocks. That was when he came to her, and she knew the power of making love, gathering him close. He lay against her, sweet and lax and warm and sated, his heart slowing, and Kallista soothed his tense shoulders, a peace she had never known curling around her.

  Again Kallista awoke, her body spooned by Roman’s big one, his arms around her, his lips moving at her cheek, his body flowing rhythmically against hers, seeking entrance. Filled with the scents of their lovemaking, the room held echoes of their sounds, the racing of their hearts, the quickening of breath and tangled bodies shifting on the old bed, of pleasured sighs and Roman’s quiet murmurs.

  Meadowlarks trilled, Moby the rooster crowed, and men yelled. Kallista blinked, tethering Roman’s wandering hands with her own. “Roman?” She sent an elbow back at him and he grunted.

  “Roman?” she whispered again as the sound of buzzing saws ripped through the early morning.

  “Come back here, sweetheart,” he murmured drowsily, cupping her breasts.

  “Stop that,” she ordered as Roman began kissing the side of her throat and his thumb ran across her nipple, peaking it. “Listen.”

  “I want to see you, honey—uh!”

  James Blaylock’s voice cut through the peaceful sounds of a country morning. “Back that digger over here. Roman’s plans for the addition say the foundation starts here, and we’ll need to bury the plumbing lines right here—by this red stake.”

  Logan shouted over the sound of the power saws. “He wants both fireplaces blocked in for now, the one in the bedroom comes first and the other we’ll do comes later, but the heat and cooling vents go here. Titus, don’t pick that up. Let me.”

  “Here come the lumber trucks,” Dusty called. “Some damn fool left Roman’s pickup tangled up in that barbed wire. The seat is covered with orchids. Someone ma
shed the tar out of them.”

  “Roman,” Kallista managed quietly through her shock, “if we can hear them that plainly with the window open, they could hear—”

  He nuzzled the side of her throat. “They weren’t here when you gave yourself to me. There was no one but me to hear that sweet cry.”

  “Roman.” Kallista swallowed, trying to find reality. “You shouted as if your life was being squeezed from you.”

  He chuckled, a rich rumbling sound against her ear, his tongue flicking her earlobe. “I was being squeezed all right and pretty pleased about it.”

  His arousal nudged her intimately and Roman groaned hungrily. “Kallie, you’re so tight and hot inside, and the scent of you—”

  She almost—almost—pushed against him, Roman’s strong hand sliding between her thighs, opening her...

  “Roman? Breakfast is ready,” Else called from the kitchen. “Cindi and Patty are still sleeping, but they’ll ride their bikes over when they wake up. Rio is with them. With the whole Blaylock tribe here and working this week, the addition ought to be ready for the wedding.”

  Kallista flipped over to stare at Roman’s face, firmly placing the sheet between them. When his head started toward her breasts, she pushed his face up to hers. “Oh, no. Not that. I can’t think—and you know I can’t think—when you do that nibbling, biting, suckling.... You planned all this in the space of yesterday afternoon. I thought we were going to discuss how to proceed.”

  “Now, Kallie,” he began as she hit him with the pillow. He tore it away from her and reached out to grab her ankle as she fled, pulling her back into bed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  The statement was flat, hard, and unlike the gentle lover of last night. This was the man she sensed lurking beneath his leashed passions. This was a man she wanted as fiercely, one who would meet her without reserve, giving and taking everything. She grabbed the sheet between them, shy of him now. She bucked beneath his weight, his hands pressing her wrists to the bed. “I’m going to murder you, Roman Blaylock. You planned all this...and went right on without me.” She tugged up the sheet that he was slowly drawing downward. “Don’t you dare look at me. Don’t you dare.”

  If he looked at her in that solemn, dark way, as though she fascinated him, and he wanted more, and the heat from his touch could burn her, and... But Roman looked at her steadily. “Once you’d agreed to marry me, I didn’t see reason to waste time. There’s that separate bedroom thing, you know,” he thrust at her. “It’s going to be damn hard to keep my hands off you, and you know it.”

  Roman’s sudden temper startled her, that grim determination to keep her locked to him. She wasn’t frightened, but she wasn’t certain how to handle his sudden temper. “I could leave you at the altar...embarrass you. Then how would you look, planning a wedding and a home without me?”

  “You won’t. And if you did, I’d just have to come after you. I know a good thing when I see it...you’re perfect.”

  Perfect. A little happy butterfly fluttered around her heart. Now how did a woman argue with that? “How do you know I won’t leave you high and dry?”

  He grinned boyishly and for the first time, bent to playfully nuzzle her throat. “Why, Kallie, you like to kiss me too much. You get all wild and hot and—”

  While she was mulling how to deny that truth, trying not to blush under his hungry look, and holding the sheet high to her chin, Roman bent to kiss her, slow and tenderly. “There’s something I—”

  “I can’t take any more news this morning, Romandear,” she said firmly, meaning it.

  Roman sighed slowly and eased from the bed. Kallista couldn’t resist peeking at his tall rippling body as he dressed. It seemed impossible that such a strong man, tall, rawboned, all cords and muscles, could be so tender. She frowned. In lovemaking, Roman had been oddly tender, as if fearing to hurt her. She flopped over on her stomach and tried not to want him.

  The edge to his voice, “You’re not going anywhere,” should have terrified her—she’d heard those words before. But with Roman, she wanted to pit herself against him and enjoy the game, to push him to his limits and see what happened. All in all, Roman Blaylock was an exciting game.

  Roman’s friendly pat on her bottom stayed to become a caress, and both big hands shaped her bottom. The ragged sound of his breath filled the room and she tensed, already warming for his touch. “You’re pretty when you’re riled, all hot and wild like you’d like to tear something apart. When you’re ready, try me—” he whispered against her ear, then nibbled it. Another pat and he was gone, closing the bedroom door and whistling as if everything was just peachy.

  “Well, it isn’t,” Kallista muttered. In her lifetime, she’d kept her moods hidden. She walked away when situations became tense, tangled with emotions, and she never looked back. She blew away the crushed orchid in front of her nose. “‘Hot and wild.’ We’ll see just who is hot and wild, Blaylock.”

  Kallista lightly ran her fingers over the crushed orchid, the bruised creamy petals dotted with deep purple. She’d intended to rip Boone’s estate from Roman’s keeping, and now she was tangled in long slow sultry looks and soft words, and Roman’s fiercely honed, passionate expression when they made love. Life was no longer simple.

  The woman wearing his shirt and starting the lumber truck wasn’t happy. Roman took one look at Kallista’s glare at him, and knew that if he let her get away now... He began to run after the truck, filled with bouncing boards, then hopped up on the running board. He grimaced as she shot through the field, crashing a wooden cattle loading chute on the way to her home. “Now, honey,” he began, avoiding her swatting hand, and wondered where he went wrong in claiming his love. “Have you...?”

  Roman groaned as she sideswiped a small wooden storage shed. It wobbled, leaned, then flopped to the ground. Unprepared for a steaming woman, he asked gently, “Ah...have you had your breakfast this morning? Do you need that morning cup of cappuccino before you make any rash decisions?”

  She swatted him furiously. With her hair blowing wildly around her face, Kallista glared at him. “You know that I didn’t sleep much last night...and everyone in Jasmine and surrounding counties knows that I spent the night with you. It’s probably on the radio’s morning coffee show now, right up there with advertisements for chicken feed. I’m a private person, Roman Blaylock, and I’m not used to having family everywhere. Get off my running board.”

  Roman tried to speak calmly. A stormy woman driving a big lumber truck, loaded with boards, didn’t do a lot to preserve this morning’s groom-feeling and walking-on-air delight. “Ah...honey. There’s a barn straight ahead.”

  “I know that. You were gone for a week. No explanations. Then you...we...I’m not prepared for all this, Mr. Blaylock. Let alone facing a ranch yard full of your family this morning. And that was just the men. What would I say to the women and the children, and to...whomever?” Kallista braked quickly, and the truck skidded to a stop just inches from the barn. Before Roman could think of some morning-after niceties for the woman he wanted to marry and love his entire lifetime, Kallista had shoved open the door and bolted to the house.

  Roman took one look at her hair flowing behind her as she stalked to the house, her bottom curving beneath his shirt. Oh, my, he purely appreciated that little soft quiver! His mouth dried at the sight of her long legs flashing, slight muscles above her boots, reminding him of how she’d held him, tangled him close and loved him. Roman groaned shakily. After swatting his hat on his thigh and a round of good honest cursing, he followed her.

  “Unlock this door, honey,” he called as sweetly as his deep voice would allow. He glanced back at the lumber truck. Someone had just started the engine, revving it

  With a wave and a grin, James was backing it, preparing to turn around and take the lumber back to the Llewlyn house. “Women,” James called cheerfully. “Welcome to the land of damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.”

  “Get lost.” After that brothe
rly snarl, Roman turned his attention to the door separating him from his love.

  Love. The word winded him, slammed into him sideways, and stunned all his other thoughts straight out of his mind. He’d said it before; he meant it now. “That’s it, then,” Roman muttered to himself. “I love her, pure and simple. I’ll get this right.”

  “You’re overconfident, Blaylock,” she called to him through the door. “You stepped out there and told the world, your family, that we were getting married. Now, that is real confidence, because at this point I want to murder you.”

  “I’m confident this door isn’t standing between us, sweetheart,” he answered with determination, and reached for the key over the door frame—

  “Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well. I might have known,” Kallista said before she hurled a pot at him. “Everyone knew I was with you last night, Blaylock. Don’t you think that’s a bit embarrassing for me?”

  “Now, honey...” Roman replaced the pot to the table and caught the shoe she threw at him. He placed his hands on his hips and stood there, admiring the woman he loved, all fired up and raw, glittering in honest emotion and then he closed the door.

  Kallista shimmered in the morning light coming through the sheer curtains. With dignity, she lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and walked to the bathroom door. With her hand on the doorknob, she said quietly, firmly, “I expect you to be gone when I come out.”

  Nine

  Roman leaned back against the bathroom wall and waited for Kallista’s shower to end. Herbally scented steam circled him, and through the layers he saw his mirrored image—hard, dark and unshaven. This wary man knew how to manage acres of stock and Boone’s financial kingdom, but not how to handle the woman he wanted as his wife. He studied the oval cameo, still warm from Kallista’s throat, delicate against the scarred width of his palm. He ran his fingers over the tiny black velvet ribbon and traced the worn golden flowers holding the soft pink and creamy bust of a woman.