The Bride
Page 8
She took a step closer and lifted her cheek. She caught the hint of a wicked grin moments before she was swooped against his broad chest. “Oh my...” The words were barely out of her mouth before firm, sensually chiseled lips covered hers. Heat raced through her—and tingles. The same sensation she’d felt in her toes at his smile now zinged through her body.
His tongue ventured along the seam of her lips and her mouth opened. When her tongue met his, pure pleasure sent her spiraling. Dizzy, she lifted her arms, grasping his shoulders for support. But soon even that wasn’t enough and her hands curved around his strong neck, twining in the black curls at his nape. Delicious...
A noise brought reason slapping back on her. At first she thought it was Biddy, but.as she pulled away from him she realized it had been she... moaning.
Still dazed, no matter how hard she tried to gather her wits, Cinnamon stared up into his smiling face and cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “I suppose you should be on your way, Mr....”
“Captain Ian McGregger,” he said with a bow, and another dimple-revealing grin. “At yer service.”
“Yes, well, good day to you, Captain McGregger.” She turned away, busying herself with moving a wooden spoon from one spot on the table to another.
“He’s gone, miss.” Biddy crossed the kitchen and stood beside Cinnamon.
“Where did you find him, Biddy, and why in heavens did you bring him down here?”
“Well, like he said, miss, he was in your father’s library. I thought, Mr. Murphy might be of some help with the fire, but he weren’t there, and that young man insisted I show him where it was. Grabbed my arm he did, and pulled me along.”
“Oh, really?” She laughed.
Biddy didn’t. “Miss Cinnamon, I don’t see what you think is so funny.”
Neither did Cinnamon, for that matter. But it was either laugh or try to explain to herself her reaction to Ian McGregger’s kiss. And that she didn’t want to do. Instead, she surveyed the damage on the floor.
“Poor Miss Cinnamon,” Biddy was saying. “Look at your cake, all ruined, naught but wet ashes.”
“It is a bit of a mess, isn’t it? As am I.” She plucked at her clingy wet skirts. “It’s just too bad I told everyone about this cake.” She gave the nearest blackened tin a kick with the toe of her ruined boot. “They’re expecting something wonderful for dessert at dinner.”
“Now, I’m sure no one will mind, Miss. You aren’t really expected to bake a cake now, are you?”
Perhaps. But she didn’t see why she couldn’t do it. How hard could baking a simple cake be? And as for no one minding that she’d failed, well, that wasn’t exactly true—for she minded a great deal.
~ ~ ~
“Oh, Count Lorenzo, do tell us another. You are so, so amusing. Don’t you think so, Cinnamon?”
“Yes, Mama. Truly,” she agreed, though she hadn’t paid the slightest attention to her sister Eugenia’s husband, who sat next to his wife.
Cinnamon had heard quite enough of the Italian count’s stories during their travels through Europe this past summer. Not that there was really anything wrong with her brother-in-law. He was learned, cultured, of impeccable lineage, if one didn’t count several wrong-side-of-the-sheet births which, of course, would never be mentioned in the Murphy household. And even if his pocketbook didn’t match his royal blood, he abided Eugenia fairly well. So all in all, he was a perfect catch. Mama was ecstatic that her eldest daughter was well married and in the autumn Cinnamon would be too.
Excusing herself, Cinnamon rose. Near the piano her younger sisters, Cornelia, Lucretia, and Philomela, took turns looking through the stereoscope and giggling. Taking a playful swipe at their posteriors with her fan, she bypassed them and headed for the window where her father stood. He had lifted aside the heavy velvet drapes and was looking out onto the gaslit street.
A large man, raw-boned and robust, he had gray hair and side whiskers and an honest, friendly face, still tanned from his many years standing beneath crisp white sails. Her mother had tried through the years to smooth his rough edges but had yet to succeed—at least to her way of thinking. Cinnamon thought her father nearly perfect, always had.
He tapped his foot absently now and rubbed at his whiskers—two habits her mother considered common.
Glancing up as Cinnamon approached, he gave her a welcoming smile. “So you’re tired of hearing how the count’s grandfather singlehandedly defeated Napoleon, are you?”
She hid a smile behind her hand-painted fan. “Do you suppose there’s any truth to that tale?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” He let the curtain drop and lifted his wine glass, taking a sip. “But it does make him colorful.”
“And the center of attention,” she added. Cornelia, Lucretia, and Philomela appeared to have grown tired of the stereoscope and joined the group, chattering away like magpies, full of questions for the Italian count.
“Now, we mustn’t be too critical. Your sisters haven’t had the advantage of visiting the cream of European society as you have, my dear.”
If she thought for one moment her father was serious, she might have felt chastised. But she knew his opinion of her trip last summer, as well as the one Eugenia took the summer before when she had met Count Lorenzo.
“You seem distant tonight, Papa. Is something wrong?”
He set his glass on the ornately carved table, next to Caesar’s bust. “Wrong? No, I wouldn’t say that. But there is a matter I wish to discuss with you. Should have before tonight actually.”
“Why before tonight?”
“Cinnamon, Mr. Murphy, do come join us. Count Lorenzo is relating such a fascinating tale,” Mama called to them.
“He and Eugenia have met our queen, Papa.”
“Yes, I know, Philomela, though we must remember Victoria is not our queen.”
“Oh, Papa, don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”
“Such language you use, Cornelia,” Mama said. “I can’t imagine where you get it.”
“Shall we join your mother, Cinnamon?” Patrick held out his arm. Her expression must have shown concern, for he patted her hand. “Don’t fret. We’ll talk later on this subject.”
“I’d be pleased to know what subject you’re referring to.”
“Later, my dear,” he said as they strolled across the drawing room toward the arrangement of scarlet settees.
Seated again, Cinnamon fluffed the folds of her wheat-colored silk gown with the Sevres blue velvet and black Chantilly lace, and wished she knew what was troubling Papa. Her lips thinned, then curved into a forced smile when her mother caught her eye. One of her daughters appearing vexed in public wasn’t acceptable as far as Kathleen Murphy was concerned.
When James, the very English butler Mama had imported from London, announced dinner, her mother rose, but Papa shook his head waving James aside.
“Whatever is wrong with you, Mr. Murphy? We are all assembled and quite ready to have our dinner, I’m sure.”
“I apologize for the delay, Mrs. Murphy. But I’ve invited someone else to join us.” Her father flipped open his pocket watch. “Someone I am eager for all of you to meet.” His eyes sought Cinnamon’s.
Her mother settled down onto the settee primly. “Where is this person?”
“He’ll be here.”
“Perhaps he was delayed,” added the count as he lifted his monocle.
“Delayed?” Cinnamon thought her mother said the word as if she’d never heard it before. “How utterly—”
“Ah, here he is now.”
The parlor doors opened, and before James could announce the visitor, her father rushed forward. He took the newcomer’s hand and shook it hardily, practically pulling him into the room.
“Welcome, my boy. Glad you could come. We are all assembled as my good wife would say. You must meet the family.”
Her father’s outburst hid Cinnamon’s gasp of surprise.
She watc
hed, stunned, while her father presented her mother, sisters, and Count Lorenzo. Though their guest appeared slightly nervous, he was nonetheless gracious, making the appropriate comments—until his eyes met hers. Then his mouth dropped open, but no words emerged.
Other Books by Christine Dorsey
The Captain’s Conquest
The Traitor’s Embrace
Wild Southern Nights
To Love a Rebel
The Captain’s Captive
The Rebel’s Kiss
Sea Fires
Sea of Desire
Sea of Temptation
Sea of Christmas Miracles (novella)
My Savage Heart
My Seaswept Heart
My Heavenly Heart
Splendor
The Renegade
The Rebel
The Rogue
By the Book
Déjà Vu (novella)
The Wedding Cake (novella)
The Bride (novella)
Rave Reviews
My Savage Heart
“My Savage Heart will leave readers breathless and eagerly anticipating the remaining novels in this new trilogy. Ms. Dorsey has created another incredible hero and a wonderful love story.”
~ Romantic Times
“As always, Christine Dorsey can be counted on to give us a tale full of adventure and romance. My Savage Heart is a poignantly written, emotion-packed read that will touch your heart. Her full-bodied characters and well-written storyline will have you engrossed from the first page to the very last.”
~ Affaire de Coeur
Sea of Temptation
“In Sea of Temptation, the sensational conclusion to her outstanding Charleston Trilogy, Christine Dorsey demonstrates why she is one of the most talented authors of the genre today: strong, unforgettable characters, rousing adventures, and history combine to create “keepers.”
~ Romantic Times
“Ms. Dorsey’s hero and heroine are both strong-willed individuals and their misunderstandings add some very funny situations to this action-packed historical. On the other hand, their fiery passion will send your temperature rising. An outstanding conclusion to a fascinating series on the Blackstones.”
~ Rendezvous
Sea of Desire
“Christine Dorsey has written a tale of passion, adventure, and love that is impossible to put down. Her heroine is feisty and her hero will leave you breathless. Sea of Desire is a book you shouldn’t miss and will need some space on your keeper shelf. It is marvelous!”
~ Affaire de Coeur
“Blazing passion, nonstop adventure, and a “be-still-my-beating-heart” hero are just a few of the highlights of this captivating second novel in Ms. Dorsey’s Charleston Trilogy. Sea of Desire is not to be missed!”
~ Romantic Times
Sea Fires
“From the instant Miranda and Jack meet, you know this is going to be a very special relationship and that Sea Fires is going to be a very special book. If this auspicious romance is any indication, the Charleston trilogy is destined to be an excellent series from Christine Dorsey’s sparkling pen. Be sure not to miss Sea Fires!”
~ Romantic Times
“Sea Fires is well plotted, sensual, and a pure delight!”
~ Affaire de Coeur
“There is an undercurrent of dry wit and many humorous incidents that make this swashbuckling romance a most enjoyable reading adventure. Ms. Dorsey spins quite a tale.”
~ Rendezvous
The Rebel’s Kiss
“... a tender, moving novel that touches the heart. Ms. Dorsey’s star shines brighter than ever.”
~ Romantic Times
The Captain’s Captive
“Make room on your “keeper” shelf for The Captain’s Captive. This mesmerizing novel has it all: rousing adventure, intriguing plot, and enchanting lovers sure to please lucky readers.”
~ Romantic Times
“From first page to last, the word for this book is captivating, it has all the ingredients for an excellent read. Adventure, verbal battles, sensuous love scenes, humor and above all, it’s well written. This one is a keeper.”
~ Rendezvous
Traitor’s Embrace
“A bang-up story full of adventure, humor, wonderful characters, and an interesting time period. This is one you shouldn’t miss.”
~ Rendezvous
About the Author
Christine Dorsey lives in Richmond, Virginia with her proof that there are “happily ever afters”, her husband of forty-five years, Chip. She has three grown children, a son and daughter-in-law, and four of the most delightful grandchildren imaginable... just ask her. She also has a Springer Spaniel puppy, Stella, who keeps the household more than lively. Besides her family and friends, reading, writing and love of the sea are her passions. The author of seventeen books and four novellas with more to come, Christine loves to share the stories and characters that had Romantic Times Magazine calling her “one of the most talented authors in the genre.” You can follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Blog and her website, www.christinedorsey.com