by Diana Bold
Was she having second thoughts? Would she decide not to go through with the wedding after all because of the abominable way he’d been treating her? Or, worse yet, was she spending so much time getting ready because she wanted to torture him by being even more beautiful than usual? God, he hoped not. She was more temptation than he could bear in her simple cotton work dresses and untidy hair.
A burst of laughter emerged from the open door of the library, and Tristan threw a fulminating glare in that direction. His soon‐to‐be brothers‐in‐law were in there having a pre‐wedding drink, and their amusement was undoubtedly at his expense.
He was still nettled by the fact that they’d insisted on coming along, but he’d known better than to argue the point. He didn’t want any witnesses to this farce of a wedding, but there was no way in hell the McKenzies were going to allow him his wish.
Not that he blamed them. If Savannah were his sister, he probably wouldn’t have allowed this wedding to take place at all. Savannah deserved better than a broken down gunslinger.
There was a noise above him, and Tristan smiled when he saw Billy on the landing, his blond hair slicked back, his slim form dressed in a fine black suit. The boy was grinning from ear to ear, his little freckled face glowing with happiness.
“You look nice,” he told his son, a thrill of pride running through him. No matter what else the day might bring, he was overjoyed at the prospect of having his son with him from now on.
Billy skipped down the remaining stairs and hugged him about the waist. “You look nice, too, Daddy.”
Daddy.
Tristan hugged the boy back, blinking back the emotion.
Overwhelmed, he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Someone cleared their throat, and he glanced up, embarrassed, and found Savannah on the landing, staring down at them with tears of her own. She was dressed in a beautiful gown of sky blue silk. Her lovely auburn hair was swept into an intricate style that showed off the graceful column of her throat and the fine‐boned features of her face.
She took his breath away.
Blushing, she descended the stairs to his side. Before he could stop her, she hugged both him and their son tightly. He stood locked in the embrace, staring into her eyes, realizing he’d been waiting for this moment most of his life. She was here, and she was his. Forever. All he had to do was forgive her.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, tired of pretending he hadn’t noticed.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “You’re beautiful, too.”
Billy laughed and pulled away from them, obviously having had enough of the mushy stuff. “Let’s go. I want to get married.”
* * * * *
Five hours later, Savannah followed Tristan into her new home, weary in both body and spirit. The effort to put on a happy face and pretend everything was all right had nearly killed her. Her family had surrounded her and Tristan all day, during the brief civil ceremony, on the trips to and from town, and at the small wedding dinner Mary had insisted on providing.
By the time Billy fell into an exhausted sleep, all Savannah wanted to do was join him. Instead, she’d tucked him into bed and tried to find the courage to face whatever else the night held.
Tristan shut the cabin door and strode to the fireplace, bending down to light the kindling in the glow of the lone lantern they’d brought with them from the big house. Savannah watched him warily, uncertain what to expect. He’d been civil all day, but he hadn’t spoken at all on the walk down to the cabin.
“There’s a bottle of wine on the table.” The fire caught hold, and he turned to look at her. “Maybe you should have some.”
Glad to have a purpose, Savannah searched for some glasses. She poured them both some wine, and then drank half of hers in one nervous swallow. She’d thought of a way to crack his icy facade, but she wasn’t sure she had the courage. Her plan would only work if he still loved her.
Leaving Tristan by the fire, she took her wine to the bedroom. After taking a few more sips, she put it down and undressed with trembling hands. Although it was summer, the night was cool, and she shivered a bit as her shift fell to the floor. Crossing her arms over her naked breasts, she reclined on top of the quilts, ignoring the chill. If she succeeded, things were about to get a whole lot warmer.
Footsteps sounded in the other room and, moments later, Tristan appeared in the bedroom doorway, wine in hand. He froze, staring at her with an expression of complete surprise. “Savannah,” he whispered, as she let her hands fall from her breasts. “You take my breath away.”
She stared at the ceiling, fighting tears, as he undressed. This was going to be so hard. She didn’t know if she could do it.
He climbed into bed, his big, warm body pressing against hers.
Cupping her face, he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. She remained passive beneath him, neither pulling away, nor returning his kiss. For several moments, he continued to give her sweet, chaste kisses, but then he paused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m your wife. You can do anything you like to me.” He pulled away, frowning. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You said you wanted the unlimited use of my body.” She spread her arms wide, offering herself freely. “Well, here I am.”
“This isn’t what I want,” he told her, his voice tight with irritation. “And you can’t tell me you haven’t been looking forward to this night.”
“I wanted to make love to you. But what you want… It isn’t love, it’s just sex.”
He met her challenging gaze for a long moment and then gave a little huff of laughter. “You’re bluffing. You won’t be able to resist me for long.”
She hoped he was wrong but was terrified he wasn’t. Still, she had to try. She wanted to show him love made all the difference. She wouldn’t let him treat her like his whore. He needed to love her all the time, not just in the bedroom.
“I can,” she whispered. “And I will.”
Shaking his head, he cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her sensitive nipple. A thrill of delight speared through her, but she forced herself to remain passive. He smiled wickedly and lowered his mouth to the other one, sucking gently. She clenched her thighs together, trying to ignore the damp ache.
He took his time, trailing his lips and hands over every inch of her upper body, touching and tasting, so tender he brought fresh tears to her eyes. She wanted to let herself go, wanted to run her fingers through his silky hair and gather him close, but somehow she found the strength to resist, remaining cold as marble beneath his gentle caress.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded softly when his efforts above her waist didn’t get the result he wanted.
Shamed to the very core, she did as he asked. There was no hiding her body’s response to his touch.
“Christ,” he breathed, giving her a triumphant little smile. “You’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” And then he did the unthinkable, he lowered his head and kissed her secret folds. Lashing her with his tongue, he penetrated her with his fingertips. The combined sensations were more than she could bear.
She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the moan working its way up the back of her throat. Tears stung her eyes, and she swallowed convulsively, determined not to give in.
He doubled his efforts, working her with his mouth and his hands until she couldn’t fight it anymore. She thrashed beneath him, sobbing with mingled shame and pleasure. Rising above her, he stared down, rubbing his thick length through her slick folds. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
“I don’t want you,” she forced out, though every fiber of her being was straining toward him, aching to be possessed. “Not like this. Not this way.”
“You’re lying,” he told her, and then he thrust deep within her.
She cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pumped his hips against hers, driving his hard, pulsing length int
o her again and again. She fought to retain control but couldn’t. A wave of ecstasy crested within her, and she let it overwhelm her, shattering in a thousand pieces as Tristan moaned her name and collapsed on top of her.
The release seemed to open an emotional floodgate deep within her.
The orgasm had been incredible, but it meant she’d lost. Her tears broke free, turning into deep, gut‐wrenching sobs. Shoving Tristan away, she curled in upon herself, clutching her knees to her breasts as she cried for the impossibility of her doomed marriage.
Tristan scrambled to his knees, staring down at his wife in dawning horror. This was his fault, all of it. He’d taken her resistance as a challenge, ignoring everything else she’d been trying to tell him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her eyes. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please, don’t cry.”
Her sobs only intensified, wracking her slender frame until he thought she’d shake apart. Frustrated, he picked her up and cradled her against him like a child. He rocked her gently, stroking her back and murmuring soothing nonsense.
He didn’t know how long he held her before her sobs finally subsided. It seemed an eternity. His heart was breaking. It was only now, seeing her tears, that he realized how strong she’d been during the last few days, how hard she’d tried to mend the damage between them.
He’d been such an ass, hurting her time and again. Taking pleasure in it, if the truth be told. Because as long as he’d had her to blame, he hadn’t had to face his own culpability. It was easier to convince himself that Savannah had stolen Billy from him than to face the truth.
I walked away from her. I walked away from them both.
At last, Savannah grew quiet, her tear‐streaked face pressed against his damp chest, her breathing slow and even with only occasional sniffles. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and lost. “You were right. I do want you. I’ll never stop wanting you.”
He hugged her, bereft. “Don’t apologize. Christ, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who made this into a game, knowing I was playing with your heart.”
She blinked up at him, her eyes red and swollen from her tears. “What are you saying?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking during the past few days. My behavior has been unforgivable, and my only defense is that I’ve been afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
He shook his head. “Afraid of loving you, sweetheart. Afraid of reaching for what I want, for fear I don’t deserve it. I’ve blamed you for keeping Billy from me, when all along I knew you only did what you had to do. I never should have left without making sure you were taken care of.”
She pushed to a sitting position, meeting his earnest gaze. “I should have waited for you.”
He put his finger to her lips. “You asked me to make a choice, and I should have chosen you. Instead, I destroyed everything.”
She pressed a fleeting kiss to his palm. “You did what you thought was right. I should never have forced you to make that choice in the first place.”
He gave a soft huff of laughter. “We could debate this point all night but the point is, I love you. I always have, and I always will. I’ve tried to fool myself, I’ve tried to push you away and make you hate me, but tonight I realized loving you can’t possibly hurt any more than living without you.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes. “I love you, too. I’ve never stopped.”
“Then give me one more chance,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “Let’s pretend we’re still young and innocent and have our whole lives ahead of us. We’ve lost too much time already. I don’t want to lose any more.”
She bit her lip and nodded, hugging him as though she never meant to let him go. “That’s all I ever wanted. You’re all I ever wanted.”
With a soft sigh, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with all the love he’d held inside for so long. This time she returned his kiss passionately, moaning into his mouth as her arms went around him, pulling him down on top of her.
He followed her to the mattress, pressing against her cushioning warmth, realizing that from now on he’d always have a soft place to fall. He broke the kiss and stared down at her, blinking away a sting of tears.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for being brave enough to show me what my anger almost cost me. For making me admit that I’ll never be complete unless I give you everything I have to give.”
“There he is.” She cupped his face with trembling hands, fresh tears of her own making her eyes glisten. “There’s the man I fell in love with all those years ago.”
He pressed a tender kiss to her palm. “You’re the only one who ever could have brought him back, sweetheart. Until I found you again, I thought that part of me was dead.”
She slid her hands into his hair and pulled his head down to rest upon her chest. “I’ve felt a little dead inside myself. For the last ten years, I’ve just been going through the motions. Despite all the pain and confusion your return has caused, having you in my life again has made me feel alive.”
He hugged her tightly, knowing exactly what she meant. “Let me make love to you again, sweetheart. Let me make this into the wedding night I’ve always dreamed of.”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh, as he ran his tongue over her nipple, bringing it to rigid attention. “Please, Tristan.”
Eager to give his beautiful wife all the loving she deserved, he repeated his earlier ministrations, kissing and tasting his way down her delectable body. But this time everything was different. This time, she moaned and thrashed beneath him, sobbing his name in pleasure as he brought her to the edge of completion again and again.
But his control was not infinite, and soon his need matched hers.
Sheathing himself deep within her wet heat, he rose above her on trembling arms. “I love you, Savannah. I’ll never leave you again.”
“I’ll never let you go,” she promised, wrapping her legs around his waist and driving him even deeper.
Determined to make this heavenly moment last an eternity, he began to thrust slowly within her, holding her gaze, drowning in the love that shone in her eyes. But all too soon she convulsed around him, and he cried out, riding her climax to his own.
Panting, utterly spent, he rolled onto his back and pulled her into the circle of his arms. She sighed and snuggled close, falling to sleep between one breath and the next. He smiled, pulling her closer and tucking the quilt securely around them. Poor thing; she’d been up all night. No wonder she was exhausted.
It scared him to think about how close he’d come to losing her, or to turning their love into a lifetime of bitterness and regret. The last of his anger faded away, replaced by overwhelming love and contentment. The past could not be changed, but the entire future lay before him.
As he joined his wife in peaceful slumber, his last thought was that the future looked very bright indeed.
The End
Diana wrote her first book in elementary school and has been writing ever since. For the last ten years she’s been seriously pursuing a writing career while also juggling a full time job as a police dispatcher. She has won or finaled in over a dozen writing contests, including RWA’s Golden Heart. She lives in a small town in Eastern Colorado.
You can contact Diana at [email protected]
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Chapter One
London—1810
“You’ve got a visitor, Montgomery.”
Deep in the bowels of Newgate Prison, Talon Montgomery looked up from the corner of his dank, windowless cell. “A visitor?” His words were little more than a hoarse rasp. He hadn’t spoken in months, not since he’d realized nothing he said would entice the guards to release him.
He shielded his eyes from the glare of the guard’s lantern with a grimy hand, blin
king and uncertain. A visitor? He’d been trapped down here for what seemed an eternity, accused of treason and branded a pirate. They claimed he’d been spying for the Americans, looting English ships for military secrets and wealth.
He accepted the charge of piracy, even though he was technically a privateer, but he hotly denied the treason. He was an American, by choice, if not by birth. Unfortunately, his letter of marque from the American government had been ignored, and he’d been thrown in this cell to rot. He’d been sentenced to death, and he couldn’t imagine why they were dragging it out.
The hulking guard withdrew a key and unlocked his cell for the first time since his mockery of a trial. The grinding rasp of the key brought long dead reflexes to life.
Was he hallucinating? He had to be, because freedom lay just beyond that open door. All he had to do was get rid of the guard…
“You wouldn’t make it two feet,” the man warned, hauling Talon off the floor with one beefy arm.
Talon fought a wave of nausea and humiliation. The good health he’d taken for granted all his life had deserted him. He battled to find the strength to remain standing instead of wilting at the man’s feet in an ignoble heap.
The guard grinned. “Not so high and mighty now, are we, Lord Pirate?”
Talon shook off the man’s hands, bracing his own against the iron bars for support. “Where are you taking me?”
“There’s a fancy gentleman waitin’ to have a word with you in the warden’s office.” Still chuckling, the guard shoved Talon toward his cell door. “I don’t imagine the bloke wants to be kept twiddlin’ his thumbs by the likes o’ you.”
Talon let the guard prod him down the narrow corridor, unable to accept the fact that he had a visitor. Who could it be? His valiant crew had been dead these many months, and he had no one else.
He wondered if this was a ruse, some strange new form of torture to make him confess. If so, perhaps this time they’d succeed. He could bear anything but false hope.