by Mary Brendan
As the little muffled sob of joy broke in her throat he enfolded her to his chest, rocking her within his embrace.
‘I can’t lie and say my intentions towards you were honourable from the start. After such a short acquaintance you can’t blame me for thinking that the need for you was simply a base one.’ His tone was growing increasingly wolfish, but he slid a reverential kiss on her brow. ‘I soon realised that what I felt for you ran far...far deeper than lust.’ He chuckled on seeing the blush spreading on her cheeks, then took her mouth in a profoundly drugging kiss.
Just a touch of his tongue teasing her lips made Fiona melt into him. She opened up immediately to the skilful caress, her hands climbing his muscled chest to rest on his shoulders before her slender fingers linked behind his head, urging him closer.
He loved her...wanted to be her husband... The wonderful words circled soft as butterfly wings in her consciousness. And her own declaration was filling her mind ready to burst forth. But she couldn’t relinquish the exquisite sensation of their fused mouths to utter anything at all. His hands were undoing buttons on her bodice, then unlacing her chemise. Fiona shivered in glorious anticipation as finally...finally warm firm fingers slid, then moulded over her silky, sensitive skin. Arching her back, she gave herself up to the stroking hands drawing her closer to a blissful frenzy.
Luke growled deep in his throat, lifting her and settling her calves about his hips before striding to the sofa. He went down with her, his mouth pressing hot and hard against her lips, the delicate dips at her collarbone, before moving lower to tantalise thrusting rose-tipped breasts peeking at him from between the loose edges of her gown.
Fiona cried out in delight as he suckled the sensitive little nubs, drawing first one then the other into his mouth to be tasted and tantalised with tongue and teeth.
‘I love you, Luke,’ Fiona gasped, bucking and writhing beneath his erotic fondling.
‘I should ask you properly to be my wife.’ Luke cupped her enraptured face between his palms. ‘You deserve better than this,’ he groaned. ‘Yet if you don’t quit wriggling, sweetheart, I might not be able to stop.’
‘No...don’t stop...’ Fiona burst out, drawing a rough laugh from him as she tugged his face again down to hers.
Gently he kissed her. ‘You are a very wanton young lady...much to my surprise and delight,’ he murmured. In a swift abrupt movement he sat Fiona up, tugging together her clothes. Then he gazed into her smoky amber eyes just visible beneath a dusky fringe of bashfully lowered lashes.
‘Let me put your mind at ease over that youthful courtship.’ Luke brushed a thumb over Fiona’s lips, pulsing from his passionate assault. ‘I did kiss Harriet Ponting a couple of times during our courtship. When her father told me not to call on her again my pride was badly dented, but I wasn’t heartbroken. Two years later I inherited my grandfather’s wealth and the Pontings made it clear they’d welcome my visits.’ He paused. ‘I felt no inclination to get to know Harriet again. In fact, when our paths have crossed I’ve simply been polite to the family.’ He frowned as though aware he seemed callous. ‘I realise now it was infatuation...not love. I had decided to get married before my grandfather died and my army pay was all I had to offer. I wanted a wife to accept me for who I was rather than for what another man’s money made me.’
Fiona leaned forward and pressed her soft lips to his cheek. ‘You have my love and my respect and if you wish to give away your inheritance, I will not object.’
‘I know, Fiona...and that’s why I’m determined to keep it so that every luxury and comfort will be yours.’ He sank from the sofa to humbly plant a knee on the floor, taking both her hands in his. ‘Will you marry me, Miss Chapman? I swear I’ll improve and be worthy of you and our children.’
‘I wouldn’t have you change a single thing, sir, for I very much like you the way you are.’ Fiona shaved his jaw with her palms, savouring the abrasion against her stroking fingers. ‘I would still adore and want you even if you carry on with your dangerous missions.’
‘Would you indeed?’ Luke gently teased.
‘Well...as long as you were at home with me for a good deal of the time,’ Fiona amended stoutly.
‘Or perhaps you could be my accomplice and join me on my travels. We make a good team, you and I,’ Luke said. ‘We could set up in business ridding the country of outlaws...’
‘Now you’re mocking me...’
‘No... I’m not... I’m trying to tell you...in my woefully immature way...that I’ve no further need of such thrills. Those ghosts that refused to let me enjoy my inheritance have gone now.’ Luke rose to sit beside her, drawing her back against the sofa with an arm about her waist. ‘You, Miss Chapman, have brought about a rather wondrous change in me. For many years I’ve craved finding that contentment I knew as a youngster, before my grandfather blighted my life with his riches.’ The crooked smile he gave her was appealingly bashful. ‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is that you have soothed my troubled soul...and helped me find peace...and I can’t do without you.’
‘I’m so glad about that,’ Fiona whispered, nuzzling his cheek.
‘As a lad I loved the fields and open spaces about my grandfather’s estate in Essex, even during a cruel winter. I’d like to settle down in the country and raise our family. But if you prefer a lively social life we can live at our Eaton Square town house during the Season. Wherever we are...London or Essex...I’ll be happy so long as you’re with me.’
‘I feel the same way about you.’ Fiona laid her head against his muscled shoulder, feeling quite serene. ‘And I think I might like country living. I’d barely set foot in rural parts before seeking employment in Devon. Yet as soon as I returned to London I knew I missed that vivid scenery. In town all seems grey by comparison.’ Fiona gazed up into Luke’s face, harking back to the first time their eyes had merged through the dusk. His complexion had been glistening with rain, his snowy linen shirt a stark contrast against his bronzed skin and she’d thought him as dangerous and foreign as the alien landscape. ‘I thought we were very different people. Yet it seems we are quite alike.’ After a harmonious silence she tilted up her face to his. ‘Is there no villainy in Essex to occupy you while I fill a nursery with our sons and daughters?’ Just an hour ago Fiona would have been astonished, and not a little embarrassed, at the thought of talking so openly about having babies. But it seemed the most natural thing in the world to chat with Luke about bearing his children.
‘Surely it’s a bit early to talk about that, when you’ve not yet accepted my marriage proposal, Miss Chapman,’ Luke reminded her, not wholly in jest.
‘Oh, of course I’ll marry you,’ Fiona answered on a yearning sigh. ‘I would marry you tomorrow, Luke Wolfson, if I could.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Luke asked, an amused glitter in his eyes.
Fiona nodded vigorously. ‘Today...’ Her tone held utter conviction. ‘I would marry you this minute, Luke.’
‘Good... Do you want to know why it’s taken me a while to join you in town?’
‘Was it to do with my stepfather?’ Fiona asked doubtfully.
‘No... Ratcliff was quickly taken into custody in Devon. He will be dealt with in due course.’ Luke drew a jewellery box from his inside pocket. ‘I went shopping to get you this.’ He turned the casket, lifting the lid to display a domed emerald encircled by glittering diamonds. ‘I have lots of inherited gemstones, but I wanted you to have something of your own that was free of the taint of the Wolfson family’s sadness.’
‘Oh, Luke...it’s beautiful...’ Fiona cried, touching a single digit to the rich green stone.
Easing the ring from its velvet nest, he slid it on to her betrothal finger.
‘I would have become your mistress knowing you loved me, you know.’ Fiona moved her fingers allowing the light to spark on the gems.
‘But yo
u might have left me at some time,’ Luke replied wryly. ‘I couldn’t risk that.’ He drew her into his embrace. ‘I wanted to tell you sooner that I loved you. I almost did on occasions. But there never seemed to be a right time. The smugglers...Becky...your mother and stepfather...they all got in the way.’ His mouth covered hers in a kiss of wooing sweetness that nevertheless was powerful enough to leave her lolling against the velvet cushions, craving more.
A sudden crash of a doorway and voices outside made Fiona grip tight to Luke’s shoulders and stifle a giggle. ‘Mama is back with the duke.’
‘I can’t wait long for us to be man and wife.’ Luke stroked her cheek. ‘I expect your mother and stepfather will have a glittering affair despite both having been widowed.’
‘Mama does class it as her second marriage. She says what occurred with Ratcliff was a pantomime. They do talk about having a large party, too.’ Fiona’s eyes darted to the door as though she expected the newly betrothed couple might burst in on them at any moment. She struggled up to a decorous sitting position beside Luke.
‘Do you want such a celebration for yourself?’ Luke asked, his sultry gaze roving her beautifully flushed face.
‘No...not at all.’ Fiona twisted the weighty stone on her finger, polishing it with a thumb. ‘I’ve never been one for lavish entertainment.’ She gave him a twinkling smile. ‘I might make a disappointing hostess, you know.’
‘Nothing about you disappoints me...’ Luke paused. ‘And I’m hoping you won’t disappoint me now and look shocked when I ask if you will...’
‘Whatever it is, I will...’ Fiona suggestively coiled her arms about his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘I trust you, you see, Luke, and love you so very much.’
Luke rewarded her devotion with a sweetly seductive kiss. ‘When I went shopping for your betrothal and wedding rings I stopped off to get a special licence,’ He breathed against her bruised lips. ‘I want you as my wife before the sun sets on today.’
Fiona held his face back from hers, searching his eyes for humour. But there was none, other than that wry self-mockery that seemed to be his constant companion.
‘Are you brave enough to risk coming with me and throwing in your luck with mine? Shall we share one last adventure before we settle down to sensible domesticity and a barrage of questions in the morning?’
Fiona nodded, eyes brimming with joy and excitement. ‘Of course, but I insist on having some terms, sir.’
‘Name them,’ Luke said gruffly.
‘I must leave my mama a note or she will fret dreadfully.’
‘Agreed.’
‘And...’ Fiona hesitated, afraid that he might think her next request unattractively outlandish and very forward.
‘Tell me...for I’ve a mind to carry you off and have my wicked way with you without delay,’ Luke groaned.
‘I should like to spend our wedding night in the open beneath the stars, with a fire to warm us and the scent of roasting game in the air,’ Fiona breathed, her eyes vivid with excitement. Familiar, delightful sensations were tormenting the depths of her abdomen, and her breasts tingled and grew weighty as erotic thoughts flooded her mind.
Luke dropped his head to hers and just touched together their smiling lips. ‘We certainly are made for one another, Fiona... That memory haunts my mind, too. I feared it might remain an unfulfilled fantasy to make love to you on the ground beneath the stars.’ His tongue tip circled her lips, plunging to taste hers. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather a feather mattress and silk sheets for your first time?’
Fiona blushed, nipped a corner of her lower lip with small pearly teeth in an unconsciously alluring way that drove Luke wild with desire.
‘An earthy bed it is, then,’ he growled, thrusting ten fingers into her dishevelled locks and tilting her face to his so he might feast again on her lips.
‘I hope the night is mild.’ Fiona’s murmured comment was gruff with laughter.
Luke’s kiss deepened, shooting spears of heat through her.
‘I won’t let you get cold, sweetheart. You’ll be burning till dawn, I promise...’
* * ***
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE REBEL DAUGHTER by Lauri Robinson.
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The Rebel Daughter
by Lauri Robinson
Chapter One
White Bear Lake, Minnesota, 1925
Twyla Nightingale swore she’d been reborn. Released. Free. Like a bird that had just learned to fly, or a dog that had finally chewed through the rope tying it to the porch. Excitement hummed through her veins. The smile living on her lips was there when she woke up and still there when she went to bed. It was real, too. As genuine as a new bill. At times her cheeks hurt from grinning.
And she loved it.
L-O-V-E-D. It.
Rightfully so.
Just a few weeks ago she’d have been watching out the bedroom window or crouched down peering through the spindles of the staircase that led from the ballroom to the second floor of the resort. But now she was front and center, wearing that cheek-aching grin while greeting guests, as men in neatly pressed three-piece suits and dapper hats escorted their ladies through the double front doors of the resort. The latest fashions these women wore were as elegant as the men escorting them. Floppy hats and feathered headbands matched their fringe-covered flapper dresses and two-piece skirt outfits in the most popular colors. Teal, burgundy, gold and green.
Green.
Now that was a color. Twyla’s favorite. The color of money. Lettuce, kale, clams, jack—whatever you wanted to call it, it was all money. Even before tonight she’d loved how money had changed her life. She gave her father the credit for that. A few years ago he’d been a brewery worker, bringing home barely enough money to keep his family clothed and put food on the table. Now she and her sisters were dressed in the height of fashion and Nightingale’s resort served finer food than some of the most famous hotels in the world.
Life was so good she wanted to skip instead of walk. Just standing here her feet itched with excitement. She’d imagined, but still couldn’t believe how wonderful things had become since she’d stopped living on the sidelines.
In many ways she had her sister to thank for the life-changing transformation. If Norma Rose asked, Twyla would get down and kiss her sister’s toes. That’s how appreciative she was, and she would do anything and everything to keep things going just as they were this very minute. One of the largest parties of the year was taking place at the resort tonight, and she was the hostess. Well, one of them. Norma Rose and another sister, Josie, were here, too, but in many ways that only made things better.
Smiling brightly, and elegantly waving a hand with brightly painted nails, Twyla greeted another couple and directed them toward the elaborately carved wooden front desk, where Josie would write them a meal receipt. They would then be directed to the ballroom and adjoining dining room, where the celebration of Palooka George’s fiftieth birthday would soon begin.
Up until two weeks ago, Josie, younger than Twyla by two years, and Ginger, younger by five years, had also been living on the sid
elines. Norma Rose, the oldest at twenty-five, had been the only one permitted downstairs during parties. Mainly because until recently she’d run Nightingale’s all by herself, ever since it had been transformed from a dance pavilion to an expansive resort catering to those with wads of cash to spend. Their father, Roger Nightingale, claimed he ran it, but everyone knew that Norma Rose did, while Roger oversaw his bootlegging business. Her father’s profession didn’t bother Twyla in the least. Without bootlegging, she’d still be wearing Norma Rose’s hand-me-downs, which had been someone else’s hand-me-downs before Norma Rose had acquired them.
Folks could hate Prohibition all they wanted; Twyla loved it.
She loved the glitzy and glamorous parties, the racy freedom and even the wild and wicked underground world that flourished more every day. No one could have guessed her life could change so fast. Especially not Twyla. It had all happened when Ginger had run away with Brock Ness, and Ty Bradshaw had shown up searching for some gangster. Although everyone thought Ty was a lawyer, Twyla now knew differently, but her lips were sealed and would remain so. He’d caught the hoodlum he was after out in Wisconsin, or so Twyla had heard, but that wasn’t what had changed things. Norma Rose had. Shortly after Ty arrived, Norma Rose turned a proverbial corner. Love, that’s what had done it. Ever since falling for Ty, Norma Rose wasn’t focused on running the resort by herself.
Finally, thank heaven above, she’d asked her sisters to help run the place.