by Bobbi Smith
"What are you smiling about?" Rori asked as she lifted her head to gaze up at him.
"You," he murmured throatily.
"Me?" She was pleased. "I'm glad I make you smile."
"You do more to me than make me smile, Rori," Chance admitted with a lusty laugh. "But until Dora finishes up and leaves, I can't do anything about it."
Rori was filled with a great sense of feminine satisfaction. "Pity . . ." she teased, her eyes alight with mischief.
"Rori . . ." Chance said her name threateningly, but she only grinned at him and moved out of his arms.
Dora came bustling back into the room then and interrupted what else he might have said. "I'm done now, but if you should need anything I'll be in the servants' quarters."
"Good night, Dora, and thank you."
"Good night." she hastened from the cottage, quietly closing the door behind her, leaving the newlywed couple alone at last.
Rori and Chance both eyed the master bedroom door. They were eager, yet suddenly a bit tentative.
"Would you like a few minutes alone?" Chance asked.
Rori thought of Aunt Charlotte's gift packed carefully away among her things, and she knew she needed a few minutes to prepare for the glory of the night to come. "Please," she asked softly and then disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
Rori stared at the wide comfort of the bed and a thrill tingled through her. Soon she would be sharing that intimacy with her husband . . . with Chance. Dora had spread the negligee out on the bed, and Rori hurried across the room to pick it up with trembling hands. She caressed the filmy fabric for a moment and then laid it gently back down. Shedding her traveling clothes, she quickly washed up and then brushed out her hair so it fell about her shoulders in a tumble of gleaming, ebony silk. Feeling ready at last for Chance, she slipped on the delicate nightgown and moved to open the door and invite him to join her.
Chance poured himself a brandy after Rori disappeared into the bedroom and then settled in to savor the potent drink as he awaited her return. He barely tasted the heady liquor, though, for he was completely preoccupied with thoughts of his lovely wife. Their joining in the carriage had only served to increase his desire for her. He needed more of Rori . . . much, much more.
"Chance . . ."
The sound of her voice, so low and inviting, drew his attention, and he turned to see her standing in the bedroom doorway. She was wearing the most beautiful negligee he'd ever seen. The white, semi-transparent garment clung to her body, revealing just enough of her slender curves to entice him to action. His throat tightened, and heat surged through his veins like molten lava.
Chance was mesmerized as he set the tumbler aside and came to his feet. Never taking his eyes off of her, he crossed the room to where she waited for him. Without speaking, he extended his hand to her. They entered the bedroom and shut the door behind them. Chance drew her near for a deep kiss and then moved away from her to quickly divest himself of his own clothing. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Chance lowered both Rori and himself onto its softness.
They came together eagerly, embracing passionately as their mouths met and lingered. Chance sculpted her body with his hands, stroking her through the gossamer gown. Rori stirred wantonly beneath his exciting touch as flames of desire threatened to consume her. She reached out to him, holding him near, caressing him incessantly, letting him know with her body that she loved him and wanted him. When Rori daringly touched that most manly part of him, Chance inhaled sharply.
"Do you like that or should I stop?" she asked, wondering if she'd hurt him or pleased him.
"Don't stop," he groaned his pleasure at her sweet boldness.
"I want to please you," Rori whispered, trailing kisses down his throat to his chest.
"You do, my temptress wife," he declared, reaching down to draw her back up to him for another kiss. Chance loved it when Rori wore her hair down around her shoulders, and he gently combed his fingers through the soft tangle of curls.
With utmost care, they embraced again. It was a tender moment. A moment of beauty and of devotion. They had both wanted this for so long, and now it was truly happening.
They took their time as they came together, savoring every moment. Each touch, each kiss became a reflection of the depth of their devotion. There was no need to rush to sate their passions. There was no guilt or fear in their coming together—only deep abiding love and a wonderful sense of rightness.
With trembling need, they clung to each other, their limbs entwined. Chance traced fiery patterns of arousal upon her satiny skin as he brought her to the peak of urgency again and again. When the waves of pleasure finally pulsed through her releasing her from his sensual bondage, Rori shuddered and called out his name in rapturous fervor. Though she felt weak from the excitement of it all, she was still aching to give Chance the same gift of joy he'd given her.
"Let me love you now," Rori told him huskily. She moved over him to take him deep within her.
Chance guided her hips as she began to move, savoring the hot, tight wetness of her body sheathing his. Ecstasy filled him as he realized that Rori was his wife now. He pulled her down to him and then rolled to bring her beneath him. Chance kissed her wildly as he continued his steady, rocking rhythm, driving deep into the womanly heart of her.
Chance strained toward the pinnacle and Rori, too, was caught up in the force of his need. They were enraptured by the power of their love. Soaring to excitement's peak together, perfect splendor burst upon them both, and they gloried in the triumph as they lay sated on their bed of love. They were one. They loved.
As the night passed, Chance and Rori came together again. It seemed they could not get enough of each other, that every minute, every second was important to them. They cherished what they had very nearly lost.
It was much later when the first blush of morning stained the eastern horizon that Chance rose from the bed and drew Rori with him. "I want you to see something," he told her as he moved to the window facing the water.
Because they'd arrived at night and had had other, more important things on their minds, Rori had paid little real attention to their surroundings. Now, however, in the first light of the morning sun the view from the bedroom window that faced to the east was incomparable.
Stretched out before her was the Atlantic Ocean in all its beauty. It was deep blue in color and crowned here and there with white-capped waves. The sky overhead was peach and gold tinted with no hint of clouds or bad weather. Sea birds drifted by, coasting on the fresh morning breeze, calling out their greeting to the new day.
"Chance . . . it's beautiful here." Rori was awestruck.
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it. Can we bring Jakie up here some time soon?"
"Of course, any time you like. We can even build a home here if you want to."
"I'd like that. The ocean reminds me of the desert, so wild and free that no one will ever tame it completely."
Chance smiled. "Your description sounds more like you several months back."
Rori lifted sparkling, emerald eyes to meet her husband's. "You've tamed me, Chance."
"I never wanted to tame you, Rori. I only wanted to love you," he told her huskily.
She gave him an inviting smile as she moved away from the window and back to the bed, settling upon its softness in an alluring pose.
"Then love me, darling." She lifted her hand to him, and he took it, joining her there.
Once more they were lost in the wonder of their passion as they came together in rapture's delight, sharing the joyful ecstasy that only true love can bring.
Epilogue
Arizona Territory, Two Years Later
"Gramma . . ." two-year-old Daniel repeated in a husky voice.
Agatha smiled brightly at the sturdy little toddler who clutched at her skirts with chubby little fists. "That's right, Daniel darling. I'm Grandma," she cooed as she reached out to scoop him up in her arms and hold him
on her lap.
"He's quite taken with you, Mother," Doug said proudly as he watched his son gaze up at her with great interest. He was thrilled that his family had decided to make the trip to Arizona for a visit. It had been nearly a year since he and Nilakla had made their trip to Boston, and he found that he'd missed his mother and brother a great deal during the separation.
"He's obviously a very discriminating judge of character," Agatha replied with delighted dignity as she kissed her grandson. She glanced back up to where Doug stood with Nilakla. "He's grown so much in the past year," she said in amazement. "I hate to think that I'm missing so much by living so far away."
"You know you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you want," Nilakla told her mother-in-law. She had been very intimidated by Agatha when they'd first met, but the older woman had sensed her discomfort and had immediately put her at ease. Since then, they'd come to love each other deeply and share an abiding mutual respect.
"It's a tempting offer," Agatha began, thinking of the cold winters she suffered through back East, and how much she missed Doug and his family.
"But it's an offer she's going to refuse," Chance put in as he came into the room with Rori, carrying Rebecca, their year-old daughter, in his arms.
"I am?" Agatha arched a brow at her oldest son.
"Of course," Rori agreed quickly. "What would we do without you? We need you at home."
"It's wonderful to be in such demand." Agatha was beaming. It did her heart good to know that she was so loved by her children.
As if on cue, Rebecca called happily, "G'ma, G'ma . . ." She held out her arms to Agatha, who promptly took her from her father and cuddled her on her lap beside her cousin.
Agatha was proud of her grandchildren and, in the way of all grandparents, thought them the most magnificent youngsters around. She was certain Daniel, with his dark hair and dark eyes, would grow up to be a real charmer, for he greatly resembled his own father at the same age. Rebecca, though still so young, already bore the promise of great beauty with her big green eyes and raven hair, and Agatha knew they would do the Broderick family proud.
It was much later that Rori managed to slip away with Rebecca from the house and all the celebrating for a few minutes alone under the starry sky. She walked a short distance away to a small rise that overlooked the desert and rugged mountains beyond, and it was there that memories of her life with Burr overwhelmed her. In the quietude of the Arizona night, she could almost feel her grampa's presence, and she smiled in sweet understanding. Though Burr's grave was many miles away, his spirit was not contained there. Burr had loved the vast openness of the territory, and now his spirit was as free as the desert wind.
"Your great-grampa lives here, Rebecca," Rori told her daughter in a confiding tone. "Someday, when you're older and can understand, I'm going to tell you all about what a brave, wonderful man he was." Even after all this time, the thought of Burr could still bring tears to her eyes, and she lifted her tearful gaze to the heavens as she snuggled her daughter close to her breast. "See, Grampa, everything worked out fine. Chance loves me, and we have a beautiful daughter . . ." Rori struggled not to cry from sadness, but to realize the joy of her life now.
Jakie had followed her from the house with another golden-haired, long-legged dog at his heels. He had sat a little bit away from Rori, but when she seemed upset about something he immediately went to her side and nudged her leg. His companion followed suit, but being years younger, he was a little more rambunctious in his attentions.
Rori gave a light laugh at their antics. "Grampa . . . even Jakie settled down," she said as she petted the two. "He and his Boston bride had offspring just like me and Chance, and most of them even looked like their daddy." She was chuckling at the comparison.
"Who looks like their daddy? And who were you talking to?" Chance's deep voice came to her out of the darkness, and Rori turned to find her husband striding toward her.
"I was telling Grampa how Joshua looks just like Jakie when he was little more than a pup," Rori answered with a grin.
"Think he heard you?" Chance asked as he came to stand beside her, slipping an arm about her waist and drawing her to him.
"I know he did," Rori replied without a trace of doubt.
"I know he did, too," Chance agreed as he bent to press a gentle kiss first to her cheek and then to his daughter's.
Rori gazed up at her husband, cherishing his devotion and knowing that she would spend the rest of her days loving Chance.
The End
Want more Western historical romance
from Bobbi Smith?
Here's an excerpt from
DREAM WARRIOR
Prologue
Spring 1859—Dakota Territory
"Easy, boy." Gray Eyes, the eight-year-old, half-breed Cheyenne boy, spoke quietly as he approached the sleek young stallion he sought to tame. "Easy, Wild One."
It was almost dark, but Gray Eyes didn't notice. His concentration fierce and his expression determined, he closed in on the spirited black horse that had been a gift from his grandfather, Tall Shadow, the chief of the tribe. His grandfather had known how smart and independent the horse was and had offered to help train it, but Gray Eyes had turned him down. He was determined to break the stallion by himself.
Wild One was living up to his reputation for having a mind of his own. Gray Eyes had been working with the horse since early that morning, but had met with little success so far. Still, he refused to be discouraged. He wouldn't let the physical pain and exhaustion he felt or the other Cheyenne boys' mocking laughter stop him. He was going to master this horse, and once he did, it would be the finest mount in the tribe.
As Gray Eyes approached the stallion again, the horse rolled his eyes and laid back his ears as he sidled away. Tired though he was, the horse was just as stubborn as the boy and would continue this struggle for domination. He would not yield his freedom easily.
Driven by his burning need to succeed, Gray Eyes concentrated on mounting again. He'd learned early in life that he was different from the other boys and that the white man's blood that ran in his veins from his now-dead father had somehow tainted him. He'd always felt he'd had to earn their respect, and he'd done so with a vengeance, always working to be the best. It had become a way of life for him, and taming this horse would be no different from any of the other challenges he'd faced. Finally, ready to engage the battle once more, he grabbed Wild One's rein and vaulted onto his back, gripping the stallion tightly with his legs.
The stallion fought with all its strength. Desperate to dislodge the boy from its back, he twisted and turned, bucked and writhed. But no matter what the horse tried, the youth matched its efforts with equal fervor.
The battle for supremacy seemed endless to Gray Eyes. Every violent, jarring movement of the horse sent pain shooting through his already battered body, but he would not admit defeat, he would not give up. Hanging on for dear life, he suffered the stallion's severest test and somehow, ultimately won.
When the steed finally stood quivering beneath him, Gray Eyes let out a whoop of victory. The taunts of the other boys were forgotten. He had done it. He had conquered the proud stallion and made him his own! Gray Eyes held his head high as he rode the prancing Wild One. In his triumph, he looked every bit the future warrior.
Everyone heard his cry and came running. All eyes followed him as he guided the magnificent stallion through the village. His control of the animal earned the respect and approval of all, and they loudly praised his ability as he rode by.
Tall Shadow stood with his daughter, Gray Eyes's mother Morning Wind, watching his grandson. His black eyes shone with pride. "For one so young, your son has done a remarkable job. Few others could have tamed that one. Once again he has proven his worth."
"My son has always known his own worth," Morning Wind told him.
"He will be a fine warrior one day."
"I know," she replied, her smile fading a bit as her gaze followed he
r son.
"This does not please you?" Tall Shadow heard the note of reluctance in her tone and wondered at it.
"It saddens me that my son does not wish to learn more about his father." As much as Gray Eyes tried to be fully Cheyenne, there could be no denying his resemblance to his father, Jack Marshall. At the thought of her husband who'd died when their son was an infant, an intense longing filled Morning Wind. She deeply regretted that father and son had never gotten to know each other.
"There is no reason to worry. Gray Eyes will grow to be a good man. No father could ask more of his son."
Morning Wind fell silent. She knew her father believed what he was saying, but Gray Eyes was no ordinary Cheyenne boy. He was Jack Marshall's son, and she wanted him to be as proud of his white heritage as he was of his Cheyenne background. Jack had been a fair and honest man, respected by all in the tribe. She wanted Gray Eyes to hold his father in the same high esteem. In honor of his memory, she'd insisted her son take lessons from the missionary who came to their village. Gray Eyes resented the lessons, but she'd remained firm. She would not allow him to deny his father's existence.
Tall Shadow glanced at his daughter and saw the sadness in her eyes. "Your love for this man has never faded."
"No, Father, and it never will."
"There are many warriors who would have you for a wife."
"I want no other man to raise my husband's son."
"A boy needs a father."
"He has you. Who else could do a better job of bringing him to manhood?"
At that moment, Gray Eyes encouraged Wild One to rear as he let out a war cry. The horse pawed the air and then raced away with long, powerful strides as his master gave him his head. The other boys ran for their own mounts to give chase. Their shouts of praise for Gray Eyes's accomplishments filled Morning Wind's heart with joy.
Morning Wind couldn't help but smile again as she watched her son disappear over the hill. She knew in that moment that he would indeed grow to be a fine man. She only hoped that one day he would come to appreciate the ways of his father.