A SEAL's Devotion (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 7)

by Cora Seton

  Thank goodness for that, because Eve had wanted everything to be perfect—and it was so far.

  Her dress was a stunning gown with an empress waist, a beaded bodice and a long, trailing skirt. The flowers were lovely, as were the decorations in the ballroom at the manor, where the wedding was to be held.

  Everything was ready. Almost everything. “Where’s Renata?” Eve asked.

  Avery put a finger to her lips and gestured to the doorway. Eve spotted Renata down the hall talking to Greg.

  “…really something in that dress,” Greg was saying. He held both of Renata’s hands out wide, as if to see her better.

  “Don’t get used to it,” Renata said, snatching her hands back.

  “You’re not as tough as you try to look,” Greg said, taking one again and apparently holding on while Renata tried to tug it away.

  “I’m tougher,” Renata promised him. “And if you think—”

  “Well, look at this,” Clem said loudly, coming around the corner from the direction of the stairs. “What a pretty picture.”

  Renata gave one last tug and stepped away from Greg, her color high. “Haven’t you left yet?” she asked.

  “Who said anything about leaving?” Clem leaned in and leered at her. “When Fulsom gets here, I’ll straighten up this whole mess. You’ll be the one taking off.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “People, it’s time!” Alice pushed her way into the hall and clapped her hands. “No more arguing. We’ve got a wedding to get underway.”

  “Whatever.” Clem disappeared back down the stairs. Greg moved closer to Renata, took her hand and, if Eve wasn’t mistaken, squeezed it.

  “Don’t let him get you down. You’re not going anywhere,” he said. He turned and headed for the stairs, too, leaving Renata to look after him.

  “Renata?” Alice called. “Let’s go. Eve, are you ready?” She made a last-minute adjustment to the folds of Eve’s skirt. “You look beautiful.”

  “I’m ready,” Eve said.

  “I’m ready, too,” Renata said, suddenly all business. She plucked at the long skirts of her bridesmaid dress as if she had no idea how she came to be wearing it.

  Alice shooed the other women into place, and they led the way down the stairs. Taking her father’s arm, Eve followed. Boone was standing at the bottom of the steps. Melissa, Avery and Renata stopped at the entrance to the ballroom, waiting for their cue.

  “There’s someone who wants to speak to you,” Boone whispered to Eve. He backed away, and Johannes stepped forward from where he’d been waiting in the hall that led to the kitchen. Her father sized the man up but kept his opinions to himself.

  “I wanted to thank you again for bringing Anders back to me.”

  “I’m glad I could help—and I’m really glad you two found a way to work together.”

  “Guess I wasn’t ready for the world to keep changing so much. I wish Anders’s mother was here today to see him marry you. She would have been so happy. She was a true romantic.”

  “I wish I’d gotten to know her.”

  Music swelled in the ballroom.

  “It’s time,” Alice said, gesturing for Melissa to begin walking toward the altar.

  “I’d better go,” Eve said to Johannes.

  “Of course.” She expected him to take his seat, but he lingered.

  “I hoped—I mean, I don’t expect your help, but—if you could see your way clear to forgiving me—I hope you and Anders will allow me to be in your lives. I’ve… missed my son.”

  “Of course,” Eve heard herself say. “Of course you’ll be a part of our lives.” Johannes’s smile was all the reward she could hope for.

  She stood straight and tall at her father’s side and waited for her cue to walk down the aisle as Johannes slipped off to take his seat. She knew her husband-to-be would be a far happier man now that he and his father were back on speaking terms. He’d missed Johannes as much as Johannes had missed him. Meanwhile, she was moments away from starting her new life here at Base Camp with the man of her dreams.

  “Here we go,” her father said. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  When Anders caught sight of them, his smile lit up his face, and the butterflies in her stomach dipped, swirled and then settled down to flutter happily. Anders always took her breath away. Now she’d never have to leave him.

  This was the future she’d always wanted.

  This was home.

  Eve was so stunning Anders didn’t think he could ever take it in that she was his forever. As Eve approached on her father’s arm, Anders said a prayer of gratitude for whatever it was that had made him hesitate that night at the end of the lane, look down the road and see her coming toward him.

  Fate had brought him a wife. A better wife than he could have found if he’d spent years looking. Together they’d grown. Learned about each other—and themselves—and their place in this community. Their place in the world.

  He looked forward to years with Eve. A lifetime of discovery—

  And nights together in their tiny home.

  It was finally finished, ready for them to move in. He couldn’t wait to go to bed with her every evening and wake up to her every morning for all the years to come.

  Anders took Eve’s hand when her father delivered her and went to take his seat.

  “Dearly Beloved,” Reverend Halpern began, and as they said their vows, Anders grew sure that all his prayers had been answered.

  He spoke his lines with a surety he’d rarely felt in his life and was confident he could keep them. This was the woman for him. The woman he’d cherish forever.

  The rest of the celebration passed in a blur until it was time to slip away and celebrate their marriage night together. Back in their new home, he carried her over the threshold and kept on carrying her right up the ladder and into bed.

  “You’re going to have to get me out of this dress,” she told him.

  “I’m pretty good at that.” He was. He’d been practicing for weeks on the Regency gowns she normally wore. He turned her around, looked at the row of tiny buttons running down her back and said, “That’s not fair.”

  Eve chuckled. “Get going, or we’ll be here all night.”

  “I fully intend to be here all night,” he informed her.

  “You know what I mean.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Of course, we don’t have to take the dress off. After all—I’m only going to wear it once.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Eve shuffled forward, braced herself on the carved wooden headboard of the loft bed and lowered one hand to lift up the skirts of her gown.

  Underneath it, she wore a tiny satin thong and a set of garters and stockings.

  Anders had never seen anything more delicious.

  “Pretend we’re in that supply closet again.”

  “Good idea.” He quickly followed her, loosening the belt of his Revolutionary War uniform. Settling behind her on his knees, he braced her with a hand to her waist and let the other hand go exploring.

  She was ready for him, he soon discovered. Slick and hot to the touch, a dizzying combination. He meant to spend hours making love to his new wife—and he would, he promised himself—but this first time was going to go fast.

  Not bothering to undress, either, he got into position, nudged against her—

  And slid inside.

  Both of them moaned.

  “God, that’s good,” Anders said.

  “Mm-hmm.” She bent forward, pushing back against him. Inviting him deeper.

  Anders let instinct take over from there, his thrusts even and strong, measured until he couldn’t hold back anymore. When he sped up, Eve’s knuckles whitened on the headboard, her back arched and she thrust back against him.

  Her need fueled his, and soon there was nothing he could do but give himself to the experience as Eve cried out and cried out again, her abandon equal to his own.

  When it was over, An
ders wrapped his arms around his wife, buried his face in Eve’s hair and kissed her, never wanting to let her go.

  “I love you,” he breathed.

  “I love you, too,” she panted. “Do it again.”

  They tumbled into a heap of laughter and bedclothes, and this time Anders undressed her before making love to her a second and then a third time.

  “Was it perfect?” he asked her some hours later when they’d made a nest of the covers and snuggled together inside it.

  “Yes,” she said. “It was absolutely perfect. But I’ve got one more surprise for you.” Her heart rate kicked up a notch. She’d been waiting to do this all night.

  “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

  “This.” She reached down behind the bed and pulled out a package she’d stored there earlier. Opened it and lifted out a pregnancy test.

  Anders sat up. “But—”

  “I guess we’ve done our part several times over now.”

  He searched her face. “Are you okay with this?”

  She nodded vigorously. “I’m great with this. How about you? A new job, a new wife—and now a child. Are you ready for all this?”

  “Are you kidding?” He was beaming, but then his face clouded and he looked away.

  “What?” Eve held her breath, terrified this dream day might turn into a nightmare.

  “What if I’m like my dad—too stubborn for my own good? What if I mess up?”

  “You won’t,” she assured him. “Besides, I’ll be here.”

  Anders gathered her into his arms. “You are the best wife ever, you know that? You are everything I ever wanted.”

  “Keep telling me that, and everything will be okay.” She snuggled closer, thinking she’d never been happier. Meeting Anders’s kisses with her own, she wondered what kind of record they’d set tonight. Surely no one had ever—

  A loud thumping on the front door froze them both in place.

  “Who is it?” Anders called, already reaching for his pants.

  “It’s Boone. Sorry to disturb you. Just wanted you to know—we’re heading for the hospital. Savannah’s baby is on the way!”

  To find out more about Curtis, Hope, Boone, Clay, Jericho, Walker and the other inhabitants of Base Camp, look for A SEAL’s Desire, Volume 8 in the SEALs of Chance Creek series.

  Be the first to know about Cora Seton’s new releases! Sign up for her newsletter here!

  Other books in the SEALs of Chance Creek Series:

  A SEAL’s Oath

  A SEAL’s Vow

  A SEAL’s Pledge

  A SEAL’s Consent

  A SEAL’s Purpose

  A SEAL’s Resolve

  A SEAL’s Desire

  A SEAL’s Struggle

  A SEAL’s Triumph

  Read on for an excerpt of A SEAL’s Desire.

  A SEAL’s Desire

  By Cora Seton

  Chapter One

  10 years ago…

  Greg Devon thought he’d seen the worst of it until the school bus rolled up and parked not thirty feet away from where he stood. He’d been struggling to help erect one of the tents meant to house the survivors straggling down the mountain. The bus was as covered with mud and grime as everything else in the area, the fine drizzle still falling not up to the task of washing any of it clean.

  Eight hours ago, before sunrise, when the drizzle had been a deluge, a mudslide had wiped out most of Colina Blanca up the mountain. Rescue operations were based here in Mayahuay, a larger settlement more easily accessible from the capital. Now it was well past lunch and everywhere he looked people had gathered in knots and family groups. Babies crying, overburdened mothers swaying and crooning to them tonelessly, more people arriving every minute, all of them soaked, exhausted—

  Devastated.

  Rumor had it other aid groups were on their way, which was good because the one Greg had latched onto wasn’t prepared for a disaster like this. He’d been woken by sirens in his dorm room back in Lima, nearly two hours away on the winding mountain roads. Never a heavy sleeper, he’d pulled on a pair of pants, stuck his feet into his hiking boots and a minute later was out on the street. He’d recognized another student who’d come here to Peru for the semester. Both of them were a little older than most of the college kids who came to study abroad and they’d hit it off. They hung out frequently, talking about their future plans.

  “What’s going on?” he’d asked Renny.

  “Mudslide. Big one. It’s taken out one village at least. We’re going to help dig out.”

  Greg had piled in a truck with him and a bunch of other students, some he recognized, others he didn’t. They’d driven straight up into the hills, the rain sluicing off their vehicle’s windows until he thought the real question was whether they’d have to swim the rest of the way.

  They quickly learned getting all the way to Colina Blanca wasn’t an option. Mayahuay was the end of the road—literally—and Greg and the others were put to work setting up tents and shelters, hauling boxes of supplies and stacking bottles of water for the victims when they arrived.

  They’d started straggling in almost at once, and the snippets of conversation he’d heard—and understood—had left Greg chilled. Hundreds must be dead. Almost everyone in the village, maybe. A sound he’d never heard before pervaded the camp, a low keening that traced up and down his spine, telling him he knew nothing of true despair. All around him people were grieving loved ones they knew they’d never see again. Homes that were buried under tons of debris.

  Mid-morning, Renny had tugged his arm, taken him aside, showed him photos forwarded from the village, and Greg began to understand the scope of the damage. They showed a moonscape—a flat plain of mud with only rock outcroppings and tufts of greenery sticking out from it here and there—former hills and trees now buried under the flow. It was amazing anyone had made it out and walked the miles down to Mayahuay.

  Now Greg grabbed a water bottle, took a swig and watched as the school bus idled. He’d come to Peru for the adventure of it, champing at the bit to expand his horizons after a lifetime in Oregon, first at Greenside, the large agricultural commune he’d grown up at outside Portland, then at Lewis & Clark college where he’d been studying engineering. Nearly five thousand miles away from the farm that once had comprised his world, it represented a break from his childhood. He wanted to become his own man. Greg had already decided what he’d do next, just as soon as he had his diploma in his hands. Keep traveling around the world. Chase adventures.

  He wasn’t going to live a settled, small-town life ever again.

  He sure as hell wasn’t going to live in a commune. He’d had enough of that. He was done with the kind of hot-house atmosphere that can develop in such an insular situation. The way proximity could let a bully ruin a person’s life while all their relatives and friends stood by and didn’t even notice it happening.

  The drizzle tapered off and tepid sunshine tried to break through the clouds. When the bus’s door swung open, Greg was surprised to see a young woman exit. Dressed in crisp black slacks and a snowy white blouse, she had raven dark hair, a slim build. She wasn’t soaked like everyone at the camp. Wasn’t even damp. A man exited behind her, dressed more casually in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, portable video camera in hand.

  A news crew?

  He didn’t think so. Several of those had arrived from Lima already, and these two didn’t quite look the part.

  “Get all of this, quick. Set up the shot for the reunion,” the woman ordered the man holding the camera.

  Reunion? Greg stepped closer, nudged Renny as he passed him. “Who’s in the bus?”

  Renny straightened from his task stacking pallets of water bottles, turned and frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “Where is everyone?” the woman was saying. She turned and looked over the camp again. “What’s going on here? Is it some kind of fair?”

  Dread twisted Greg’s gut at her misreading of the situation. This sure as hell wasn’t
a fair. Who on earth did she expect to meet here? He watched the woman’s gaze light on the huddled groups on the far side of the area in their mud-spattered clothes. The crying babies.

  He saw the moment she realized something was wrong—the same moment the first of the passengers got off the bus.

  The cameraman, who’d been panning the camp and getting a shot of the line of Red Cross vehicles that had just turned up the road, spun around at the woman’s oath. He pointed his video camera at her, then at the bus where a girl—a girl in a school uniform—had just stepped down.

  “Mama?” the girl said, scanning the area.

  Hell, Greg thought.

  “Fuck,” Renny echoed beside him. “Are they from—?” He broke off, but Greg knew exactly what he meant to say. Where they from Colina Blanca? Had they arrived back from somewhere else expecting a welcoming committee here in the next larger town? Perhaps the charter bus operator had refused to make the run all the way up to their hillside village. Greg wouldn’t blame him, given the usual state of the roads that far up in the mountains.

  Wouldn’t the driver have heard the news, though, and turned back?

  Maybe not.

  The woman was conferring with Diego Alvarez, the man who had organized the convoy of student volunteers from Lima and had taken charge of the disaster aid operation so far. Greg had met Diego at a party just last week hosted for all the foreign exchange students at the university and the men and women who helped organize the exchanges. From the way Diego was gesturing up toward Colina Blanca, first pointing, then flattening his hand and making it swoop down like the wall of mud had just hours ago, he was informing her of what had happened.

  Greg watched her take it in, her face a mask of shock. She stood still a moment. Behind her, girls kept spilling out of the bus, all in pristine uniforms, ranging in age from five or six to teenagers. Suddenly he knew exactly who they were. He’d seen a news story about the girls from the San Pedro School of Excellence who were celebrating the twenty-year anniversary of the founding of their institution with a trip to the capital. The school had been set up to help female students from this rural area to achieve an education that would leave them ready to attend a university, serve in government positions and excel in the private sector, too. The idea was that a generation of highly educated women could help bring this entire rural area out of its depressed circumstances. The girls stood alertly, maintaining the decorum they’d been taught.