Chapter 29
Scarcely able to believe his good luck, Gordon kissed his bride-to-be. Now that she had decided, Callie held nothing back. This was the fearless best friend of his childhood, the girl he’d yearned for in dark and despairing places ever since.
A very loud throat clearing sounded from the open doors to the balcony. He looked up to see all four Adamses regarding them with broad smiles. Sarah said, “Miss Callista, isn’t it about time you made an honest man of this poor fellow?”
Callie blushed as only a fair-skinned female with red-gold hair could blush. “I intend to. I just proposed and he said yes.”
Bright eyed, Molly asked, “When and where will the wedding be?”
“As soon as possible here in Baltimore,” Gordon said promptly. He wrapped an arm around Callie’s shoulders and locked her to his side. “I don’t want her to get away this time. Josh, will you stand up with me?”
Grinning, Josh said, “Yes, my lord.”
“If you call me lord again, I’m dropping you in favor of Trey,” Gordon threatened.
“If you insist, Gordon,” Josh said. “But I did like the idea of standing up with a real English lord.”
“It’s only a courtesy title, Josh,” Callie explained. “Sarah, will you stand up with me? And, Molly, I want you as an attendant, too.”
“Everyone’s in the wedding but me?” Trey said, insulted.
“You’ll be our guard,” Gordon said. “If someone speaks up when the vicar asks if there is an impediment to our marrying, whack him with your cane.”
“I have my sharpshooter rifle,” Trey said hopefully. “Can I use that?”
His joke cast a moment of uneasy silence over them. Callie ended it by saying, “How about the four of you go for a nice walk along the waterfront? Share the celebrations, see what people are saying. My betrothed and I need two hours or so to . . . discuss our wedding arrangements.”
“Come along, children,” Sarah said. “We’ve been dismissed and I don’t want you to stay around to be corrupted by these lovebirds.”
Giggling, Molly went for a shawl since the rain had stopped and the air was cool. It took a few minutes for the Adamses to collect themselves and leave. Luckily Trey was walking very well this morning. Before they left, Gordon tossed a gold coin to Josh, who was bringing up the rear of the procession. “Have a celebratory luncheon on me.”
Josh caught the coin expertly. “Given how early it is, more of a second breakfast. We’ll toast you in good strong, hot coffee if we’re lucky.” He stepped into the stairwell and closed the door firmly behind him.
“Wedding arrangements,” Gordon said. “St. Paul’s or the Methodist church, where the minister sent us all off with the god of battles watching over us? He seems to give effective blessings.”
“We can decide later.” Laughing, she launched herself at him and started to rip off his coat. “I propose we anticipate our vows just to see if we’re making a wise decision.”
“We are,” he said as he finished peeling off his coat and tugged her shawl from her shoulders. “But I’m a great believer in making sure.” Her dress was designed to fasten at the front so he proceeded to unfasten it with ridiculously clumsy fingers. “Which bed should we use?”
“The beds already have owners, so let’s use the pallet. It may be uncomfortable, but it’s ours and no one can see in.” She went at the buttons at the throat of his shirt, her fingers as clumsy as his.
When had he felt such insane lust? Never. But he’d never bedded Callie before. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he said huskily. “We should take it more slowly.”
“I know you’re right.” She leaned in to kiss the bare skin at his throat with a teasing lick. “But when were we ever sensible?”
“That’s a good point. But this . . . this matters, Callie,” he said seriously. “This is our future. A woman once told me that marriage is like taking hold of another person’s hand and jumping over a cliff together.”
Callie laughed. “So the question is, do we soar, or do we crash at the bottom of the cliff?”
“As long as we do it together,” he said softly as he peeled off her gown, leaving her in a translucent shift and a light set of stays. “Soar with me, Catkin!”
“Always.” As she unbuttoned the fall of his trousers, she realized that this was their true marriage, though they would make it official soon. These were their promises to each other, and they were about to make the ultimate physical commitment.
She tugged his shirt from his trousers and, in a fit of wickedness, ripped it down the front, revealing his broad chest. Well muscled, dusted with golden hair several shades darker than the sun-bleached hair on his head. She ran both hands over his bare skin, loving the warm pulse of muscled strength.
And scars. Several of them. “Did someone use you for shooting practice?” she asked as she touched a rough depression that looked like it had been made by a musket ball.
“The scars didn’t all come in a day,” he chuckled. “I have a carefully curated collection. I probably have scars I’ve forgotten about.”
Not letting herself think of his perilous past, she said firmly, “Well, it’s time to stop collecting them! That’s an order.” She pulled his shirt down over his shoulders and arms, wondering how many scars she’d find if she did a thorough inventory. She’d save that for another day.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with mock meekness. “Although if you want to add a bite mark . . .”
“That sounds like an idea worth exploring.” She tossed his shirt aside and nipped his shoulder. Warm, salty skin under her tongue, an essence of Richard-ness.
His eyes blazed like a lion’s in sunlight and he swiftly unlaced her stays, leaving her in only a thin shift. She shivered a little despite the heat in his eyes.
Feeling shy, she dragged his trousers down his legs, enjoying the strength and textures of thighs, knees, ankles. Then she knelt before him to hold the fabric of each leg so he could pull his foot out. He wore only his drawers now, and as she stood up she had a good view of his readiness to consummate their—betrothal.
Reading her mind, he asked gently, “Feeling a little shy?”
She blushed. “I was married for a dozen years and a widow for three, but no man has ever seen me unclothed.”
“I look forward to being the lucky first, but full revelation can wait.” He caught her hand and led her around the tobacco barrels to the nest that awaited them.
In the growing morning light, he was beautiful, fair skinned and golden haired. His mother had been Norwegian and he had that otherworldly Nordic beauty.
He flipped the top blanket aside. It was ragged around the edges. Sarah had bought the blankets used and cheap, then boiled them with lavender to make sure they were clean and sweet smelling. Not particularly soft since the fabric was coarse, but the roughness was erotic where it brushed bare skin. Callie suspected everything would feel erotic in her present state.
Richard pulled her down beside him so they lay face to face. Then he stroked her head and back while he kissed her with great tenderness. She could feel how he held himself back, not wanting to upset her. She felt like a nervous virgin, though she was no virgin. But nervous, yes. It had been a long time since she’d lain with a man, and that had been duty, not desire. She was entering unknown territory.
Her nerves faded as his caresses and kisses rekindled the desire that had set her aflame earlier. She buried her fingers in his hair. The pale strands fell silkily over her hand. “I hope you keep your hair rather longer than fashion dictates,” she murmured. “It’s so lovely.”
He chuckled. “I believe that’s what I’m supposed to say.” He brushed her hair out with his fingers so he could spread it across her shoulder. “My fire cat, red and gold and brimming with vitality.”
“I feel as if I’ve come to life after years of being a banked fire.” She cupped his cheek, feeling the prickle of whiskers since he hadn’t shaved this morning. They were almost invisible because of his fair coloring, but the feel was alluringly male. She ran her hand from his cheek to his jaw, his throat, continuing down his body in sheer delight.
Since she was the one who had needed to slow down, she must be the one to turn up the heat again. Her hand kept moving, lower and lower over smooth skin and taut muscles, fingertips brushing through coarser hair until she could clasp that tantalizing heat and hardness.
He sucked in his breath, becoming even harder. She loved that she could affect him like this.
Before she could test her power further, he said huskily, “It’s time for me to withdraw from the boiling point by concentrating on you.”
He rolled her onto her back and kissed her more deeply. She didn’t realize that he’d tugged her shift up to her shoulders until she felt his warm, bare hand on her breast. She gasped and gave a shimmy of pleasure.
Obligingly he bent his head and kissed her breast, teasing with his tongue and lightly nipping until she was ready to shriek from cascading sensations. He transferred his mouth to her other breast while sliding his palm lower over waist and belly until he reached the most sensitive places of all.
“Please don’t take too much time,” she whispered, and her hips churned around his questing fingers. “Please!”
“Your wish is my pleasure, milady,” he said in a gravelly voice. He moved between her legs, using his fingers to position himself. Braced above her, he was beautiful, a tawny, powerful lion who took her breath away.
Sweat glistened on his forehead as he entered slowly out of care for her long celibacy, but despite her tightness, her body welcomed him. Yearning for completion, she surged her hips upward until they were fully joined.
She caught her breath with amazement and delight. Matthew had been a thoughtful lover for an unenthusiastic bride, and she’d had no reason to complain of him, but it had never been like this. Never.
As he began rocking into her, she surrendered to flooding sensations, swiftly finding a rhythm with him that made her blood dance. He thrust, she responded, he thrust again and she mirrored that movement. Mutual fire rose higher and higher until it consumed her. When he touched her just above where they were joined, she shattered into pure passion, no body, only emotion and intoxicating pleasure.
As she convulsed, she clutched his torso, needing him to hold her so she didn’t fly to pieces. Instinctively understanding, he secured her in his embrace as he thrust a last time and culminated with a deep groan, burying his face in her hair.
She held him, shaken to her core. A dizzy interval passed before she said unsteadily, “I think this means we’re compatible?”
He laughed, rolling onto his side and bringing her with him so that they were face to face as he drew the top blanket over them. She loved being skin to skin with him. That was another kind of intimacy as powerful in its way as their mating had been.
“Very compatible indeed,” he said. “I wonder if it would have been like this if we’d made it to Gretna Green and married then.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “We were young and much simpler then. I don’t think we would have brought as much to our bed.” She nipped his shoulder. “Mind you, I think we would have figured it all out quickly!”
He drew her closer. “As you said earlier, this is the right time for us. Though . . .” He paused, then continued in a more serious voice with echoes of pain, “Then I would have been able to come to you with a more open heart. More than I can manage now.” He gently stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “But though I might not be able to love as well as you deserve, I would die for you.”
“I hope you don’t have to,” she said with equal seriousness. “I will say in return that I would kill for you.” She’d already proved that she could kill. As horrible as that had been, she’d do it without a moment’s hesitation to protect Richard.
“What a bloodthirsty pair we are!” He slid his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp and the nape of her neck. “I’m thinking we won’t need such skills in England.”
“I expect you’re right.” She hadn’t realized how much he loved to touch, but she liked it very well. Especially since he was awakening a matching craving for touch in her.
She nuzzled against him, sure she would never get enough of this closeness. “I wonder how long we’ll have until the Adamses return.”
“Not long enough. I’d like to spend the next week here with you.” His fingers wandered to her breast and began doing delicious things.
With a sigh, she pushed his hand away. “We were lucky to get this much time alone, so we’d best marry quickly and make it legal.”
“Very true.” He rose and stretched, tawny and beautiful. “I shan’t mind trying this in a real bed.”
She laughed as she stood. She was ready to laugh at anything. “Isn’t a first time supposed to be special? Burlap sacks in a warehouse attic will never be forgotten.”
Feeling much less shy than she had earlier, she pulled her shift off over her head, leaving her as bare as he was since he seemed to have lost his drawers somewhere. “In case you’re wondering what you’re getting . . .”
He caught his breath, his eyes darkening. “You are so beautiful. You always were. You always will be. And you’d better cover yourself up before I forget that we won’t be alone much longer!”
She tugged the shift on again, feeling agreeably naughty. “Once we’re properly dressed, maybe we can take a nap till the others return? Neither of us got much sleep last night.”
She looked outside and felt another thrill at the sight of that grand waving American flag. She wasn’t exactly an American, but she knew what side she was on in this war.
“A nap would be lovely.” He paused in his dressing to kiss her temple. “And after that, we can devote ourselves to our next job.”
“Which will be?”
Looking like the mischievous seventeen-year-old boy she’d eloped with, he said, “Forgery!”