The next morning I was so pumped for my picnic with Nathan that I decided to prepare the basket of food myself. I was a decent enough cook, and I thought I could make something special for our lunch. I think he was going to appreciate the personal touch. I just wanted to do something loving and romantic for my husband.

I perused the contents of the cabinets of our kitchen. Really, the kitchen at Peacock Alley was amazing. It was the newest room at the estate, having been added in the 1920s, and had been renovated and modernized just in the last year.

It was a large, commercial-quality space, with gleaming restaurant-ready stainless steel appliances and beautiful custom cabinets. It was entirely capable of handling the numerous special occasions for which Peacock Alley had become famous.

I had finally learned from Cook that Savannah's beloved garden house was once the original kitchen. It was built at a time when due to fire hazards and cooling concerns, Southern kitchens needed to be separate from the main house.

I decided not to get too ambitious with my picnic lunch. I made a simple chicken salad for sandwiches served on fresh croissants, baked right there in our kitchen the day before by our fantastic cook. I washed some grapes and strawberries to eat on the side and made chocolate chip cookies from scratch for dessert. I thought that would be enough. Cook provided me with a large picnic basket and lined it for me with freezer packs to keep the food fresh.

I walked down a dark, spooky staircase to find the cavernous, well-stocked wine cellar. Looking at the huge selection of wine was overwhelming. I knew I could just ask Cook, but I really wanted to figure this out myself. I pulled out my phone and Googled “best wine for chicken salad sandwiches.”

A sommelier I found online recommended pairing chicken salad with a nice red Beaujolais that we had on hand, and I added it to the menu. An oversized tablecloth, napkins, wine opener, and wine glasses rounded out my basket to perfection.

Nathan and I met in the Clock Courtyard.

“Ready to go, baby?” He greeted me with a kiss, and I melted.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all morning.” I smiled as he took the heavy picnic basket from me.

“I think this basket weighs as much as you do.” He was in a playful mood. I loved it when he was like this.

We walked back to the barn to get our horses, flirting like teenagers along the way.

“Let me get that saddle for you.”

I was pleased to discover I remembered much of his previous lesson, and I was able to mount Bella without his help. He fastened the basket behind his own saddle before we started on our way.

The day was perfect. Warm, but not too hot. Nathan took a circuitous route to make the most of our ride to the bluff at the very edge of the property, and we talked quietly along the way.

Our destination was a new spot for me to explore. When he had mentioned riding out to the bluffs, I had assumed he was taking me to the same place Maxwell had shown me before, the location where they crawled under the fence as children to get to the large lake. This area of the bluff had an even lovelier view of the lake, and I studied it after I dismounted.

I was so distracted by the view I didn’t realize Bella was stepping away from me.

Nathan’s voice made me jump. “I’d like the horses to still be here when we finish eating.” He grinned at me as he took Bella’s reins. I realized he had already tied Lucky while I was lost in my thoughts.

“Show me how to do that. I want to help.”

He laughed at my eagerness, but showed me how to tie her so she could graze next to Lucky while we ate our lunch.

Afterwards, we stood under oak trees that had probably grown in this spot for two hundred years or more, along with the more fragrant and younger pine trees that dotted the plantation. I took a moment to imagine these same oak trees watching over my husband when he was a child.

"This is a very romantic place for a picnic. Thank you for bringing me all the way out here." I stepped closer to Nathan.

I hugged him against me. I still couldn't sometimes believe that he was really my husband. He was thoughtful and caring, and I knew I was a lucky, lucky girl. This picnic was the latest example of his romantic side.

He continued to look over the lake, distracted, and his face was far too serious for my liking. I knew he had to be thinking about Savannah. Who could blame him? Somewhere down in that vast body of water her body was still hidden away.

I stared out at the deep water, too. I couldn't help but wonder if her body would ever be discovered. Surely, at least her boat would be located. The lake was big, but it wasn't the ocean, after all. It was hard for me to believe that no trace of Savannah or the boat had ever been discovered. I know from reading about the tragedy online that the search had lasted over a week, and nothing of Savannah or the sailboat had been found.

He turned to me and shook off his dark mood, and pointed at the lake. "You can see how much the lake water has gone down as a result of the drought. The last time we went this long without rain, I was probably about eleven. The level of the water had dropped so much, you could walk on the lake bottom in places, and your shoes would stay perfectly dry. I have heard that it is like that again right now in some areas of the lake. Maxwell and I spent a lot of time that summer as kids walking the lake bed, looking for seashells."

"Seashells? It's a landlocked lake."

"Yes, it is, but when the lake was built in the thirties, the builders brought tons of sand from Florida to line the bottom. There are little beaches over there, too, for swimmers, built with the same sand. With the sand came seashells. Maxwell and I found dozens that summer."

"It is fascinating to think the shells journeyed all that way, and can still be found decades later." I looked back at the water.

We were quiet again for a minute. I couldn't stop thinking of Savannah's body. Twenty years from now, would some young boy searching for treasure during an unusually dry season find one of her bones? It gave me chills to imagine.

It also made me think of my skeleton decorations I had ordered for the party. I was glad I hadn't suggested a skeleton sailing a boat as one of the scenes. Mother would have choked me out right in front of the party planner, and probably rightly so.

Again, I watched Nathan visibly shaking off his mood. I could tell he was making an effort because he turned to me with a smile that seemed a little fake.

"Also, here on the bluffs, Maxwell and I would sometimes find arrowheads and pieces of pottery when we were kids. The Natchez and Choctaw Indians lived here for a long time before the Europeans ever came over, and these bluffs were a favorite camping spot for the tribes."

The history of this piece of land was astonishing. It was easy to think of Mississippi as just a bunch of farmland, but since moving to Peacock Alley, I had gained a new respect for the significance of the area.

More importantly, I loved listening to my husband talk about his beloved land.

We spread the tablecloth on the ground, and I laid out my simple picnic for his approval. When I mentioned that I had prepared the meal, Nathan's eyes lit up.

"You did that for me, baby?" He seemed pleased by my simple gesture, and his pleasure thrilled me down to my toes.

"It is wonderful to eat something other than the hot soup that Mother likes so much."

I giggled, and then stopped short, hoping I didn't offend him. I tried not to be critical of Mother in his presence. She was his mother, after all.

"Darby, Peacock Alley is your house, too. If you want something different for lunch, just let Cook know. Your opinions and preferences matter a great deal." His voice was patient and kind. I loved how he could read me so easily, but never made me feel stupid.

I was relieved that he didn't seem offended at all.

Soon we were feeding each other small bites of sandwiches, and chasing it with the fresh fruit. Nathan pronounced my efforts delicious. The wine was also tasty, but he only let me drink one glass.

"We need to hold back until after we are done shooting. Guns and alcohol don't mix. Keep the bottle on the ice packs, and we'll finish it off later."

He got to his feet and stretched, causing his shirt to ride up on his abs. He looked so good that I wanted to lick him. Despite my misgivings about the gun, I could feel heat building in my body as I surveyed the masterpiece that was my husband.

He walked over to his horse and retrieved a gun and a box of ammunition. Soon he was showing me how to load the gun. He gave me a few pointers about safety, and he set up a simple paper target he pulled from his gun case.

"I don't know how I feel about shooting that thing." I shrank back from the weapon.

I was even reluctant to hold the gun. I had never been this close to one before today.

Nathan smiled at me with sympathy. "I won't make you shoot it. I do want you to think about it this way, however. You are a Southerner now, a Randolph. My company's primary purpose is to make firearms, and we have been doing that since the early 1800s. Guns are a proud part of this family, and on their own, they aren't evil. It takes a person with a bad or ignorant intent to turn a gun into a weapon."

I thought over his words, and while I did not entirely agree, he was right about one thing. I was a Randolph now, and he had a point. I would learn to handle the gun to try to make him proud, but I didn't envision myself becoming an avid shooter. I thought Nathan would be okay with that.

“Okay, I’m ready to learn to shoot.” I swallowed my misgivings and stood next to him.

“Here.” He put the gun in my hand, and wrapped his own hand around mind. “Line it up on the target like this.” He demonstrated. “Close one eye and look down the barrel.”

He stood behind me with his arms wrapped around me to give me confidence. I liked the feel of his body next to mine, and it was the distraction I needed to let go of my fear.

“I think I’m aiming it right.” I shifted a little to get more comfortable.

I shot the gun a few times, strictly to please him, and I was surprised at the adrenaline rush I experienced. I handed the gun back to him, shaking just a bit.

“Good job, sweetheart.” He smiled as he took the weapon.

Then I reclined on the tablecloth, content to watch him shoot. He was masterful handling the weapon, and I found myself oddly aroused again. For some reason, I directly linked the way he held the powerful gun to the way he mastered my body in bed.

He turned to face me and his eyebrows lifted at the sight of my face. "What are you thinking about, baby?"

I sat up slowly. We were in a secluded location. No one could see us, tucked away in the middle of several big oak trees in our small meadow filled with colorful wildflowers. The horses were content, grazing several feet away.

I looked Nathan straight in the eyes and peeled off my shirt. Next, I shucked my riding boots and slipped out of my pants. I knelt before him on the tablecloth, wearing nothing but a peacock blue lace bra and panty set. My heart pounded as I waited for my husband to make a move. With my red curls moving gently on my shoulders in the soft breeze, I knew I was sex personified. I had never felt so confident, so sexy, as I did right at that moment, kneeling in this magical meadow for my husband.

Nathan placed the gun on the ground before he approached me.

He swallowed hard and moved slowly and with deliberation to the edge of the cloth. His hand stroked his erection through his pants a few times.

Keeping my eyes on his, I unhooked the front closure of my bra and leaned forward a little, still on my knees. The slight weight of my breasts swung free of the bra, and Nathan licked his lips. I pulled the bra off and tossed it onto my pile of clothes. I removed my panties and ran my fingers over my clit and down between the lips of my pussy. I stuck my fingers in my mouth, and sucked hard, tasting myself.

Nathan groaned.

I grabbed our wine glasses and filled them up. I held Nathan's glass out for him, and he sauntered over, taking the drink from me. His fingers brushed mine, and electricity jumped between us. He sat down beside me and pulled me into his lap. Soon we were indulging in the wine, and kissing each other passionately between sips. I tugged at his shirt, trying to remove it but not wanting to spill my wine. I was impatient. He took mercy on me and helped me out. Soon our bare chests pressed tightly together, as we devoured each other with hunger, wine all but forgotten.

Nathan laid me down on the refined linen tablecloth and spread my legs without ceremony. His mouth found my pussy, and he moaned hard when his tongue made contact with my flesh. The feeling of his mouth and the vibrations of his moan made me arch into the air. He sat back panting and took my wine glass in hand.

He sipped at the luscious wine. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, please.” I was breathless.

Nathan looked right at me, and poured wine all over my breasts. I jumped when the cold liquid made contact. Then he licked it off me. He followed the trail of wine down my stomach, made his way across my hips, and spent some time loving my navel before sitting up again.

This time he grabbed his glass of wine and downed half of the remaining liquid. “Do you want another taste?”

Between the two of us, we drained the glass greedily. Still holding eye contact with me, he took the chilled bottle of wine and poured the remains all over my pussy. I jumped again when the cold wine swept over my body.

This time when he went down on me, I lost my mind. I could hear my pants and moans, but they sounded like they were coming from somebody else. My body was on fire with need.

His tongue lapped at my pussy, and one tantalizing finger flicked my clit over and over. He took the empty wine bottle, and he inserted the open end into my body. The idea was so dirty and forbidden that I climaxed uncontrollably within seconds. He tossed the bottle aside, his patience gone, and hastily undid his jeans. He pulled out his massive cock, and I devoured him with my eyes.

Soon he was rutting away at me, bareback and animalistic. Each hard thrust was accompanied by his grunting moans, and my body shook. He was fucking me so hard; I could only make helpless sounds of capitulation and surrender. Our bodies slapped together in perfect rhythm, and my wet pussy slurped obscenely at his cock. Together, we created a symphony of earthy, beautiful sex.

I lost count of my orgasms. Nathan had taught me that it wasn't only possible for me to have multiple orgasms during our lovemaking; it was positively the standard for me, and I knew that was all due to his skill in bed. Or in this case, his talent on tablecloths. Today he was outdoing himself, and I hadn't thought that was possible.

He flipped me over on to my hands and knees. I was weak and shaking like a baby deer now. So many orgasms had sapped my strength, but I was game to keep going. Even if I couldn't breathe. Even if I couldn't see clearly anymore.

He pounded into me from behind, and I tried to brace myself as best I could. Neither of us bothered speaking. We were saving our breath for fucking. Finally, Nathan wore himself out. His thrusts slowed, and he sighed out his orgasm. I was sobbing my own sweet pleasure, limp and helpless beneath him.

The elegant linen tablecloth was positively ruined.