CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
MARCH 18, 1815
It was a beautiful day for a wedding.
St. Louis Cathedral was brimming with well-wishers of every kind. Drago’s crew shuffled and shifted in a vain attempt remain still, unlike Mother Marie Francis, Beatrice, and the rest of the Ursuline nuns who stood stoically in the first few rows, calmly awaiting the start of the ceremony. General Jackson and his officers were dressed in their finest, boots polished and shirts starched. The Sauvage family gathered in their pew as Father Dubourg led the procession.
Jean Lafitte served as a witness and would give the bride to be wed. Drago would soon be her husband.
Husband.
For once, there were no twinges of guilt or disappointment that his past made him unsuitable or acceptable.
Unredeemable.
There would always be regret.
Regret that he didn’t command another sweep of the ship before giving the order to sink her.
Regret that they didn’t notice the child.
Regret that they didn’t try harder to decipher what the frantic woman was saying.
Perhaps that’s why he flung his body between Julian and a swinging saber years ago, in hopes to offset such an egregious error in some small way.
Julian gave him with a cheeky grin and a spry salute. Drago answered with a tilt of his head and a wink at his new cabin boy.
Time to let go of the past and embrace the future with Eva. With her, he was a whole man. An honorable man. General Jackson presented him a medal of valor and a copy of two letters. One he sent to President Madison lauding Drago’s heroics, the other was a full presidential pardon for any illicit actions Captain Gampo may have taken while a Baritarian pirate, just in case the issue ever came up.
Jean bent over Eva’s hand, kissed her fingers, then folded them in Drago’s with a wink. Pierre Lafitte had gifted her with the tawny silk wedding gown and turned her into an angel.
Eva smiled and her radiance rendered Drago speechless. His mother’s sapphire necklace glittered and ignited the azure fire in her eyes, and matched the ring he slid on her finger as they completed their vows. Those who pillaged his cabin didn’t think to look more closely behind the drawers of his desk. Foxes and hounds.
His wife. The Healer.
His bright, beautiful, raven-haired wife, who accepted his bloodied hands and black past, stole his heart and healed his soul.
He lifted her veil, removed it, and let it drop to the floor in an unwanted heap. Eva arched a quizzical brow.
“No more veils,” he said, with a stern look and a tender smile.
“I’ll wager New Orleans has never seen a grander wedding celebration,” Drago said in a rather smug tone.
She laughed, her heart light and her face flushed from dancing. “It was kind of Mr. Sauvage to host it here,” Eva said. It was like a wonderful dream. She had her arms looped around his corded neck as he carried her into their room at Hotel Le Rue like she weighed no more than a loaf of bread. His hair was soft and silky against her knuckles, and she wrapped a curl around her finger.
He smiled, white teeth flashed, that dimple diving into his right cheek. “The guests will feast and dance until midnight.” He slowly put her down. “Lucky for us, we know how to disappear unnoticed.”
She couldn’t look away from the shadowed pools of his eyes. He grasped her hands and pressed his warm lips to each knuckle, causing up her arms to quiver at every heated point of contact, stilling her breath. Tiny creatures darted around her belly like skittering water spiders.
“You are beautiful, Mrs. Gamponetti,” he whispered low and husky, pulling her closer and stroking his hands along her spine. His storm gray eyes glowed with ardent adoration.
Eva brushed her fingers over the rose silk. Never had she touched a fabric so fine. She smiled at her husband, dressed so handsomely in his usual black with the addition of a fawn waistcoat. It was their wedding night. She was filled both with anticipation and joy.
“This gown would make any woman look beautiful,” she tilted her head back to take in the lines of his face and the love radiating from his eyes, leaving her breathless and fluid.
Drago lowered his brows. “It’s a simple frock, Madame. Without it, you would still look like a goddess.” The corner of his mouth tipped up, igniting a deviant light in his storm cloud eyes. “I’ll show you.” He led her to the full-length mirror.
He removed her rosary and placed it gently on a side table. Eva’s breath hitched as his fingers deftly worked the buttons and laces. Piece by piece, her garments fell to the floor around her ankles, until there were none. His hands were hot on her shoulders. When he slid them down her arms, she shivered. Uncertain what he had planned, she decided that if it was anything like last time, she was onboard.
Now there was even less to shield her. Everything about her was exposed. Her body, her face. He refused to allow her to replace the veil after the ceremony. At first, she was hesitant, but his gentle smile and words of encouragement gave her strength and courage. He made her feel...desirable.
Drago’s hands caressed her ribs, her stomach, and sent a vibrant tingling sensation rippling under her skin. When he palmed her breasts, her entire body hummed. She dropped her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes. It was hard to breathe. It was only a matter of time until her knees gave way, she was certain of it.
“Open your eyes, Eva,” he murmured. “I want you to see the exquisite beauty I behold when I look at you.”
He skimmed her nipples, then pinched them lightly. A gasp escaped at the strange, almost painful pleasure. His magnetic gaze caught hers in the mirror, molten, silver, and sultry. She couldn’t look away if the walls collapsed around them and Jackson’s army marched in.
His voice was smooth and velvety, and just a tad devilish. “You are precious to me, wife. I’m going to make love to you slowly and thoroughly.”
He grasped her hips and pulled her back against his hardness, and her breath left her lungs in a small shaky puff.
His words alone made the juncture of her thighs awaken, but connecting with his silver-hued eyes in the mirror caused all kinds of coils and springs to tighten low and deep. She followed his darkly tanned hands as they glided over her pale waist, past her navel to that place which craved his touch and pulsed with need. He ran his fingers through the dark curls, stopping short of where she needed to feel him the most. He ignored her groan of disappointment. With excruciating slowness, he stroked his way back up to her breasts. She placed her hands over his and pressed.
“Harder,” she whispered, craving the ache as much as the pleasure.
He obliged and increased his caress, scraping his callused fingers over the sensitive tips before rolling them and tugging lightly, eliciting another groan. No disappointment in this one.
She reached her hand back to cup his jaw then run her hand through the hair at his temples. “I don’t see how you can make love to me thoroughly with all those clothes on.” She arched a brow, catching his sultry gray gaze. She turned and unbuttoned his coat. Anticipation making her fingers stumble.
Drago stepped back and doffed his garments efficiently before hauling her flush against him. Every place skin met skin sizzled. Crisp hair grazed the front of her legs and abraded her breasts. His hard length pressed her belly. Both his hands splayed across her back making the most tantalizing circles. Their lips mold together in a kiss filled with heat, urgency and need. Drago’s were firm and warm and they captured her mouth in a possessive way that made her feel precious. He slanted his mouth across hers and the first searing slide of his tongue melted everything inside her body. He made a desperate sound that left her feeling a power that had nothing to do with size or strength. He scraped his lips down her throat before turning her back around to face their reflection.
He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, still sensitive and flushed from the kiss, sending a shudder careening all the way to her toes. She couldn’t take her eyes off his hands as they kneaded, caressed, and skimmed over her body leaving goosebumps and scorch marks in their wake.
When he reached the place she wanted him to touch the most, he teased her, stroking her inner thigh, raking his fingers through the triangle of curls. When he finally touched her she whimpered and arched toward him. The erotic desire stoked by watching his caresses flamed when he opened her folds to stroke the tender nub at their center. He rubbed, the strumming of his fingers causing delightful sensations to dart through her belly; her breath came and went in quivering pants. She wanted, needed, more. And by the way he was thickening against her back, he needed more too.
“Drago...”
He kissed the soft skin below her ear, shooting shivers around her neck. “Il mio amoré.”
She shuddered and a guttural moan escaped her lips as desire swirled through her body, causing her core to clench and her legs to nearly buckle beneath her.
“That’s it, Eva. Let it go.”
Let it go. He said the same thing about her veil, so many months ago...
She cried out just as he released her. She twisted and kissed him, desperately wanting him to fill the empty place that still wept at the juncture of her thighs. Slow languid strokes of his tongue stirred her from a sated euphoria to a writhing desire. Each lash spun her into tighter and tighter swirls of liquid heat and white fire. It was impossible to maintain enough control to stand and she melted. Drago swept her up and carried her to bed.
He covered her with his long hard body, cradled by her thighs, weight on his forearms. He held her head in his hands. “You are my light in the dark, Eva,” he breathed. “Without you, I can only see shadow.” He rubbed his thumbs over her cheekbones and placed a kiss on the edge of her scar. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m too selfish to do the honorable thing and leave you to shine for another more worthy.”
Her heart swelled. Never had she felt so cherished. Thinking back to that dark night in Jamaica, when he stormed into the abbey and demanded she heal the little girl in his arms, she couldn’t disagree more with his self-appraisal. She grinned. “Well, you are a pirate, after all.”
He opened his mouth and hesitated. Instead of correcting her, his lips tipped up in the most disarming smile she’d ever seen. “And you’re a thief. You stole my heart, il mio amore.” He lowered his head and gave her a searing kiss, making her heart hum. She locked her ankles around his waist and hugged him with her entire body. She loved this man with every inch of her being, heart and soul. She’d spend the rest of the night showing him.