6
Manaus was an international city, with people of just about every ethnic group represented in its sophisticated interior.
Rourke had found an expensive European boutique online. He took Tat there in the rental car and smiled at her exuberance while she looked at a small selection of wedding gowns in her size.
She paused at one, fingering it delicately. Her eyes lit up. It was trimmed in exquisite Belgian lace, and there was just a hint of pastel embroidery in the skirt and the long train. The veil was a fingertip one, sheer and delicate, like the dress itself. It was white. She hesitated, her eyes troubled.
Rourke knew why. His fingers slid into hers. “We’re engaged, my darling,” he whispered at her ear. “Handfasting was one of the oldest customs in Scotland, where K.C.’s people came from. It permitted all sorts of delicious, forbidden intimacies, because the intent to marry was there.” He turned her toward him. His face was solemn. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait. I was honestly dying for you.”
His headlong hunger for her was the one real thing in her life right now. He wasn’t exaggerating. He had been starving for her.
She reached up and touched his cheek with just her fingertips. “It’s all right,” she said huskily.
He turned her hand and kissed the palm with muted ferocity. “I did try, you know,” he whispered. His eye was tormented. “I really did.”
“It’s all right,” she repeated. Her eyes adored him. “Honest.”
He drew in a long breath. He searched her eyes and smiled. “You’ll be the most beautiful bride who ever walked down the aisle. We’ll have to talk to one of the local priests and see if he’ll agree to marry us.”
“I’d like Father Pete to do it,” she said. “He was our family parish priest for years and years. He knew my mother.”
His face closed up just briefly, but he averted his head so she wouldn’t see it. He hated her mother. He was never going to be able to forgive her for the torment she’d put him, and Tat, through because of that one lie.
“If...if you’d rather have a civil ceremony,” she began, disconcerted by his sudden coolness.
“No,” he said at once, turning his gaze back to her. “I want something more permanent than that. I want you in church, Tat, with the priest, the candles, the whole works.”
She smiled slowly. “You don’t go to church.”
He drew in a breath. “I suppose I’ll have to work that out, won’t I?” he teased. “A family man should encourage his kids to go to church.”
She laughed. “Yes, he should.”
“My mother was Methodist,” he said. “My best friend in Jacobsville is a minster who preaches in a Methodist Church.”
“Would you rather that he performed the ceremony?” she asked.
“Let’s do it your way,” he replied. “We can work out all the differences down the road,” he added with a smile. “I just want to marry you, love. As soon as I possibly can.”
“Are we in a rush?” she teased.
One lean hand went to her flat stomach and he looked her right in the eye. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t want people looking at your waistline. Because I have a feeling that if we wait a couple of months, they’ll have a reason to look at it.”
Her breath caught at the emotion she saw in his one brown eye.
“It might have already happened, last night,” he whispered, and ruddy color filled in his high cheekbones. “You could be carrying my baby right now.” He shivered. “God, that excites me, to think of that!”
She leaned against him, overcome with joy. She’d never in her wildest imaginings seen him as a man who’d want babies.
His arm tightened around her. He kissed the top of her head.
A saleslady, watching them with hidden amusement, approached from the counter. “May I help you with something?” she asked.
Rourke lifted his head and grinned at her. “Can you let her try on this gown?” he asked, indicating the one she’d paid such attention to. “We’re getting married in a few days.”
“Congratulations! And of course, you may try it on, my dear,” she told Tat, who was beaming.
She took the dress from the rack. “Come with me, please.”
Tat gave Rourke a long, soft look and a smile, and followed the saleslady to the back of the shop.
* * *
It was bad luck, to let the groom see the dress before the wedding. She felt it in her very bones. But she couldn’t resist showing Rourke how elegant the couture garment was on her slender, pretty figure.
She walked out into the shop, with the veil down over her eyes, and Rourke looked at her and couldn’t stop looking.
She went to him, fascinated by the expression on his face.
He swallowed, hard. “I don’t care if I have to mortgage the farm to pay for it, you’re having that,” he said huskily.
She laughed. “It’s not that expensive,” she mused. “I asked. I can pay for it...”
He put a long forefinger over her lips. “I was teasing and you know it,” he laughed. “Money will never be a problem. Both of us are rich beyond the dreams of avarice. But I’m paying for the dress.”
“Okay.”
“And the flowers,” he added gently. “White roses, Tat?” he asked huskily.
She nodded slowly. “White roses.”
He lifted the veil and looked into her wide, soft eyes. “Myne vrou,” he whispered in Afrikaans. “Ek is lief vir jou.”
She flushed, because what he said was “My woman—my wife—I love you.”
He bent and nuzzled her nose. “We’ll have to find a mutual language for intimate whisperings,” he chuckled.
“Afrikaans is beautiful,” she whispered.
He smiled against her lips. “Then we’ll make love in Afrikaans,” he whispered. He laughed softly at her soft flush. He kissed her tenderly. “Buy the dress, my darling.”
“Okay.” She walked away from him, elegant and poised, and so beautiful that she took his breath away.
* * *
They shopped for rings as well, but Tat only wanted a simple gold band to accompany the beautiful engagement ring he’d given her.
“I don’t want a flashy diamond to show up this lovely ring,” she explained as they stood together at the jewelry counter in an exclusive shop. “I want a band that will be like my dress,” she explained. “An heirloom, to hand down to our daughter, if we have one.”
He traced her eyebrows with a fingertip. “A daughter would be a long shot, honey,” he said softly. “There hasn’t been a female child born in my lineage in at least the past five decades.”
Her heart jumped. She searched his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind a son, as long as he looked like you. You’re so handsome, Stanton.”
He cleared his throat and looked vaguely embarrassed. “Gimpy eye and all?”
“You’re the only person who has an issue with that eye patch. It makes you look very sexy,” she murmured and peered up at him through her lashes with a secret little smile.
“Well!” he exclaimed.
Her fingers tangled with his. “I like this ring,” she said. It was a simple circle with white and yellow gold, not too wide, but with a vine-like pattern. “It’s quite lovely.”
He noticed that a man’s ring was available in the same pattern. “I’ll have the matching band,” he said quietly.
Her eyes sought his. “You’d really wear it?” she faltered.
His hand contracted around hers. “After all these years,” he told her. “Do you think I’ll wander off with some flighty girl the minute your back is turned?” He leaned down to her ear. “Eight years of abstinence, Tat,” he whispered. “Does that sound flighty to you?”
“Oh, no,” she agreed breathlessly. “No, it doesn’t.”
He bent and brushed his mouth tenderly over her eyelids. “We’ll buy the set. Then we’ll go and talk to Father Pete. Okay?”
She smiled. “Okay, Stanton.”
* * *
Father Pete was surprised and delighted at the news.
“Your father was quite fond of Rourke,” he told Tat with a smile. “He admired and respected him. He would have been happy for you.”
“My mother would have been, too,” she faltered.
He didn’t reply.
She frowned. “Father Pete...?”
“We’d like you to perform the ceremony, if you could, on Friday,” Rourke interrupted. He knew immediately that Tat’s mother had confided in Father Pete, had told him what she’d done. It unsettled him a bit.
“I’ll make time,” he replied. He gave them both a searching look and raised an eyebrow.
“Could I speak to you, in private?” Rourke asked him.
“Of course.”
“I’ll wait out here,” Tat said, smiling. She inferred from the look they’d exchanged that Stanton had something to get off his chest. Men did have to have a few secrets, she pondered.
* * *
Rourke’s face was hard as he faced the priest behind a closed door. “Clarisse’s mother told a lie to me that kept me away from Tat for eight long years,” he said coldly. “Ruined my life. Ruined Tat’s.”
“She was sorry for it, if that helps,” Father Pete said gently. “She was afraid of your intentions. Clarisse was very young and, forgive me, you had a reputation as a rounder. Maria was concerned that you’d seduce her daughter and walk away.”
“I loved Tat, even then,” Rourke said heavily. “I would happily have married her at seventeen. In fact, that was what I had in mind. If her mother had spoken to me, given me a chance to tell her what I really felt...” He swallowed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You can’t imagine what a burden she placed on me. Eight years of absolute hell. I couldn’t touch another woman, in all that time...!”
Father Pete put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m a priest, my son,” he said with a faint smile. “You might not believe it, but I understand abstinence. In my profession, it’s a requirement that brings its own burden.”
Rourke relaxed, just a little. “I see.” He hesitated. “Thanks. For not judging. Tat doesn’t hide her emotions very well,” he added with a faint laugh. “Things...got out of hand.”
“When two people love each other that can happen. The important thing is that you respect the tradition of marriage.”
“I grew up in rural Africa,” Rourke replied, “where tradition also has a place. I wouldn’t dishonor Tat by offering her a relationship that didn’t include marriage.” He cleared his throat. “I love her very much.”
“A mutual thing. She really doesn’t hide her emotions well,” Father Pete laughed.
Rourke drew in a breath. “I’ve never spoken about my work to anyone,” he said. He hesitated. “Sometime, after the ceremony, I’d like to talk to you.”
The priest’s eyes were wise and kind. “I’ll be happy to listen, to anything you want to say.”
Rourke smiled. “Maybe it’s time I made a few changes in my life besides wearing a wedding band,” he replied. “Life is full of surprises.”
“Yes.”
* * *
“What were you talking to Father Pete about?” Tat asked gently when they were outside again in the warm sun.
“Private things,” he mused, smiling down at her. He linked his fingers with hers. “I’ll tell you them, one day.”
“All right. I won’t pry.”
He drew in a long breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life, Tat,” he said. He pursed his lips. “That reminds me.” He pulled out his cell phone, drew her close and took a selfie of the two of them with their heads together, smiling. He glanced at it, took another and nodded.
He put a legend under the photo: Guess who’s getting married?! And he sent it to K.C. in Africa, and to Jake Blair and Micah Steele in Jacobsville, Texas.
* * *
That night she was still a little uncomfortable. But he coaxed her out of her clothes, removed his and installed them in her bed with the lights out.
He shifted restlessly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her mouth against his shoulder. “If you...if you want to, it will be all right...”
He laughed deep in his throat and rolled onto his side to kiss her worried eyes. “I’m sore, too,” he whispered back.
She caught her breath. “Men get sore?”
“You were a virgin, my darling,” he murmured against her soft lips. “There was a barrier...?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
His whole body shivered. “I felt it tear. My God, in all my life, nothing was ever as exciting as that, as feeling your virginity, pushing past it...” He brought his mouth down, hard, on hers. “You waited for me,” he choked. “I could hardly believe it!”
Her arms slid around his neck and she pressed close, loving the immediate reaction of his powerful body to her nudity. “I couldn’t bear to let another man touch me, not after you,” she confessed huskily. “Seventeen years old and committed for life to a man whom I thought hated me.”
His arms contracted, bringing her closer. The embrace was almost painful. “I never hated you, baby,” he whispered. “It was the other way around. But when I thought there was blood between us...” He groaned, and kissed her hungrily. “I walked into firefights, took on the most dangerous assignments I could find, hoped to die.” His mouth slid onto her warm throat. “And I couldn’t. The torment went on, year after year after year.”
“For me, too.” She drew in a shivery little breath. “I never understood why. It hurt, so much.”
He smoothed her hair. One lean hand went down her back, savoring the silky skin, savoring its warm perfection. “Your body is absolutely perfect,” he whispered. “I’d see you on television, at embassy balls, or at fund-raisers. Once when you were hostess at a tribute at the Kennedy Center. I fed on just the sight of you and hated myself for what I felt. I thought there had to be something unnatural in me.”
She burrowed her face into his neck. “If only you could have told me.”
“I should have,” he confessed for the first time. “If I’d been honest, if we’d had things in the open, you might not have been so traumatized about it. Perhaps you might have found someone else to love, someone who wouldn’t have hurt you so much.”
Her arms tightened around his neck. “That would never have happened, Stanton,” she whispered into his throat. “I could never have let another man touch me. Never.”
His body vibrated. He groaned harshly as he found her mouth and kissed her until the aching finally stopped. He held her very close, in a bearish embrace, his arms tight around her. He groaned.
“I’m sorry...” she began.
“Hold on tight,” he whispered. “It’s a way of coping with unsatisfied desire. I read it in a book.”
Her breath sighed out. “In a book?”
His hands smoothed down her back. “I’ve had practice at smothering my feelings,” he chuckled. “I’ve flirted with other women, invited them out, teased them...even danced with them. But at the end of the evening, I left them all at the door.” His arms contracted. “It’s hell, isn’t it, loving just one person that you think you can never have?”
“Yes.”
He drew in a breath. “The difference is that I’d had sex. I knew what it felt like in bed. It was worse, what I felt for you, because I couldn’t satisfy it.”
Her fingers twirled around in the hair at his nape. “I wouldn’t have understood that, even a few days ago.”
“And now you do,” he whispered.
“Oh, yes,” she said huskily. “It’s like...eating potato chips.” She laughed softly when he chuckled. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Actually, I do. I want you all the time now.”
“I want you, too,” she moaned. “And I can’t do a thing about it!”
“Do you think so?”
She heard the amusement in his deep voice as he shifted her and suddenly brought his mouth down hungrily over one of her small breasts, suckling it.
She went up like a rocket. He heard her cries of ecstasy even before he felt her body shudder to completion under him. He was still laughing when he felt her relax.
“Nothing excites me more than that,” he whispered rakishly at her ear. “That I can satisfy you by suckling your pretty breast. You don’t know how flattering it is.”
“But...you had nothing,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “My source of satisfaction is in just one place,” he confessed with a dry laugh. “And that soreness does rather preclude having someone touch me, even with the best intentions.”
She kissed his throat. “I’m sorry, just the same.”
“No need to be, darling. In a few days, we’ll both be back to normal,” he said softly.
“Yes.” Her fingers ran over his chest and up to smooth through his hair. She felt the strap of the eye patch and gently removed it, tossing it onto the bedside table. “Why do you wear it in bed?” she whispered. “I love to kiss you there, where the scars are.” She did that, feeling the tremor that went through him.
“Why?” he managed. The kisses were powerfully affecting to a man who’d been sensitive about the loss of the eye for years.
“Because you were hurt, my darling, and when I do this—” she kissed the long scar that ran from his brow down almost to his cheekbone through the wound “—it feels like I’m kissing it better.”
He groaned and held her close.
“I will love you every day for the rest of my life,” she whispered drowsily. “I will never stop, no matter what happens.”
“I will love you just as much,” he promised. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed his mother’s engagement ring on her finger. “Where are we going to live, baby?”
She relaxed against him. “I’d like to live in Nairobi,” she said simply. She smiled against his cheek. “I like your lion.”
He laughed. “Lou likes you, too. He isn’t friendly with most people.” He smoothed over her back. “But when the kids start coming along, we might have to transfer him out of the compound where the house is. I won’t take chances with our sons.”
“Sons, plural?” she teased, kissing his throat.
“I want several. What do you think?”
She reached up and kissed his hard mouth. “Me, too,” she murmured. “It’s so much fun trying to make them,” she confessed with a shy laugh.
“And just think, I was far too hungry to go through my whole repertoire with you,” he whispered wickedly.
Her breath caught. “The mind boggles.”
“Everything will boggle, when we’re both back to normal,” he promised. “I’ll take an hour rousing you before I have you, next time,” he whispered. “And when you come, we’ll have to make sure the windows are closed. Because they’ll hear you all the way in downtown Manaus.”
She shivered. “You rake!”
“Count on it.”
She nuzzled his shoulder. “Can you teach me, to do that to you?”
“Honey,” he whispered, drawing her closer, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. And delight in the lessons. You are my treasure. My very soul.”
She closed her eyes. “I love you.”
He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
She sighed and smiled.
* * *
The next few days went by in a heated rush. Clarisse was still uncomfortable, so they’d spent that time talking, kissing, reminiscing. They got to know each other in the most intimate way. It was two days before the wedding. And then it all went to pot. Rourke answered his cell phone, cursed virulently in Afrikaans while he listened to the caller, made curt replies, hesitated and protested and, finally, agreed.
“What is it?” Clarisse asked. They were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.
His face was harder than she’d seen it recently. He poured himself another cup, warmed hers and dropped down into the chair across from hers. “I told you that we’d been setting up surveillance in an international kidnapping ring, yes?”
She nodded.
“It’s my operation. I promised that I’d stay with it until the end. Things had gone quiet for months, but now the perpetrator is moving. He’s in Algeria.” His lips made a straight line. “I’m the only operative we have who’s been involved with this case from the beginning. I have to go. It’s my job.”
She’d never found out what agency he worked for. He wouldn’t tell her. It might have been one of K.C.’s, too. Rourke was tight-lipped about things.
“You’re...leaving?” she faltered. “But the wedding is in two days...!” She felt so hurt that he was putting his job before their life together... He might be killed!
“I know.” He searched her worried eyes and frowned. “Tat, believe me, if there was any other way, I wouldn’t go. I’ve been on this case for over a year. This man...” His teeth ground together. “You saw some of the things that went on in Ngawa. Believe me when I tell you that this man is capable of worse atrocities than you’d ever dream could exist. Many of them involved small children, held hostage and tortured because of what their fathers knew.” His whole face contracted when he saw her go pale. “I can’t let him walk because of my personal life. I love you. I want to marry you. But I have to go in the morning. We’ll talk to Father Pete. It’s just a postponement, my darling,” he added, closing her fingers with his. “That’s all. Just a postponement.”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She knew the sort of work Rourke was involved in, because she’d been in Barrera when the offensive began. “You could be killed,” she choked.
He got up and pulled her into his arms. “I have every reason in the world to want to live right now,” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll have a wedding, a real one. You can wear that gorgeous dress and walk down the aisle to me. I’ll slide another ring on your finger—” he kissed the one that she wore now “—and we’ll have a honeymoon somewhere exotic.” He laughed softly. “I’ll ravish you,” he threatened with an earthy mock growl.
She pressed close, her eyes lifting to his. He was so precious to her, and she understood his dedication. She couldn’t let him go without one more night to remember. “Are you still sore?” she whispered, and flushed.
“No,” he whispered back. “Are you?”
She shook her head. Watching him, she drew the straps of her sundress over her shoulders and let the dress fall. She was wearing nothing under it except lacy pink briefs. Her nipples were standing up like little flags.
He shuddered at just the sight of her. “All of it,” he said through his teeth, his eye dark and hungry on her body. “All of it, Tat.”
She was a little embarrassed to be so blatant, but she bent and removed the briefs and then stood up, letting him look.
“Now come here,” he said in voice like velvet. “Take my clothes off.”
Her lips fell apart.
“You did it in Barrera the night I was drunk,” he whispered. “I want to be sober and watch you do it.”
She was entranced. She moved buttons out of buttonholes, his belt out of the loops and, finally, got her hand under two waistbands and pulled them down.
He was magnificent. Even more magnificent than he’d been that night in Barrera. She caught her breath, just looking at him.
He slid out of his shoes, picked her up and walked back to the bedroom, placing her down gently on the covers. He stood over her, shivering a little with desire, as his eye ate her from head to toe. She had silky, creamy pink skin all over. Her pert little breasts were beautifully shaped, the nipples pink and tight. Her body moved on the coverlet while he looked at her, savoring the desire he read on her face.
He eased down beside her. His mouth went down her body like fingers, touching, tasting. He moved her long legs apart and his lips smoothed over the inside of her thighs. She moaned harshly.
He laughed. “It gets better,” he whispered.
He touched and tasted, explored her like fine china. She felt his mouth all the way up and down her spine while his hands made magic against her breasts. She arched up to give them better access while his mouth fed on her soft skin.
She felt the press of his muscular body down her back as he moved, slowly turning her so that she was on her side, facing him.
His expression was one of wonder. He touched her face, her high cheekbones, her mouth, with just the tips of his fingers.
“I never thought...it would ever be like this,” she managed, shivering from the slow seduction of his touch.
“I knew it would,” he whispered as he bent to brush his mouth lovingly across her warm, soft lips. “That was why it was such a hell. Wanting, with no hope of relief,” he said huskily. His jaw tautened as he moved back just enough to see the long, seductive curve of her body next to his in the bed. “I couldn’t even touch you...” His voice broke. He moved closer, rolling her gently onto her back. “But I dreamed of it,” he said. “Ached for it. Cursed myself for dreaming.” His mouth moved hungrily against hers. “And now, the dreams are real, Tat. Real!”
His mouth ran down her body, possessive and slow, awakening even more sensitivity from her breasts, her flat belly. His hands found her again, roused her to such passion that she cried out and begged him to end it.
“Slowly,” he whispered as he levered himself above her, between her long, soft legs. “Slowly, Tat. Make it last...”
Her arms went up around his neck and she watched his face as he touched her, letting him see her responses, letting him watch her moan in agony as he promised and promised, but drew back over and over again.
She was arching up toward him now, her whole body one silent plea for relief from the anguish of desire. Her face was red with it, her eyes open and wild. She was trembling.
“Yes,” he whispered. His hand moved down and he positioned her. “Watch it happen,” he said softly, drawing her eyes down to his slow, agonizingly slow possession of her.
She caught her breath and moaned so harshly that he shivered.
“Slowly,” he whispered. He moved against her tenderly, his hips advancing, withdrawing, the fullness inside her growing and swelling until she gasped again and looked up at him with faint apprehension.
“You can take me, darling,” he whispered, aware of his own potency. “I’m more aroused than I have been. But you’ll fit me.” He moved down slowly and shivered, his teeth grinding together. “You’ll fit me. You’ll fit me, Tat, you’ll...fit me...like a glove...!”
With each deepening, sharp movement, he was lifting her completely out of the world and into realms that the two of them hadn’t even touched.
“Stanton!” she cried out, shuddering, as the feeling grew so quickly, so urgently, that she was moving violently with him, her body pleading with him, her mouth open as the sensations mounted until she thought she might explode.
“Yes,” he bit off as he saw her face, felt the sudden contractions around that part of him that was blatantly male. He bit off a curse and drove into her, his hands gripping the pillow on either side of her thrashing head, his hips going like pistons, the sound of their bodies straining the springs of the bed loud in the heated silence of the room.
“Now,” he cried out. “Now, now, oh, God, now...!”
She gasped and shuddered as the heat went over her like a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, molten and hot and sweet. She convulsed under his half-seeing gaze. He went with her, shuddering, arching, shivering, as he endured the most explosive climax of his entire life.
She was sobbing. It was so sweet, so sweet, so sweet, and then it was...gone!
“No,” she wept, clinging to him. “No, no, no...!”
He shuddered one last time, wringing the last silvery drops of pleasure from her as he began, finally, to relax on her damp, still-moving body.
“Stanton,” she sobbed.
“Shhhh,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he strove for breath. “Shhhh. I’ll make it all right. Trust me.”
He moved again, very slowly, watching her face. She was so sensitive now that he could satisfy her with just a very few tender thrusts of his body. She shuddered, her eyes wide-open, frozen with pleasure. He did it again, smiling.
“You like...watching me,” she whispered.
“Yes.” He moved again, very slowly, and his one good eye was on her face, seeing the pleasure take her once more. “I love watching you. I love seeing the pleasure and knowing that I’m the cause of it. You’re beautiful, like this,” he whispered. “My Tat, sweet and soft and shivery with fulfillment.”
“I watched...you,” she breat hed as he brought her to fulfillment one last time.
He smiled tenderly. “I know. That was why I went up like a rocket,” he chuckled softly. “It excites me.”
She began to relax, with one last little shiver of sensation. “You don’t feel it as much as I do,” she faltered, trying to make him understand.
He kissed her eyelids shut. “I feel it once. A woman’s body is capable of endless satisfaction. Some men can go all night. I wish I was one of them. I’d wear you out from dusk until dawn every night of my life.”
She touched his mouth softly. “I only meant I wished you could feel it the same way, that you had more than a taste...”
He burst out laughing. “More than a taste? My God, I’m wrung out from the most explosive orgasm of my entire life, and you think it was only a taste?” he exclaimed.