Storm on the Horizon Page 16

  “You may now seal your vows with a kiss.”

  Colton pulled Olivia into his arms so fast she came off her feet. He kissed her soundly to the applause of their families until he had no more breath in his body.

  It was a lovely and rather informal wedding dinner. There was an exceptional amount of laughter, a few ribald jokes from two fathers who may have imbibed just a tad too much, and in Colton’s opinion, it lasted entirely too long.

  It was almost eight o’clock by the time he could pull Olivia away from the festivities and get her in his carriage. Her trunks were strapped to the boot, she was firmly tucked under his arm, but he didn’t truly relax until they were pulling out of the drive. Olivia had insisted on bringing Devon some cake and taking a few extra slices for themselves and for the staff.

  He told the driver to go be quick about it and get them home. The trip was rather bumpy, and Olivia was a bit foxed on the champagne she had consumed during the many toasts to their happiness. Soon they were home. He liked the sound of the words, so he said them aloud.

  “We’re home, Livie.”

  She turned and smiled at him. “Yes, indeed.”

  They disembarked and went inside. The staff was all lined up for introductions. They graciously greeted their new mistress and departed for the night. Colton ushered Olivia up the stairs to their room, but she resisted.

  “Wait, I want to see Devon and give him a piece of cake.”

  Colton grumbled but led her to his room. He knocked softly and prayed Devon was asleep. “He may be asleep, you know. He doesn’t sleep well, so if he is, we shouldn’t disturb him, and he cannot eat cake just yet.”

  They peeked in his room. Colton silently thanked God for small mercies. Devon was sound asleep. They closed the door and headed back to the master suite. He opened the door and then picked her up and carried her in. She giggled into his neck and gave him a little lick. He already felt harder than a fence post. He dropped her legs and let her slide down the front of his body. She smiled and bit her lip.

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Unless it involves you naked, it can wait.”

  Her smile broadened. “It does.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Wait here.”

  Colton groaned.

  Olivia opened the door, took something, and closed it. She had a plate with another piece of cake on it.

  “More cake?” Colton said incredulously.

  “You didn’t have any cake at dinner.” Olivia set it on the nightstand.

  “I’m not fond of sweets.”

  “You may change your mind after tonight.” She turned her back to him and lifted her hair

  Colton’s skin felt red-hot. He slowly raised his hand to undo the buttons, afraid that if he moved too quickly he would lose control and rip the beautiful gown from her body. As he undid the buttons, he revealed inch after inch of creamy skin.

  “No undergarments?” His voice was as rough as gravel. He had to clear his throat.

  Olivia just looked over her shoulder and smiled. She shimmied out of her dress, turned, and presented a slippered foot. Colton let his hands skim the sides of her body as he knelt down to remove her shoe and then her stocking. The latter he did slowly, teasing them both. He did the same with the next leg, and then she was completely naked.

  “Now turn around until I tell you to face me again.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Just do it. You have to trust me,” she pleaded.

  He turned around and heard her move away. He was dying to know what she was doing, dying to get her on that bed and sheath himself inside of her. He wanted to spend all night making love to her.

  “You can turn around now,” she said with a siren’s voice.

  He slowly turned and saw her. His jaw hit the floor, and he felt his knees buckle a little. She was lying on the bed. She had covered her nipples and mons with icing, and had trailed little bits of cake over her body. He closed his eyes and seared the image into his brain. When he opened them, he devoured her with his eyes again, and then he moved to the bed to devour her with his mouth.

  He climbed on the bed and wasted no time taking her breast into his mouth. She hissed in pleasure and arched her back. He massaged her breasts, molded them, and tortured them until they were full and rosy. He licked them clean and moved on to the cake in the hollow of her throat. He dragged his teeth along her skin, playfully nipping and licking. Next, he licked the icing from her neck and then moved over to the trail of crumbs leading to her navel. He tongued her navel, licking and tickling until she begged him to stop. He moved lower still, licking up swirls of icing until the flavor on his tongue was only hers. She spread her legs for him, no shyness, only trust and the expectation of pleasure. He would not disappoint her. He suckled the small bead of intense pleasure and made her cry out his name. He licked the folds of her sex until she was dripping wet and then entered her with two fingers. She began to shake. Already she was on the brink of climax, and he wasn’t even halfway done tasting her. He slowed down, licking, tasting, soothing, until her legs relaxed, and she was bucking her hips against the motions of his tongue.

  This was where he wanted her. He moved back and began to take off his clothes.

  “Wait. I want to do it.” She sat up, eyes dazed with desire and reached for his coat. He helped her pull it off, but then she pushed him back and tackled his shirt herself. She urged him to sit up so she could pull it off. Next, she moved to his pants and removed those. When he was finally as naked as she, she reached for the cake. She dabbed some on his neck, his nipples, the lines of his stomach muscles, the merry trail leading to his groin, and then on his manhood. She started with his neck, licking and teasing. She reached his nipples and took her pleasure in watching him struggle not to touch her and groan her name. Then she moved lower, taking her time to lick and tease each rigid muscle of his abdomen, giggling when it twitched under her tongue. She moved lower still, reaching the coarse hair of his groin and the demanding jut of his erection. She savored this part the most, slowly running her tongue up the hot, silky smooth skin to the head, and then going down the other side. She circled the head with her tongue, relishing each moan he made. She took him into her mouth finally, using her hand to grip him firmly and squeeze him until he groaned in pleasure and begged her not to stop. She didn’t. She loved him with her mouth until all the icing was gone, and then moved up his body to straddle him.

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  He rolled her beneath him, and before she could draw breath to protest, he sheathed himself inside her, and they both cried out in pleasure. He took his time savoring the feel of her clamped around him and then began to move. He thrust deeply and powerfully, thankful that she was not a virgin on this night. They could play all night now, experimenting and loving to their heart’s content.

  “Colton,” she cried. She said his name like a prayer.

  He obliged her, taking her to one of the many peaks she would reach in their bed tonight. He moved faster, her urgent moans driving him on. He clung to her, wrapping his arms around her, bringing her legs around his waist so that there was nothing between them but skin, nothing between them but their love. He groaned a powerful release the same time she screamed his name. His climax overtook him, taking him to the abyss of the sky and keeping him there in the stars, her body tightly wrapped around him, until he gently fell back to earth.

  Colton moved to her side and held her to him. He saw the smile and smiled in return before kissing her lips and burying his face in her hair. “This is heaven. I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  Sneak Peek!

  To Love, Honor, and Obey

  Lord Willowton,

  His Grace requests your immediate return to Willowton Park in preparation of your inheritance.

  Sincerely,

  M. Atler, Esquire.

  * * *

  How official. Chance sneered as his coach bobbed and swayed over the familiar
roads that led home. Home. He sighed and looked out the window, not paying attention to the passing trees and farms. He was going home to see his father, a robust man fondly referred to as The Bear Duke, who was reaching the end of his life’s tether. For all Chance’s life, he had been the image of invincibility. He was like a Viking warrior—large, bearded, loud, and boisterous. He drank whisky by the barrel, hunted, rode, and made a mockery of slim, elegant gentlemen when he wore his blacks. He was an unstoppable force. So why—Chance raised his eyes to the heavens—was he being summoned home to prepare for his father’s death?

  It was unthinkable. It was heartbreaking.

  Chance gritted his teeth and pictured finding his father in the best of health—coming back from a ride, possibly with a small deer slung over his shoulder. That was how he usually spent his time in the country—riding, hunting, everything Chance had taken for granted. He had spent all his time in the country as a boy until he went to school. It was there he discovered his natural talent for being an aloof gentleman. He wore fine clothes, supple glossy Hessians, jackets and pantaloons so fitted they felt like his skin. He was charming, he was debonair, and he behaved perfectly in every situation. He was wealthy, eligible, and highly sought after by marriage-minded mamas. Nevertheless, when he returned every summer during university, it was back to his worn buckskins, scuffed top boots, riding, hunting, swimming, and generally being the heathen his father had raised. It had kept him grounded while enjoying the frivolity of town life, kept him from being a ridiculous fop or a drunken gambling wastrel.

  He knew the feel of wet meadow grass under his feet and the taste of wild acorns, but when in town, he played a role. He pretended to be above those things. Why? Well... He didn’t exactly know.

  He hadn’t been home in years. His father had always made short jaunts to town bringing father and son together for small visits. It wasn’t that Chance didn’t love his father—he truly did, but his father was rather...abrasive to the senses. His laughter boomed from him like thunder. His conversation centered on politics, war, and anything that shouldn’t be uttered in polite conversation.

  But he was his father, and along with all those embarrassing attributes, he was a great father. He taught Chance how to ride, hunt, fish, read, and to know when to put up your fists or reason with words. He was the kind of father that gave great big hugs and kissed his son goodnight. A unique duke, if there ever was one, which made the thought of his death all the more painful.

  The coach turned up the familiar oak-lined drive. Nothing had changed. Everything looked the same as when he battled imaginary dragons across the lawns as a small boy. The coach stopped in front of the portico, and Chance stepped out before the footman reached the door. He nodded to Edgar, a footman he had helped his father interview, and then headed inside. The greetings were somber, eyes downcast, and smiles fleeting. Everyone was already mourning the loss of their lord, the man they laughed with and worked to the bone with when the east barn collapsed. His father had joined in raising a new one. That was his father, a titled gentleman but also just a man.

  “How is he?” Chance asked.

  “He is resting, my lord. Would you like some refreshment after your journey?”

  Chance grimaced. His body ached from travel. The last thing he wanted to do was sit. “No thank you, Gable. I’m going to the creek for a swim. I won’t be long, and then I will see my father.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Gable nodded and directed the footman to take Chance’s belongings to his rooms.

  Chance headed to the back of the house. Walking through the house was like stepping back in time to when life was much simpler.

  “Obedience, you know how inappropriate it is to go swimming in nothing but a shift where anyone could come upon you.”

  “There is no one in residence who would venture to the creek for miles, Patience. Who would see me?” Obedience said as she buttoned the front of her bodice.

  “The Marquess of Willowton for one,” Patience returned snidely.

  Obedience spun away from the mirror. “Teddy’s back?” she squealed, though she abhorred ladies who squealed.

  “I cannot believe you would still address him so informally. Please remember to act like a well-educated lady. Now that I have debuted, your actions reflect on me.”

  Her younger sister sighed impatiently and fussed over her perfectly curled hair in the mirror.

  It was really Obedience who should be giving lectures on behavior, being that she was four years older, but for the majority of her life, Obedience had known she was different. All the decorum a proper young lady should exhibit seemed to elude her. She wasn’t graceful, she couldn’t sew, sing, or play the pianoforte, and most times, she could barely sit still.

  Obedience just couldn’t help it. She liked to move, do things, dirty her hands, and run until her cheeks were pink, and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She long suspected she should have been a boy.

  If she were a boy, she could climb trees, swim, and beat any man in a horse race without the threat of ruination upon her family. But alas, she had been born a girl with rioting black curls that wouldn’t hold pins. And now she had developed hips and a full bosom that was always getting in the way, or at least threatening to spill out of the ridiculously fashionable dresses her mother insisted she wear.

  Obedience couldn’t help who she was. It was in her blood. Along with her looks, she had inherited her father’s wild demeanor. He had died when she was ten years old, leaving a hole in her heart that his vibrant and loving presence used to fill. All she had left of him were her dark locks and blue eyes. He had been her only ally. Without him, she was the black sheep, the awkward middle sister between her elder sister of three years, Prudence, and her younger sister, Patience.

  The sun was high as Obedience made her way through the wheat fields that ran along the western border of the grand estate of His Grace, The Duke of Maltravers. Obedience had known the Armstrong family all her life. Her father, Lord Clive, had been the local magistrate, and a frequent guest of His Grace’s hunting parties. Obedience had frequently swum with Chance, the duke’s only child and heir, as children. In fact, it was Chance who had taught her how to swim.

  As she drew near the line of trees that ran the length of the creek, she could hear the quiet bubbling of water against the rocks. The creek ran through a small ravine, breaking into waterfalls that dumped into pools ground out by time. The surroundings were lush and green. Oaks and willows lined the banks, creating a thick canopy that trapped the warmth of the afternoon sun.

  She picked her way down a well-worn path. It brought her to the bank overlooking the largest of the falls that emptied into the deepest pool. She looked down, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she saw the lean back and muscular arms cleaving the water. He was swimming away from her, but if she took a running leap, she could land beside him.

  Never one to waste an opportunity, Obedience quickly undressed and stepped back a few steps.

  “Tally ho!” she shouted as she ran to the edge and her feet left the ground. The drop was not far, so she balled her legs under her for optimal splash.

  She only had time to see Chance’s startled glance just before she hit the water—a little too close to him.

  Chance had only enough time for a quick inhale of breath before a pair of feminine legs filled his vision. She broke the surface of the water, landing on his chest and knocking the breath from his lungs. It felt like minutes had passed before he could find the surface. She popped up at the same time, laughing delightedly while he coughed and sputtered.

  “Oh Teddy, did I hurt you?” She giggled.

  “You almost did me in, you—” He froze. His eyes felt like they were bulging from their sockets.

  “What is it? Did I really hurt you?” she cried in alarm. She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the bank. He followed her, and when they reached the bank, she spun around to face him.

  “Where are you hurt? Oh, please don’t be hurt, I was only—
”

  “Obedience?” he said dumbly.

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “Oh god, it’s your head! I knocked your senses right out of you. It’s me, don’t you remember me?” she asked hysterically and hugged him.

  Chance stared down at the top of her head in amazement. He was dumbstruck by the woman before him who slightly resembled the girl who had been his constant shadow. She had been an aspiring hellion then, and by all indications had succeeded, but what left him at a loss for words was her startling beauty.

  Chance almost groaned aloud. She was unabashedly pressing her body against him, and while his body was appreciative of such attention, his brain was still frozen on her identity. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Miss Obedience Wickenham, all grown up. Belatedly, Chance pulled out of her embrace and put her at arm’s length, lest he embarrass himself and thoroughly shock her. His body was all too aware of how grown up she was now.

  “Obedience, I’m fine, I was just...shocked by how much you’ve changed.” He looked down at her, his gaze raking her curling black hair, wet shift cloying to her body—thankfully, not transparent—and her wide, glittering blue eyes.

  Chance quickly looked away and backed up into the cool water until he was waist deep.

  “I’m sorry, Chance. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to surprise you.” She was timid, but she followed him back into the water. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” He laughed nervously. “Just surprised me...really surprised me.”

  “I was so glad to hear you were home, and then I saw you here, and well... I wanted to make a big entrance.” She smiled.

  “That you did.” His eyes darted to her again and looked away. “It’s been some time, Porcupette.”

  “Ugh.” Obedience rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call me that. I hate it, and you know I do.”

  “I know, but your name does not suit you.” He laughed, trying to relax enough to leave the water.