Authors: Alice Duncan
Tags: #san francisco, #historical romance, #1890s, #northern california, #alice duncan, #rachel wilson, #sweet historical romance
He pumped, in and out.
Harder and faster. Lord, Lord, Lord, it felt
so
good. Never had it felt so good.
Never.
With a harsh cry, he hurtled over the
edge, pumping his seed into her body.. His climax seemed to last
forever. Spasm after spasm racked him.
It was, bar none, the best sexual
experience of his life.
He barely managed to stop himself from
collapsing on top of her and smothering her with his weight. With
his last ounce of energy, Aubrey sank to her side, still buried
deep inside her. He never wanted to pull himself out. He took her
with him, so that they lay face-to-face. He threw a leg around her
to hold her there. He couldn’t bear to lose her yet.
“
Callie,” he murmured,
feeling proud of himself that he’d formed the word and even prouder
that he’d said it aloud. He hadn’t thought himself capable of
speech.
“
Aubrey,” she said back. She
quietly cleared her throat.
“
I—ah—didn’t know it would
be like that.”
He cranked an eye open. She looked
solemn. Aubrey wasn’t sure that was a good sign. Although he didn’t
want to, he reached within himself and discovered the wherewithal
to speak. “It won’t be painful again, I promise.” There. That was
good. Ease her worries. He allowed his eyes to drift closed
again.
“
It wasn’t the pain part
that I didn’t expect,” she said after a moment of
silence.
He cranked the other eye open this
time. “No?” He really, really didn’t want to chat right now. He
wanted to sleep. This was the first time in at least two years when
he felt utterly drained. He knew he’d be able to sleep deeply and
dreamlessly now. Thanks to Callie’s generosity in allowing him this
intimacy before they were married.
Recalling her generosity allowed
Aubrey to summon an ounce or two of strength, and he told himself
he could stay awake and reassure her, whatever this chattiness on
her part betokened.
“
No.” He saw her swallow.
“Before the pain. That’s the part I hadn’t anticipated.”
Vanity swelled in Aubrey’s chest
unexpectedly. He opened both eyes and grinned. “Did you enjoy it?”
She had. He knew she had.
“
Oh, yes.” She swallowed
again. “Oh, yes, Aubrey. Very much.”
“
Good.” Satisfaction spread
over him like a warm blanket.
“
Good. I’m glad. So did I.”
He pulled her closer, shut his eyes, and went blissfully to
sleep.
Chapter
Eighteen
Callie wasn’t altogether sure what had
just happened. Oh, she knew she and Aubrey had made love. But she
hadn’t known it would be like that.
Good Lord, she’d completely lost her
mind for a moment or two. The physical anticipation she’d
experienced under Aubrey’s relentless and expert ministrations had
been almost unbearable, and then ecstasy had swept her clean out of
herself and into another realm.
It’s a good thing no one told little
girls and boys about this sort of thing, or the human race would be
completely out of control. Why, people would rut like
animals.
She glanced over at Aubrey’s sleeping
form. He’d been very sweet, too. He hadn’t tried to rush her or
hurry her, and he’d been gentle. The pain had shocked her, a little
bit when he’d first entered her, but that was only because she’d
still been tingling with the aftereffects of sexual
satisfaction.
And then they’d been joined together
as one. Tears sprang unexpectedly to Callie’s eyes. She loved him
so much. She wished he could love her, but she understood now, as
she hadn’t when she’d first come to live here, that a love like the
one Anne and he had shared didn’t come along often.
She’d marry him now, of course. He was
too honorable not to renew his proposal after tonight. The notion
of being wed to Aubrey, of being Becky’s honest-to-God mother, and
of being mistress of this grand property—and that amazing townhouse
in San Francisco—washed over her. Oh, she’d like being married to
Aubrey! She’d love it.
Guilt slammed into her so hard and so
fast that she gasped, causing Aubrey to mutter something in his
sleep. She brushed hair away from his eyes and thought about what
she must do. She couldn’t marry him without admitting that she’d
been surreptitiously reading his private correspondence to his late
wife for months now.
“
Oh, Lord.” Callie wished
she’d had enough courage to make her confession earlier in their
relationship, before things became so entangled. He might be
miffed.
Very well. He’d almost certainly be
miffed. Furious, even, It was bad enough that she’d read the
letters in the first place. That she’d continued to do so went far
beyond the pale. She ought to have gently explained to Becky that
it was impolite to read other people’s letters, and immediately
taken the whole bundle, without looking at even one of them, and
handed them over.
She hadn’t done that, and now she had
to face the consequences of her deceit.
Was deceit too strong a word? As she
lay there, her body in a state of boneless satisfaction and her
mind racing, Callie came to the glum conclusion that deceit was far
from too strong a word. If anything, it was too mild for what she’d
been doing.
Blast. Why should something that ought
to have been wonderful in every way be spoiled?
Because she’d not been honest, was
why.
Callie just hated it when honesty got
in the way of a good pout.
But she was tired—exhausted, even—and
sated with physical pleasure, and she loved the man who’d taken her
to such unexpected heights of passion, and she was going to marry
him. She was, in short, both happy and worn out, and eventually her
brain ceased to torment her, and she went to sleep.
She awoke with a start when light
poured into the room. Blinking into the light, she saw Aubrey
standing at the window. He wore a beautiful burgundy robe and
matching slippers, and he’d just pulled back the curtain. Now he
smiled at her from the window, backlit by the sun, his tousled hair
making him appear charmingly informal and entirely too
handsome.
“
Aubrey,” came out on a
gasp.
“
Good morning, sleepyhead.”
He sounded friendly, and unless it was her desperate wishes making
her think so, even happy. She couldn’t recall too many times since
she’d come to live here that he’d sounded happy.
“
I—I should have left,” she
stammered. “I guess I went to sleep.”
He came over to the bed and sat beside
her, taking the hand with which she gripped the bedclothes over her
naked bosom and prying it loose. He lifted her hand and nuzzled her
palm. “I’m glad you didn’t leave me, Callie. That’s the first good
night’s sleep I’ve had since . . . in a long time.”
“
I’m glad.” He’d been going
to say,
since Anne died
, but he’d caught himself. Trying to spare her feelings,
Callie knew, and she sighed inside. “I slept well, too.”
“
Good.” He rose, walked
across the room, and fetched Callie’s nightgown and
robe.
He’d collected their clothes, Callie
noticed, and folded them neatly on the back of a carved teakwood
chair. She glanced around his room as she hadn’t been able to do
last night. It was a suite, rather, consisting of a sitting room
with a large fireplace, a bathroom, and the room hi which the two
of them now were, his bedroom. Gorgeous. Perfectly gorgeous. And
soon Callie would share it with him.
Or maybe not. The truth was that
Callie didn’t know what sleeping arrangements Aubrey had planned
for them after they were wed. She guessed lots of couples had
separate bedrooms. Perhaps there was another bedroom connected to
this suite of rooms.
There was a lot she didn’t know about
the running of the Lockhart mansion, although she’d pretty much
been doing it since she moved in. Mrs. Granger had admitted she
needed help running such a huge place, and Callie had gladly
stepped in to assist her. Yet, she knew nothing about the master
suite.
“
Here you go,” Aubrey said,
handing over her nightgown.
“
Thank you.” Callie slipped
the nighty on over her head. She had to tie the ribbons at her
throat, which made her cheeks feel hot. Usually, her nighty
remained tied from washing to washing. Last night’s activities had
been exceptional. In more ways than one.
Aubrey sat on the bed again and leaned
over to plant a kiss on her forehead. Callie felt herself blush
furiously, and silently called herself all sorts of names. After
what the two of them had done last night, there was no need to
blush over so chaste a kiss as the one Aubrey had just bestowed on
her.
“
I trust you’ll change your
mind about marrying me now, Callie.” He said it with a smile on his
face, but his voice was serious. “I hope you will, because I think
we’d make a good married couple.”
She’d been concentrating on subduing
her blush and tying her ribbons with fingers that wanted to
tremble, but she glanced up at that. “You do? Really?”
His smile relaxed some and appeared
more genuine. “Really, I do. You’ve already earned Becky’s undying
love, and I—have a great deal of admiration and—and—affection for
you.”
Affection. Well, that was nice, wasn’t
it? “Thank you. I—have affection for you, too.” Had she admitted
her true feelings last night? She entertained a dreadful feeling
she had.
“
So, would you like a formal
engagement and a big society wedding in San Francisco, Callie? Or
would you be willing to have a smaller ceremony here in Santa
Angelica? I understand that a young woman getting married for the
first and, I trust, only time might prefer to do the thing grandly,
but . . .”
He allowed the sentence to trail off,
but Callie understood. He didn’t want to go through another huge,
messy wedding ceremony. He’d done that once, with the woman he
loved. Callie supposed she was a poor substitute for the perfect
and ethereal—and dead—Anne.
The truth was, however, that she’d
never fancied herself as a blushing bride marrying the man of her
dreams in front of thousands. She didn’t care for crowds; she
preferred gatherings of comrades. She’d be pleased to be wed in the
little Methodist church in Santa Angelica with her family and
friends surrounding her.
“
I’d rather have a small
wedding here in town, Aubrey. It would be more comfortable for
me.”
He nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “Are
you sure? I don’t want you to sacrifice any dreams on my account,
Callie. Truly, I don’t.”
She believed him. In fact, her throat
tightened so painfully with unshed tears and love that she could
scarcely squeeze words out. “I’m telling the truth, Aubrey. I think
I’d faint dead away if I had to endure a huge San Francisco
wedding.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Somehow I can’t
imagine you fainting dead away at anything, Callie Prophet. You
seem mighty indomitable to me.”
Indomitable, eh? Well, who knew? Maybe
she was. Or maybe she’d only had to shoulder too much
responsibility too early in her life. On that note, she swung her
legs out of the bed, wincing slightly when the muscles she’d used
for the first time last night protested. “Good. Then that’s
settled.”
“
Yes. Except for the timing.
I’d . . . well, I’d like to get it—that is, I’d like to do it
fairly soon, if that’s all right with you. Giving you plenty of
time to get a dress and a wedding party together and all that.” He
frowned. “I’m not sure what all goes into this sort of thing, but I
know that women have to do a lot of work and organization
beforehand.”
She grinned. “Yes, they do. I recall
my sisters’ weddings, and my brother’s. My sisters ran themselves
ragged. My brother only had to watch his future bride running
herself ragged, along with her mother. Her father watched,
too.”
“
Please don’t run yourself
ragged, Callie. I’ll hire whatever help you need.” He walked up to
her and put his arms around her.
The gesture seemed so spontaneous and
genuinely fond that Callie again found herself close to tears. This
was ridiculous. She had to get herself under some kind of
control.
Becky. If she thought about Becky and
her nanny duties, she could climb out of the swamp of emotions that
seemed to want to smother her. She did return his embrace, and with
enthusiasm. She couldn’t help it.
It felt so good to be in his arms. She
rubbed her cheek against the velvet of his robe and sighed deeply.
“I’ve got to go see how Becky’s doing, Aubrey. She felt truly
terrible yesterday, poor thing.”
“
I’ll go with you,” he
offered, allowing his arms to slide, but taking up her hand. “We
should tell her the happy news.
She’ll be pleased.”
“
Yes,” Callie said after
thinking about it for a second or two. “I believe she will be.” And
that eased her mind some. Until she remembered those blasted
letters, and then she felt guilty again. “Um, maybe we ought to
wait and see how she’s feeling.”
Aubrey complied easily, which led
Callie to believe he didn’t care one way or the other. And why
should he? He wasn’t harboring any guilty secrets, after
all.