The Tempestuous Debutante: Book 4 in the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance) (23 page)

“And I don’t care,” Lydia exclaimed as she rose and joined Alistair. He took her hands in his. “I love this man and that’s what counts.”

“But you’ll now be known as a viscountess, Mrs. Smith, won’t you?” Charlotte asked.

Alistair turned toward Charlotte. “Although I’m trying to avoid the use of the archaic English titles here in the States, yes. For all intents and purposes, Lydia will now be known as the Viscountess Wickersham. My son, Parr, is now the Honorable Parr Wickersham, since he will have to take my last name in order to inherit the title. And his wife, Jasmine, will now be the Honorable Mrs. Wickersham. Does that clear things up?”

“Perfectly, Alistair.” Charlotte’s face gleamed as her eyes flickered from Alistair to her daughter. Jasmine was paying no attention to the conversation. She only had eyes for Parr.

Alistair sat down, still holding hands with Lydia. He was proud of his son, although he was the first to acknowledge he had nothing to do with the manner in which the young man was raised. Parr was as solid as they came and, although their business had suffered a mighty setback with the loss of the stable, they’d rebuild it together, and put in some of the changes Parr mentioned he was incorporating in the larger stable near the racetrack. And not just a stable would be built. They’d build a new life together here in this great country, as father and son. And their vastly different, but equally tempestuous, wives.

Jasmine and Colleen, with their new seamstress, Daisy, were trying to juggle an assortment of tasks as March wound to a close. They had to create dresses for Temperance and Heather to wear during the wedding ceremony, wedding gowns for both Jasmine and Amanda, and Eliza Logan still was expecting three dresses, not to mention the daily traffic that was visiting the shop and requesting gowns of their own.

Daisy was a master of the newfangled sewing machine, and was able to stitch straight seams in record time. Colleen continued to do the delicate handwork needed on each dress and gown, and Jasmine was ripping off page after page in her sketchpad and crumpling them loudly before she tossed them in the direction of the wastebasket. The worktable was awash in color, with bolts of cloth from the palest yellow to the deepest lavender laid out across its surface, for inspiration as Jasmine worked on her drawings. She ripped off another page in frustration, and tossed it to the floor.

“Heather’s dress will be easy to make, but all I know about this Temperance is that she’s tiny, has brown hair, and green eyes. How am I supposed to even begin designing a dress for her?”

“It won’t be so hard, lass. From what Ginger wrote, it sounds as if she’s had a pretty hard life up to this point. I bet she’s never owned a pink dress before, even when she was little.”

“Well, she’s not little anymore. She’s my age. And she’s married to Basil by now. I don’t see her in a sweet little pink ensemble.” Jasmine rose and began to sort through the bolts of brightly colored silks and silk satins in the bins of the workroom.

Colleen joined her. “No, lass, I’m not talking about a sweet-pea pink. You’re right, that’s more a color for young girls. How about a deep rose pink instead? Wouldn’t that be elegant and more appropriate for a young woman?”

“Yes, I think you’re right, Colleen. The deep pink color of an heirloom English rose is supposed to signify appreciation and gratitude, isn’t it? I’m sure she appreciates Basil taking her out of her hard life and making her a banker’s wife. It’s a perfect choice for a brown-haired woman. Perhaps we can add a few silk roses at the back of the dress? We need to make it a two-piece, because, if she’s as tiny as Ginger says, we’ll need to take in whatever we come up with, and it’d be easier if we only need to alter the top.”

“An excellent idea, lass. Mayhap we can add an overlay of sheer silk with a rose-pattern? Ooh, it’s going to be lovely.” Colleen clapped her hands together. “Who would have thought, Basil would be the next Fitzpatrick getting married!”

“Don’t forget my wedding, which will happen as soon as I can decide on what kind of dress I want to make.”

Colleen wrapped Jasmine in her arms and kissed her temple. “My wee sprite, of course I wouldn’t be forgetting your wedding. You’ve made me so proud. Not only did you choose the right man, you did so not even knowing he was the son of the viscount. You listened to your heart.”

Jasmine laughed. “You’re only saying that because Parr is a fellow Irishman.”

“Well, I’ll not be sayin’ you’re entirely wrong there, but lass, you know as well as I do that you were smitten from the first time you laid eyes on that lad. You gave him such a hard time of things.”

“He is a handsome devil, isn’t he?” Jasmine’s stomach developed butterflies as she thought of Parr and his passionate kisses. “Now, let’s get busy. I want to spend tomorrow at the ranch with him. We’ve had no time together since the fire.”

• • •

Parr was in the other stable, near the racetrack. It was larger than the personal stable that had burned to the ground, and more lavish. The center alley was made from cobblestones and proved an easy surface to keep clean and tidy. Where the side aisles intersected with the alley, the cobbles were laid out in a circular pattern, with a darker grey color around the outer edge of the circle. Stalls were on each side, complete with wrought iron and mahogany doors. The vaulted ceiling had windows on either side, allowing light to cascade into the center alley. Overall, the stable presented an image of wealth and luxury, exactly the message he and Alistair wanted to convey to all who raced their horses on the track.

The stable was not nearly finished, though. Huge lofts on the second floor, front and back, had yet to be built, so hay had to be brought in on wheelbarrows each day for the horses. But Parr didn’t really mind the extra work. At least he still had all his horses, and himself, intact. He may have lost his sleeping quarters in the barn, his clothing, and all his earthly possessions as well as all the tack. But, since Alistair revealed himself to be Parr’s father, Parr decided to take him up on his offer to have private quarters within the house. At least until he and Jasmine could build their own home on the property. He couldn’t imagine his beautiful Jasmine ever living in a stable, however lavish the quarters would be.

His beautiful Jasmine. Just thinking about her, and using that phrase, brought a smile to his lips. She was finally his. He no longer needed to entertain thoughts about leaving, since Alistair was now set to marry Lydia Smith. Parr thought about that for a minute, too. Yes, they seemed well suited for each other. Wasn’t it funny, the way love worked. Alistair seemed unable to keep his hands off Lydia, but the several instances when he and Jasmine were together, he never was inclined to touch her, other than a gentle kiss or two. Or so Alistair said last night, after the Fitzpatricks left the home.

Well, Parr was inclined to touch her. Admittedly, he hadn’t had much of a chance up until now, but enough to recognize the jolt of sexual tension she created whenever he was near her. And, wonder of wonders, she had the same reaction to him. Could life get any sweeter?

Horse’s hooves and carriage wheels created a cheerful sound on the stones outside the stable doors. Alistair was in town with Lydia, and Parr wasn’t expecting anyone. He went to the doors and peered out at the loveliest sight ever. His beautiful Jasmine was alighting from the carriage. And she was alone.

He met her as she turned from tying the horse to the hitching post and wrapped her in his arms. The kiss began tenderly, as Parr still couldn’t believe his good fortune. Jasmine gave back every inch of the kiss, eagerly accepting his tongue, and exploring his mouth as well. Without breaking the kiss, they stumbled into the stable, offering them some form of privacy from the outside world.

Their kisses soon became scorching hot, as each gave in to the passion too long denied. Parr kissed her closed eyes, her lips again, her neck, sucked the lobe of her ear. Her lavender scent, mixing with the smells of the stable, was as intoxicating to him as any liquor. In return, she kissed his jaw, ran her hands through his jet-black hair, and over his chest.

Parr backed Jasmine up against a wall, and they began to explore each other’s bodies. His hands cupped her breasts, feeling their weight in his palms. She ran her hands around his backside and drew him closer to her. His hard shaft bumped up against her core, eliciting a moan of delight from her. He began a rhythmic pumping motion against her, making her catch her breath. He continued to rain kisses on her face, her neck, and the bare skin he uncovered as he began to open her blouse. His mouth was dangerously near her breast when he came up for air and backed away a step.

Her glazed eyes stared up at him. “What is it, Parr?”

“If you want to be a virgin on your wedding night, we need to stop now. Otherwise, I’ll not be able to.”

Jasmine smiled up at him. A wicked, saucy smile, he thought.

“Considering you were conceived in a stable, I think it only fair that Parr the Second be conceived in the same way.”

Parr gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Are you suggesting we make love for the very first time in a barn?”

She nodded, and began to draw him with her into an empty stall. “I want to be one of the girls you tumble in the barn, on a bed of hay. I’ve been jealous since the day you made me aware that there had been others.”

“You are a woman after me own heart, muirnin.” He laughed as he began to kiss her once again.

Parr grabbed one of the horse’s blankets to lay on top of the straw, and then leaned down to remove Jasmine’s boots. As he gently tugged each boot off, he stopped and kissed the arch of her foot. She moaned slightly. He slid his hand up under her fine wool skirt and several petticoats. The inside of her thighs was as soft and delicate as a rose petal. He pulled the skirt and petticoats off her and all that was left was her necessaries. He cupped her center and delighted in her gasp as she bucked off the blanket to meet his hand.

He continued to explore her, unbuttoning the remainder of her blouse and tossing it aside. Her chemise was sheer, and his breath caught when he spied her pale pink nipples through the cloth. He took a nipple, and the cloth, in his mouth and tugged on her breast. She moaned his name. Nothing could ever compare to that moment, when she called out his name in the throes of passion.

She was frantically undressing him, too. His shirt was peeled off and went flying through the air. Her hands ran over his light dusting of chest hairs, following the trail of growth down to where his hard, throbbing cock waited for her. She touched it through the cloth of his trousers first, then began to unbutton him. As his manhood sprang free from its confines, Jasmine wrapped her hand around it.

Parr lost his breath in a whoosh. Reluctantly, he removed her hand. “My love, if you keep touching me there, I will erupt all over you instead of giving you the pleasure you deserve.”

“Well, then, get on with it.” She grinned up at him.

“Your wish is my command,” he replied. He moved his hands away from her breasts and pulled down her drawers, exposing her soft dark curls to view for the first time. The sight took his breath away. He brushed his hand lightly over them, pleased at her sharp intake of breath. His fingers found her clitoris, and he fondled it slowly, eliciting moans of excitement from her. One finger went inside her tight, wet vagina and he grinned as she rose off the blanket to meet his hand. She was as explosive a lover as he imagined her to be. As he began to move his finger in and out of her, she met his rhythm each time. He slid a second finger in as his thumb continued to massage her. She gazed at him through lust-filled eyes as she gasped and called his name.

“Let yourself go, my sweet cailín,” he whispered to her as she followed his bidding and tumbled over the edge of orgasm for the very first time. Her eyes clouded over as her body pulsed. Her contractions wrapped themselves around the fingers he had in her, and he nearly came himself. He was the first one to create these sensations in her. His heart swelled at the thought, as he listened to her breathing slowly regain its normal pace. He removed his fingers, and brushed his hand over her curls once again before bringing it up to her cheek as he drew her in for a long kiss.

“Oh, Parr, that was the most beautiful experience of my life.” She brushed happy tears from her eyes.

“And we’ve only just begun. But this next part might hurt you a wee bit for the first time. I’ll try to make it as painless as I can.”

He again began to massage her clitoris as she ran her hands up and down his shaft. Their moans became as one. When he sensed she was ready for him, he entered her, but just barely. He waited until her body accepted him, and gazed down at her, wanting to impress this moment in his memory. He pushed a bit more of himself in her, filling her cavity with his hardness. Her eyes registered a momentary flash of pain, and he hastened to pull himself out but then grinned, when she put her hands on his buttocks and encouraged him to take all of her. Together they rocked toward a climax as she wrapped her legs around his back. Sensing she was near to the edge again, he let himself go, finally, and they cried out together.

As they lay there in the stall, which now smelled of sex as well as hay, Parr ran his hands over Jasmine’s body, not willing to relinquish his hold on her. He could not get enough of the feel of her lovely breasts, round and firm and peaked with excitement. He tugged on a nipple, running the nub of it through his fingers before he leaned over her to take it into his mouth yet again. She moaned as she ran her hands down his chest, and then around to his backside, caressing his buttocks. He had never known such excitement and contentment at the same time.

She raised herself onto an elbow and turned her lovely face to him. Her hair had come loose from its pins and fell in graceful curls around her face. He reached out and gently tugged on a lock of her hair, pulling her in for yet another kiss.

“Do you think we managed to get our baby boy started? Because if we need to do this again, I can be persuaded.”