11th Hour Rose (21 page)

In a long smooth motion he slipped inside her, the sensation unlike anything she’d ever known. He filled her wholly and she trembled beneath him, craving more. He moved above her. Kissing her… loving her… touching her with every immaculate stroke. His heat fused her and she moved with him, urging him on, striving to reach that one perfect place as one… together.

Lilly was not to be disappointed. As she reached that magical point she sensed Davy losing control, pushing her harder, faster. Just as she tipped over the edge of
perfection,
he went rigid and together they peaked, spilling pleasure into one another. In his arms she floated somewhere between heaven and ecstasy, wishing to be forever lost.

Davy fell limp over her and Lilly sighed thoroughly contented. “That was perfect,” she whispered languidly.

“You have no idea.” He rolled to his back, pulling her into his arms. “No idea.”

“Davy,” she whispered, raising up on an elbow. The length of her strawberry blond hair spilled over his bronzed chest.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m not fragile,” she said. “I’ll never leave you.”

“I believe you.” He gathered her close and kissed her brow.

Lilly cuddled into his side, draping a leg over his thigh, and settling her palm in the center of his chest. A contented smile tugged at her lips as she drifted to sleep with the steady beat of his heart drumming in her ears.

*              *              *

“I hate weddings,” Davy grumbled, crossing his arms, and leaning miserably against a pillar in the
Highlands
plantation house where he’d grown up. The plantation had survived the War of Northern Aggression
largely intact and still operational. His grandmother, father, and step-mother had insisted the wedding and reception be held there. Needless to say Davy had been far too busy to argue.

The last two weeks had been a whirlwind. A circuit judge had arrived within two days of Brady’s arrest, and Brady was promptly sentenced to hang. George, Davy, Lilly, Jason Donovan, and Carl Potter had been present for the sentencing, and the hanging.

Davy glared about the lavishly decorated ballroom, wishing the damned party would end. He’d scarcely seen Lilly since they’d spoken their vows, and he had something for her. He caught a glimpse of her, a vision in white lace, dancing with her father. Davy’s impatience softened. He and Lilly were leaving Charleston the day after tomorrow. He could spare her to family and well-wishers for a few hours.

His grandmother, Ginny Langston, approached, blue eyes twinkling. She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Congratulations, Davy. It was so nice to actually
witness
one of my grandson’s weddings.” She shot Curtis and Craig, standing along the wall with Davy, a reproachful glare.

The other men shrugged in unison, neither showing any remorse for having rather scandalously eloped.

“Jacob,” Ginny snapped, turning to her youngest grandchild. “Let this be a good example for when you get married.”

Jake’s expression remained blank, suspiciously so. “Grandmamma,” he drawled, “your counsel is noted.”

David’s father and step-mother, Genie, approached next. “So ye’re still set on this fool plan to move west?” Robert Langston demanded, his telltale Scottish burr thick with emotion.

Davy squelched a flare of irritation, and smiled. “That I am.”

“What of yer wife?”

“Lilly is the very reason I’m going,” Davy replied congenially. Strange how it hadn’t started that way, his quest to move west had begun as a means of escape. Now it was a future he shared with Lilly. “There is opportunity for her there.”

Robert scowled, but did not press the issue further.

“And speaking of my wife…” Davy shoved away from the wall, suddenly in the mood to take charge of that future. “I have something for her.” He strode to the bandstand, silencing the small musical assemblage.

The music stopped and a low drone rolled through the crowd as everyone shuffled to a halt.

Davy held up an arm. “Can I have your attention, please? I realize you’ve all suffered through my brother’s speech already—” Laughter rumbled through the room. “But I have a gift for my wife.”

The room quieted and Davy’s gaze fell to Lilly at the center of the room. Swathed in ivory silk and lace, he was certain a more beautiful bride had never graced the city. Her eyes sparkled with the luminescence of diamonds, and his heart swelled with pride.

“My recently acquired father-in-law has chided me on more than one occasion for neglecting to bring his daughter roses.” Davy stepped off the bandstand and plucked a single, long-stemmed red rose from his seat at the wedding party table. “It is an error in judgment I wish to rectify this very day.” He wended through the well-wishers, moving steadfastly through the crowd to Lilly. She grinned from ear to ear, a fevered blush staining her face and neck. He’d never seen her more lovely. He took a knee before her, offering up the rose. “I do not wish for roses to forever be a courier of bad memories for you, my love. Therefore, it is my solemn vow to present you with a rose every birthday, anniversary and holiday that we spend together. Starting with today.”

11
^th
Hour Rose

Epilogue

Nevada Territory

Christmas Eve, 1868

Lilly perched on a wooden chair at the simple table in her small homestead house, deep in thought. She tapped a pen against her chin and quickly wrote out a few more notes, aided by light from the cheery fire roaring in the hearth. After almost two months in their new home she was moving forward with plans to publish a small newspaper. It would take time, and a lot of hard work, but she was more than willing to commit to it. She’d also found that the residents of their small town were extremely grateful to have someone close by with a good legal education. Even a woman.

The front door swung inward, admitting a rush cold air and snow.

“Davy, you’re back!” She pushed her writing aside and rose to meet him. Her heart leapt with happiness.

White fluffy snowflakes covered the brim of his low slanted hat and shoulders. “It is freezing out there.” He dropped a pile of firewood in the grate beside the hearth. He shrugged out of his coat and grinned mischievously at Lilly. “Come here.” He snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her against him and burying an ice cold palm in her neck.

“Oh! No! Your hands are so cold!”

He nuzzled her neck playfully. “Warm me up. It is Christmas after all.”

Lilly giggled. “Which reminds me. I prepared some hot chocolate for us. That will help warm you.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Lilly had also hung a stocking for each of them over the mantle, excited to form family traditions. She hurried to the little kitchen and quickly carried out two steaming mugs of chocolate and a plate of butter cookies.

“Davy?” she called. “What is your middle name?”

He stood with his back to her before the fire, facing the stockings. “It’s horrible. There is a reason I merely sign my name David A. Langston.” He turned, flashing an adorably lopsided grin. “It’s Alexius.”

She set the platter down and sat on the sofa. “Oh, yes, I see. That name won’t do at all. Unless perhaps we called him Alex.”

Davy cocked his head to the side. “I’m not following, Lil. What won’t do?”

She smiled softly, a tremor of nerves tickling her middle. She was a bit nervous as to how he would take her news. “We need to start considering names. One for a boy and one for a girl.”

His expression transformed from one of bewilderment to one of shock in the blink of an eye. “Lilly,” he drawled, crossing to her in one long stride. He scooped her up off the couch, crushing her to him. “You mean… you’re…”

She nodded, blinking back tears of pure happiness as he danced a joyous circle with her in his arms.

“I cannot imagine a more wonderful Christmas gift,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “Which reminds me…” His voice trailed off, and he set her to his feet, a twinkle lighting his blue eyes.

Over his shoulder the bud of a red rose peeked over the top of her Christmas stocking. She gasped in delight. “Davy! Wherever did you find a rose in this weather?” Isolated as they were in the Nevada territory, there were no hothouses to speak of.

“Would you believe I found it growing alongside a barn in town?” He sounded more than a little pleased with himself for following through on his impromptu vow from their wedding day.

“Imagine that,” Lilly murmured, lifting the lovely bloom and smelling the sweet fragrance. “An eleventh hour rose.”

END

11
^th
Hour Rose

Books By Melissa Lynne Blue

Forget Me Not

Light to Valhalla

Langston Brothers Series:

Edge of Time

Cadence

11
Hour Rose

Coming soon…

Bewitched

11
^th
Hour Rose

About the Author

Photo by Susan Gest

A Registered Nurse by night, Melissa battles the stresses of life and illness by enjoying uplifting tales of love and romance. A firm believer in true love united with an enduring fascination with history has prompted her pursuit of romance writing. She lives in beautiful Big Sky Country Montana with her husband and children.