Lauri Robinson (4 page)

Basking in that knowledge, she closed her eyes and relished the glorious contentment filling her soul. When she lifted her lids, Spencer was at the door. The water splashed to the floor as she jolted upward. “Where are you going?”

He smiled. “Downstairs.”

Not willing to have that happen, she stood, water sloshing in all directions. “Now?”

Spencer had a heck of a time breathing. Della’s glistening skin, slick with water and decorated with a dusting of swollen bubbles on the brink of bursting, challenged every sight he’d ever seen. Nothing could be more stunning, nothing more precious, and nothing could ever light a fire inside him like the one blazing in his loins right now. He wanted to lift her out of that brass tub and lick every drop of water from her skin. But, what followed from there would take hours, and right now, they didn’t have hours.

He pulled his eyes from the nipples teasing his senses, and met her gaze. “Yes, now,” he said. “Before I can’t.” Knowing he shouldn’t, but needing to fulfill a touch of desire, he walked back to the tub. His hands went to her breasts, holding the full mounds as his lips caught hers again. Fulfillment didn’t happen. Their connection, the taste of her sweet mouth and the feel of her perfect curves, had him desiring her more than he’d imagined possible. Stepping away was torture.

Dredging up courage, he moved across the room and grasped the doorknob. He gave her a wink as he pulled open the door. “See you downstairs, darling.”

He made it as far as the stairs before he leaned against the wall. A storm of nerves had descended upon him. He didn’t know anything about being a husband. A father. What if—

“Deputy Monroe?”

He pushed off the wall. “Hello, Mrs. Carmichael,” he greeted the woman carrying a bundle of silk and lace.

Her gaze went to the front of his shirt, where water had darkened the material, but she had the grace to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “On your way downstairs?” she asked.

Spencer’s eyes went to the door he’d just closed. Della deserved the world, and he wanted to give it to her, but what if—

“Deputy,” Rachel Carmichael interrupted his thoughts again, making him glance toward her. “I was married to a preacher for eight years, and in that time, I saw a lot of couples married.” She held his attention with a serious gaze. “Never have I seen two people more in love, more right for each other than you and Della.” She smiled. “Don’t second-guess your good fortune. Embrace it.”

The love for Della he’d carried so preciously the past years engulfed him. “Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael. That’s the best advice I’ve ever heard.”

“Go on, then.” She waved a hand. “Go get yourself ready.”

His footsteps grew light and carefree, and carried him out of the house, all the way to the hotel downtown, where he bathed and dressed in new clothes dropped off by Cord. When he returned to Della’s, others had already gathered, including Cord and Florie.

Spencer inhaled the gaiety filling the house, taking it into his lungs and allowing it to infuse his chest. When Rachel Carmichael descended the stairs, signaling that the bride would follow, a hush settled. Reverend Stolp waved Spencer to the front of the room, and from somewhere came a soft, sweet melody.

His pulse pounded, thudding against his skin from head to toe when Della walked into the room, looking as beautiful and glowing as an early morning sunrise.

“You ready for this?” Cord, standing as best man beside him, whispered.

Spencer grinned. “Oh, yeah.” The joy and promise shimmering in Della’s eyes had his chest expanding with elation. “Oh, yeah,” he repeated.

When her hand slipped into his, he had to fight the urge to crush her to him and kiss her until they both passed out from lack of air. Staring deep into her eyes, he listened to the preacher, accepting the vows with his very soul. Nothing, no man or circumstance would come between them, now or ever. The kiss he placed on her lips to seal their commitment came from deep within, more heartfelt than anything he’d ever done.

The time that followed was both torturous and spellbinding. Knowing there was one last thing he had to do before carrying Della upstairs, Spencer led her and her daughters onto the back porch, where he asked all three to sit on the little whicker sofa. He took a seat in the chair and pulled it in front of them. Holding Della’s hand with one of his, he gathered her daughters’ fingers with his other.

“I want you girls to know I love your mother with all my heart and soul. I’ll love her for the rest of eternity.” He held their sober little gazes, and prayed they’d accept his sincerity. “And I love you two as well. There’ll never come a time when I won’t. It won’t matter if more children enter our family or not. From this moment on, I’ll think of you both as my daughters. I’ll provide for you, protect you and maybe even discipline you, if the need be, but I’ll never stop loving you.”

The way Della’s fingers tightened around his made his heart pound against his rib cage. Figuring a touch of teasing might ease the serious tone he’d set he added, “I also have to warn you, if you have any boys thinking they want to come a courting, they’ll have to answer to me, and I may not be too easy on them.”

Elsie, with rosy little cheeks, leaned forward. “Deputy Monroe, we aren’t old enough for beaus.”

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s a relief, ‘cause I’m looking forward to having all three of my girls all to myself for a while.” He leaned forward to whisper, “And I’d be obliged if you’d called me Spencer.”

Anna, lifting her chin nobly, said, “Spencer, how would you feel about us calling you Pa, or Father?”

His heart clenched as Della gasped. Anna glanced at her mother and then back to him. “It’s just, well, if you’re thinking of us as daughters, we best think of you as our father, just to keep everything straight, right from the start.”

He swore he’d just been proclaimed a king. Turning, he eyed Della, wanting to know her reaction to Anna’s thoughts. Moisture sat on her lashes and in all the years to come he’d never forget the loving glow in her eyes as she nodded her head.

He had to clear the lump from his throat before he said, “I think that’s a grand idea.”

“Well, then,” Anna said, “I believe we should ask your permission to go spend the night at the Marshals’ tonight.”

Spencer caught Della’s blush growing. “Ra—Mrs. Carmichael and the girls would like to spend the night at Cord and Florie’s house.”

“Otis, too,” Anna said.

“Otis, too,” Della repeated.

“I see,” Spencer said as his mind conjured up an empty house, where nothing would interrupt their first union as husband and wife. His loins took to throbbing again, anxious for the waiting to end. Ignoring the almost painful tightness inside his britches, he said, “I think that’s a fine idea.”

“Girls, go get your nightgowns, and behave yourselves.” Della was sure her daughters agreed, but she didn’t hear it. Tonight was devoted to Spencer. She stood, drawing Spencer from his chair. “I think I love you more every minute.”

Though she cherished the gentleness of their wedding kiss, it wasn’t what she wanted now. Boldly she plastered herself against his chest, and caught his lips with hers. Excited by his immediate enthusiasm, she fully claimed his mouth, even teasingly biting his bottom lip as a devastating need swirled inside her. Ever since he’d left the bathing room, she’d been on fire. Not even the house full of guests or the reverent wedding ceremony had quelled the flames, and the anticipation was killing her.

“Della,” Spencer whispered as his openmouthed kisses descended down her neck and his glorious hands cupped and squeezed her backside. He sounded as distraught as she.

“Spencer,” she moaned, grinding her taut and throbbing nipples against his chest. Rachel had suggested she forgo her corset and camisole, and the chafing of the tight-fitting material ignited even more sensations. “Spencer,” she repeated, unable to say anything else.

Someone clearing their throat caused Spencer to lift his head, leaving her neck begging for his lips to return. Della clung to him, unable to move.

“The kitchen is momentarily empty,” Della heard Rachel whisper. “Take her up the backstairs, Deputy. We’ll have everything cleaned up and be out of here within fifteen minutes.”

Della’s feet left the ground, and she wrapped her arms around Spencer’s neck as he carried her through the open doorway. “My friends,” he said while walking past Rachel, “call me Spencer.”

“My friends call me Rachel,” Rachel answered as she winked at Della.

Smiling in return, Della buried her face deep into Spencer’s broad shoulder, inhaling his spicy, enthralling scent. Someday, somehow, she’d repay Rachel for all her assistance, but right now, Spencer held all her thoughts. Della’s stomach somersaulted, and she reacted by tightening her hold on his neck. She’d been married before, the act of coupling wasn’t new, but it had been so long—

“I love you, Della,” Spencer whispered in her ear as he pushed open the door to her room. Holding her there on the threshold, he caught her lips and kissed her until her mind knew nothing except for the way he made her feel.

He carried her across the room, and then released her knees, easing her feet to the floor while still holding her close. Spencer caught her cheeks within his hands then, massaged her temples with feather-soft strokes, while holding her gaze with his. “It’s you and me from now on, Della. Our second chance.” He kissed the end of her nose. “The past is over, and the future is ours to create as we will.” His thumbs brushed her cheeks. “And the present, this very moment in time, is our gift to one another. To make memories we’ll cherish forever.”

She searched the depths of his eyes, absorbing his profound sincerity. “I already cherish it,” she whispered. The union of their lips was slow and exquisite. She became soft and mellow as Spencer’s love entered her mind, body and soul, and the irrefutable desire she felt for this man increased tenfold. Her fingers balled the material of his shirt deep into her fists as she sought to control the tremors in her core.

He plucked the pins from her hair, piling them onto the nightstand. The pleasure of his fingers combing through her tresses had her head tingling. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“The dress is Rachel’s,” she prattled, as a swift bout of nerves set in. “She has a trunk of gowns she created for brides that needed them while living at the parsonage.”

He traced a finger along the lacy neckline that spanned her shoulders and left a shallow V above the swell of her breasts, leaving her skin magically stinging. “Not one as beautiful as you.” He turned her around, and one by one unbuttoned the line of buttons down the back of the dress.

His warm breath, enchantingly sweet, flowed along her spine as he nuzzled each inch of skin he exposed. It was astounding; a sense of being alive such as she’d never imagined. Lost in the sensations, focused only on this moment in time, she arched her back when his hands slid inside the gown and around her sides to tease her aching nipples.

Waves of delight raced through her, spiking flashes of delicious torment between her thighs. “Spencer,” she gasped, “I think we should undress and climb into bed.”

“We will,” he insisted, kissing the side of her neck.

She held her breath, experiencing each sensation as profoundly as possible. It seemed unfair, the pleasure he instilled inside her. She remembered one thing from the past, that a man wanted the final act as soon as possible.

“Come,” she said, stepping toward the bed. “I know what you need.”

He followed, but never let her loose, nor quit nuzzling her neck. “This is what I need.”

Della reached up and pushed the dress off her shoulders, one at a time, and Spencer turned her to face him. He tugged the material off her breasts and then dipped his head.

His tongue ran over one peak. Della, somewhat shocked by the unexpected ecstasy, arched her back. His mouth closed over the nipple, suckling.

“Spencer!” She grasped his head, holding him in that position, lost in the glorious satisfaction. He suckled, licked and nibbled until she thought she might faint from the bliss. “Spencer,” she repeated, unable to form a comprehensive thought.

“Mmm,” he moaned, licking his way from that nipple to the other. “I don’t want this one to feel left out.”

When the heat of his mouth besieged that nipple, a tiny explosion happened between her legs, making her wobble. Just as she thought her legs might collapse he lifted her into the air, and gently, like a feather floating to the ground, lowered her onto the bed. She sank into the softness of the mattress, dazed by how shamelessly her body spent itself. He hadn’t even entered her, yet she felt a deep sense of gratification.

“Spencer,” she whispered, wanting to apologize, for he had yet to receive any pleasure.

“Shh,” he said, sliding her dress over her knees. “Shh,” he repeated as he removed her shoes, then stockings.

A sense of responsibility had her attempting to rise, to shed her clothes, but he enticed her to remain prone with gentle, caring kisses. “Just lie there,” he whispered, “let me undress you.”

Believing she was fully spent, Della relaxed, and let him remove the rest of her garments, barely lifting a limb in assistance. This form of contentment was odd, something she didn’t know existed. The euphoria continued, which made her mind float back to his satisfaction. She lifted an arm, holding it out. “Spencer, I—”

He stood beside the bed, bare. Her gaze roamed from his handsome face, down his broad, muscle-defined chest and stomach, along his lean legs, but her attention became fixed on the center of his body, where his manhood stood brazen and magnificent. A quickening happened inside her. Like a match being struck against a flint box. “Oh, Spencer.”

Della wiggled, making room as Spencer took her hand and climbed onto the bed. He kissed her fingertips, then her palm, then her wrist. Enchantment raced through her bloodstream. She spread her legs, anxious for what was to come.

Excited, her body began to throb with renewed desires. Spencer continued to kiss her, running his lips up her arm, kissing the inside of her elbow, as he eased farther onto the bed.

His lips went to her breasts again, and the pleasure he’d provided earlier was greater this time, for she knew what to expect. The moist heat of his mouth was bliss beyond imagination. As magnificent as his mouth was, his hands made the rest of her body sing as they caressed and massaged their way over her sides, stomach and hips.

One hand played along the inside of her thigh, making her hips arch. His finger found her center, and a pleasure-filled sigh escaped her lips. Probing, his finger played with her, building a fire that joyously danced inside her. As Spencer’s mouth continued to suckle her breasts, his fingers and thumb enticed a pleasure so profoundly deep, Della gasped at the realization. She was about to peak again.

“Spencer.” Her voice felt raw from indulgence. She pulled on his shoulder, attempting to position him between her legs. He needed satisfaction, too.

Closing her eyes, Della waited to welcome his swollen shaft. Instead his lips kissed their way down her stomach. “Spencer,” she repeated.

His face lifted, just long enough for her to catch the sparkling gleam in his eye. He dipped his head again, settling his mouth between her legs.

“Oh,” she gasped as his tongue licked her very center. The sensation made her hips buck and ignited a thunderous explosion. His tongue went to work then, capturing her as devotedly as it had her nipples. The waves of enjoyment he evoked left her breathless.

Her body took over, riding every stroke of his tongue, soaring at how he suckled, bringing her to pinnacles of ecstasy. And then, when she thought nothing could compare, he rose above her and slid deep inside her. Della, mindless to everything except how utterly magnificent he was, wrapped her legs around his hips and met him thrust for thrust.

When his final thrust brought her to the brink of explosion, she clung to him. Their shared release was nothing less than completely gratifying, making her body convulse several times. Embracing every ounce of satisfaction, she sank deeper and deeper into the mattress.

A calm like that which settles after a brilliant storm, filled the room, and she emptied her lungs with a long, contented sigh. Spencer kissed her cheeks as he eased his weight from her body. She grabbed his shoulders, not willing to let them separate, not just yet.

His gaze, so loving and devoted, roamed her face. She kissed his chin. “Spencer Monroe, I do believe you are even more wonderful than I imagined.”

He chuckled. “Really?”

She nodded.

He kissed her nose. “Well, I, Mrs. Monroe, had no doubt how wonderful you were.”

“Mrs. Monroe,” she repeated. “I love the sound of that.”

“So do I,” he whispered. “So do I.”

Della had no idea what woke her, or maybe she did. She rolled on her side, to watch her husband sleeping. They’d only been married a few hours, and during that time, he’d pleasured her, in many ways, several times, yet, she wanted him again. It was remarkable, the way he made her feel.

Loved.

Thoroughly loved.

Even more than she’d dreamed.

Quiet and careful, she scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped from beneath the covers. Plucking his shirt from the floor, she slid her arms into it. Still stiffly starched, and smelling like him, she snuggled into the comfort and softly padded to the door.

Moonlight guided her along the hall and down the stairway. Nothing was out of place, not even a used punch cup waited to be washed. Della smiled as she made her way through the house and out the back door. A million stars sparkled overhead, and one, as if it had been waiting just for her, shot across the sky, leaving a faint trail as it faded into the darkness.

As she made her wish a gentle comfort shrouded her, telling her Spencer was behind her even before his arms wrapped around her waist.

“What are you doing out here?” Spencer eased his hands beneath the open flaps of the shirt she wore. The smoothness and heat of her skin infused his palms, making him sigh with pleasure as he kissed the side of her neck.

“I just had to see the stars,” she whispered. “Make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” A tiny satisfied sounding moan escaped as she leaned her head back, resting it upon his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” he admitted. “I was lying there thinking how badly I wanted to touch you again.” To prove his point, his hands roamed up to cup her breasts. They were splendid, and fit so perfectly inside his palms. He gently teased one nipple, loving how it pebbled beneath his fingertips. His shaft responded, swelling, pressing against the graceful curve of her backside—another of her body parts he thoroughly enjoyed embracing. “What did you wish for?”

“How do you know I cast a wish?” She tilted her head, giving him access to nibble on her earlobe.

“I saw the falling star.” One hand roamed the flatness of her stomach. He’d had her several times this evening, but that didn’t lessen how much he wanted her again.

She laid a hand on each of his, one on her breast and the other lower, enticing him to keep playing with her delightful body. “If you must know, I wished that I’d forever be as happy as I am right now.”

His erection jolted, wanting to feel her moist center cloaking it. The desire to part her legs and enter her right now was overwhelming. Yet, so was the love filling his very spirit. “I’ll do everything within my power to see you are, Della. I promise.”

“I know you will, Spencer.” She let out a long, heavenly sounding sigh.

“So,” he asked, twirling his tongue over her ear. “Where do you want to live?” He kissed her neck, licking the smooth skin. “I’ll buy you the biggest house in town, or we can move out to the ranch and build the one I have plans for.”

“What about your deputy job?” she asked, swaying her body against his.

“It was only an excuse to be near you,” he admitted. “Cord will understand. Ultimately it’s up to you.”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Otis would be alone if we—”

“Otis can come, too.”

She kissed his neck. “Thank you.” As she snuggled below his chin, she said, “I don’t care where we live. You are the home I’ve always dreamed of. I know that now. I love you, Spencer Monroe.”

“I love you, too, Della Monroe,” he admitted. A growing need had him adding, “I think we need to go back upstairs so I can show you how much.”

“You do?” she asked.

He nodded.

A glimmer appeared in her eyes. “We will,” she whispered. “But, right now, I’m thinking the daybed in the back porch will do nicely.”

Spencer lifted her into his arms. “That’ll work.”

Giggling, Della whispered, “Yes, it will.”