Wildblossom (53 page)

He paused in the doorway, his eyes darkening at the sight of her luscious form, barely discernible under the water. Shelby's cinnamon-hued curls, so carefully coiffed for the wedding, were now pinned up loosely. The scented water lapped just above her nipples.

"You do me an injustice," Geoff protested. "I have only enjoyed this room in solitude, until tonight... although I may have
dreamed
that you were here with me."

"I've been wondering all day if we're not dreaming together. Can real life be so... so—"

"Never mind. There isn't a word for this. I know, because I've been puzzling over it myself, without success." Geoff had already removed every piece of his clothing except for his white shirt. It pleased him to see Shelby admiring his sculpted legs, and watching as he took off the stiff wing collar and cuffs, then removed the shirt studs, one by one.

"I suppose it's very bad form for a duchess to stare at naked men," she remarked with mock solemnity.

Geoff bit back a grin. "If none of the duchesses who instructed you mentioned that
particular
rule, then I wouldn't give it another thought."

"It's all right, then?"

"Yes, but only if the naked man in question is the duke," he corrected. "Your
own
duke. Not Devonshire or Marlborough or Cumberland, you see."

"That's fine." Shelby's face was illuminated by a winsome smile. The clock on the bedroom mantel struck midnight, but she wasn't a bit tired. It seemed that the euphoria of her wedding could carry her through endless days without sleep. "I think I'm delirious."

"Think nothing of it." With his white shirt open, so that she had glimpses of his muscled chest, Geoff brought in an icy bottle of champagne from the bedroom. He eased the cork out and let it fly in the direction of the pool. Giggling, Shelby splashed to safety.

"Is there room enough for me in there?"

Her blush was visible even in the rosy glow of dozens of candles. "I'm all mixed up," she admitted, accepting the glass of champagne Geoff had poured. "I feel very... passionate, yet shy, as if we've never been... alone together before."

"Well, it has been a long time. Forever, it seems!" With that, he doffed his shirt, and met her wavering gaze. "Will I do? No second thoughts?"

For a moment Shelby couldn't speak. He was magnificent—still the lithe, powerful golden lion she'd imagined one night long ago at the Sunshine Ranch when, after their rustling adventure, Geoff had lifted her into his arms in the kitchen and carried her off to teach her the wonders of physical love....

Her expression ended the banter. Geoff joined his bride in the pool-bath, the long muscles in his thighs flexing as he immersed himself in the warm water. "I think a sip of champagne is in order for your case of wedding night nerves, scamp." When they both were holding the crystal flutes of shimmering gold liquid, he murmured, "Here's to the best day of my life, and to a magnificent future. I love you, Shelby, and I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

His unspoken meaning was not lost on her. They touched glasses and drank, and instantly the bubbles seemed to race through her veins. "Uh-oh. This must be very special champagne. It's working already!"

"Then perhaps I shouldn't give you any more. I don't want you keeling over."

She held fast to the stem and sipped again. "I have to make a toast of my own. Here's to the best day of
my
life, which must mean
our
life! I am going to be a very good duchess, so that you won't have to make any more sacrifices for my happiness."

They both considered their toasts, sipped again, and then Geoff's fingers grazed her breast under the water. Immediately his body reacted. "Before we move along to the, uh, grand finale, I ought to tell you that I've decided we both deserve a temporary reprieve from all this ducal nonsense."

"Our honeymoon in France, you mean?"

"Honeymoon, yes, France, no." He slipped his hands around her slim waist and drew her close so that they bobbed against one another. It was delicious torture. "Manypenny has persuaded me, nay
begged
me, to bring you to Wyoming for the summer."

"Manypenny?" she echoed in confusion. "But Percy wants to retire from your service! He is looking forward to the peace and quiet. I hardly think that he would attempt to persuade you, certainly not
beg—"

"Never mind that. Additionally, I don't think we should feel obligated to spend this Season in London. People will understand that you miss Wyoming and cannot make this adjustment so suddenly."

"First you blame Manypenny, and now
me!"
She tried not to smile. "I'll go with you to the ranch for our honeymoon, Your Grace, but only if you are man enough to admit to your wife and your peers that it's
you
who desperately miss Wyoming."

"I've been away longer than you have."

"Have I your promise?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Your Grace." Geoff was laughing now, holding her on his lap in the water, and the pressure of her breasts against his chest nearly drove him mad. "Yes, I'll promise, but only because I know you'll make plenty of promises of your own before
this
night is out! Ha
-ha!"
His voice rose dramatically, rather like a mad pirate shouting from his quarterdeck.

"I do hope the servants can't hear you, darling," Shelby chided. "They'll be whispering for days."

Chuckling, he found a cake of almond-scented soap and began to wash her back, and then her arms. It was keenly sensuous work.

"This is sweet," she remarked. "We must do this
often."

They took turns, lathering one another bit by bit, touching gently, expertly, tantalizingly, and sharing plans for the future. The anticipation built, and Geoff turned on the taps to let more hot water into the bath.

Finally, when they were both slippery clean, rinsed, and feverishly aroused, Geoff's eyes turned predatory. "Come here, my little Wildblossom."

Thrilled, Shelby straddled his hips, and his hands clasped her hips in welcome. No longer timid, she slid her arms around Geoff's neck and kissed his eyes, nose, cheekbones, and then the mouth she so adored. He made a low sound somewhere between a growl and a purr as he deepened the kiss, turning her in his arms and parting her lips so that his tongue might explore completely.

"God, how I've missed you."

"You've mentioned that in the past," she gasped, "but perhaps now that we're married, you won't have to miss me anymore."

His kisses seemed to burn away the water on her neck, throat, and breasts, inspiring her to come up on her knees and bring more of herself out of the water. They kissed hungrily for long minutes, savoring each long-awaited taste and sensation. Finally, as she dropped her head back, he nipped at her throat, shoulders, and took a nipple into his mouth.

Sensing magically just what it would take to bring her to the brink, he suckled and kneaded each breast in turn. They swelled in reaction, and Shelby felt the blood surging into her nether regions as well. "Oh—Geoff! What—how—"

Her own hands moved convulsively over his chest, soaking up the lean strength she'd dreamed of, night and day. Was it possible that nothing could part them again? Shelby pressed forward against his hard manhood, begging wordlessly for fulfillment.

Geoff came into her an inch at a time. "Oh!" she exclaimed, momentary panic replaced by a powerful surge of passion. The buoyancy of the water lent a new dimension to their lovemaking, and she was able to return his thrusts with ease.

The candles threw dancing golden light over the tiled walls and over the newlywed Duke and Duchess of Aylesbury as they clung together in joyous torment. They kissed, tasting and savoring, then shared a gaze of miraculous understanding. Closer and closer they came to the precipice, to that little death that so intensely affirmed life. When at last they reached the edge, gasping, Geoff and Shelby fell... not down, but upward, toward the stars.

* * *

Strolling along the vast, spotless deck of a newly christened passenger ship, Shelby closed her parasol and turned her face up to the June sun. The ocean stretched out to the horizon, reminding her of the endless prairies of her childhood.

Soon
,
she thought,
she would see America again, and then Cody... and the mountains, the ranch, and all their friends
....

No matter how many times Shelby envisioned their homecoming, her sense of euphoric anticipation could not be diminished. What a wonderful summer lay ahead of them!

"Your Grace," a steward murmured at her side, "would you care for refreshment?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Collins." She gave him her complete attention. From her elegantly coiffed hair to the hem of her new Parisian
demi-saison
gown, Shelby exuded the grace, beauty, and kindness of a genuine aristocrat. "Is it true that we may reach land by tomorrow evening?"

"Oh, I should think so." He dipped his head. "We expect to make this first crossing in record time."

The great steamships that were being built in the new century seemed to become faster with each Atlantic crossing. It was no longer uncommon for one to be able to sail from Europe to North America in less than a week. Shelby thought that they were very lucky to be living in so advanced an age. Why should she and Geoff not travel from London to Wyoming as often as they desired? English Society would scarcely miss them!

"Can I assist you in any other way, Your Grace?" the steward inquired before backing away.

"Yes." She gave him a radiant smile., "Have you seen my husband by chance? I left him in the smoking room."

Collins looked rather uneasy. "I... I think I may have seen His Grace on the upper sundeck, having a nap."

Shelby smiled to herself as she went in search of Geoff. For now, they were playing the roles of duke and duchess, but soon enough they would be at the ranch, wearing old familiar clothes as they raced on horseback to the base of the mountains. It was amazing, but it seemed that, with care and compromise, she and Geoff could make all their dreams come true.

It's more than luck, Shelby thought as she moved along a row of deck chairs filled with passengers basking in the sunshine. Everything comes together when the time is right. Her willfulness was giving way to trust: trust in God, in herself, in Geoff, and in the wonder and goodness of their love.

Nearing the last few deck chairs, Shelby wondered if Collins had been mistaken. There was no sign of Geoff. She was about to turn back when she noticed the man in the next chair. His face was covered by a large white Stetson hat, but there was something very familiar about the rest of him.

He wore a white shirt with tasteful cufflinks, tailored tan trousers, and handmade shoes. His hands were folded over his chest; a signet ring glinted on one lean finger.

Shelby's joy was so profound that her heart ached. Blinking back tears, she perched on the edge of the next deck chair, set down her fluffy parasol, and watched him for a few moments.

When he stirred, Shelby leaned forward and lifted the Stetson hat just enough so that he could see her. Her eyes twinkled. "The Duke of Aylesbury, I presume?"

Chuckling, Geoff reached up to caress her cheek. "Have you, by chance, heard of a disreputable card-sharp called Coyote Matt?"

"Your Grace would not lower yourself to consort with such a person, would you?"

He drew her down, hid their faces with the Stetson, and murmured, "Lower myself? Nothing I'd like more."

They both were laughing as they kissed.

The End

Page forward for more from Cynthia Wright.

Dear Reader,

So many of you have written to tell me that you loved
Fireblossom,
the story of Shelby's parents, and I appreciate every message. I hope you have enjoyed
Wildblossom
just as much; this book is especially close to my heart.

I had a lot of fun doing the research. During a wonderful stay in Cody, Wyoming, I was able to garner a lot of valuable research material. I spent many hours at the incredible Buffalo Bill Historical Center, which encompasses four unique western museums, and stayed in Colonel Cody's own suite at the still-operating Irma Hotel!