As a Mother's Day Special,
I'm offering the e-book version of
as a free download at Amazon.
If you don't have an e-reader, enjoy Chapter 28
in the continuing saga of Kit and Cullen's adentures.
******
KIT’S EARS PERKED up at the sound of
a purling waterfall hidden amidst a magical twilight. Cullen reined Jasper to a
stop and pointed ahead. “We’ll camp between that sandstone outcropping and
those pine trees.”
After a two-hour ride across the
hot, grassy prairie and sage-covered hills, she gazed at the honeymoon suite
with eager expectation, and not only for her promised soak in a hot spring.
How had the day come to this?
At sunrise she’d paced and stomped
and fretted over who she was and where she’d come from. Now the sun was setting
and although the answers she sought were still unknown, her identity somehow
didn’t seem as important. All that mattered now was who she had become during
the days and weeks leading up to this whirlwind day. A day that even in her
most creative and inspirational moments was unimaginable.
Instead of Second Presbyterian
Church, the Lexington Philharmonic, and an outrageously expensive wedding gown,
she’d had an open-air wedding on the plains of what would become Wyoming with
buffalo roasting on a spit and Mozart and Bach played on a fiddle. On
reflection, the day was spectacular for the singular reason that people she
loved, people who had inserted themselves into her life, had celebrated with
her.
From the razzing Cullen received
from Henry, John, and especially Braham, one would have thought that Cullen had
never bedded a woman. She had caught him watching her with eyes so hot she was
afraid she would combust. His eyes weren’t as hot now. Then her glance drifted
lower and she licked her lips in anticipation. Other parts of him were
steaming.
Kit dismounted. After she watered,
fed, and brushed Stormy, she stripped, not to entice her husband with a
stripper’s slow tease, but simply to get her clothes out of the way. The
rip-‘em-off-throw-‘em-down kind of peel enticed Cullen nonetheless.
He watched with his head cocked to
the side, arms folded. “Never seen anyone in such a hurry for a soak.” He threw
her a crooked grin.
Tension knotted inside her, almost
distracting her from a bath. She tore her gaze from him and dug through her
carpetbag for a bar of soap, shampoo, and a razor.
“What’s the pink thing in your
hand?”
“A razor.”
“Do you need my shaving mirror?”
“Oh?” She scratched her chin and
with a deadpan, neutral voice and said, “I thought it might be broken.”
Cullen’s quizzical look furrowed his
brow.
For someone with a trenchant sense
of humor, he often seemed stymied by her sarcasm and jokes. She smiled. “You
need a modern perspective on sarcasm and the panoply of jokes that keep
twenty-first century audiences laughing until the wee hours of the morning.”
“Aye, many things from your time
aren’t clear to me, but lingerie is not one of them.” He brushed his hand
across her bra. “What do you call this little piece of lacy fabric?”
“A demi-bra.”
He caressed her breasts. “I like
your little bra.” His voice, raw and sexy, teased as much as his fingertips.
She clasped her arms around his neck
and settled contentedly against him, feathering his hair through her fingers
“Join me in the water.”
He moaned. “I need to make camp
before it gets dark. I’ll join you shortly.”
She kissed him, her lips slightly
parted. “Don’t make me wait too long.” He unhooked the bra’s front closure.
How’d he do that? Before she could figure it out, he lowered his head and
swirled his tongue around a nipple. Whatever thoughts had been roaming through
her brain gave in to the incredible heat. His palm pressed against her lower
back, bringing her closer to his erection. Their rasping breaths mingled. She reclined
her head, giving him full access to her neck. “Come with me,” she moaned.
“I have every intention of coming
with you.” Her pulse leaped at the expectation that he would fulfill his
promise. “Go now, or I won’t get camp set up.” He unclasped her hands from
around his neck and set her away from him. The straps slipped off her shoulders
and the bra fell to the ground. Before she moved out of his reach, he slid his
fingers into her bikini panties and caressed her bottom. “Fifteen minutes,
lass.”
She leaned into his hand and mewed.
“Vixen. You’re set on torturing me.”
He picked her up and carried her to the water, his eyes dancing with happiness.
“Don’t throw me in.”
He laughed. “The thought occurred to
me, but I wouldn’t dare risk harming my bride.” He pulled off her panties and
eased her into the bubbling foam as if he were laying a baby down for a nap.
“Fifteen minutes.” He walked away, whistling.
“Beethoven Symphony No. 6,” she yelled.
“Och, my bonnie bride knows
Beethoven.”
“I know Haydn, too. You can’t stump me.” She
sank into the mineral water and reveled in the way it laved her with its
wizardly powers. Since meeting him at the freight office, how often had she
listened to him whistle. Every time they were together. He rarely whistled
around other people, though. Why? She’d have to ask him. She ducked under the
gurgling waterfall and washed away the shampoo. Sore muscles also disappeared,
but others tensed in wanton anticipation.
When she broke through the curtain
of foamy water and wiped her eyes, she spotted Cullen silhouetted against the
rising moon and the shadow of rugged land—a Greek statue perfectly sculpted—six
feet, two inches of corded muscles and long, lean legs. Black hair trailed a
path down his chest, past his navel, to the thick patch at his groin. His
arousal jutted back up the path.
Goodness, he’s certainly endowed
with a lot more than inalienable rights.
The moment was a breath-stopping
memory to savor, a vivid memory to paint, a sensate memory never to place on
her shelf of collectibles, but to hold close and cherish—forever.
A deep red glow, a reflection or a
trick of the dying light, slashed across Cullen’s chest and held there until he
slipped into the water. Although the light disappeared when he moved, its
presence notched an eerie premonition in Kit’s heart.
“Mmm,” he sniffed, nuzzling her
neck. His stubble brushed her wet skin. “Succulent enough to eat, ma chérie.”
“Nibble away, I’m all yours.” She
floated into his arms and into the realm of heightened sensuality. The water
became warmer, the dying sun brighter, the cool air smoldering, his kisses
liquid. A cry came from low in her throat as their tongues danced to the rhythm
of lovers written at the beginning of time. Their limbs entwined like
soft-tipped tendrils of fragrant wisteria. His scent was an intoxicating blend
of sun and pine, redolent of musk.
Cullen entered her in a single
powerful thrust, stretching, filling her with sensations that moved like an
enveloping ground swell of energy from deep within her pelvic core, pulsing
outward along her body’s sensuous pathways.
“I’ve thought of little else since
the last time I held you in my arms.”
Kit had everything she ever wanted,
everything she needed to be complete. She shivered against him.
“Are you cold?” He wrapped her
tighter in his embrace.
“I’m burning.” She gazed into his
eyes, dark and intense. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you.”
Her fingers raked through his hair,
down the length of his neck, and along broad shoulders. She indulged herself in
the velvet smooth texture of his skin. Without inhibition, her hands glided
down hard, muscular arms and across his chest and became entangled with patches
of black hair.
“Ouch.”
She ignored his gentle complaint as
heat and tension roared through her igniting an uncontrollable fire. Tremors
washed over her like the perfect storm engulfing everything in its path. His
subtle stroking became a maelstrom of dazzling sensations as powerful as the
final movement of a symphony pulling the listener toward the ultimate climax
and reward.
She inhaled without exhaling, and
with each inhalation, her muscles tensed to a new and higher level until they
contracted in orgasmic spasms. The tempo of Cullen’s strokes increased, moving
within her toward his own release. Upon reaching his destination, he shouted
his ecstasy. His hot breath blew across her neck. “I love you, lass.”
With her legs still wrapped around
him, he climbed out of the water, and grabbed a towel that he wrapped around
her. Tension in his face had softened, and his smile warmed her in places
already overheated.
He dropped to his knees, keeping
them joined together, and he laid her on the bed he had prepared for them with
warm blankets and a soft cushion of pine needles. He had even packed her
pillow. When her head touched the cotton ticking covering the goose down, tears
of joy streamed down her cheeks. Then she noticed the picnic dinner with a
bottle of wine and lighted candles.
“Cullen,” she sighed his name.
“I took the liberty of searching
your trunk. I’m afraid this is the last bottle.”
“Whatever is mine is yours.” The
tears fell faster now.
“Don’t cry.” He wiped her tears with
his fingertips and then licked away the droplets he’d collected. “There’ll be
no more tears.”
“I want to crawl inside you. Feel
what you feel, taste what you taste, see life from your eyes.”
“You’re already inside. Hear the
beat of my heart? The rhythm is yours.”
“Keep me inside forever,” she
whispered.
“As I am inside you, so you shall
always be inside me.”
He thrust in short rhythmic strokes
once again, pressing his body against her pubic mound, sending powerful
sensations rippling through her. She reached for his hand and squeezed as
another orgasmic cry broke from her lips. He kissed her, pulling her breath of
pleasure into his mouth.
Within moments, he followed with his
own explosive release. “Je t'aime.”
She fell asleep with her head on his
chest listening to the beat of his heart, replete.
Twice he tried to wake her, but she
rolled over saying she needed sleep more than food. She had no idea what time
it was when her eyes finally popped open, but the big round moon lighting up
the sky welcomed her, and so did Cullen, pulling her gently into his embrace.
“Are you hungry?”
“What’s on your mind?” she asked,
stretching overused muscles.
He had an almost hypnotic intensity
in his eyes. “You need to eat to keep up your strength.” He pulled her to him
so her head rested on his chest. Her leg crisscrossed his body. The evidence of
his hunger poked her leg.
“I think you’re still hungry.” She
wiggled her hips.
“Nae, lass. I don’t want to make you
sore. We can wait until morning.”
“You can wait?” she said, sticking
out her bottom lip. “Ooookay,”
“Aye, even a Montgomery thinks about
his lassie’s comfort.”
“If you’re going to make a noble
sacrifice, I’ll give you a surprise.” She dug into her carpetbag until she
found her iPod she kept charged with a solar charger. “Are you ready?”
“Aye, I’m never ready for your
surprises, but I’m always intrigued by them.”
As soon as she’d discovered his
musical passion, she’d imagined exposing him to the sound quality of
twenty-first century music. Now, she wondered what recording he should listen
to first. What would be most compelling for him? He was familiar with all the
Baroque composers from Monteverdi to Handel and Bach, and all the Classical
composers from Haydn to Beethoven. He’d listened to early opera but hadn’t
experienced the golden age with Wagner, Verdi, Puccini. He’d never heard blues
and jazz and rock and roll, or Loretta Lynn or Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen.
What would take his breath, capture his imagination?
“I’m going to put these buds into
your ears.”
“What are they?”
“You’ll find out.” She scrolled
through her playlist and clicked on Vivaldi’s Lute Concerto in D Major, one of
her favorites. Vivaldi’s concertos and arias deeply influenced his
contemporary, Bach, and the recording she had on her iPod featured the
brilliant John Williams on guitar. His musical artistry informed her. She took
a deep breath and hit the play button.
Cullen shot up off the blanket with
his hands pressed firmly against his ears. “Crivvens!” His rapid breathing and
pounding heart disquieted the still night. His eyes grew wide as he listened,
enthralled by the violins and harpsichord and guitar.
Within moments, his hands moved in
concert with the music, and he conducted the orchestra to its lingering
conclusion. Several seconds after the last note faded, he gazed up into the
solid darkness of the starry sky. He didn’t say anything for several minutes.
Finally, he said, “Yesterday I heard the sound of hell. Tonight I heard the
sound of heaven. You gave me the gift of yourself, the most beautiful gift I’ve
ever been given. This is the second.” His voice quivered. “How is it possible
for this little box to hold the sound of God’s own orchestra?”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Although he’d asked a hypothetical, he deserved an answer. “Because men like
you and John and Braham, and women like Sarah, and children like Adam and
Frances never stopped dreaming their dreams.”
He fell back onto the blanket and
pulled her on top of him. The heavy beat of his heart thrummed against her. “I
can never give you anything that would compare to the wonders of your time.”
She shook her head. “You’ve already
given me much more. I was fortunate to experience the future, but I don’t
belong there permanently. I belong with you in your world.” Even after her
affirmation, his eyes held the glaze of doubt.
Determined to waylay both his doubts
and fears before they took hold of his mind, she positioned herself over his
erection and slid down his shaft, embedding him deep inside of her.
AS THE SUN rose on their first full
day of marriage, Kit woke nestled in the crook of her husband’s arm. Her hand
rested on his chest, gently moving with the rise and fall of his breathing. His
smile was enough to melt her heart.
She did her best imitation of a cat,
stretching from her fingertips down through her big toes. “Have you been
listening to music all night?” she asked between yawns.
He removed the ear buds and rolled
over onto his side. “How many songs are in this box? It will take days to
listen to all of them.”
“Fourteen thousand.”
“I can’t begin to comprehend this
miracle.”
“What did you listen to?”
“Not only did I listen, I watched
something called Meet the Press. The men at the table discussed the president’s
agenda, and they showed him. He’s a colored man.”
“And he graduated from Harvard Law
School,” she said.
“Your world is very different.”
“But the people are the same.
Hardworking folks doing the best they can for their families.”
“Your pa did well for his. I saw
pictures of your farm and the mansion.”
“MacKlenna Farm doesn’t belong to
me. I’m not a MacKlenna.”
His fingertips brushed her face as
if they were pencils drawing intricate lines and shapes. “You say that, but
there‘s a voice behind your eyes that screams it’s not true.”
“The MacKlenna tradition informed
the person I am.”
“And you’ll teach that tradition to
our children.”
One day she would birth his son, and
the child would grow up to be like his father whom she knew very little about.
“How many women have you been with?”
“What kind of question is that?” His
tone was brusque, his eyes glaring.
“A reasonable one. You might have a
disease.”
“I’ve always been careful.”
“Are you going to answer my
question?”
“It’s none of your concern.” His
handsome face appeared troubled, the corners of his eyes strained.
“I have a right to know.”
“Nae.” He rolled on top of her and
nuzzled her neck, scratching her with his whiskers.
She pushed him away. “This is
important.”
“You do not need to worry yourself
with this matter, Kitherina.”
She swallowed back tears. “I’m
getting in the spring.” Grabbing their top blanket, she threw it around her
shoulders and rushed off to the water.
The soaking did wonders for her
body, but nothing for her hurt feelings.
She had been in the water for only a
few minutes when Cullen appeared at her side and tenderly stroked her arm.
“I’ve had no one to answer to for several years. I considered your question
intrusive, but I don’t think you were asking for a number. I believe you were
asking me to share who I am.”
He paused and sighed with a heavy
breath. “There have been more women than I can count, more than I can remember.
None of them meant anything, and I’m not proud of that.” He moved his hands up
her arms and gently kneaded her shoulders.
“I never met a woman I cared to be
with more than once until I met you. I’ve had feelings with you I’ve never had
before. I wish I could give you an answer that would satisfy you. I can’t. I’ve
been more discreet as I’ve aged. Please understand that my life began the
moment I met you.”
As did hers. She slipped into his
arms and their honeymoon ended the way it began. But Kit could not dislodge the
memory of the deep red glow across Cullen’s chest and the fear notched on her
heart.
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