Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (18 page)

She did not resist when he came up behind her and pulled her to him so that her head rested against his shoulder.

"I enjoyed our time together, Breanna."

She felt all warm inside. "So did I, Dakota."

Thunder struck, and lightning flashed across the sky. Now the waves reached high into the air and splashed against the window.

Breanna's heart was drumming a loud tempo, but it wasn't from fear. She turned to her husband, her golden eyes soft with the light of surrender. "I want to be your wife in every way, Dakota."

His breath came out in a hiss. "Are you sure?"

She stood on tiptoes and pressed her cheek against his. "I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

The tenderness that came into his eyes stopped the beating of her heart. Gently, he touched her cheek. "I have wanted to hear this from you since the first day I saw you. I knew that I had to be the most fortunate of men to have you for a wife. When I discovered you were afraid of me, I knew I would have to woo you slowly." A rakish smile crossed his face. "It took far less time than I anticipated, however."

She clasped his hand and raised it to her cheek, loving him in the very depths of her soul. "That's because you didn't know the power of your own charm.”

With a quick intake of breath, he pulled her tightly against him. His lips were hot as they settled on hers, and her head spun drunkenly so she had to cling to him. Releasing her lips, he nibbled on her ear. "I hate to admit this, Breanna," he whispered hotly in her ear, "but I haven't the slightest notion how to get this contraption off you."

She laughed as he gazed down at her wide skirt that covered the crinoline. "Come, my lord, and I will give you your first lesson."

She felt bold, beginning to enjoy playing a seductress. She tingled at the thought of surrendering herself to her husband.

The storm intensified, charging the atmosphere with electricity. Dakota could hear the waves crashing against the window as he lifted Breanna into his arms and carried her into his bedroom.

She was trembling as he took her hand, and he didn't know if she was frightened of him or the storm. But he would calm her fears, he thought, glancing at her lovely face.

Red-hot passion shook his body as he glanced down at her. "There is nothing for you to fear, Breanna. Neither the storm nor I will harm you."

17

Breanna's whalebone crinoline lay in a heap at her feet. When a flash of lightning illuminated the bedroom, Dakota's green eyes ran hungrily over her flawless body. Slowly he pulled her into his arms and tilted her chin so he would have access to her lips. His tongue probed and parted her mouth in a tender-sweet quest that demanding total surrender. She clung to him, pressing tighter against his hard strength, aching for the fulfillment his body promised her.

Slowly and sensuously, Dakota's hands moved down her satiny skin while her firm young breasts were crushed against his chest. He moved ever so slightly, and she could feel the hair on his chest brush against her nipples.

Gasping for breath, Breanna felt as if she had no substance, that he could take her, mold her, and make her into whatever he wanted.

"Breanna, sweet Breanna," he murmured against her lips. "I will take you where no man has ever dared. Together we will discover the real meaning of touching and feeling."

Breanna threw her head back and felt his breath on her breasts. She quivered while his eyes ran over her from the crown of her red-gold hair, to the arch of her delicate foot. There was no shame in her, because she could tell by looking into his eyes that he found her pleasing.

She watched him kneel before her, then she felt herself sinking to her knees, and didn't know if it was under her own power, or if Dakota had brought her down with him. All her feelings were heightened as his hand ran down her thigh to trace a pattern around her navel.

She could hear the waves crashing against the cliffs, the rain peppering against the roof, the thunder rumbling in the distance—or was that her heart beating a wild tempo?

Dakota's breath caught in his throat. He was on fire with a passion that threatened to burn out of control.

Breanna's pale skin looked like silver when a streak of lightning flashed across the sky. Gently he laid her on the rug, then he lay down beside her.

"Breanna," he whispered past the lump in his throat. "I am smoke, I will fill your body, satisfy your deepest need, teach you about love." His lips played with her nipples until they hardened and a moan passed her lips. His voice trembled. "If I am smoke, Breanna, you are fire. Your fire ignites a flame in my body, a flame that burns day and night. I will have no rest until I possess you, but in doing so, I risk being consumed by your fire."

His beautiful words touched her heart, and she reached out to him.

This time, when lightning brightened the room, Breanna allowed herself to look at his body. The shadow of black hair covered his chest. He was beautiful to behold. His bronzed nakedness was lightened at the spot where he had worn a breechcloth. His legs were long and powerful. In the shimmering reflection of the lightning, she saw the dark hair in the shape of a vee and gasped when she saw his swollen need.

Dakota's breath hissed, and he pulled her tightly against him. With bruising strength, his mouth crushed hers.

She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and found that her breathing matched his.

He laced his hands through her tumbled hair, pressing her even closer to him.

"I fear I am out of control," he whispered in a husky voice. "I need you, Breanna. I need all of you."

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes, Dakota."

Gently his hand moved down to part her thighs. Slowly, at first, he circled her pulsating opening. Breanna groaned when he slipped his finger into her hot core. Deeper and deeper he penetrated, until he found the barrier of her maidenhood. With a quick jab, he broke the skin and smothered her mouth with a hot kiss when she moaned with pain.

"The pain is over," he promised. "Now there will be only pleasure."

The intensity of his passion electrified Breanna. She ached for fulfillment. When he was positioned above her, she was unable to speak. Blinded by desire, she arched her hips, inviting him to enter her body.

His body trembled as he slowly moved forward, penetrating just inside her. "My blood sings," he murmured, thrusting deeper and feeling the heat of her close around his throbbing shaft.

The rhythm of the waves pounding against the cliffs set the tempo for their lovemaking. The electricity in the air heightened their pleasure, and Breanna was gently introduced to a new side of her husband. Dakota's tempered strength merged with Breanna's softness, and their bodies were in tune with the age-old song of love, fulfillment, hearts beating as one, and life being renewed.

Erupting, shattering fulfillment fused them together, and Breanna's eyes were soft with wonder when Dakota held her tightly to him.

"I never knew about such feelings," she said, raking her fingers through the mat of curly black hair on his chest. "Will it always be like this?"

A red-gold curl drifted across Dakota's cheek, and he closed his eyes, too moved to answer right away. When he found his voice, it came out in a whisper. "I never knew about such feelings myself, Breanna., This is as new to me as it is to you."

She raised up on her elbow. "But I thought you said-"

He smiled and placed a finger over her lips. "I said I never felt anything like what just happened to us."

". . . Oh."

He brought her head to rest on his shoulder. "You have me completely under your spell, little mermaid. I wonder if you know that?" he murmured.

She smiled. "I am glad."

Breanna noticed the jagged scar that ran from Dakota's shoulder to his ribcage, and she traced it with her finger. "How did you get this scar?" she asked.

"When I was but a boy, I came face-to-face with something that was bigger and stronger than myself."

"But who? This must have been very serious."

"It was. I came up against a bear."

She was horrified. "What happened?"

"Let us not talk about the past," he said, brushing his lips across her cheek.

Deciding not to press him further, Breanna curled up in his arms and, for the first time in her life, felt as if she belonged to someone. "I owe my brother an apology," she said, thinking aloud.

"Why is that?" Dakota asked, smiling down at her.

"Oh, he did me a tremendous favor, and I want to tell him so one day." She remembered Fielding telling her the day might come when she would thank him for the arrangement he had made for her marriage. She laughed and placed her ear against Dakota's chest, comforted by the steady beating of his heart. "Yes, I shall indeed thank Fielding for his foresight."

"Do you care to share your humor with me?"

"No, you wouldn't understand." She was reflective. "What shall we do tomorrow, Dakota?"

"I cannot be with you tomorrow, Breanna. I have important business to attend to. I believe I shall call upon the Earl of Saffron, to see if the two of us can come to an amicable arrangement concerning the villagers."

"I see." There was disappointment in her tone. "I have overheard the servants talking, and they say the Earl is mean and vindictive. You will be careful?"

"I can assure you that I will. And don't fret, my lovely. I will rush to your side the moment I am able." He laughed and hugged her to him. "I promise you that I will spend every moment with you that I can."

Breanna, warmed by his words, felt herself drifting off to sleep. How right it felt to be curled up in Dakota's arms. How wonderful it was to be alive.

***

It was still dark when Dakota eased himself out of bed so he wouldn't awaken Breanna. While he dressed, he stared down at her, loving the way her glorious hair was spread across the pillow. In sleep, she looked more child than woman. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts, caused by her deep breathing. He had the urge to climb back in bed beside her, but he had to see if he could do something about the fishermen's plight.

He stopped and kissed Breanna softly on the lips. She stirred, rolled over, and sighed contentedly without waking.

Regretfully, Dakota pulled on his boots, slung his coat over his shoulders, and left the bedroom. Hearing the sound of pots and pans banging in the kitchen, he stuck his head in and spoke to the cook. "Allow your mistress to sleep. When she awakens, remind her that I will be gone most of the day."

***

Dakota had been told by his gamekeeper that the Earl of Saffron had encouraged his villagers to fish in Weatherford waters. Dakota decided it was best to attempt to talk with the Earl first, then if that did not bring satisfactory results, he had other means with which to deal with the man.

Dakota dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to one of the Earl's servants. Climbing the steps, he rapped at the front door, noticing that the gray stone house was small in comparison to Weatherford Hall, but impressive nonetheless.

The door was immediately opened by a stoic-faced butler who bowed stiffly to Dakota. "Good morning to you, sir, how may I be of help to you?" the man asked, his words coming out wooden and formal.

Dakota remembered that Two Moons had often told him to look an antagonist straight in the eyes. With an air of arrogant indifference, he replied, "Please inform your master that the Viscount of Remington wishes to see him on a matter of great import.''

The man's whole attitude changed. A forced smile curved his lips, and his eyes shone with respect. "Please step in, my lord. I will inform his lordship that you are here. Would you care to wait in the formal sitting room?"

Dakota nodded stiffly and followed the butler across the entryway. While he was waiting for the Earl, he stood at the window, thinking it was a pity that this house did not have the magnificent ocean view that he enjoyed at Weatherford Hall.

His keen hearing picked up the sound of rustling silk, and he turned to watch a woman dressed in a pale yellow gown enter the room. Her black hair was pulled away from her face, and her soft brown eyes struck a cord of painful memories, because something about her reminded him of Running Deer.

"Lord Remington, this is such a pleasure. I am Lady Rye Saffron, my brother is the Earl of Saffron." Her eyes widened when they moved over the handsome stranger. The fact that he was tall and broad shouldered was not lost on her. His raven-wing black hair glistened in the sunlight that streamed in the window, and his eyes were a most unusual color of green.

Dakota bowed from the waist, not in the best of moods for being kept waiting. "I am honored to meet you, my lady, but my business is with your brother and not with you."

She moved around Dakota, smiling. "I like a man who speaks his mind. You are a tall one, aren't you?" When Dakota did not answer, she continued, "We had heard that the old Marquess's grandson had arrived at Weatherford Hall, but I never thought you would be so young and handsome."

Dakota returned her smile. "Are you trying to flirt with me, my lady?"

She threw back her head and laughed, showing perfect white teeth. "Of course I am. It's not often we have a man with your connections come for a visit. I would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation."

Dakota was amused by her honesty. "I am flattered, but I really must insist on talking to your brother. You see, my time is limited."

Her hooped gown swayed gracefully as she came up beside him. "Martin knows you are here. He sent me to entertain you until he can come himself." Her hand moved up the arm of his coat. "London made. I so seldom get to London these days." She placed her arm through Dakota's. "Perhaps you would like to tell me all about the balls, parties, and masquerades of last season."

His voice showed his irritation. "I know nothing of such things."

"I have heard it said that you are from America and were raised by Indians. Can that be true?"

"Yes, it is true."

She toyed with the button on his coat, and looked up at him through lowered lashes. "Then you must be very fierce."

Laughter came from the man who stood in the doorway. "You will have to forgive my sister, Lord Remington. You see, she is always so susceptible to a handsome face."

Rye did not seem to take exception to her brother's words. "As you have probably concluded, my lord, that is my brother, Martin."

The Earl was of the same dark coloring as his sister, of medium height, and handsome in an ostentatious manner.

Lord Saffron's dark eyes held no humor. "Leave us, Rye. If I'm not mistaken, Lord Remington and I have business to discuss."

She released Dakota's arm and gave him a soft smile before turning to her brother. "Be nice to him, Martin, and don't scare him away. Heaven knows there are too few real men around here as it is."

Dakota stared at the Earl of Saffron. Green eyes and brown eyes met in mortal combat, and they both knew there would be trouble between them.

Martin moved over to the sideboard and poured two glasses of bourbon and handed one to his guest.

"No, thank you, but please feel free to drink yourself. I have never acquired a taste for liquor."

Martin looked astounded. He had heard of the Viscount's background with the American Indians, so he hadn't expected a man of such high intellect and refinement. "My, God, man, where were you raised—in a monastery? I don't trust a man who won't drink with his friends."

"It remains to be seen whether or not you and I will be friends. The matter I have come to discuss with you may very well cast us as enemies."