Authors: Saralynn Hoyt
Heaven Made (33 page)
"So soon?" O’Neill said, laughing at the scowl
Ford sent his way. "I don’t blame you, old chap. I’d shackle her to me as
fast as I could if I were you too. Wouldn’t want the lovely Sabrina to wake up
a week from now and realize that she would prefer an Earl."
"You are a scoundrel," Sabrina chided. "But
since you’re Ford’s friend, I’ll allow it."
"An ill-mannered scoundrel," Cassie said almost
under her breath.
"Touché," O’Neill replied, bowing low to her. "Well,
since it looks as if we’re being routed, may I see you home, Miss Blakemore?"
"And Vicar Edmonds," Cassie said with prim tilt of
her chin.
Lord Suffolk frowned, but agreed to accommodate them both.
They finished their drinks and left the happy couple to the rest of the
evening. Alice yawned widely, exhausted from a long day and too much
excitement. Roland took her off to tuck her in after she got hugs and kisses
from her mother, Ford and each of the servants.
"Alone at last," Ford said, pulling Sabrina into
his embrace. "I can’t believe you’ve agreed to marry me. I’m the luckiest
man in the world."
"I’m still reeling from knowing that I have a fortune."
Sabrina rested her head on Ford’s shoulder. "I’ll be able to leave it all
to Alice and I won’t ever have to worry that she’ll want for anything ever
again."
"Alice will be extremely well set up," Ford laughed.
"With both our fortunes combined. But of course, I’m hoping to split it up
a bit, eventually."
"You want children?" Sabrina pulled away to look
up at him.
"Oh yes, darling," Ford said softly, sensually. "And
I’d like to get right on it."
"Now?"
"Um hm." Ford reached down and scooped Sabrina up
into his arms.
He carried her up the stairs then suddenly stopped on the
first landing. He set her down and carefully pulled the painting away from the
wall. Reaching under it he felt around then pulled something out. It was a book
with a picture of a locomotive on its cover.
"By God, she was right!" he exclaimed laughing.
"Who? What was the book doing back there?" Sabrina
was confused.
"I’ll explain it to you later," Ford said shaking
his head in disbelief. "Suffice it to say that Madame Lou is the real
thing. I have no doubts now."
Setting the book on a side table, he swung Sabrina back up
in his arms and continued on to his suite where he carefully set her on his
bed.
"I believe now would be the perfect time to initiate
the experiment," Ford said adjusting his spectacles in a most inquisitive
manner
Sabrina giggled at his scientific analogy. "Well,
doctor, should we try it dressed or undressed?"
"I don’t think we can accomplish our goal fully
clothed," Ford said as if he were pondering the methodology. "Although,
I believe we will need to explore several different states of undress."
"Indeed!" Sabrina squealed as Ford fell atop her,
unbuttoning her blouse and raining kisses on her bared throat. "I think
your theory has some merit."
Sabrina gasped as his hand gently kneaded her breast. Ford’s
mouth moved to suckle the hardened pebble through the thin layers of her
clothing. She was already hot and wet and anxious for him to enter her. She
could feel his hard length pressing against her thigh, arousing her even more. Between
frantic kisses, and pledges of love, they undressed each other, tearing off
some buttons in their mutual urgency. Sabrina didn’t think she could wait much
longer, and if his arousal was any indication, neither could Ford. As eager as
he seemed to be to make love to her, Ford stopped in the middle of a deep kiss and
rolled over onto his back, pulling Sabrina with him.
"I love you so much," he said, pulling the pins
from her hair and running his fingers through her luxurious dark curls. "I
want to make a promise to you right now."
"Your promises are suspect, Mr. Northcliffe,"
Sabrina teased. "But I suppose it would be worth giving you another
chance."
"I’ll try not to disappoint you," Ford said, groaning
as she straddled him and sheathed his length. "Oh God, Sabrina! My love, my
vow to you, taken without coercion or trickery, is to cherish you for all our
lives." He moaned with pleasure as she slowly moved up and down.
"Will you allow me to run the Tremaine Company?"
she asked, pulling off his spectacles and setting them aside, teasing him now,
swirling her hips erotically.
Brushing a curl off Sabrina’s cheek Ford nibbled on her ear.
"I would be most grateful if you would take that bothersome duty off my
hands," he murmured huskily, grasping her bottom to slow her movements
down.
"You don’t mind?" Sabrina was surprised enough to
stop her seduction for a moment. Most men would never allow their wives to
conduct business.
"Not at all." Ford murmured, capturing her mouth
with his. "Better you than me. I have my research."
His kisses were soft and warm, but they heated Sabrina’s
blood to the point where she couldn’t focus on a conversation any longer and
she resumed her mission of pushing Ford to the edge of his passion.
"One more thing, before I completely lose all logical
thought," he said, now as breathless as Sabrina. "Do you think that
my mother and your former husband really had anything to do with bringing us
together?"
"I want to say no," Sabrina said, then moaned as
Ford fingers plucked at her nipples. "But at this point I’m ready to
believe anything is possible. Oh Ford!"
"Then I guess we owe them, and Madame Lou, for this
incredible joy we’ve found." He nuzzled her neck, caressing her earlobe
with his teeth sending shudders through her body.
"Oh I don’t know," Sabrina answered with a
delicious sigh. "I think you can take some credit for making me feel so
loved and wanted—and hot."
"Good," Ford said, "Because I intend to spend
the rest of my life doing just that, beginning right now.
All conversation then ceased as Ford increased their tempo,
with his hands on Sabrina’s derrière, urging her to ride him faster and faster.
The friction between them was delicious and Sabrina squeezed with her loins
giving them both exquisite pleasure. She could feel herself reaching for a
sensation that was just beyond her sight. And as Ford drove her higher and
higher, she cried out writhing and undulating, pulling Ford along to the
ultimate fulfillment and expression of their love. They soared together to
heights as yet undiscovered, gently floating back to earth with many more such
encounters to follow.
***THE END***
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Love to read, love to write, hubby loves the cats and me.
I’ve been writing since I was a kid and just finally couldn’t keep the stories
in my head anymore. Been living in North Bend, Washington near the famous
hiking trails of Mt. Si and Rattlesnake Lake for over 20 years. Married my high
school sweetheart and am living happily ever after with the two latest cats,
Scarlett and Tigger, with fond memories of past kitties: Scooter, Muffin,
Taemon, Lucus, Oliver and Smokey.
Other Books By
SaraLynn Hoyt
Chapter One
sample: Dangerous Heart
Philadelphia
1838
“Will I see you back at the ship, Captain?” the swabbie
asked stumbling toward one of the bar doxies.
“Not tonight, Jake,” the captain answered. “I’ll be sporting
land legs for a good spell.”
Through blurred vision, Cord Vandenberg watched his first
mate of many years, head up the rough staircase with the barmaid. He didn’t
blame the old salt for wanting to find himself less depressing company. Cord
wasn’t at his best tonight. Sitting at a table in the corner of the Plough
Tavern, he was already pretty stinking drunk. Inhaling the scent—stale liquor,
smoke, the general refuse that littered the streets in this district and the
stench of the Delaware that was just a stone’s throw from the Plough’s door—
Cord settled into his seat for a long night of forgetting. This wasn’t the best
food and drink establishment in Philadelphia, and certainly no one from society
would darken its door. Nursing his whiskey, Cord felt right at home in the dim
and smoky room. It matched his mood.
He had only been back home a week from three years of
roaming Europe, Africa, and some of India, and already he felt unwelcome. His
mother, or Charlotte, as she insisted he call her, had graciously admitted him
to her chambers when he’d arrived at his childhood home, a vast estate just
outside the city. With her bedroom curtains drawn and the stench of old brandy
permeating the extravagantly appointed room, she’d gazed at him through
bloodshot eyes. She didn’t even need to say anything to him. He knew what she
was thinking. The same thing she had thought of her youngest son for the past
ten years. But she asked the question anyway. The same cruel, biting question
she had asked him a thousand times before.
Cord gulped down another shot of the cheap booze and enjoyed
the feel of it burning a trail of fire down his throat to his empty stomach.
The pain from his earlier audience with Charlotte began to blur and fade from
his mind. If that was a mother’s love, he would abstain from her company. The bottle
was a kinder, gentler parent for him. Signaling the barmaid to bring him
another, Cord watched as the buxom woman swayed her hips enticingly at him.
Another time he might take the not unattractive woman up on the obvious
invitation, but tonight, Cord just wanted to forget who he was and why he was
even alive.
“Cord, my friend, I thought I’d find you in this hellhole
Thomas Westcott sat uninvited, disturbing Cord’s dark thoughts. They had been
schoolmates and best friends for most of their lives.
Thomas, Cord thought with relief, thank God he had come.
Cord didn’t think he could have withstood being alone tonight.
“Where have you been? It’s after ten,” Cord asked, standing unsteadily
to shake Thomas’s hand. “I’m afraid I’ve started without you.” He motioned to
the one empty and one half full bottle on the rough oak table.
“Mama,” Thomas said as if that would explain his tardiness.
He signaled the barmaid to bring him a clean glass. His blond hair, sparkling
grey eyes and general boy next door, good looks brought her over immediately.
With his own ebony hair, deep blue eyes and always so
serious countenance, Cord couldn’t help but note the sharp contrast between
them, in both appearance and mood.
“Mama couldn’t wait to tell me about all the single young
ladies in town. She is desperate for a grandchild and will not leave me alone
until I produce one.”
Cord felt relief flood through him as he laughed at his
friend. Leave it to Thomas Westcott to lighten a mood with tales from a home
life so very different from his own. He wondered whose was normal. Cord’s
memories of his mother’s indifference and his older brother’s cruel boyhood
tricks tried to crowd into to his alcohol fogged mind. But he pushed them away
in favor of happier times with the Westcotts. If he had a choice, he would
erase his own childhood completely.
“How is the lovely Mrs. Celeste Westcott? Besides trying to
enlarge the Westcott family tree, she always has some pet project going on, if
I remember correctly.” Cord dangled his full whiskey glass from his fingertips,
willing himself not to drink anymore until he had satisfied his curiosity about
his friend’s family.
“I think that would have to be Penelope Kincaid,” Thomas
said, grimacing as he threw back a slug of the harsh brew.
“Let me guess, a widow of a war hero? Orphan of a trusted
servant? Or maybe a by-blow of old Lucius Westcott?” Cord barely ducked away
from Thomas’s fist that came flying at him from across the table.
“You know Pa better than that! For your information,” Thomas
answered straightening his crisp white collar and settling back into his chair,
“Penelope Kincaid is the nicest slip of girl ever to be welcomed to Mount
Pleasant. She and Georgianna have been best friends since they both entered
that silly finishing school in Boston.”
“I don’t understand,” Cord said finally giving into the
temptation and taking another swig of his drink. “Why would your mother make a
project out of one of Georgie’s snobby society girl friends? Celeste usually
has some greater good at stake when she goes about an undertaking.”
“This girl is special,” Thomas said defending the young
woman in question. “Penny is in a similar circumstance to me. Her father is
quite anxious to see her married off, and quickly too. Seems he wants to give
the youngest daughter a big send-up and he can’t get it done properly until
Penelope is spoken for. Silly social rule if you ask me, but there you have
it.”
“See now, I still don’t understand where your mother has to
get involved, unless this Miss Kincaid has quite the horse face?” Cord
commented warming to the subject as the whiskey warmed him, rolling his now
nearly empty glass between his palms. “That’s it, isn’t it? Miss Penelope
Kincaid is a pathetic specimen of womankind and your mother is determined to
transform her into a raving sensation.”
“Don’t be an arse,” Thomas growled at his friend. “Or I
shall start making a list of your faults, beginning with this business of being
quite into your cups before the hour has even struck midnight.”
“My faults are for my mother to list, and she has already
done quite a decent job of it this evening, thank you.” Cord toasted the woman
with a newly filled glass and drank deeply. “Now tell me again why Celeste has
started the Society for the objectionable Miss Kincaid?”