Claiming The Prize (15 page)

“
You have my word, sir,”
Drago promised, receiving Grace into his arms.

Guy receded from the dance, unwilling
to remain melancholy at the sight of his daughter's obvious
happiness, even as his heart missed her already.
The Zadrovec
family fathers gathered round him and began the tradition of
tale-telling and drinking that would last into the wee hours of the
night.

When the dance finished, the married
women, headed by Aunt Visnja, rushed to collect Grace to begin
their ritual of secret sharing and aid in her preparation for the
couple's departure.
Whisking her off, the group disappeared inside
the church.
The cozy, interior room connected to the lavatory was
used exclusively by the women .
A large mirror hung on one short
wall over an antique dressing table, and golden, upholstered
couches were placed opposite each other in the room's center atop
an oriental rug.
Indigo ottomans littered the space, providing
everyone a place to sit.
Three round, mahogany tables situated
beside one another stood between the couches, and upon each was a
silver serving tray holding the tiny goblets filled with the dark
and fiery plum brandy.

As the women settled, Ilija lifted the
trays to mete out the spirits.
Grace, seated between Visnja and
Stella, sat holding her glass, impatiently awaiting the feminine
secrets of lovemaking she was certain would be
forthcoming.

Visnja raised her glass.

“
A happy wedding night for
Drago and Grace,
ž
ivjeli!”

“
Ž
ivjeli!”
the ladies responded in unison, and all emptied
their goblets, Grace included.

Ilija poured again as Stella began the
traditional discourse.

“
Modesty is a virtue held
in high esteem and practiced throughout a woman's life.
But a wise
wife leaves modesty at the foot of the marriage bed.
The act of
marriage is for the enjoyment of both husband and wife.
Delight in
your husband's body and allow him to rejoice in yours.
A husband
likes the peace of a relaxing home, the companionship of a friend,
the well timed advice of a helpmate, and a good mother for his
children.
But he needs the passion of the woman he
loves!”

Nods of agreement and knowing smiles
swept the room as Stella went on.

“
When Drago first loves
you, you will feel some pain, but it is short lived and only
happens the once, child.
Trust him, and there will be great
pleasure as well.”

Grace's eyes were wide with interest,
for she had never heard women discuss lovemaking.
Her girlfriends
had shared some colorful stories, but their descriptions left much
to the imagination.
She knew the mechanics of sex, but what she had
heard about the things that led up to the act was akin to hearing a
foreign language with occasional English words sprinkled throughout
– mostly confusing.
It had not been a topic broached between her
and her father.
He had bravely faced shopping for bras and the
issues all young women faced, but her father held back on the
subject of love and loving beyond imparting to her the beauty of
saving her heart and body for her future husband.
There had been no
woman in his life to give her information, and none of the men in
her father's gym would have dared discussed such things with her
out of respect – and the added infamy of Guy's martial arts
abilities.

Her father had been very
protective, and with her wedding night upon her, Grace was more
than a little curious of what this night would be like.
The
assurances of Drago had eased her mind – and inflamed her.
The
memory of his kiss the night before and the way his hands felt upon
her had awakened the delight Stella spoke of, and Grace, while
still a little nervous at coming face to face with the unknown,
looked forward to this night more with eager
anticipation.

Stella, satisfied at having been given
the honor of making the speech, signaled that she was finished, and
the women helped Grace to freshen up while complimenting her dark
beauty and petite shape.
By design, they heightened Grace's fervid
emotions and strengthened the faith that her body would naturally
reciprocate the vigor of passion her husband would introduce.
They
asked God's blessing upon her as she entered womanhood this night,
and concluded with a final draught from the bride's cup.

Warm and tingling, Grace re-entered
the courtyard to see Drago waiting near the wooden gate.
He stood
alone, facing inward, still and impressive with hands clasped
behind his back.
The men flanked the sides of the gate, and an
impassioned melody vibrated through the air, its rippling timbre
urging Grace toward him.

Drago's breath left his lungs as he
tracked her movement toward him.
It seemed an eternity since Grace
had been swept away from him, and at that moment, he had inwardly
cursed tradition and propriety, wanting only to take his bride home
and explore every inch of her.
Amused at his discomfiture, cousins
and friends nettled him relentlessly at first, but understanding
his yearning, they distracted him the best they could until his
uncles came and laid hands on him to pray over him.
And then they
waited with him.

This was the moment he had waited so
long for, to find a woman he could share his life and love with, a
woman he could trust with his heart.
This woman, who would at last
come home with him to stay.

The exhortations for action began in
earnest from the happy group.

“
Gather your bride and
carry her off!
Hurry, Drago, while the night is young!”

Grace neared, and Drago extended his
hand.
She placed hers into his open palm.
He raised his other and
waved, turning into the night, Grace at his side, the echoes of
merrymaking diminishing behind them.

Chapter 10

Drago opened the heavy, oak door
centered on the three-storied, whitewashed, stone home and followed
Grace into the foyer, open on either side to Drago's home training
facility.
He briefly showed Grace each area of their facility to
acquaint her with her surroundings before returning to the foyer
and guiding her up the wide, wooden stairs.
A small landing on the
second floor led to the showers and locker room, which the couple
passed, continuing to the third floor living area.
Another small
foyer greeted them at the top, and double doors, painted white,
opened inward to the living room of their home.

Grace paused just inside to take in
her handsome surroundings.
Evident care had gone into tonight's
preparations as muted light shimmered over the flowing, open space.
Hearing the click of the door latch, she turned to Drago and found
herself enfolded in his embrace.

“
Welcome home, Mrs.
Zadrovec,” he said in pretended seriousness.

“
It's lovely, Mr.
Zadrovec,” she replied, matching the playfulness of his
address.

Clasping her closely, Drago struggled
to remain unhurried, so great was his desire for her.
Greater,
however, was his desire to entice Grace slowly into their
lovemaking.
He wanted his wife to welcome his love in the many
nights to come in their marriage.

Pale gold walls cast the living area
in warm softness against the crisp, white woodwork of the shelving
and fireplace mantle.
Four tall windows, two on either side of the
fireplace, sat inside the equally bright window casements.
Window
seat benches stretched from either side of the fireplace along the
long wall with mossy green cushions, which invited one to sit upon
them and lean back against plush pillows of dark green and ruddy
brown.

Grace had never imagined such a
comfortable, relaxing home would be nestled in the heart of a city.
Her wandering thoughts refocused the instant Drago's arms loosened,
the loss of his warmth and strength mourned.

“
Come with me.
I'll show
you the bedroom,” Drago said, and Grace followed him to the
hallway.

The first door to the left revealed
the masculine master suite.
Taupe walls stood starkly against the
nearly black wood of the wide, tongue and groove floor planks.
A
large sleigh bed sat atop a rusty hued area rug on the longest
wall, the bed sandwiched between old, marble topped pedestal side
tables.
Suspended over each hung a modern, brushed-steel light
fixture, contrasting old and new in the space.
Beyond the bed in
the corner an oversized denim-clad chair and ottoman sat adjacent
the first of two windows, which flanked the home's second
fireplace.
The love seat placed in front of it promised cozy
evenings of tranquility.
The small nook at the the end of the room
held a dresser and a beautiful dressing table.

“
I'll leave you to get
comfortable,” he said, backing toward the door.
“I'll build a fire
while you do.”

With that, Drago disappeared, closing
the door behind him.

Knowing she was in the room she and
Drago would share intimately set Grace's heart a flutter, and she
looked about her curiously.
Her attention was drawn to the low
dressing table, its apparent age covered with deep chocolate paint.
The accompanying bench was slightly pulled out, and her white satin
nightgown and robe was laid out across the velvety, sapphire seat
cushion.

The reflection staring back at her in
the round mirror held her gaze for indefinite minutes as she
studied Grace Antolini - now Grace Zadrovec - and she struggled to
reconcile the two.
Her thoughts flowed unbridled, nervousness
warring with longing, excitement vying with shyness.
Eye to eye
with her very self, Grace confronted her hopes and fears not only
for this night, but for the life she would share with the man she
loved.
The quiet contemplation lasted a few seconds more until she
reached back and unfastened her gown.

Drago stood before the crackling fire
in the living room waiting for Grace to appear.
Newly changed into
a t-shirt and cotton drawstring pants, he could do nothing more but
wait.
The fire roared its comforting hisses and flickered its
yellow glow across the coffee table, upon which rested two glasses
and a bottle of wine.
The green-gold divan awaited them, coaxing a
smile from him in spite of his serious thoughts.
Everything was
ready.

Clothed in her nightgown and robe,
Grace once again sat before the dressing table mirror.
Unclasping
the silver hair pin, her dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulder
blades as she smoothed her fingers through the thick mass.
Taking a
final look and a deep breath, she arose, ready to embrace what this
night promised.

Hearing her approach, Drago looked up
expectantly.
His handsome face, powerful build, and casual
appearance grasped her senses, allowing her to only stare in
affectation as she stood before him.
Her heart hammered in her
chest as he spoke to her.

“
Come and watch the fire
with me, Grace.”

She moved without hesitation as he
held out his hand to her.

“
You are beautiful,” he
added thickly, sliding his arm around her waist.

Her breathing quickened at his touch,
and he sat them on the waiting divan, pulling her against his side.
His hand remained snugly on her waist as the other brushed her hair
back from her chin.
She swallowed, eyes wide, the nearness of him
overwhelming her, and he dipped his head to skim her lips with
his.

Leaning back, he asked, “Are you
comfortable?”

“
Yes,” she
breathed.

His eyes did not leave hers as his
fingers traced down her neck and collarbone, then began retracing
their way back again.

“
I hope you are not
disappointed that we are spending our wedding night at home.
I know
many couples travel right away,” he said quietly, continuing the
seductive motion with his fingers.

“
No..., I'm not,” she
answered.
“It's peaceful here.
And Bratislava is new to
me.”

He smiled faintly and bent for another
brushing kiss.

“
I did not want to make
love to you for the first time in some hotel.
I want our first
memories of one another to be in our home,” he intimated before
another deeper kiss.

His private nature had drawn Grace
since their first meeting, and his thoughtfulness moved her deeply.
Her response was to deepen her kiss in return, evoking a low groan
from deep within him.
He tightened his hold on her and pushed
inside her mouth with his tongue slowly and sensually to allow her
surprise time to bloom into awareness.
Precious moments of
exploration swelled desire in them both, and sensing this, they
stilled, gazing at one another.

Needing to rein in his hunger, Drago
redirected his soft grazes along Grace's jawline and down her long,
slim neck as he moved to the floor in front of her.
Taking the wine
glasses from the table, he hoarsely urged, “Drink with
me.”

Gaining her bearings, Grace lifted the
glass in imitation of him and sipped the burgundy liquid.
Holding
his glass while still kneeling beside her, he drank again and began
absently caressing her calf through the satiny nightgown.
Once more
he raised his glass, prolonging the interlude with deliberate
forethought.

The uncertainty in her gaze at his
pause evoked greater tenderness in him, swelling hope that his
measured approach cultivated desire with care.
Her cheeks were
flushed prettily from their impassioned kisses, and she indulged in
another swallow while Drago observed her a long minute before
raising the glass yet again.
She swilled the last of it, and he
returned the empty glasses to the table and moved closer in front
of her.
He eased her knees apart and pulled her forward until he
was between her open legs.
Dark eyes intense, he kissed her neck,
moving upward until his lips were at her ear, answering the
question in her eyes.

“
I thought to help you
relax, Grace.
That's all.”

“
Oh,” was all she managed
as his hands stroked her thighs through the nightgown, and his lips
drew at her throat gently.

Grace was caught between the pleasure
of his current endeavor and the intimation of what would yet come.
Grasping his muscled arms at his return to her mouth, Grace gave
herself up to Drago's gentle attentions, her rosy lips plumping
under his, and warmth spread wherever his hands touched
her.

Drago forced himself to maintain a
leisurely pace, determined to awaken fully his bride's ardor.
Needing to feel her skin, he slid the robe down, baring the flesh
of her slight shoulders, his warm kisses following immediately
behind the receding gown sleeves.
Stroking her exposed arms only
proved inflammatory, and Drago's purposeful discipline began to
crumble.

His hands refused to remain still.
As
he ran them over Grace's hips and back, they became possessive of
each curve and flare of her body.
Rubbing down her behind, he
crushed her forward into himself, and with want for more of her, he
kissed his way down to her tiny breasts still hidden beneath the
nightgown.
Through the thin material, Drago felt her flesh tighten
under his unwavering mouth, her sighs assuring him of her
pleasure.

Her tiny hands roved over her love's
powerful shoulders and back, and Grace marveled at each ripple of
muscled heat discovered.
At the hint of his warm mouth on her
breast, Grace inhaled softly, delighting in the pleasure that
spread outward and gathered between her thighs.
Her hands
instinctively sought his face, caressing Drago's temples and dark
hair, and she began to ache for his touch, his kiss, his gaze
wherever it was not.

Urgency gradually replaced leisure,
and Drago, no longer as gentle, possessed Grace's mouth with a
ferocity that both unsettled and illuminated her emotions.
He
cradled her against his chest, breathing her sweet essence into his
lungs and stroking her hair before he stood and held his hand out
for her.
It was a silent invitation to follow.

Grace stood beside the bed, her heart
overflowing with emotion.
Drago turned to her, his burning gaze
captivating as wide hands clasped her waist.
Wrapping her arms
around his neck, she met the sensual kiss he offered.

“
Grace,” he murmured into
her mouth.
“I want to look at you.”

With those words, the hands at her
waist slid slowly up and pushed the satin straps down her limbs.
Grace held her breath as the cool material fell from her, exposing
her skin to Drago's reverent gaze.
Caressing down her side with the
back of his hand, he spoke in a husky voice.

“
You are so
beautiful.”

Feeling the gown pooled at her feet,
Grace stood immobilized, heat flushing her body and cheeks at being
naked before him.
Drinking in the sight of her, he removed his
shirt, casting it to the floor, and moved to enfold her face in his
hands.
Tenderly, he touched his lips to hers.
As their kiss
lingered, Drago pulled her against his chest, the contact of their
bodies sending a rolling wave of fire and ice through Grace's
veins.
She shivered against him.

“
Milujemta,” he murmured
against her cheek.

Searching her brown eyes, he saw her
faith in his love.

“
Drago, I want this night
to be wonderful...,” her voice trailed off, hinting at her naivete
about the situation.

“
It is wonderful already,
Grace,” he soothed.

He ravished her with firm hands,
holding her against his solid physique while his tongue invaded her
mouth, his hardness pressing against her soft abdomen.