Loving Byrne
Check out Donna's other books and short stories:
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Loving Byrne
by
Donna Dalton
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Loving Byrne
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Donna Dalton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
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Publishing History
First American Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-870-7
Published in the United States of America
Check out Donna's other books and short stories:
Irish Destiny
Irish Charm
The Cavalry Wife
The Rebel Wife
The Gift
A Christmas Stalking
Blue Ice
Her Rodeo Man
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my wonderful group of
“Old Timers” — ex-co-workers
from Henrico County Police and Fire Dispatch.
Your support and friendship is most appreciated
and inspiring.
Chapter One
City of Washington
February 1874
Her gentleman officer was a thief.
His gaze, dark as midnight and intense as a bonfire, robbed her of all good sense. Determined lips stole the breath from her lungs. Prowling touches fleeced the strength from her legs until all Victoria Manning could do was slump in the rock-hard embrace holding her captive.
He pulled her closer, his palms scorching her skin through the gown’s thick material. Practiced fingers skimmed over her ribs and hunted their way to a breast that ached for his touch. He thumbed a nipple, circling and brushing with butterfly softness. Warmth blossomed inside her like a bud opening up to the sunshine.
“Stephen...” she pushed out on a raspy exhale.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“You...I...”
His warm breath grazed her face. “We what?”
She closed her eyes and splayed fingers over his broad chest, the Army wool uniform scratchy beneath her fingertips. He smelled of soap and aftershave. Something spicy. Her head reeled. She could dine on him for the next hundred years and never be sated.
A door slamming shut deep in the hotel plunged through the desire clouding her head. She pushed away, more to restrain herself than him. “Stop, Stephen.”
He dipped closer as if to resume his plunder, and she tilted her head aside. “Not here.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The gas-lit hallway was deserted, but it wouldn’t stay that way. Due to the upcoming social event, The Willard Hotel nearly bulged with out-of-town guests. She dropped to a whisper. “Someone could come along and see us.”
He barked out a laugh and scooped up her hand. “Come. I know a place where we can have some privacy.”
“What about your assignment?” She nodded at the closed door behind him. “As much as I want to visit with you, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for leaving your post.”
“Always my loving protector. It’s what I love most about you, darling.” He pressed a kiss to the base of her throat. “We won’t be gone long. Besides, the drunken dolt is done for the night. I had to help him into bed less than an hour ago. Hear that god-awful snoring?”
She cocked an ear. The noise filtering through the wooden door sounded more like a boar rooting for grubs than a man breathing. She shook her head. “I can’t believe Mr. Hammond would take to drinking the night before his wedding.”
“Not just the night before. Every day since he arrived. Morning, noon, and night. The man’s a tosspot.” He nuzzled her earlobe. “Among other less desirable traits.”
His nibbling teased a giggle, and she danced away, the picnic basket she’d brought swinging wildly on her arm. This new and unbridled passion was exciting, yet frightening at the same time.
She pitched a glance at the thankfully still-empty hallway. “Is Senator Grover aware of this behavior? I can’t imagine he’d allow his daughter to marry such a reprobate.”
Stephen countered her retreat with a quick step and palmed her lower back, his fingers urging her forward while kneading her spine at the same time. “I’m sure he’s aware of it. General Babcock’s instructions to those of us guarding the British envoy were very clear. Hammond is not to venture outside of the hotel for any reason. Nothing will prevent this wedding from taking place tomorrow. Not even the groom himself.”
Legs trembling and breaths coming in shallow draws, she ran a hand down his arm, gaining strength from the firm muscles beneath his sleeve. “Poor Nellie. The newspapers say she’s besotted with her Englishman. That the two met on a cruise while crossing the Atlantic and began courting in the moonlight. They stole away to the darkened decks...while her chaperones lay bedridden with seasickness.” She pulled in a much-needed breath and heaved a sigh. “Such a romantic story.”
Stephen stopped in front of a door midway down the hall and reached for the knob. “No more talk of Hammond or the Grovers. We only have a short time together. Let’s not waste it on idle gossip.”
As he tugged her through the open doorway, the heady smell of beeswax and fresh laundered cotton enveloped her. Crisply folded linens and towels lined the floor-to-ceiling wall shelves. A scarred but clean work table occupied the middle of the room. The maids’ closet. Not exactly an ideal trysting spot, but it would have to do.
“Are you hungry?” She certainly was. But not for food. However, what she craved would—for the time being—have to stay shelved.
She placed the basket on the table and pulled back the cloth covering. “I brought some of my sister’s fresh baked bread. And cheese from Howard’s store. The herbed goat cheese you adore more than anything else.”
Her brother-in-law stocked his mercantile with only the best wares. No cheap goods for Howard Taylor. She’d tallied the receipts often enough to know while helping with the bookkeeping.
Stephen moved behind her and peeled off her cloak. “There’s nothing I adore more than you, my darling.”
She smiled. He always said the sweetest things. Theirs was the
true
romantic story. He’d swept her off her feet from the moment they met. Literally. She’d been high on a ladder, wiping dust from a shelf in the mercantile when her foot slipped. She’d plunged into the arms of a dashing Army officer who’d walked through the door just in time to catch her. From then on, not a day went by that Lieutenant Byrne didn’t come by the store. His brief visits turned into long dinners with her and Annabelle and Howard, and two months later, he’d asked for her hand in marriage. She couldn’t ever remember being happier.
She fished the bread and cheese from the basket and set them on the table. “I packed your favorite wine, too. The same brand we had at our engagement party. And some sweet berries from the market.”
Still standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Not as sweet as you, I’d wager.”
She tipped back, relishing the whisper of firm lips gliding over her sensitive flesh. “You should eat something, love. It’s going to be a long…ahh…night standing guard.”
“You’re all the sustenance I need.”
Her limbs went limp as porridge. Over the past few months, they’d enjoyed many a stolen kiss but never had they taken their desires to such a fevered pitch. Their wedding night was sure to be wondrous. A jolt of sanity shot through her.
Wedding
.
She straightened and leaned away from him. “I didn’t come here for kisses and such.”
“No?”
“No. I came to discuss our wedding. It will be here soon. We need to make some decisions.”
He trailed a finger along her shoulder blade. “What is there to discuss?”
A shiver chased after his touch. She moistened lips gone dry as a summer pond. “Flowers, for one thing. Blue forget-me-nots or pink roses? And the cake. Buttercream or chocolate? Oh, and we have to set a date with Pastor Dean for our final counseling session.”
He branded her nape with a poker-hot kiss. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”
Warmth spread down her backbone and pooled in a smoldering hollow. She reined in a groan of pleasure. Wanton reactions would only spur his assault. “This is important, Stephen.”
Lips and tongue tickled the flesh behind her ear. “Hmm. So, it is.”
He clearly wasn’t referring to their wedding plans. “It’s your wedding, too. I want you to be happy with our choices.”
He spun her around and pulled her against him. “I am happy. Very happy.”
His thigh molded her woman’s mound and ignited a blaze that rivaled Satan’s hearth. All thought of restraint went up in smoke. She arched her back and pressed into him. “God, Stephen...”
“You like that?”
“Hmmm.” She reached up and played fingers through his downy locks, the only softness on his supple body. “I liked it far too much I’m afraid.”
“Why afraid?”
“We agreed, love. To wait until we were wed.”
Deft fingers made swift work of the buttons on her blouse. “That’s fourteen, long, lonesome days from now.” He pushed open the unfettered folds. “Are you sure you want to wait?”
Cool air marched over her bared flesh. A delightful shudder coursed through her, and feckless knees threatened to give way. Only her hands, clamped on his broad shoulders, kept her from collapsing. “Two weeks is not that lon—”
Lips latching onto an exposed nipple stripped away her words. Fire surged in her veins. Her bones turned to aged butter. She swayed and fought to remain upright.
Stephen’s hands went around her waist and guided her backwards until her backside greeted the table. Then, before she could resist, he began burrowing beneath her skirts and undergarments. A finger found and fondled the sensitive flesh between her thighs. Her insides ignited into an inferno. She gasped his name.
“You still want to wait, darling?”
“I...we...shouldn’t.”
He stroked the small curls covering her fleshy folds, tugging and teasing. Ripples of desire raked through her. She shuddered again. Such marvelous sensations. She wanted more, much more.
She flexed her hips and rocked against his hand. Chastity be damned. “Stephen...”
“Yes, sweetheart?” he whispered, his breaths coming like hers, in quick, shallow-heated pants.
“You play...unfairly.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No. No stopping. I want you. Now.”
His mouth rounded into a devilish smile, and he reached for his belt buckle. “As you wish, my—”
A loud thud echoed in the hallway.
Then, a deep voice rang out, and then another.
Stephen stilled, brow furrowing. He closed his eyes as if gathering himself and pushed out a frustrated growl. “I should go. Check on Hammond.”
She tamped down her own groan of disappointment. Duty before pleasure. Such would be her life as the wife of an Army officer. Yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Go. But hurry back.” She treated him to a coy look. “Before your supper goes stale.”
He winked as he headed for the door. “Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll be back before you can draw your next breath.”
She smiled and reclined back on her elbows. Her insides throbbed with a pleasing ache. She wanted him. Tonight and every night from now until eternity. Stephen Byrne was everything she could ever want in a husband—kind, caring, dedicated to making her happy. A man just like her wonderful brother-in-law.
Ten years ago, she and her sister Annabelle had met Howard Taylor while accompanying their father to deliver produce to Howard’s mercantile. It was love at first sight. Annabelle and Howard were wed a month later. When their father died from a lung illness, Howard took her in and made her part of his and Annabelle’s family. Only nine years old at the time, motherless from birth and then fatherless, Victoria had latched onto the older male, looking for love and guidance. And Howard had been a true king among men. He treated her as a beloved sister, providing food, shelter, and a fine education. She couldn’t be more blessed to have found a husband just as devoted.