ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (19 page)

Chapter 7

A Home Of Promise

The home was more than Elizabeth could’ve imagined; it was filled with cold, marble floors, as promised, a large kitchen, land that ran as far as the eye could see, open bedrooms that looked upon the land and beds so soft she felt she could sleep for days. There was even a maid upon their arrival, and she had stuck out her hand, introduced herself, stunned at having never met one before.

That night they ate steak and potatoes, rolls, fresh picked vegetables and tall glasses of milk. Elizabeth had never had a meal like this before in her 20 years of life and relished in every bite. She felt a sting in her heart when an apple pie was brought out for dessert, but she tried to stifle it and put on a happy smile.

“Ask me anything,” he said, taking a sip of wine. She was enjoying taking long sips of the cool wine herself. A plethora of thoughts ran through her mind, a handful of questions to ask and answers she both wanted and needed, while also fearful of some of their answers.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she had said at first. He had glanced at her, chocolate brown and maple eyes.

“Elizabeth, we are to be wed in three days. Ask away.” She took in a deep breath and took another bite of her pie, chewing slowly.

“Why did you choose to marry a stranger?” Now it was his turn to take in a deep breath. He knew that he could answer her, woo her, say some words that were untruthful and meant nothing to him, but would be sure to please her enough that she just might place those sweet delicate lips upon him, but he knew he had begun this process in order to change and this was his turning point, a knock on the door to his future.

“I needed to change my ways,” he began honestly, “because I’ve hurt a lot of women in my life. You’re my way to right things, to treat a woman how she should be treated. You’re my starting over.”

“No pressure,” she had mumbled, feeling disappointed that clearly their previous lives had been so different; money, love, sex, lust. He shrugged, not sure what to say.

“What about you?” She realized then that she too was stuck in a difficult position; she didn’t want her family to seem money hungry or as if they were conniving. She broached the answer carefully.

“My brother died in the war. He was my best friend,” she felt her eyes begin to well with tears and felt foolish and naked in front of this man she barely knew; her vulnerability cut through her and pierced her. And yet, he saw this, her pain, as such a beauty, the fact that she could love someone so much that she would cry over him to someone who was basically a stranger, endeared her to him.

She continued on, “and my family was at a loss. I have two sisters and my father needed to pick one of us that could have the promise of a better life, and, maybe, one day, bring that gentleman back home in hopes of bringing his life into ours. Financially, I am sure, and otherwise.” He nodded, pondering all of this.

“Thank you for being honest,” he had said and this left a sense of relief and comfortability within her.

And so they spent the next few hours talking. They each asked one another questions and answered as honestly as they could, pie and wine filling their bellies and laughter filling the air. She found out that his true hero was his mother, who had given her life for his brother’s. He had found out that her biggest fear was not fitting into a family of delicate women, when she herself was more like her strong and independent brother, realizing that to many, this wasn’t “womanly” enough.

His favorite subject in school had been reading, when he wasn’t using most of his effort and focusing his attention on the girls in class. He learned that she played the piano and every Christmas would sing and dance with her sisters around the piano itself.

“I don’t want to sleep in the same bed tonight,” she had blurted out bluntly towards the end of their question game. He had laughed.

“Thank you for being honest,” he had said again, a phrase he had said to her numerous times already tonight. He flourished in her honesty, and this honesty made him look at his in a new light, as if approaching a mirror for the first time, it being a trait that he wanted to excel in himself.

“On our wedding night, I will, as a wife should…I just can’t tonight,” she had whispered, unsure of her words. He had nodded and taken her hand softly, the wine creating a bit of a haze between the two of them. He kissed her hand softly and she felt a sudden rush go through her, the warmth of his breath pressed upon her skin.

“Deal.”

Chapter 8

An Eternal Promise

Three days later, she had washed her white dress and applied the perfumed cream that James had in her bathroom. She had brushed her long blond hair, tying half of it back in a low braid. He had come to her room, dressed handsomely in a black tux, and had given her a bouquet of flowers.

They were married with an hour, her old self and name a soft whisper into the wind, as she became Mrs. Elizabeth Black. He had held her hand and taken her to his favorite restaurant, feasting on fish, while overlooking the mountains. Elizabeth found herself awestruck with the beauty of the scenery, having never witnessed anything like it before in her life.

James knew that, in many ways, tonight might be a challenge for him. He had taken numerous girls on dates before, only knowing them for a few days, whispering to them about the beauty of their eyes as he kissed their necks, but never had he already felt such a connection with a woman as he did with Elizabeth. Her honesty made him confront his own. Her smile was genuine and despite having lived in a home for the past three days with a maid, he found her cleaning her own clothes, refusing to let someone else do that for her. She laughed at her own jokes, questioned him and wanted to hear his answers, and although beautiful, seemed shy in her beauty but confident in its results, without being conceited by it.

Elizabeth was both excited and terrified about what the night might hold. When she thought of her first kiss, she was overcome with disgust, but felt a warmness in James that she had never felt with anyone else before, even the crushes she had previously had on boys back home.

His answers were honest and pure, and he acknowledged to her that they previously may have not been with other girls. She felt self-conscious in his experience, but took in a deep breath, realizing that wasn’t much she could do about that now.

When they had gotten home, she had rubbed a bit more of the perfume on her body and then gone to his room, taking off her wedding dress and standing in his door, simply in her long, white cotton nightgown, blond hair down and imperfect.

He had taken off his tux jacket and looked up at her, breathless in her pure beauty. He had gone to her and taken her head in his hands and looked into her eyes, a vast sea of blue that he found himself wanting to get lost in, a sailor not wanting to be found at sea.

He waited there for a moment, until her eyes told him she was ready, and when they did, he leaned in softly, kissing her and bracing her head in his hands. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, and she let out a soft sigh.

Elizabeth was overcome with a sense of desire, of pure bliss, the masculinity of his hands holding her face, his lips hiding under some dark stubble above his upper lip. She felt her body calm, go limp by his, ready for what was next, and excited for what it would entail. Reading the language of her body, he had lifted her up, effortlessly, and brought her to the bed, lying her down softly on the pillows.

“I’ll be gentle,” he reassured her, reading her thoughts as he climbed on top of her. He kissed her again, opening her mouth gently with his own, and delicately placed his tongue inside her mouth until he found hers. She hadn’t expected to like this at all, but the softness of his touch on her shoulders as he took off her nightgown straps, accompanied with the subtleness of his tongue in her mouth, made her squirm in pleasure underneath him.

He braced his body over hers for a moment, exposing each breast and looking down at her in the moonlight. He wanted a moment to take her in, each centimeter of her snowflake skin. He looked back into her eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and realized he meant it, realized he was saying this from a place in his heart that was pure and true. She smiled, blushing.

“Can you go slowly?” she asked, scared but trusting of his hands and mouth. He nodded and kissed each breast, guiding one of her hands to him. She felt him and felt excited in this, pleasure that she could do this to him, and exuberant in the fact that she actually wanted this, thrilled that she didn’t feel otherwise or that her previous reservations weren’t based in fact.

He moaned and placed his hands behind her head, slipping his pants off slowly. He took her nightgown in his hands and pulled until she was sitting on his bed, pure, delicate and untouched beauty. He kissed her mouth again, then her shoulders, then placed each breast in his mouth, watching her as she smiled and moved under his the spell of him.

“I’m ready,” she whispered, exasperated. She felt shy at her boldness, but confident that she truly was. He climbed over her and placed a hand behind her buttocks, raising her as he entered her, kissing her harder this time; a kiss she returned eagerly.

Their bodies molded into one as he kept her held up, pumping his body into hers, her hands grabbing his own buttocks in pleasure. He remained at a steady pace, watching her, making sure she was okay, and when he heard her moan loudly and excitedly, he picked up speed until he fell on top of her, sweaty bodies heeding in the aftermath of their deed.  He rolled over to her side, placing an arm behind her head.

He felt a connectedness to her that he had yet to feel with any other woman; usually at this point, he was looking for a way or excuse to leave, bare and naked, before he was bombarded with questions he didn’t want nor could answer. But, now, he felt differently. He kissed her shoulder and wanted her to stay, secretly hoping she would opt to spend the night in his room. She turned to him and smiled.

“Let’s not talk,” she said as she leaned in and kissed him. She turned, pressed her naked body against his, and wrapped his other arm around her waist, falling asleep immediately.

Chapter 9

A Life Worth Living

And so their lives began to grow together, intertwine and mold around the ups and downs and personalities of each of them. She insisted that he fire the maid, after generously compensating her, and allow her to tend to the house, just as she had done back home.

He taught her how to ride bareback on a horse, and she taught him how to make her sister’s apple pie. They ate together every night, discussing the day’s events. She picked flowers in the spring time and surprised him with bouquets, a practice he thought a bit silly, but indulged in for her sake. She would play the piano while he worked on the weekends, and he would take her hand sometimes and they would dance around the house, the cold marble on their feet.

They, of course, had their challenges too. The adjustment to a life that was so outside her comfort zone had been very challenging and difficult for her. James had suggested they begin hosting dinner parties in hopes for Elizabeth to make some girl friends to talk and confide in. Most of the women had seemed pretentious to Elizabeth, but one girl, Isabell, stuck out to her and they formed an immediate bond. They would take walks together, drink tea and sew, or simply read on the veranda.

Elizabeth knew that many of the women in the town judged her for having been a “mail order bride”, especially because James was so devilishly handsome. Many of them, she assumed, were also jealous of her, as many of the women in town had been heartbroken by James or had fallen in love with him, unbeknownst to him. She took it all in stride, fortunate enough to be happy and married.

During their second year, she had pleaded with James to come home with her that fall. Although she wrote her family weekly, and had gone home one other time alone by train, she wanted desperately for him to meet her family. He had agreed, and she had written home ecstatically, informing her family of the news.

That fall came quickly, and even more quickly was the train ride taking them to Elizabeth’s hometown, James fidgeting the entire time. Elizabeth had packed her journal, aware that her sisters would want every detail of their marriage, and she felt confident in sharing some passages with them. She felt obligated to bring them something from the West, a piece of her new life, something that they would never be able to see or witness themselves.

She knew that James had taken out a good chunk of money to give to her father. She felt a twinge of guilt, but knew how much this would help them. She felt somehow wrong that what had grown to be a true love between the two of them, her family was gaining from financially; originally, before her husband had a name or a face, she hadn’t even considered this, but now it was something that kept her awake at night.

One evening, she had brought it up to him. He had shrugged and confided in her that it had been an agreement to the marriage, something he and her father discussed prior to him sending her out West. She felt betrayed, and then ashamed for having not realizing this herself. She struggled with reminding him that money wasn’t something that all people had and it wasn’t something to shrug over. She was quite confident that taking him to her home would make him realize this, even if it were just for a little bit.

Her sisters had opened the door to their home upon their arrival and shrieked, throwing their arms around Elizabeth and jumping up and down. Her mother had shooed them away, and held Elizabeth in her arms for a long while.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she said, kissing her. She looked over at James and smiled.

“Hello, so nice to finally meet you,” he said as he extended a hand. She pulled his hand and embraced him too, kissing him on the cheek. As they walked into the home, her sisters turned to her.

“My goodness, Elizabeth!” they breathed as they looked at James. Elizabeth smiled and nodded. She knew.

They had enjoyed a wonderful dinner made by her sisters and mother, and James watched as everyone, besides her father of course, helped in the kitchen and brought the food out to the table. James and her father talked, laughing and discussing their lives. Her father, it seemed, had grown much older than just two years, and she found solace and peace in the fact that James’ contribution would help her family so immensely.

After dinner, she played the piano while her sisters sang and then they sat on the porch and talked, sharing all the events that had happened since the previous year. Mary was to be married to one of the neighbor boys, which she had written to Elizabeth about, but had since decided on a summer wedding, a wedding that James and Elizabeth promised to be at. Her mother was quiet, observing it all and taking it all in, as was common for her.

When they had all gone to bed, Elizabeth had taken James’ hand and silently guided him outside.

“What are we doing?” he asked. She smiled.

“I want to show you around,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek. She loved him seeing her in her own comfort area, even relished a bit in the fact of his uneasiness, as it humanized him  and endeared him to her. She tiptoed with him through their corn fields and around their land, weaving tales in the wind of her childhood.  She took him to the barn and introduced him to her favorite horses, quite different and more domesticated than the ones he owned.

After the tour, she had laid a blanket down in the field and motioned for him to join her; they glanced at the stars and held hands. She realized in this moment that she wanted to take him on her own home turf, just as he had taken her during her beginning at his home. She leaned over him and wrapped a leg on either side. He seemed both surprised and pleased. She brought her lips to his, her long hair covering their faces and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Elizabeth, are you sure no one will stumble upon us?” he asked. She giggled and nodded, kissing him deeply and guiding his hands to her breasts. With her reassurance, he kissed her more deeply as well, placing each breast in a hand. She lifted up her dress, rocking slowly on top of him, listening to his moans beneath her. She took one of his hands from a breast and guided it between her legs, moving back and forth, relishing in the strong hands that she witnessed hold her hands and her face, move within her.

She kissed his neck and chest, moving back to his mouth and nuzzling her head into his neck. She fumbled in the dark with his pants, finally unbuttoning them and sliding them down.

They were all tongues and mouths, kisses and fumbling hands in the pure darkness of the fields, besides for the light glimmer of the moon. And it was underneath this very moon that she took him, riding slowly on top of his, leaning back in ecstasy as he moaned beneath her in pleasure, guiding her hips with his hands.

He leaned up to her, during it all, and whispered that he loved her. She sped up, and placed her head by his, confessing her love to him as well, finishing at the same time, shivering in pleasure.

Afterwards, they talked about their lives and how much had changed in the two years.

“I cannot believe I found you,” he said as he kissed her hand, a romantic motion he always took during their talks.

“A true act of fate,” she said, confidently. She realized, in this moment, it was the true bravery and fearlessness, a conditioned hope from a young age, that her brother had taught, her that had led her down this path.

“I wish I would’ve been able to meet Frances,” James said, as if reading his wife’s thoughts. She nodded, wanting nothing more herself.

He started again, “but I really feel like I feel him here, alive in this house, and alive in you.” She nodded, leaned back, and pulled him down to her, placing her head on his chest. Together, they watched the night sky move, stars pop and flutter across the black abyss, holding onto nothing but one another and all the potential that their futures contained.