Heavily, he sat down in a chair and started to remove his boots, but first he lifted himself and with a grimace removed a thorny rose from beneath him.
“All I planned was a simple trip north,” he said as he pulled a boot off, pouring water out of it. “I have a friend who has a glasshouse, and he only lives five miles north of here. And of course a bride should have flowers, so I thought I’d just get you some.”
Still, he didn’t look up as he began removing his soaked, filthy coat. A flood of flowers fell from inside his jacket; crushed, falling apart, they cascaded to the floor.
Travis ignored them with a determined aloofness. “I was halfway there when it started to rain,” he continued his story. “But I kept on, and when I got there my friend and his wife got out of bed and personally cut the f
lowers for me. They cleaned out the garden and the glasshouse.”
His shirt, soaked to his skin, came off next, and more flowers drifted to the already considerable pile at his bare feet.
“It was on the way back that the trouble started. The damned horse threw a shoe, and I had to walk in that strip of mud Virginia calls a road. I couldn’t stop and have a new shoe fitted and miss my own wedding night.”
Fascinated, Regan could only watch him, her heart beginning to heal with every word he spoke.
“Then lightning flashed, and the horse reared and knocked me in the mud. If that animal lives two more days, it won’t be because I allow it,” he threatened. “I would have let it go, but the damned flowers were on the saddle, so I had to spend two hours in the storm looking for that animal, and when I found it the saddle was gone.”
Angrily, he stripped off his pants. “Another hour went by before I found the saddle and all these…these….” he said, pulling what was left of a peony from his pants and giving a crooked smile as he slowly crushed it before letting it drop. “The bags were broken, and there was no way to carry them, so I started stuffing them wherever I could.” His eyes locked with hers for the first time. “There I was, a grown man, standing in the middle of one of the worst storms of the year, filling my clothes with these thorny, itchy, smelly flowers. Do you know how much a fool I felt like, and what the hell are you crying about?” he said in the same breath and tone.
Picking up a slightly damaged and very wet rose from the bed, she held it to her nose. “A bride should have flowers,” she whispered. “You did this for me.”
Bewilderment and exasperation showed on Travis’s wet face. “Why else would I go out on a night like this, on my own wedding night, for God’s sake, unless it was for my bride?”
Regan couldn’t answer, just kept her head down, tears beginning to flow.
After a moment’s silent thought, Travis came to her, lifted her chin in his hand, and studied her face. “You’ve been crying a lot,” he said quietly. “You didn’t think I was coming back, did you?”
Jerking away from him, she walked to the head of the bed. “No, of course not. It’s just—”
A soft chuckle from Travis made her turn. He was naked, standing like some god of old in a wealth of fragrant flowers, and she began to smile too. He had returned to her, and he’d gone to a great deal of trouble to give her what she wanted.
Travis’s eyes, looking at her in the sheer gown, turned hot with desire. “Don’t I get a reward for all my work?” he whispered, opening his arms to her.
With one giant leap, Regan flew at him, her arms going about his neck, her legs around his waist.
Surprised for a moment, Travis caught her. “How could you think I’d leave you after all the trouble I’ve gone through to get you?” he murmured before fastening his lips to hers.
The feel of his bare skin, cool and damp between her legs, made her shiver with pleasure as she tightened her legs about his middle until she threatened to sever him in half. Only the thin bit of silk between them kept their skin apart as she rubbed against him, her breasts nearly crushed by the hard mass of his chest.
Her hands went to his hair, pulling on the wet thickness of it, her fingers disappearing into it as her lips made a hot trail across his mouth. He was here; he’d come back to her, and he was her husband, hers to do with as she wanted.
In glee, feeling powerful, she bit his earlobe much too hard.
Within an instant she found herself pulled from Travis and being flung through the air, landing in an explosion of flowers of hundreds of shades and hues and a swirl of delicate silk. Brushing four daffodils off her face, she smiled up at Travis as he stood over her, hands on hips, muscles bulging, manhood towering.
“Now that’s the way a bride should look.”
“Stop talking and come here,” she laughed, holding her arms up to him.
But instead of going to her, he knelt and kissed her toes, one by one, his tongue teasing the soft pads. His hot mouth moved to the bottoms of her feet, and as he raked his teeth along the arch she jumped as a nerve inside her tightened, jolting her entire body.
Travis laughed, a deep rumbling sound that touched her foot, traveled up her leg, and reverberated in the center of her being.
“Travis,” she gasped, lifting herself and reaching for him. Flowers under her crackled and released their heady fragrance. But he ignored her as his lips moved upward to her knees, exploring, kissing, caressing.
Regan, ready for him, actually eager for him, felt she would go insane as he toyed with her senses. His mouth tortured one leg, and as if that weren’t enough, his hand, so strong yet so sensitive, caressed the muscles of the other leg until she was weak with helplessness. Yet at the same time she felt like a tigress, wanting to claw and bite, wanting to tear at this man who threatened her sanity.
When he reached the center of her with his hands and lips, she nearly screamed, rolling her head in agony at what he was doing.