The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,15

after wave of incredible pleasure washed over her and she held onto John now to keep herself from floating away completely.

A touch was all it had taken. John looked into her face, and marveled at how receptive she was to him. He never expected a response like hers. His own need burned till he thought he might explode. One hand fumbled with the wet fastener on his pants as his mouth dipped down to capture her lips. And that’s when he heard the voices.

It amazed John how he could hear Eleanor’s name being called, when earlier his desire had blocked out the rage of the storm. But now he realized the storm was past and only a smattering of raindrops sounded against the roof.

“What is it?” Eleanor looked up at him, her eyes round, her lips still moist from his kisses. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard something.” John pushed up on his elbows, the passion of moments ago still coursing through his veins.

“I don’t—” Eleanor paused when she heard the voices. “Oh, my goodness. It’s my father.” The truth of what was happening came crashing down on her, but she couldn’t seem to make herself move. She was lying on the splintery floor of an abandoned shack, soaking wet. Her skirts where pushed above her waist and she’d been doing the unspeakable with a man she hadn’t even known before this summer.

And she was about to be caught by her father.

Except that John seemed to have his wits about him. He was up reaching down and pulling her to standing before she knew what he was about. He yanked her sodden skirts down, then turned toward the door just as it fell open.

~ ~ ~

“How could you, Eleanor?”

Letting her head fall back against the pillow, Eleanor shut her eyes to the sight of her mother pacing about her bedroom. Every time she turned, Matilda paused to grab up her train and swish it around behind her.

“How could you go to that... shack with that man?”

Eleanor wasn’t sure which her mother resented most, that she’d been rescued by John Bonner, or that she’d sought refuge in a shack. Thank heavens she didn’t know what Eleanor did in that shack with John Bonner.

“Mother, I didn’t try to be swept off the sailboat,” Eleanor said wearily. Now that the ordeal was over she was incredibly tired.

Matilda looked as if she might argue that point, but just pursed her lips instead. “Your clumsiness was nearly the death of you. Now you know why I disapprove of you going out on boats.”

“Is that truly why, Mother?” Eleanor lifted her head. “I always thought it was because you knew I enjoyed it.”

Matilda’s eyes narrowed. They seemed as hard and cold as flint. “I see your ordeal has left you insufferably disrespectful.” She turned, flipping her train behind her. “I shall have to assume it is because of that Bonner man.” With her fingers on the gold door handle she paused. “Get some rest, Eleanor. Sir Alfred has already called once and I told him you were indisposed. By tomorrow I should think you could receive him.”

Eleanor watched her mother leave, then settled back on the velvet bedcover with a sigh.

She was being impertinent, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. And she didn’t think it had anything to do with John Bonner. Though he overwhelmed her so completely that maybe he controlled her mind too and she just didn’t know it. Eleanor giggled at the thought, then clasped her hand over her mouth in case someone might hear her.

Wouldn’t they wonder why she was so giddy? Tall, awkward, Eleanor Fiske. Giddy with love.

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Eleanor rolled over. She pressed her breasts into the mattress, nearly moaning at the memories her tingling nipples brought to mind.

John Bonner. Tall, brave and incredibly handsome loved her. He’d risked his life to save her. Like a knight in shining armor. At first when she saw him in the water Eleanor had assumed he’d been swept overboard much as she was. But her father and Sir Alfred both saw him dive in after her.

How fearless. How courageous. Eleanor couldn’t come up with enough adjectives to describe her beloved. She remembered how frightened she’d been, the waves tossing her about. And how she felt when she knew he was there with her.

She loved him There was no denying it.

And he loved her, too.

Oh, perhaps he hadn’t said so. Not in words anyway. But he jumped in after her. And