by Sahara Kelly
“It happens,” said Royce calmly. “The worst of times leave the longest of memories.”
“You’re very profound tonight,” she observed.
“Life will do that to you.”
“Well mine certainly did. I fell, Royce. Literally. I lost my footing and slid down an icy patch into a deep, hard ditch. It hurt. When I managed to get myself out…” she hesitated, “I was bleeding. Badly. And there was pain. A lot of pain…” she finally unclenched her hands. “I lost the child. My parents thought I’d damaged something internally, and were very worried, but after a little while, the bleeding stopped. I healed, and nothing more was said about it. I don’t think anyone knew or even guessed. I have lived with that knowledge, that I’d lost two of the most valuable things in my life—Michael and our babe—ever since. I have also had to live with the knowledge that Michael chose war over me.”
“And this was the secret you believe your blackmailer has discovered?”
She gazed at him. “I have no other secrets, Royce. None. Since nobody knew of my condition, how could they speak of it?”
“You say you told nobody, and I believe you. But…” he paused a moment in thought. “You must have had a maid?”
“Well yes…”
“And she would have cared for you during the time after you lost the child?
“Yes,” frowned Gwyneth. “But she didn’t know…”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “My sweet, you were an innocent young girl. Most maids are much better informed about the functioning of a woman’s body. She knew. Whether you told her or not, she knew.”
Gwyneth blinked. “I must admit I never thought of that,” she answered. “But…it’s possible.”
“And so you wed the Earl?”
“My parents thought it a good marriage. They were a bit worried about me, since I had become somewhat quiet and I’m sure I wasn’t the best company. They felt an older man would perhaps give me what I needed.”
“Did he?”
“Yes and no.” She looked at him. “He gave me a home, and security. And I think in his own way he cared for me. He certainly didn’t mind exercising his husbandly rights.”
“But he must have known you weren’t a virgin,” he gave her a curious look.
“He never mentioned it.” She sighed. “Our wedding night was a fumbled and mostly drunken affair. The Earl liked fine brandy and his wedding seemed an excellent opportunity for him to indulge. I don’t even know if he remembered doing his duty, since he passed out a moment later. On top of me.”
“Ouch.” Royce winced. “So much for married bliss.”
“Quite,” she replied, dryly.
He stood, walked to the bed and looked at her, then cupped her cheek, raised her face and kissed her. It was a solid kiss, tongue, lips…fingers spreading down to caress her neck and chin. But she felt more comforted by it, than aroused. Perhaps that was his intent.
Then he reached down and pushed her legs apart, and the kiss turned to something else.
*~~*~~*
Journal of Gwyneth, Dowager Countess, Lady of Wolfbridge - May 1818
I don’t know what time it is, other than it is late…my candles are nearly gutted and I am exhausted, but since next week is the final stage of preparation for the Whit Sunday fête, I know it will be busy. And I have thoughts to write down that must be captured now, while they’re still fresh in my mind.
Royce. One name, one simple name, but a very complex and unexpected man.
I told him of my loss, my pain - I believe he understood. Did he also understand my shame? I’m not sure, since I cannot say I understand it myself. But it is there, a silent but present agony that I will probably always carry with me. He confirmed he was once a soldier, and that alone helped when I began my sorry tale. I saw something in his eyes, sympathy or an equal pain…whatever it was he listened and finally comforted me with a deep and loving kiss.
I say loving, because that’s how it felt. For those moments, I truly felt as if he was soothing me, telling me that he understood, and that I could put down my sorrow for a little while.
His movements after that - well, any thoughts of the past and sorrow were driven completely out of my head.
He was standing before me, then suddenly he reached down, thrust my legs apart and pulled me to the edge of the bed so that our bodies were aligned. My robe fell open, my naked body revealed.
Should I confess I untied his robe? I did, my hands trembling as I saw his eyes watching them. His body, thus revealed, proved itself to be a masterpiece of masculine sculpture, albeit with several scars that look as if they caused him great pain. One ran from his thigh up to his hip and had it been several inches to the left - well he would not have had anything in the way of arousal.
Thank God that was not the case.
Royce is possessed of a magnificent set of attributes, as perfect as any statue of any ancient god. His muscles gleamed and I ran my hands over him, noticing how he responded by hardening even more as I did so.
He asked if his body pleased me. I simply looked at him, then knelt and took him into my mouth. How else could I truly answer his question?
He seemed content, resting his hand on the back of my head, guiding me sometimes, letting me find my own rhythm at others. His taste was salty sweet, musky, with a dash of the sandalwood soap he must use when bathing. I admit I enjoyed what I did to him, knowing he was enjoying it as well. A mutual pleasure, one might say.
However, even though at that time I assumed events would progress along the usual and customary lines, I found I was mistaken.
Instead of claiming me, Royce pulled free and looked at me. Then he asked if I would obey him…let him show me a different kind of pleasure.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, and he could see my uncertainty, because he smiled. And when Royce smiles that particular smile - I defy any woman to refuse him anything.
He lay me down, took away my robe and moved the candle close. Nude, I watched his eyes, feeling his fingers as he touched me, the lightest of caresses on places he must have known were already aroused and eager for his attentions.
He toyed and played, especially between my legs, encouraging me to part them, leaning toward them, even blowing cool air on my heated flesh, making me shiver. As I did so, he casually flicked a nipple, and I jumped. I think I also let out a little cry…the sweet pain was unexpected.
He seemed pleased and nodded his approval.
I expected him to come to me, then, since he was ready. A tiny bead of excitement sparkled in the candlelight. I was almost aching for him, and the flare of desire in my loins grew as his sensual strokes inflamed me.
He removed his robe and pulled something from one of the pockets. To my surprise, he showed me two beautiful green balls joined by a silver chain. They were so smooth—shiny, delicate things that he said were jade from the Orient.
Then he climbed over me and lay next to me on the bed. He told me that he wasn’t going to…in his words…fuck me. I was stunned, as you can well imagine. My first thought, the first word from my mouth was why. Why? Was I unappealing?
He laughed when I said that, shook his head and told me he wanted to play tonight. Fucking was too serious and we’d been serious all day. It was time for fun. I was somewhat reassured, but also confused. Which didn’t change when he rested the jade balls on my stomach and let them roll as they wished. The cool roundness was soothing but also exciting in an odd way, coupled with his kisses, which he shared generously with my breasts.
His teeth showed no hesitation in nibbling on me, my nipples were tugged, and almost bitten…he seemed to know how far to go without causing me pain. The balls drifted toward my thighs and he captured the slender chain, letting them roll down over my tender folds. They were cool, smooth - it was a very exciting sensation.
I can’t even begin to describe my surprise when Royce pressed them into me! Yes, that is not a mistake…he actually pushed both jade balls into my body. They slid in without
a check, the silky-smooth roundness feeling most unusual inside me. It is very difficult to describe; they made a slight sound, a chime, as if the balls had something within that moved around when I did.
He turned me, lifting me over his body and settling me on his lap as he lay there, watching me, smiling a little at my confusion. He pulled me very close to his male length, letting it rub against my most sensitive flesh. And then, seemingly without any effort, he began to bounce me.
The balls inside me stirred places that sent thrills of delight through me, and the abrasion of male to female caused by the motion took my breath away.
Royce is truly a talented man, because without blinking an eye, he assailed me with so many pleasurable sensations I found myself flying on a cloud of sensual wonder, an erotic fire stirring deep inside me fuelled by his fingers, his masculinity and those jade balls chiming so softly within my loins.
I rode him, my thighs tightening around his hips, my head falling back as I neared the crest. He reached down and his fingers touched me as he held himself, rubbing us both in time with my bouncing rhythm.
I remember crying out as the peak took me, massive shudders coursing through me as the inner spasms shook a carillon of chimes and my muscles rippled over the jade. I felt moisture, hot liquid on my skin, and I saw Royce as his seed spurted freely over me.
His face was contorted with the pleasure of it, and I understood all too well the ecstasy we shared. He was right. He didn’t need to fuck me. This night was indeed fun for us both, and we laughed a little as I slid off to one side, collapsing in a heap of exhausted delight.
The balls slid out of me as he gently tugged the silver chain, and I will admit to some lingering spasms as they slipped free. Royce heard my tiny moan and leaned over, kissing me there, making me gasp as his tongue tickled my burning flesh.
He looked up my body, seeing his own moisture dappling my skin, my breasts softening now, and yet my woman’s parts still pulsing with the remaining after-effects of my release.
“Again?” he asked, the first word he’d spoken since we began to play. “Let’s see…” and he put his mouth on me, licking and sucking, spreading my wetness with his tongue - and yes, I let go once again, rising slowly but inexorably to the heaven he revealed with his talented kisses.
Is it any wonder I’m exhausted?
I should also be thoroughly ashamed of myself, but I cannot - in all honesty - say that. I’m not ashamed that I played with a man I have come to like and respect. I’m not ashamed that I let him put his odd Oriental toys in my body, and I’m not ashamed that I watched his body release its pleasure even as I reached my own.
I enjoyed it. Very much. And I’d like to think that Royce did as well. He was kind, helping me tidy myself for the night, and gently touching his lips to mine as he left.
I wasn’t sure about him. There is still a reserve there, a shield, that even our play could not pierce. But I can say that I trust him now. I trust him completely. And I feel a little better for having shared not only such play but also my tragic secret. It has lifted a bit of weight off my shoulders.
For that alone I will be forever grateful to him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A few days later, Gwyneth surveyed the men sitting around her as she breakfasted, amazed that they were all still speaking to each other, let alone in good spirits. It was difficult to believe that they had managed to arrive at the day before the Whit Sunday festivities, and all were yet in one piece. Giles remained in London, but had promised to return today, and that topic was discussed over Evan’s wonderful breakfast. He’d added some early fruits to the sideboard, and she was currently enjoying a peach with her toast and tea.
“So, yes, I’d expect him sometime after five or so,” said Royce. “Perhaps in time for dinner, although I’d guess he’s going to be pretty tired.”
“It will be good to have him home again, especially with everything that is happening tomorrow,” she said, glancing out the window to where several colourful tents already stood, awaiting the contents that would stream in after the church service.
“I am very curious to know what he’s learned,” added Gabriel. “I really hope whatever it is, it will help settle things around here.” He looked at Gwyneth. “I can’t clear my mind,” he sighed. “I worry.”
“The fête has helped,” Jeremy commented. “With so much to do, there’s been less time to keep thinking about the mess that might threaten us.”
“Well, I have to say that the arrangements for tomorrow have come together very nicely, thanks to you, my Lady,” Evan dipped his head in her direction, “and to everyone who has spent so considerable a time working on it. The notion of a Medieval fair certainly added a measure of excitement this year. I’ve heard the ladies have pretty much depleted the entire stock of Mistress Tanner’s velvets.” He grinned at her.
She grinned back. “I’m afraid I had a little to do with that.” She thought of the rich green overdress with the bronze ribbons that brought out the highlights in her hair. She had a beautiful circlet of silk flowers to wear with it.
“Our pies are ready,” Evan leaned back in his chair. “And Farmer Simpson has butchered the pig for the roasting spit.”
“The games are ready too,” Jeremy contributed his mite. “And the bowling green is smooth as glass.”
“I’ve gathered all the leftover ribbons, lots of old cloth, a few glittery things like broken buttons and so on…” Gabriel ticked the items off on his fingers, “and Master John the carpenter has worked wonders with the old barrel staves. We have a goodly supply of hobby horses and swords.”
“Do you think the girls will like them?” Gwyneth asked. “I’m not sure how their Mamas will react to their daughters riding astride.”
“We’ll see,” answered Gabriel. “’Tis not impossible that some of the boys will demand a horse, and the girls a sword.”
“Hear hear,” endorsed Evan. “I will be very pleased should that happen.”
“And I’d be very pleased were women allowed to ride astride more often,” Gwyneth added in a dry tone. “Although I wouldn’t mind a sword, either.”
“Let’s not worry about it,” soothed Royce. “I’m sure the children will find a way to have fun, no matter what is available to them. And don’t forget Mrs Smart and her bubble-blowing table. That is bound to be popular.”
“I saw you testing out her supplies,” Jeremy’s mouth curved into that wicked smile. “You did rather well, I thought.”
“I did,” said Royce, his face quite serious. “Not an easy thing, you know, blowing a huge bubble and keeping its shape.”
“I’m sure you would win, Royce,” declared Gwyneth. “After all, you’re known for your amazing command of bluster…”
The laughter rang around the table, as he narrowed his eyes, grinned, and shook his finger at her.
The meal ended with Royce, Gabriel and Jeremy deciding that they should begin supervision of the people drifting in to Wolfbridge with various items for the fête. They would be arriving in dribs and drabs throughout the day, so some sort of organisation was necessary to avert chaos.
Gwyneth willingly picked up some of their dishes and over his protests, helped Evan clear the table.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she cautioned him. “You know I’m not supposed to be left alone in case some nefarious villain decides to kidnap me. So I might as well be useful, since you seem to have been relegated to the position of my nanny.”
Evan simply shook his head and passed her the plates. “All right then. Here.”
They made their way down the stairs to the kitchen where the scent of bread and spices filled the air. Sun streamed in through the high windows, bouncing off glass-fronted cupboards and over the massive stove which always radiated a little heat, whether Evan was cooking anything or not.
“I love this place,” said Gwyneth, breathing it all in. “Always a room laden with warmth and comfort.”
“I’m glad you feel that
way,” smiled Evan, approaching her with a large apron. “You’re about to spend some time in it, and we’ll start with the fine practice of dishwashing.”
He popped the top of the apron over her head and slid his arms around her waist to tie the strings at the back. Their faces were close, so close…she couldn’t resist the invitation she read in his eyes.
Reaching up, she linked her arms around his neck in turn and pulled him down for a light lingering kiss.
“Mmm,” murmured Evan as their lips parted. “You taste wonderful.”
“It must be the peach.”
“No, it’s you,” he came back for more, his tongue sliding into her mouth and learning her softness.
She moaned, amazed at the burst of yearning his kisses inspired. “Evan,” she whispered. “Oh, Evan…”
He pulled back with a sigh. “Dishes, Gwyneth. Dishes.”
“Spoilsport.” She nodded and stepped out of his embrace, feeling a little lost as she did so. But the mood between them had changed, and the tension stayed while they cleared up the remains of breakfast.
“I will be making some jam this morning,” he said, gesturing to several baskets of blackberries. “Those came in yesterday. An excellent early summer crop.”
“May I help?” She raised her eyebrows. “I haven’t made jam since I was a little girl…”
Evan tilted his head to one side. “It might get messy…” He looked at her gown. “I should hate to see your pretty clothing stained with blackberry juice.”
“I can change. There are several quite old things in the wardrobe, any of which could be thrown away if need be…”
He smiled. “Go then. I’ll start picking these over…” He grabbed a basket and spread out a cloth on the large table. Emptying the blackberries, he distributed them into an even layer.