by Pamela Clare
“Wondrous?” Alec had always considered himself well endowed, but none of his lovers had used the word wondrous before.
“Aye. It is wondrous how a man’s wee willie can be so small and soft one moment, then suddenly become so large and hard.”
“Wee willie?” He choked on the words, torn between laughter and humiliation.
“Aye, wee willie. Have you never heard the term before?”
“Nay! Pray tell, where did you learn it?”
“It’s the word my mother used to describe a male’s … nether parts.”
Alec saw her cheeks flush. “And I suppose it’s the term you use when you speak to Jamie.”
“Aye, what else?”
“Poor lad.”
“What do you call it?”
“I call it a cock, love. Mmmm.”
“Cock.” She stroked down the length of him, until his foreskin was drawn taut, then drew her hand up again over the head. “And does it please you when I touch your cock?”
“Aye.” She was a fast learner. “Stop.”
He removed her hand, afraid it would be over before it began if he let her continue.
“Did that not feel good?”
“I’m afraid, love, it felt too good.” He pulled her to rest against his chest.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. From somewhere in the distance came the song of a whippoorwill. Whip-poor-weel. Whip-poor-weel.
She met his gaze from beneath thick lashes. “Why did you change your mind and come to my bed?”
“The roof to my cabin was leaking frightfully.”
She sat up with an indignant huff but laughed at his jest just the same. “I want the real reason.”
“The real reason?” He pulled her back into his arms and planted a kiss on her nose. He paused, uncertain how to express what he felt. “I wanted you more than I wanted to breathe.”
“I’m glad.” Her smile made his blood run hot.
“You, my love,” he said, brushing a wayward curl from her eyes, “are a temptress, a beautiful seductress.”
Cassie shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and Alec realized with some sense of amazement that she did not believe him.
“Your eyes, for example.” He paused and kissed each eyelid. “They put emeralds to shame.”
She shook off his compliment with a smile and a toss of her head.
“Your lips make a man think of nothing but kissing you.” His mouth closed over hers to show her just what kind of kiss he had in mind.
She wriggled against him.
“Your breasts…” He cupped one eager mound and circled its rosy peak with his thumb, “…Are meant for this.”
He turned her gently onto her back, holding her arms over her head and capturing one taut bud with his mouth. Slowly he circled her nipple with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth to suckle it before moving to its twin. He heard her whimper, felt her twist beneath him. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her body cast half in shadow and half in moonlight.
Abruptly he stopped.
She whimpered in frustration.
“I suspect that when the gentlemen of London catch their first glimpse of you, they shall become a bunch of randy satyrs and I shall have to spend all my time fighting them off.” He turned onto his side and looked down at her, his head propped on one arm.
“London?”
Chapter Twenty-two
Cassie sat up and looked at him with surprise, her hair in glorious disarray about her shoulders. The tight pink crests of her breasts glistened with moisture where he’d kissed her, and Alec found it terribly difficult to think.
“Aye, London.” He laughed, letting his hands glide over the softness of her skin. “You didn’t think I’d leave you behind, did you?”
She dropped her gaze, and he saw that was precisely what she’d believed. An image of the young woman his brother had abandoned leaped unbidden to his mind.
He sat up and cupped her face with his hands, sexual play all but forgotten. “Look at me, Cassie.”
Slowly she lifted her gaze to his, her eyes full of wariness.
“I will never forsake you. That I promise.”
“Alec, I—”
He held a finger to her lips to still her. “I know we’ve spoken no vows, but I swear before God I will make you my wife as soon as I am able.”
She stared at him. “Wife?”
“Aye, my wife. For all we know, you could be carrying my child now.” His hand slid down her gently rounded belly to rest over her womb. Her gaze met his again, and for once he could not read the emotion he saw there. Doubt? Fear?
“Kiss me.” She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.
He complied, pressing her gently back onto the pillows, tasting her mouth. Taking the kiss deeper, he stroked the milky undersides of her breasts, kneading their fullness. This time would be different. He would teach her the secrets of her body, and then … He heard her sigh, felt her breath quicken as he lazily stroked first one taut peak, then the other, taking each into his mouth in turn.
Her fingers twisted in his hair, drawing him closer. Her pleasure the source of his own, he caressed the soft curves of her hips and belly, then reached to cup the patch of red-gold curls between her thighs. He pressed the heel of his palm into her woman’s mound in a slow, circular motion.
She moaned. “That feels so … so … ”
“Good?” He brushed his lips over the sensitive skin of her throat, then teased the whorl of her ear with his tongue.
“Aye!” She lifted her hips to meet the pressure of his hand.
Taunted by her sighs and tortured by the musky scent of her arousal, he delved gently into the inner folds of her sex, maintaining pressure on her mound, and was rewarded with a lusty moan. She was hot and slick, more than ready for him. Still he refrained. He sought and found her swollen bud and, catching it between two outstretched fingers, tugged gently on it until she trembled with pleasure.
“Do you like that, my sweet?”
Her head tossed from side to side on her pillow—the only answer he needed.
“Perhaps you’ll like this even better.” Alec penetrated her with one finger, two, stroking her gently, deeply, until his fingers were slick with her juices. Then he began to slide them quickly back and forth over that most sensitive spot. Her breathing was almost frantic now, and her thighs spread wider to give him access.
With one hand, she gripped his arm, her nails biting his flesh, while her other hand clutched at the sheets.
“You like that, too, I see. What about this?” Possessed by an appetite all their own, his lips traced a line from her throat to her breasts and down her belly. He felt her shiver and saw goose bumps spread across her creamy skin. He wanted to taste her, to possess her with his tongue and lips. Lowering his mouth to her cleft, he kissed her deeply.
“Alec!”
But her voice when she cried his name held not pleasure, only shock. Her entire body was stiff with surprise.
“Shhh, love.” He lifted his head to kiss her belly, careful not to alarm her. Until tonight, she’d been a virgin. Ruled by his own appetites, he feared he was again moving too fast. “Someday you’ll ask me to love you with my mouth.”
He slowly kissed his way back up her body. When he looked into her eyes again, he knew a thrill of victory. She wanted it even now. Let her wait. Anticipation would make it all the better.
“I need you.” Her gaze locked with his, and in their depths Alec saw a hunger to match his own.
“Aye.” Raising himself above her, he settled himself between her milk-white thighs. Struggling to hold on to his self-control, he touched the tip of his shaft to her cleft and withdrew. He’d hurt her once. He wouldn’t hurt her again. Slowly he entered her again and again, going deeper each time before withdrawing, giving her time to open to his intrusion. She was heaven—so wet and tight. He found himself fighting not to come right away. “Sweet Jesus!”
Slowly, so slowly he moved
within her, her soft moans urging him on. He had wondered many times what it would be like to make love to Cassie, to watch her naked and writhing beneath him, but no fantasy could compare with this. She twisted and arched with abandon, whimpering his name, her artless responses more intoxicating than anything he could have imagined. When she wrapped her legs around him, opening her body to him fully, Alec thought he would lose himself.
“Alec, please.” Her hands moved over the muscles of his back, gripped his shoulders.
“Come for me, love,” he murmured against her cheek. He quickened the pace, felt her muscles tighten in response. “I want to feel you come.”
Almost immediately, she cried out, and he felt her body tense, her muscles clenching around him in ecstatic rhythm.
When her peak had passed, he stilled himself within her and waited until he felt her body relax, trailing kisses over her cheeks and forehead. “My beautiful Cassie.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“Ah. But there’s more.” Holding himself deep within her, he pressed his pelvis against her mound in slow, tantalizing circles. She was wet with the juices of her climax. Her skin was rosy and covered with a sheen of sweat. Her breasts were swollen with passion, and Alec couldn’t resist the urge to suckle them.
Drawing on her nipples with his lips, he felt her response begin to build anew. She whimpered and called his name, but he would not release her. Not yet. He angled his pelvis the better to press against her swollen slit, grinding in relentless circles. Her nails dug into his back, and still he would not relent. He wanted to prolong her pleasure, to take her to the brink.
“Oh, Alec, I’m dying!”
Feeling her desperation, Alec suckled harder upon her, nipped her breasts gently with his teeth, and quickened the pace. Around and around he moved, his cock deep inside her. And then he felt it—her sharp intake of breath, the quivering of her belly, the tightness of her muscles as they contracted around him.
She cried out and arched her back, nearly lifting him with her as bliss overtook her a second time.
When her climax had passed, he again held himself still within her and watched as her breathing slowed, nuzzling her throat, kissing her eyelids. “You have no idea how exciting it is to watch you come.”
“You watch?” She looked up at him, a shy smile curving the corners of her lips.
“Mmm-hmm.” He withdrew from her all the way, still rock hard, and then buried himself again, eliciting a deep moan. “Keep your eyes open this time.”
“Again? Oh, Alec, I can’t—“
“You can.” He kissed her. “You will.”
Near the end of his restraint, he reached down and lifted her legs so that they rested on his shoulders. “Trust me,” he said at the surprised look on her face. Placing his hands beneath her bottom, he angled her hips so his shaft would stroke the most sensitive part inside her. Then he withdrew again and plunged into her intoxicating warmth. Her hands gripped the muscles of his arms, nails digging into his skin.
Faster, harder, he drove himself into her, his gaze locked with hers. Deeper he plunged, until he could feel her womb. His sac bounced against her bottom with each stroke, his testicles tightening as his own peak drew near. He felt her climax, saw the bliss in her eyes—and his control shattered. Giving in to rapture, he exploded, pouring himself into her as she milked him to ecstasy, giving him final release.
Moments later he kissed the moisture from her brow.
“I believe, my dear,” he said when he could speak again, “you have slain me.”
* * *
Cassie peered at the tobacco leaf Micah held in his hands, keenly aware of Alec’s presence beside her. The color was right—a grayish yellow-green—and when the overseer bent it, the leaf snapped cleanly in two.
“It’s time.” Micah’s brow was beaded with perspiration. He turned and whistled sharply, signaling to the field hands to bring their knives and begin cutting.
Cassie shaded her eyes from the hot August sun, surveying the field, row upon row of tobacco plants extending well into the distance. It was an enormous task that lay ahead of them.
“You’d best begin.” She gave Alec a guarded smile, memories of last night’s lovemaking fresh in her heart. With so many people around, she could not do what she wanted to do, which was to take his hand and give him a kiss. It was still hard for her to believe these past six weeks of loving had not been a dream.
“As you wish, Mistress,” he replied, his eyes telling her he had not forgotten last night either.
“Do be careful,” she whispered, watching as he tested the tobacco knife in his hand, getting a feel for its weight. “I wouldn’t want you to lop off anything important by accident.”
“Thank you for the advice.” His face was serious, but his blue eyes sparkled.
She turned and threaded her way through the rows of lush waist-high plants back to the cookhouse, where empty jugs waited to be filled with sweet water and cider. The men would grow thirsty working so hard in this heat and would need something cool to refresh them.
Looking over her shoulder to capture one last discreet glimpse, she saw Alec bent low, slashing the tobacco stalks and tossing them on the ground to wilt in the sun, the muscles of his back shifting as he worked. Pretending he meant nothing to her was sheer torture. So far, their affection for one another seemed to have gone undiscovered by all save Takotah and perhaps Nan.
Takotah had left a pouch of herbs on Cassie’s bed one afternoon without saying a word. Only when Cassie opened it and smelled the contents did she realize Takotah’s intent. These particular herbs were used to prevent a man’s seed from taking root. She had tucked them away, hesitant to use them. Her monthly flux had come and gone as expected last month, and she’d been torn between relief and bitter disappointment at the knowledge that she did not carry his child. He would be leaving so soon.
A shadow passed over her heart at the thought. She was forced to feign indifference by day, but he meant everything to her. She’d lost count of the times they’d made love these past six weeks, meeting secretly by night in the stables, in his cabin, at the cove. Just when she thought he’d taught her all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, he’d show her something new, bringing her unimagined pleasure, satisfying her completely. Except for one thing.
He still hadn’t said he loved her. And she, afraid to tell him what lay in her heart, had not been able to speak those words to him, even though they were on her lips every time he smiled or touched her or called her name.
As she rounded the corner of the cookhouse, she made the mistake of looking toward the porch. It was empty. For a moment the sight took her by surprise, but only for a moment. A lump rose to her throat as she remembered.
Old Charlie was gone. The ague had come back in force, the stagnant marsh air fed by the recent rains. This time, it had taken lives. The first to die had been a slave child barely a year old. Charlie had been next, the fever taking him so suddenly Takotah had had no chance to treat him. They’d buried him nearly two weeks ago. Cassie had defied the law that forbade funeral services for slaves and read from the Bible herself. Still, she could not believe he was gone. He’d been with her family since before she was born, had held her on his knee, told her stories, whittled wooden horses for her as he had later whittled wooden ships for Jamie. How she would have gotten through that day without Alec to comfort her, she knew not.
Four others lay ill at the moment, but Takotah expected them to recover. Cassie prayed they would. Summer was nearly past.
Soon the marsh air would cool and lose its vile potency. If only they could all stay healthy until then. The supply of quinquina was running dangerously low.
She opened the door to the cookhouse to the sound of someone retching.
“Did God give ye no sense, child?” she heard Nan ask.
Nan held Elly’s head over a copper basin while the girl threw up her breakfast.
&nbs
p; “We all know better than to eat strange berries. Is it an early grave yer lookin’ for?”
Elly wiped her mouth on the cloth Nan provided, panting for breath, her face unusually pale.
“What did the berries look like?” Alarmed, Cassie felt Elly’s forehead for fever. She was cool.
“I’d swear they were blackberries, Mistress.” Elly’s blue eyes were as round as those of a frightened child. “I’d not have eaten them else.”
“Does your stomach hurt?”
“Nay, Mistress. Oooh!” She threw up again.
“Poor lamb.” Nan stroked her forehead.
“When did you first start feeling ill?” Cassie was puzzled. Usually eating poisonous plants brought stomach pain, fever, fits, and other symptoms.
“It’s been this way every morning this week,” Elly said when she caught her breath.
Perplexed, Cassie tried to recall any illnesses that included similar symptoms.
“When was your last flux?” Nan asked gravely.
Cassie gasped, understanding at once the direction Nan’s thoughts had taken. This was what she had hoped to prevent.
“When was your last flux?” Nan asked again.
Elly turned beet red. “June.”
Nan reached inside Elly’s gown and, ignoring the girl’s squeak of protest, felt her breasts. “You’re not sick, lamb. You’re with child.” Nan shook her head soberly and bent her heavy form to remove the fouled basin. Its contents would go to the pigs.
“Who is the father?” Cassie demanded.
“A baby!” Elly whispered. She lifted her chin and glared at Cassie in defiance.
“Very well. I think I know the answer.” Cassie turned and stormed out of the cookhouse in search of a sawyer who was about to get the tongue-lashing of his life.
Zach had not been himself for weeks. He drank alone until the wee hours of the morning, then got up late each day, his temper foul. Alec had said it must have something to do with Elly. He’d been right. By the time she found him, Zach was working beside Alec, a trail of freshly cut tobacco behind them.