The Mistress of Trevelyan

by Jennifer St Giles

  I paced back toward him, daring a glance at his face, knowing my own had to be scorching red. He had both his brows raised. “Acts of passion? Well versed?” he repeated dryly.

  Humph. Not a very helpful response.“You know,” I said, waving my hand toward the bed,“those things that you did last night. Now, according to this medical book, there are several female preventatives available.”

  “Really,” he said.“Do tell.”

  My mouth went dry.“You mean you want me to describe them?”

  “That would be a start,” he commented. His expression didn’t reveal anything he might be thinking.

  “Well, according to this book, a female syringe and chemicals can be purchased for contraceptive purposes, but I haven’t exactly figured out when one is supposed to use such a device. The book doesn’t really say.”

  “How remiss of it. Is there more?”

  “Very little, I’m afraid. In their discussion of contraceptive instruments they refer to a female preventative known rather oddly as a pisser, but I have not quite decided what good cotton or a silk-wrapped sponge with a thread attached would do other than be rather uncomfortable. That only leaves us with coitus interruptus, I am afraid.”

  Benedict’s chest heaved, and I realized the incorrigible man was holding back laughter. “Coitus interruptus, did you say?”

  “Most certainly, though it reportedly has ill effects upon a man’s constitution.” I stopped pacing and crossed my arms to tap my foot in irritation. “This is not a laughing matter. I find it rather dismal that science can make a telescope to see planets in the heavens, but has very little knowledge when it comes to female parts.”

  “Coitus interruptus,” Benedict said, then gasped for air, only to howl again with laughter.

  I wanted to hit him with the medical book I held. Instead I marched over to him and shoved the book into his chest. “When you recover from your mirth and can address the discussion with maturity, perhaps we will have something to talk about.”

  Then I turned on my heel and marched determinedly in my slippers—not an easy task, for they weren’t meant for marching—back to the secret passage.

  “Titania, wait,” Benedict said, catching me and wrapping his arms around me to pull me back against his chest.“I am sorry. Your rather direct manner caught me off guard, though I should not have been surprised.”

  “This is important, Benedict,” I said, feeling a sting of tears in my eyes, which he must have sensed because he immediately swung me around to face him.

  He looked deep into my eyes and brushed hair from my damp cheek with a gentle finger.“I am sorry,” he said softly.

  “Please understand. I cannot negligently let a child bear the stigma that my mother accidentally placed upon me.”

  “As far as I can see, there is only love upon you. But I understand what you are saying. The truth of the matter is that I spent the whole of the day addressing this very issue.”

  I blinked.“The whole of the day? How?” I was amazed to see him wince.

  “Well, you might say I too went on a fact-finding mission. The results of which we will employ at the proper moment during our, how did you phrase it? Acts of passion?”

  “You have a contraceptive instrument? Where did you purchase it? Which one?”

  “Well, I conferred with several women known for their female services to men and received advice at a few parlor houses that cater to such services. The result is that I determined the best contraceptive isn’t a female device. There’s something out for men to use, though I had a difficult time finding a supply of them here in San Francisco. Few men are choosing to use them, and I must admit that I’m not even sure I will find it all that comfortable, but I’m hoping that the pleasure of our ‘acts of passion’ will override any problems.”

  “A male device? What are they made of?” I asked, for I’d read about the use of certain things that I would never consider getting near.

  Benedict laughed. “You read too much, my dear. These contraceptives are made of a harmless, somewhat elastic substance.” He slid his hands down my back and pulled my hips against his. “Now I think it’s time we practiced a little coitus noninterruptus.”

  I pushed him away and turned my back. “You are making fun of me.”

  “No. I am not. I am amazed and delighted with you.” Once again, he slid his arms around me and pressed himself intimately against my back. His hands delved into the opening of my robe and cupped my breasts.“Let’s make that very amazed and delighted.” He brushed my hair away from my neck with his chin and kissed the tender skin just behind my ear.

  My breath caught, and I shivered with the need to touch him. Raising my arms, I threaded my fingers through his hair, pressing his kiss deeper against my neck.

  “Did you think about me today, Titania? Did you think about where I would kiss you? Did you think about where I would touch you?”

  “Yes,” I said, arching my breasts against his questing hands.

  “I thought about you, too.” Moving like a master, he opened my robe, and urging my hands down, slid it off my shoulders. Then he pulled off my nightgown, leaving me unclothed. I had but a moment to shiver before the warmth of him covered my back. His kisses began at the top of my spine, his caresses began at the tips of my breasts, and the magic fire he spread ignited my senses as he moved down my body. His kissed every inch of my back, making me tingle in new places. His hands molded my breasts, soothed their way over my stomach, then explored their way down my legs. He touched me everywhere but the very place I needed him most.

  “Benedict,” I said urgently, wanting him to abandon his leisurely pace.

  “Shh, Titania. Let me know you the way I need to.” He turned me around to face him. He was on his knees before me, looking up at me with such a naked hunger burning in his dark eyes that I nearly took a step back from the force of it. Instead, I set my hands upon his shoulders and urged him to remove his shirt. He shrugged it off, leaving the broad expanse of his shoulders, back, and chest open to my touch. I eased my hands over his head, down his neck, and across his shoulders, slowly, gently, committing every indentation, every sinewy ripple, to memory.

  He shuddered beneath my touch and bowed his head, letting his forehead rest upon my stomach as he drew in ragged breaths. My heart tripped over itself at his vulnerability. How could I, so spinsterish a maid as I was, bring such a man to his knees? I never thought it possible, never believed that I would be a magical queen with a knight at my feet. But perhaps he was a man who looked upon the beauty of the heart.

  Humbled, I eased myself to my knees, letting Benedict’s head brush up my stomach, between my breasts, and finally to my lips. I kissed him tenderly on his forehead; then, looking deeply into his eyes, I pressed my lips to his. Silently, with everything in me, I told him I loved him in the kiss.

  The tenderness disappeared beneath a wave of passion as he kissed me back, holding me in place by cupping my neck. His tongue delved into my mouth, searching and questing to mate with such fervor I thought there’d be no end to his hunger.

  I felt his other hand unbutton his trousers and then the heat of his insistent arousal against my stomach. I started to reach for him to touch him there, where he must ache for me as I ached for him, but he raked his hands to my bottom and jerked me against him. My hands went to his shoulders to balance myself, and my thighs spread to the outside of his.

  “Wrap your legs around me, Titania, and hold on tight,” he urged, pressing my femininity closer to him.

  I hooked my legs around his hips. He locked his arms around my back and stood, holding me against himself. Then he carried me across the room to the bed and set me upon the soft mattress.

  “We have things to explore.”

  “Things?” I said, turning to look at what he meant. Neatly set on a table beside the bed were a number of vials of different colored liquid and a couple of other “things” I didn’t quite know what to make of. It would seem his penchant for the unus
ual applied to something besides naming horses. I was rather intrigued with the “things.”

  Keeping one arm around me, Benedict picked up a vial of amber liquid that had already been opened. I gave the vial a wary look. “Uh, Benedict, shouldn’t we discuss these things?”

  He swirled the liquid in the glass, then waved it beneath my nose.“Fragrant oil, my dear. Smell.”

  I breathed in. The scent eased like warm butter over my sensitive nose, bringing to mind a rather exotic scent, something that I may have possibly smelled once when my mother and I visited a woman of Asian descent for a healing herb. The smell made me tingle inside, similar to the way Benedict’s sandalwood and spice did. “Oh,” I said, leaning forward to take another whiff.

  “Not too much,”he said, slipping the vial away.“The lady called it Ambrosia and said to use but a little in very special places.” He set the vial down, picked up a glass tube, and dipped it into the oil.“Let me have your hand, Titania.”

  He spread the oil across my fingertips. They tingled. He guided my hand to his arousal.“Touch me.”

  My breath caught, but I didn’t hesitate to feel him. Iron hardness, velvety smoothness, and throbbing heat were the words that first came to my mind as I spread the oil over his maleness. He groaned and shuddered.

  “My turn now,” he said gruffly. Putting oil on his hands, he eased my legs apart and smoothed the oil over my damp femininity. I gasped and shuddered as an arousing tingle flowed over my flesh.

  “Benedict,” I breathed, grasping for his shoulders. My need to have him within me became suddenly urgent.

  “I know,” he said, sounding desperate. He quickly sheathed his arousal and pressed himself inside me. I scooted closer to him, needing more. Frantic to have more.

  Sliding his hands beneath me, he drove himself deep inside me. I gazed up at him, meeting his hungry gaze with mine. He stared into my eyes, and he thrust himself into me. My hips arched to him, caught up in the heated storm overtaking us both. His hands covered my breasts, and the residual Ambrosia on them set me even more on fire. I met his hips with thrusts of my own, caught up in the fervor of reaching that heavenly satisfaction before I went up in flames.

  But satisfaction kept slipping from my grasp. Perspiration beaded my skin and dripped from his burgeoning muscles. Our bodies crashed together like waves upon the cliffs, moving so fast that all movement became a blur.

  “I am going to die,” Benedict said, his every syllable like a shattering glass.

  “Take me with you,” I cried, moaning.

  Benedict grunted as if he knew no greater pain, no greater pleasure. And just when I thought we were about to truly expire from a frenzy of unquenchable passion, the pinnacle came in a bright burst of light and a soul-dousing wash of exquisite pleasure.

  He shouted, and went taut. Then he crashed on the bed beside me. Neither of us could breathe, and both of our hearts were pounding so hard and so fast that our chests were quivering.

  “Perhaps… it would be… best to… read about… certain things… before we use them.”

  He rolled over and put his arm around me, seemingly recovering faster than me. “If anyone ever wrote that down and passed it around, humanity would be doomed. They would all be in the bedroom, and the world would come to an end.”

  “Surely… not everyone…”

  He lifted a questioning brow, amazing me that he had the stamina to lift anything.“Where would you be?”

  “Perhaps you have a point.”

  “Perhaps?” he asked, pulling me against him.

  He definitely had a point, but I thought it best to let him wonder about it. So I shut my eyes and snuggled up to him, hoping I’d be able to move before Dobbs made his morning appearance. I didn’t have to worry. Benedict made sure my reputation didn’t suffer.

  My desire to be with Benedict seemed to know no limits. It grew from each minute to each hour, and from each hour to each day as the week passed. I spent my days with his sons and my nights in his arms. Thoughts of him consumed me, and today seemed to be worse than ever. I just had to see him, even just to hear his voice.

  Stephen had sent word that he’d come to the schoolroom after tea to play chess with Justin and Robert. I decided that I would seek out Benedict then, for just a moment. Justin and Robert, having finished their lessons, were once again playing with the wooden horses. This time they’d built a fort out of the blocks and were hiding from the bad witch in the fort. Stephen walked in just as Justin shouted, “All is lost, but we’re going to fight to the end, Sir Robert.”

  Stephen smiled at the boys’ play. It was the first I’d seen him smile in a while. “We used to play like that, Benedict and me, and Katherine, too. We were knights pledging to uphold all things honorable and true, and Katherine was the queen we protected with our dying breaths. But I could never quite match Benedict’s strength. He always prevailed, and I’d fail. Odd, how childhood games can often mirror our lives.”

  My heart clenched for Stephen; growing up in Benedict’s shadow must not have been easy.“I suppose life does mirror our childhood sometimes,” I said, thinking back upon the days in Holloway Park that I’d dreamed of those here in Trevelyan Manor. Perhaps just by dreaming, I’d placed myself within it.

  “I have given a lot of thought to what you said to me the other night in the garden. I was in my cups, but your words still hit home. Standing like a man to face my sins is going to be a tall order to fill.”

  I took a deep breath and ventured a guess.“Isn’t that why you came back?”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, but the doing of it turned out to be a great deal more difficult than I expected.”

  “When I was younger, I would arise in the morning and look at the huge task of washing mountains of clothes with dread. My mother always seemed to know what troubled my heart, and she said, ‘Just as a babe learns to walk one step at a time, a man climbs a mountain, or a woman raises a child alone.’ Any of life’s tasks, no matter how great, can be achieved by so simple a way as one step at a time. And when the heart is willing, the job is easier. I sense your heart is willing.”

  “So you think I can redeem myself one step at a time?”

  “I believe so.”

  “You do not hate me for what I did, do you?”

  I sighed, since loving Benedict as I did, I found I could not condemn another for loving. “I do not condone what you did, and I believe that you are truly repentant. I see a great many worthy things within you, and I believe the greatest sin of all would be to let those things die by drowning yourself in drink and self-pity.”

  “The avenging angel bestows mercy. It is a gift that I will cherish and not waste.”

  “I am but a governess who prides herself on being practical as much as you thrive on drama. Perhaps once you have taken truths to heart, you should put them to pen after all, and try your hand at poetry. It may be that you will write the words that will keep others from your folly.”

  “I think I just may do that.”

  “Uncle Stephen, I drew a picture of Cesca in my notebook. Do you want to see her?” Justin came up, holding the drawing pad I had given him for his birthday. My heart swelled a little. Justin was returning to the circle of his family, one small step at a time.

  Stephen paled, and I realized that though Justin referred to his pony, Stephen would always think of Francesca when he heard the name. I left, asking Stephen if he wouldn’t mind taking the boys down to Cook Thomas for dinner after their chess game. I wondered if one small step at a time was going to work for Stephen.

  And what about myself? I’d made very little progress in figuring out what had really happened to Francesca. This whole week I’d thought of nothing but being in Benedict’s arms. He had a way of making everything else become unimportant.

  Walking down the hall, I realized that it had been quite some time since I’d had the sensation of being watched. In fact, I think the last time I’d felt it was when I’d gone through and opened all of
the doors. Tackling things in a direct manner worked.

  Thankfully, Dobbs wasn’t standing guard in the foyer, and I took my time, turning circles through the dancing colors of light, lifting my face to their warmth. A soft laugh escaped from me as I realized I was so full of love that my heart was bubbling over with it.

  “May I?” Benedict asked.

  Swinging around, I came to an abrupt stop. He stood, leaning against the frame of his study door, his arms crossed, the length of his legs molding buckskin-colored breeches to an almost indecent degree. But it was the sensual question in his dark eyes that made my senses tingle and my insides turn all buttery.

  “May you? I’m sorry, I must have missed what you said.”

  “You have not missed anything yet, Miss Lovell, I assure you. Come, I will show you.”He held out his hand. Crossing the few feet separating us, I placed my hand in his. The warm strength I always associated with his touch eased into me. He led me into his study and shut the door, then pulled me into his arms.

  “May I have this dance?”

  I blinked up at him, my heart melting even more at the curve of his smile. Little things about him, a look, a touch, the timbre of his voice both in passion and in pain, kept redefining my world, kept picking me up, swirling me around, and when everything settled, nothing was the same again.

  “Would that I knew how to dance,” I said softly. “For dancing in your arms would indeed be a treasured memory.”

  I saw his eyes darken, as if he knew what we shared couldn’t go on forever, just as I knew it.

  “Then let me have the pleasure of showing you.” He caught up my hand, firmed his hold on my back, and swung me around. I found myself stepping with him, not unlike swirling within the dancing lights of the stained glass windows. When he stopped minutes later, I was quite breathless.