“Oh, dear God,” Sophie moaned, arching her back.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, darlin’,” Teddy said with a soft chuckle. He continued to caress her, his fingers sliding in and out until her insides quivered with unbearable pleasure that seemed to radiate from her very core to the rest of her body, making her feel drowsy and limp. Teddy leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. “There now. Wasn’t that nice?”
“Yes,” Sophie whispered. She didn’t care to imagine how Teddy saw her at that moment, lying there with her legs spread and her breasts spilling over her bodice, but the look in his eyes assured her he didn’t think any less of her. In fact, the desire in his eyes took her breath away. His gaze never left her face as he withdrew his hand and licked his fingers, one by one, smiling like a cat that got at the cream. Sophie’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she turned her head away, suddenly ashamed of what she’d let him do.
“Don’t look away.”
“I’m s-sorry,” she stammered.
“And don’t be sorry, either. I’ve spent many a night lying in my hammock, dreaming of touching you like I just did. I imagined you moaning with pleasure and begging me to take you, your gaze clouded with desire, your legs spread in anticipation.”
“But you didn’t,” Sophie said, confused. “You didn’t take any pleasure for yourself.”
“Tonight was all about you. I wanted to see your face as you experienced pleasure for the first time. I wanted to make you happy,” he added shyly.
“I want to make you happy as well,” Sophie said as she sat up and looked up into Teddy’s blue gaze. “I want to please you.”
Teddy got out of bed and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Fix your clothes and I’ll walk you home. I wouldn’t want your father to find you gone when he returns.”
Sophie shook out her skirts, tucked her hair into her cap, and made sure the lace tucker covered her breasts before donning her cloak and fastening the ties. Teddy reached for his coat and hat, and within a few moments they were back on deck. Roy raised a hand in farewell, his gaze glazed with wine.
“What would happen if someone found out we came here tonight?” Sophie asked as they descended the gangplank.
“Roy and I would get flogged within an inch of our lives,” Teddy answered, his tone nonchalant.
“Does Roy know that?” Sophie demanded, wondering if Roy had unwittingly made himself an accomplice.
“Of course, he does,” Teddy replied. “Roy would risk the noose for a few hours of oblivion. Don’t worry, Soph; no one will find out. Tonight will forever remain our secret.” He tucked her arm through his, and they set off for home.
A strange halo surrounded the moon, distorting its shape and dulling its cold light as it glowed from behind ominous-looking clouds. The wind tore at Sophie’s cap, and the thick mist that permeated the air made her skin feel damp and cold. They walked briskly along the docks, eager to get home. Teddy escorted Sophie as far as the back door, which she had left unlatched before slipping out, and pressed her to the wall, his tricorn blocking out all light. He tipped her face up and kissed her gently.
“Goodnight, my beautiful Sophie.”
“When will I see you?” Sophie whispered, her voice catching with anxiety. She sounded desperate but couldn’t bear to leave things unsaid. She needed to understand how what had happened on the ship had changed their relationship and what she was to expect in the future.
“Why, tomorrow, of course,” Teddy replied, smiling down at her. “And the day after that. And the day after that.” He kissed the tip of her nose and walked away, leaving her leaning against the side of the house, her knees weak with longing.
Sophie slipped inside and crept upstairs to her bedroom. The house was quiet, other than the faint clicking of the printing press on the ground floor. Her father was still working. She climbed into bed and blew out the candle, her virginal nightdress covering the skin Teddy had touched only minutes before. She’d been so ignorant, so naïve of what it meant to be a woman. Never had she imagined that the pressure of warm lips, the flick of a tongue, or the touch of a gentle hand could bring such pleasure, and such surprising awareness. Her body thrummed with newly awakened desire, and her mind grappled with what it all meant. Meeting Teddy for a walk or stealing a kiss had been the extent of her fantasies until tonight, but suddenly, it was as if a hidden door had opened, revealing a room full of forbidden desires and untold pleasures, and suddenly Sophie felt as if she couldn’t wait another day. She wanted to be with Teddy, to be his wife, his companion. He’d said it might take two more years, but that seemed like an eternity. She was eighteen years old, ripe for marriage. Sophie’s bubble of happiness burst as she contemplated the hardships that lay ahead.
Chapter 8
Teddy was true to his word, and they saw each other nearly every day, going for walks along the docks, eating meat pies Teddy bought from a stall by the wharf, and traipsing through the fields that surrounded Boston proper. They never returned to the Sea Falcon for fear of getting caught but found creative new ways of snatching a few minutes of privacy. On his last day, Teddy borrowed a friend’s trap and took her for a drive in the country, desperate to spend his last few hours alone with her. The sky was the exact color of his eyes, and the spring air was filled with birdsong as Teddy finally made love to her beneath a canopy of newly greening leaves in a forest on the outskirts of Boston.
Sophie cried out when Teddy breached her maidenhead and tried to wriggle away from him, her body rebelling against the intrusion, but once the pain subsided, discomfort turned into pleasure and she marveled at the way Teddy filled her, stretching her to accommodate his need, their bodies fitting as if they’d always been meant to come together as one. Never had she felt as connected to another human being as she did that day, but their newfound intimacy made it that much more difficult to say goodbye when Teddy walked her home that afternoon after returning the trap.
“I don’t want you to go,” Sophie said, tearful despite her best efforts not to allow herself to cry.
“I’ll be back before you know it. Look after yourself and try to enjoy the summer. Spend more time outdoors. You’re so pale, so thin,” he said, cupping her damp cheek. “I want to see you looking plump as a partridge when I return,” he joked, making her smile. “I love you,” he whispered, his eyes warm on hers.
“I love you too,” she whispered back. She was crying in earnest now, knowing she’d have to suffer months of acute loneliness before he returned.
“Once we’re married, I won’t go to sea anymore,” Teddy promised. “I’ll become a respectable business owner, and we’ll get us a sweet little house and make it a home.”
“And we’ll have lots of children,” Sophie said dreamily.
“Well, maybe not lots, but two or three would be nice,” Teddy replied, brushing his lips tenderly against hers.
“Teddy, when will we be able to marry?” Sophie asked, hoping his answer might have changed now that they’d lain together.
“As soon as I’m able to afford it, Poppet. I will make it happen; you have my word. Give me a year. Can you do that?” he asked, his tone cajoling as he lifted her face with his finger and smiled into her eyes.
Sophie nodded miserably. A year wasn’t a long time, but it felt like an age since she was at the very start of it.
“I will speak to my mother before I leave today and tell her of our intention to marry. I’ll explain to her that she must find a way to fend for herself and the girls, now they’re old enough to earn a wage. I will still help out, of course, but I must see to my own life now.”
“She won’t be best pleased,” Sophie replied.
“Nor will your father be when he learns of our plans, but their disapproval can’t keep us apart, and I’m certain they’ll come around to the idea in time. Now, give me a proper kiss and send me off a happy man.”
Sophie kissed him ardently, her arms around his neck as he held her close. When they drew apart
, Teddy took her hand and kissed it formally, and then he was gone, torn from her once again.
Chapter 9
Sophie spent the day after the Sea Falcon’s departure going from one task to another, feeling listless and melancholy. She couldn’t settle to anything and found herself drawn to the wharf, staring miserably at the quay where the Sea Falcon had been docked only the day before. The spot had been taken by another ship, a British man-of-war, and the docks were a beehive of activity. A young officer politely asked her to move on, for her own safety. She apologized and walked away, her vision clouded with unshed tears. She missed Teddy so much it hurt, and she couldn’t help wondering if he missed her as desperately or if he was too busy with his duties to pay her much mind.
That night, her father joined her for a glass of sherry before supper. His fingers were stained with ink, but he’d bathed and changed into a fresh shirt. Horace Brewster sank into an armchair and reached for his pipe, sucking on it greedily for a few seconds before blowing out a whiff of bluish smoke.
“Are you finished with the print order, Father?” Sophie asked, silently thanking her lucky stars for the reprieve she’d been afforded while Teddy was at home.
“The young gentleman collected the volumes today, and he’s hoping for a second printing.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
Horace scoffed. “I won’t turn a profitable commission away, not with the way things currently stand, but I must admit that I wouldn’t mind seeing the back of him.”
“Why is that?” Sophie asked. Her father rarely expressed a personal opinion when it came to clients, treating them all with courtesy and respect, but couldn’t help passing judgement on the content they paid him to print.
“His poems were—”
Sophie was amused to see her father blush and looked at him innocently as he searched for the right word to describe the young man’s endeavors.
“Risqué, I suppose you’d call them,” Horace concluded lamely.
“Which means they’ll sell out quickly and you’ll have to print more,” Sophie joked.
“You’re probably right. There’s an appetite for such a thing, and literature of a scandalous nature certainly sells better than religious tracts or political ramblings.”
Sophie was curious to read these poems but knew her father would never permit it, so she didn’t bother to ask.
“The Sea Falcon has set sail,” Horace said conversationally, his gaze fixed on Sophie over the bowl of his pipe.
“Yes,” Sophie replied.
“Good. I know the Mercer boy came to see you more than once, Sophie,” he said, his brows knitting in disapproval as he held her gaze.
Agnes must have ratted us out, Sophie thought angrily. Agnes was her friend, but it was Horace Brewster who paid her wages, and she knew where her loyalty lay.
“He’s my friend. He always has been.”
Horace shook his head, his expression one of patient exasperation. “Sophie, Teddy was a good lad growing up, but life changes people. Life has changed him.”
“In what way?” Sophie demanded, surprised by her father’s claim. He never said much about the Mercer family, and although he made it clear that he disapproved of her friendship with Teddy, he’d never openly criticized him before.
“His father’s death changed everything for him.”
“That was hardly Teddy’s fault,” Sophie snapped, defensive on Teddy’s behalf.
“You’re right, it wasn’t his fault, but he’s had to grow up fast, and his father’s hand was there in the making of him.”
“I don’t understand what you mean, Father.”
Horace sucked on his pipe, looking thoughtfully at his daughter. He seemed to make up his mind and set the pipe momentarily aside. “Sophie, Robin Mercer was not a good man, and he died for his sins.”
“He got stabbed trying to break up a fight,” Sophie argued.
“I don’t know what pretty story Teddy has told you, but his father started that fight. He pulled a knife on the excisemen who demanded to see his cellar. Robin Mercer had been smuggling in French brandy and other contraband for the better part of twenty years. His crimes finally caught up with him and he paid for them with his life. He would have anyhow, had he been taken into custody.”
Sophie gaped at her father. That couldn’t be true. Teddy had said his father had saved someone’s life that night. “No,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Sophie, Mrs. Mercer had to sell everything they had to pay the customs fine. It was either that or be arrested in her husband’s place. She’d always known what he was doing, helped him, in fact. She got off easy, in my estimation. The customs men felt sorry for her, seeing as she had six young children to bring up, and a hefty fine is always more useful than a body at the end of a rope. So she sold the tavern along with everything in it—whatever was left after they confiscated all the illegal goods, at any rate. She’s been barely getting by these last few years.”
“Teddy’s doing his best to support his family,” Sophie said hotly.
“Teddy is his father’s son, dear heart. He’s been supporting his family, but not just on his meager wages. He’s up to his neck, that boy.”
“No!” Sophie exclaimed. “Teddy is an honest and hardworking man. We’re going to be married.” She froze, realizing what she’d just admitted to, but her father didn’t look overly surprised.
“You will never marry Ted Mercer, my girl. I know you care for him, but he has nothing to offer you, and if my opinion of him is correct, he’ll find himself going the way of his father one of these days. It’ll be the gallows for him if he gets caught red-handed. I will have your word that you won’t see him when he comes back, or I will have to lock you in your room for the duration of his stay.”
Horace Brewster studied his daughter, his eyes sympathetic. “Sophie, you are young and naïve. You don’t know the ugly underside of life. I’ve tried to spare you that. I wish Teddy well, really, I do, but I won’t have him in this house or near my daughter. You’ll wed where I tell you, and you’ll be glad of it.”
No, I won’t, Sophie thought defiantly, but she lowered her head, as if in agreement. Teddy would be back in a few months. She just had to bide her time till then.
Chapter 10
Lauren
By the time Lauren woke, mid-morning light was streaming through the window, bathing the room in a peachy glow. She reached for her phone and checked the time. It was after ten, a real treat since these days she rarely slept past six. She must have fallen into a deep sleep after the visitation she’d experienced in the early hours of the morning. She’d seen the woman again, sitting at the desk, her fingers absentmindedly fingering her necklace as she stared out the window, her writing implements and a blank sheet of paper before her. Her expression had been unbearably sad, silvery marks marring her pale cheeks where her tears had dried. She’d sat perfectly still, lost in thought, until her silhouette dissolved in the shimmering light of a new day.
Lauren’s gaze drifted toward the writing desk, some part of her almost expecting to see the strange woman still sitting there, but all she saw was her laptop, exactly where she’d left it yesterday. There was no sign of the inkwell or the writing paper, or her unexpected visitor. Had she even seen anything, or was it her imagination playing tricks on her? She’d been under a terrible strain these past few months, but she didn’t want to think about the events that had driven her from Boston and brought her to Holland House.
Lauren laughed as Billy nudged her side, his brown eyes accusing as he stared her down. “All right, all right, I’m getting up,” she said. Billy was back to his normal exuberant self. He was hungry and more than ready for a walk.
Lauren dressed hastily, then carried Billy to the kitchen, where she filled his bowls and made herself a cup of coffee and a toasted bagel with cream cheese. At home in Boston, she always ate a power breakfast of either whole grain cereal sprinkled with sliced almonds for
extra protein or Greek yogurt with fresh berries, but since coming to Orleans, she wasn’t in the mood for either and was enjoying her carb fix.
Having finished her breakfast, she pulled on a warm fleece and clipped the leash to Billy’s collar. She’d learned her lesson about letting him run free. She had yet to explore her surroundings and looked forward to a long walk through the copse surrounding the house. Lauren left by the front door, wondering briefly if she even needed to lock it behind her. Holland House was like Sleeping Beauty’s castle, hidden by overgrown trees and shrouded in a somnolent silence. Unable to set aside the habits of a lifetime, Lauren locked the door and headed down a narrow path that led through the woods.
Arrows of light shone through the newly greening branches, dappling the blanket of last year’s leaves with shimmering sunlight. The air was fresh and cool, filled with the sound of birdsong. Lauren held on tight as Billy strained against the leash, eager to explore his new surroundings and sniff at anything that grabbed his attention. Lauren hoped they wouldn’t encounter too many squirrels, or their walk would turn into a test of endurance on her part.
Thankfully, Billy was too overcome with all the new sights and sounds to chase after squirrels, so Lauren strolled along, her mind replaying the events of last night. Now that she’d had some time to compose herself, she felt foolish for the way she’d reacted to Ryan’s perfectly innocent question. He must think her an emotional wreck, running out on him like that. She wished she could have executed a more graceful exit, but there was nothing she could do about it now, except maybe apologize. She’d try him later, after lunch. Instead, she pulled Billy toward the steep edge of the hill, gazing out over the sunlit waves toward the islands dotting the bay.
The House on the Hill: A Ghost Story Page 6