Love's Fortress

by Samantha Kane

  This morning Mr. Borden had kissed her hand in greeting. Sarah had been astonished. No one had ever done that before. His hand was callused from work and she liked that about him. Then North had taken her hand from Mr. Borden’s with his scarred left hand. She’d been surprised since she had already noticed how he tended to keep that hand out of sight. She’d looked at him then, and he must have realized what he’d done. He slowly pulled his hand from hers, his face devoid of expression. The scars on his hand slid along her palm like a rough caress. It felt different, real, and she liked it. This morning she shivered at the feeling. Sarah shivered again now, thinking of that hand touching her in other places.

  There was a knock at the door. A short, sharp rap. Sarah started in the chair, sitting up so quickly her head spun a little. She looked around the room in a panic, not sure what to do.

  “Mrs. North?” It was Mr. North’s voice. He was here.

  Sarah jumped up. She allowed herself one quick wring of her hands before she smoothed the front of her nightclothes and straightened her shoulders and walked to the door. She refused to acknowledge that walking was difficult because her knees felt weak. She opened the door quickly, her knuckles white because she was gripping the handle so tightly. Then she took a surprised step back.

  Mr. Borden was with him. Sarah quickly wrapped her arms around her waist. She was dressed as befitted a new bride, in a thin muslin nightgown that clung to her body. The seamstress in her little village had insisted that a bride needed such an ensemble, and the girl who was acting as her ladies maid had insisted just as strenuously that Sarah wear it tonight. She had been slightly uncomfortable in the revealing gown before, but now in the presence of the two men she felt next to naked.

  “Yes?” she asked. She hated the tremble in her voice. She cleared her throat. “Is there something wrong?” Clearly there was. Mr. North wouldn’t meet her eyes and Mr. Borden’s mouth was a thin, angry line.

  “May we come in?” Mr. North asked formally.

  “Both of you?” Sarah’s response came out alarmingly like a squeak.

  “Gideon,” Mr. Borden growled, but Mr. North ignored him.

  “Yes, both of us,” he answered as he moved into the room. Sarah stumbled back a few more steps. When North was in he turned his head and looked at Mr. Borden, who remained outside her door. “Charles,” he said quietly. Mr. Borden stood there for another moment, angry and defiant. Then he marched in the door and closed it behind him. He didn’t move far into the room. He stood there with his back against the door and looked everywhere but at Sarah.

  “Mr. Borden will be joining us this evening.”

  Sarah could only gape at North.

  “Bloody hell, Gideon,” Mr. Borden ground out between clenched teeth. “This isn’t a supper party, you fool. Explain yourself to her.”

  Mr. North glared at Mr. Borden. “If you would give me a chance, Charles, I had every intention of explaining the situation to Mrs. North.”

  Mr. Borden gestured wildly in her direction. “Then do it.”

  Sarah stared at North, waiting. She had no idea what to think, or what to do for that matter. How exactly was she supposed to respond? Was this normal? Surely not.

  “I require Mr. Borden’s…assistance.”

  “That’s it? That’s your explanation?” Mr. Borden burst out a few seconds later when no further explanation was forthcoming. Sarah had been thinking much the same thing.

  “What kind of assistance?” Sarah said, although it came out as more of whisper than she had intended. She felt a little clammy as her stomach rolled over nervously, and the breeze suddenly felt too cool. Mr. Borden’s gaze swung to her and she watched as his face heated. He was staring at her chest and Sarah looked down to see her nipples raised in stark relief beneath her thin attire. She spun around and walked jerkily over to her chair and sat down, wrapping both arms around herself.

  When she looked at North she could tell he was agitated. His frown was more pronounced than usual, and his good hand kept opening and closing reflexively around his crutch handle. His eyes burned bright in the firelight. “Since the war,” he began, but then he just stopped.

  Oh dear. Sarah hadn’t thought that he might be unable to perform in the marriage bed. But his injuries were rather severe. “I see,” she said in a small voice. Is this what Anne had meant when she said these men needed each other?

  “No, you do not,” Mr. Borden said in a tight voice. “Gideon is your husband, and he can and will do all that the title gives him the privilege to do.”

  Sarah blinked at Mr. Borden in confusion. Did that mean that Mr. North could…copulate? She cringed inwardly at the choice of words, but really, she’d never had to give it a name before. “Then why are you here?” she asked bluntly, tired of all the word games she was woefully inadequate at. First Anne this afternoon, and now these two. Why couldn’t they all just say what they meant?

  “I will be most happy to consummate our marriage, Mrs. North.” Mr. North finally spoke in that stiff, formal tone again. “Mr. Borden is here to make sure that the experience is pleasant for you and that there are no difficulties.”

  Difficulties? Was Borden here to make sure North didn’t injure himself? Was he merely here to help North if need be? Would he watch them? Sarah shivered.

  “If you agree to his presence, then we can get started.”

  “Bloody hell!” Mr. Borden exclaimed again.

  North glared at him. “Would you stop saying that in front of my wife?”

  “You are handling this like a horse’s arse,” Mr. Borden told him disdainfully.

  “You would know,” North said coldly. “Feel free to handle it your way, then.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Borden growled. He jerked away from the door and in two steps was standing in front of Sarah. Without a by your leave he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the chair. She fell into him with a squeak, a little frightened, but not much. It was Mr. Borden, after all, and North was here. Then he slammed his mouth down on hers and wrapped his arms around her, bending her backward over his arm. She was dizzy and shocked and grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to keep from falling. At the same time she cried out. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and slanted his lips across hers and Sarah’s shock turned to something else. Something that made her feel as if she had a fever, and she began to tremble.

  Mr. Borden broke the kiss, if that’s what that was, with a curse. “She’s never been kissed, Gideon,” he rasped.

  She was gasping, unable to take in enough air, drowning in the scents of newly cut hay, overheated linen and a musky odor that she couldn’t identify, but she associated it with men and what they were doing now. She saw Mr. Borden’s flushed face scant inches from her own, his breath warm and sweet against her cheek, his eyes hard and hot, so different from what they had been before. This was what North meant. This was the pleasure Mr. Borden was here to ensure. She turned her face away and met Mr. North’s stare. He stood immobile, watching them. She saw the ragged rise and fall of his chest, and the candle flame flickered, making his light eyes shine like gems.

  “Then you had better do it again,” he told Mr. Borden in a quiet, silky voice, a voice Sarah had not heard before, “but gently this time.” When his words registered, Sarah knew a brief moment of nervous terror, and then it was gone, lost in Mr. Borden’s kiss.

  Chapter Five

  She tasted so good. That was all Charles could think. He felt a great deal. Felt her heat and the softness of her curves crushed against him. The fine, delicate fabric of her gown. But what he thought was that she tasted wonderful, like wine-dulled mint. He wanted to eat her up in sinfully slow bites, from the tip of her slightly pug nose to the tiny, round toes she had had curled against the carpet as she stood there listening to Gideon’s pronouncements with slack-jawed astonishment.

  It was that last thought that made Charles break away from Sarah’s mouth with a gasping breath. She was Gideon’s wife, not his. Gideon, not Charles, should be kiss
ing her. Slowly so as not to frighten her, Charles raised Sarah until she could stand on her own. He took a step back, and she stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before she blushed a painful red, almost dark enough to disguise her birthmark, and then she snatched her hands away from his shoulders. Without her heat he felt cold. He licked his lips and cleared his throat.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sarah wrapped her arms around herself as she’d done when they’d first entered. “No, I…” She shook her head and looked at Gideon. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Damn.” Charles bit back the rest of his curse as Sarah flinched. “I’m sorry.”

  Sarah laughed. Actually laughed. He was fairly certain there were few women of his acquaintance who would be able to laugh in this situation. “Are we going to be continually saying that this evening? Could we just agree that we are all sorry and then someone could tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do?” she asked in tremulous voice.

  “I want you to be comfortable, Mrs. North,” Gideon said. “I want you to enjoy this evening.” He sounded rough, his voice slightly harsh. Gideon usually sounded like that, whether he meant to or not. Charles watched Sarah’s reaction. Many people were put off by Gideon’s demeanor.

  Sarah looked down at her skirt and picked at the material, making it flutter against her legs. Charles’ stomach tightened at the unconsciously alluring display. “Well then, let’s start by you calling me Sarah.” She peeked up at Gideon around her hair, which had fallen over her shoulder. Charles had been right—it was long and straight and thick when it was loose. It came all the way to her hipbones. “I am not accustomed to being Mrs. North yet.”

  “You are not Mrs. North yet,” Gideon told her gruffly. “That is what this exercise is about.”

  Charles started to laugh but he stopped himself. He didn’t want Sarah to think they were laughing at her. She surprised him again by picking up on Gideon’s meaning. She chuckled.

  “Exercise, is it? Well, then, Captain, by all means let us begin the drill so I can learn the maneuvers.”

  Charles didn’t stop his laughter this time, and Gideon glared at him. “I did not mean to sound as if…” Gideon seemed at a loss for words.

  “You were ordering the troops?” Charles suggested. Gideon glared harder.

  Sarah took a tentative step toward Gideon and reached out to touch his arm. He hastily took a step back, and Sarah yanked her hand away. “Who, exactly, am I to be with?”

  “Gideon,” Charles said.

  “Both of us,” Gideon replied.

  Charles and Gideon answered simultaneously. Sarah looked between them in confusion.

  “Is Mr. Borden just going to kiss me, then?” She hesitated on the word kiss, as if she wasn’t sure that’s what he’d done. Charles closed his eyes. He’d been right. She was so bloody innocent it was a crime, what they were doing. He was about to say so when Gideon spoke up.

  “Do you want him to?” Gideon’s question froze the words in Charles’ throat.

  Sarah licked her lips. She stole a glance at him, blushing. Then she looked at Gideon. “Yes?” It was more question than answer.

  “Don’t look at Gideon, Sarah,” Charles told her quietly. “Look at me and tell us truly. Do you want me to stay, or should I go?”

  Sarah didn’t look away from Gideon. “I want what Mr. North wants.”

  Gideon’s eyes were so bright Charles was surprised they weren’t burning a hole through her. “Call me Gideon. And I want him here.”

  Sarah nodded firmly and finally turned back to Charles. “Then so do I.”

  Sarah waited for one of them to do something. She was surprisingly more impatient than anything. Both men seemed to be concerned about Sarah’s wishes tonight. Well, she wished to know what the great mystery was about. She was a married woman now. And if her husband said he wanted another man there, then all right. But if they didn’t do something soon, she was going to scream in frustration and lose what little courage she had mustered. Surely they didn’t think she was going to lead the way, did they? Although she supposed they needed to be on the bed. It was referred to as bedding, wasn’t it? She cleared her throat nervously.

  “Well, then, should I get on the bed?” She couldn’t look at either of them. Gideon was so intense he was a little frightening. And Mr. Borden… Well, he made her distinctly uncomfortable. He was so perfect. Handsome and healthy and desirable in a way that she could never be. Did he really want to be here, she wondered, or was it just his affection for Gideon that kept him here?

  She heard Gideon move behind her, and then she felt his hand lightly brush her arm. “If you want to.”

  She shivered at his touch and the roughness in his voice, and he withdrew his hand. Without a word she spun on her heel and walked briskly over to the bed. She climbed up on the bed awkwardly. Her skirts were not made for that sort of thing. They were too narrow. Embarrassment made her avert her eyes as she kneeled on the bed and tried to cover her legs. Her heart was pounding in her chest. What next?

  There was a rustle of clothing off to the side, and Sarah wasn’t sure whose it was. But it was an act of sheer willpower not to look. She was dying of curiosity. And then panic set in. Did they expect her to disrobe as well? Suddenly a hot, callused hand came down over her hands, which she had been wringing in her lap.

  “Sarah.” She froze. “Look at me.”

  It was Mr. Borden. She would have much preferred Gideon. For some reason Gideon soothed her. Mr. Borden threw her into panic and indecision.

  “Sarah.” His voice was quiet, kind but firm. It told her he would not relent. So she looked. And forgot to breathe.

  He had partially disrobed. His upper body was bare and in the candlelight he was a classical sculpture of golden-hued marble, his muscles casting shadows as he moved. He looked rough, wild, beautiful and so strong. His clothes had hidden all that. How could she have thought him gentle? Her skin broke out in goose bumps and she clenched her hands to keep from touching him to see if he was as hard as he looked. She wanted him to be hard, with that glowing, smooth skin beneath her fingertips.

  Mr. Borden picked up one of her hands and gently forced her to unclench her fist. She couldn’t take her eyes away from his hands on hers. His fingers were blunt, rough, thick. They were the hands of a laborer. She imagined them running up her arms, cupping her cheeks, and with just that touch he had her breathing roughly, shaking with anticipation and dread. Dread that he would find her lacking. Hadn’t all men before Gideon found her lacking?

  Then he placed her open palm against his chest, holding it right over his pounding heart. She started at the heat of him. His skin was sticky with a fine sheen of sweat, even as the breeze fluttered the curtains. Sarah realized she was sweating too. She felt the damp on her temples, under her arms, between her breasts. She was overheating too. He did that to her. Was she doing it to him?

  With his free hand he reached up to cup her cheek. Her marked cheek. In a panic she turned her face away and jerked out of his reach. She frantically looked over at Gideon. “Gideon, please.”

  Gideon was watching them, leaning on his crutches in the shadows. “What do you want, Sarah?” His voice was as gentle as she had ever heard it.

  “I want you here too.” He had appreciated her honesty up to this point. She had no intention of prevaricating now. They wanted her to enjoy this bedding. She needed Gideon to truly do that. Mr. Borden was everything desirable, but the way he was making her body react made her feel guilty. Gideon, not Mr. Borden, was her husband. He should be here, shouldn’t he?

  “Are you sure?” Gideon sounded strangely unsure, not reluctant, but there was a hesitation in him she hadn’t encountered before.

  “Yes.” Her whisper was almost lost in the flap of the curtain as a strong breeze blew in, stuttering the candle’s flame.

  Mr. Borden started to let go of her hand, but Sarah’s fingers flexed, digging into the hard muscles of his chest. She heard him take a s
harp breath and then he pressed her hand harder against him. Gideon had begun to walk over to the bed, avoiding the light as best he could. Sarah turned to look at Mr. Borden then and he was watching Gideon too, with a heart-wrenching expression. And Sarah understood at that moment why Mr. Borden was there. Gideon needed him there because Gideon was afraid.

  When Gideon reached the bed he set his crutches against the wall and awkwardly settled behind her. She started to turn, but he stopped her by leaning in close and wrapping an arm around her waist. Sarah got a little lightheaded at the feel of his weight supporting her back, his thickly muscled arm pressing against the side of her breast. Under her hand Mr. Borden’s heart beat faster.

  “Like this?” Gideon asked quietly, his breath warm against the nape of her neck.

  Sarah began to nod but then shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly, if a little breathlessly. “Like Mr. Borden.”

  Gideon went still. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to feel you.” Sarah could feel the blush burning her cheeks at her boldness. When she tried to move her hand on Mr. Borden’s chest, he let her go immediately. In an act that took more courage than Sarah had known she possessed, she ran her shaking hand across his chest lightly, through the small patch of blond hair in the middle and then, after a moment’s hesitation, over one of his nipples.

  “How does he feel?” Gideon’s voice was a raspy whisper behind her.

  “Mr. Borden—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “Call me Charles.” His voice was as rough as Gideon’s now. Sarah’s hand shook harder, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. She didn’t feel afraid.

  “Charles feels hard.” Behind her Gideon made a sound that might have been laughter, but it was so quiet and subtle she wasn’t sure. “But his skin is soft, smooth, like marble.”