Sweet Awakening

by Marjorie Farrell

  “The law is a demanding mistress, Giles,” responded Andrew. “Although perhaps a demanding one is easier than an unfaithful one?” he added with sympathetic irony.

  Had it been anyone else, Giles would have been furious at the insult to Clare. But he had known Andrew since their first year away at school, and he knew that it was only affection that was behind the animosity.

  “Hardly unfaithful and most certainly not to be categorized as a mistress, Andrew,” warning him by his serious tone that Andrew had gone almost too far.

  “I apologize, Giles. I shouldn’t have said that. But my God, man, your betrothal has been expected for years. And I know you have loved Clare for that long.”

  “And you’ve never understood it.”

  Andrew flushed with embarrassment. “I have never said anything of the sort, Giles.”

  Giles grinned. “No, you haven’t had to. It is only that I have never glimpsed anything beyond polite friendliness between you and Clare whenever you’ve visited us at Whitton.”

  “I am drawn to a more spirited sort of woman, Giles.” He hesitated. “I must confess that I am surprised that Clare chose Rainsborough over you. She always seemed so shy and insecure to me. Your steadiness seemed just what she needed.”

  “Evidently he sparked something in her that I did not,” Giles said bitterly.

  “Setting your feelings aside, do you like him?” asked Andrew curiously as he watched Rainsborough lead Clare back onto the dance floor.

  “I have tried to be objective, Andrew. I want Clare to be happy and to all appearances, Rainsborough seems to be the man who makes her so. But he always hovers over her so protectively. And does not like it one bit when I ask for the occasional dance. Though why he thinks it is a pleasure rather than a torment for me, I am sure I don’t know. But I have to continue the ‘good friend’ to keep the gossips quiet.”

  “You are a very attractive man, Giles, in your own right, and before he came along, Clare seemed to be yours. I can understand his insecurity.”

  Giles sighed. “I suppose you are right, Andrew. And there is no way I can be rational about this anyway.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Andrew asked very casually: “Is Sabrina here tonight?”

  “Yes, she is in the garden with young Bewley.”

  Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Bewley? Are we to wish your sister happy this year?”

  Giles laughed. “Not at all, Andrew. Bewley is suffering from an intense case of calf-love for the Honorable Susan Maxwell, and sought Sabrina’s aid in arousing the young lady’s jealousy. As far as I know, Sabrina’s heart is still free.”

  Andrew laughed and immediately changed the subject. But when Sabrina returned, he unobtrusively joined the group of friends who surrounded her and obtained a waltz for later in the evening.

  * * * *

  When Andrew came to claim his dance, Sabrina felt the familiar thrill of attraction that had plagued her ever since he had spent a fortnight one summer at Whitton five years ago. He was the first man, and indeed, he seemed the last who affected her so. But he had never shown the least sign of interest, and so she had kept her feelings to herself, hoping they were only temporary and that someone else would eventually come along and claim her heart.

  “I was happy that you had a dance free for me, Sabrina,” said Andrew. She felt herself grow warm with pleasure and wondered if Andrew did feel an attraction to her after all. But she only answered calmly that she, too, was glad of the opportunity to be his partner. “For you are too absent during the Season, Andrew.”

  Andrew continued almost as though she hadn’t spoken. “I know how close you and Giles are, Sabrina. How is he holding up under the strain of having to act the family friend with Clare?”

  Sabrina mentally scolded herself for having been so foolish, even if for only a moment, to think that Andrew More had any special interest in her. “He does not talk about it, even to me, but I can sense his heartbreak.”

  “How did this ever come about? The friendship between Giles and Clare goes back so far. And she never seemed the sort to be swept off her feet by charm and flattery.”

  “I can only guess at the reason,” said Sabrina. “I believe that what she and Giles felt for each other went beyond friendship, but my chivalrous brother did not wish to hurry her. I don’t think he ever revealed his need for her or his passion. Evidently Rainsborough did, and that meant everything.”

  “I see.” And Andrew did. Granted, given his status as a younger son, he couldn’t let himself indulge in any fantasies about Lady Sabrina Whitton. But if he had been free to, he would have acted very differently from Giles and not held back for anyone.

  He smiled down at Sabrina sympathetically, and they shared a wordless minute of understanding. It was one of Giles’s most endearing qualities, this ability to separate his own need from the need of those he loved. And it was his greatest strength that had become his greatest weakness. In protecting Clare from his own desire, he had lost her.

  * * * *

  The rest of the Season went by very quickly for Clare as she was caught up in the whirlwind preparations for her wedding. On her wedding day itself, she felt as though she were standing and looking through a kaleidoscope. All was a blur as she dressed and drove to the church. And then there were the moments that stood out perfectly, as things shifted and fell into place: Giles’s face looking set and serious as she moved past him down the aisle, a glimpse of her mother from the altar, looking so much older than she had remembered her, and Justin, gazing into her eyes as he said his vows with such loving intensity she thought she might faint.

  During the wedding breakfast, Giles came over to congratulate them. It was the first time he and Justin had said more than a few words to one another, and Clare was hoping that one day they could all be comfortable. It was obvious, from the way Justin’s hand tightened over hers, that this was not the day. He and Giles smiled smiles that came nowhere near their eyes and uttered the usual formalities.

  “I wish you both happy.”

  “Thank you, Whitton.”

  It was only when Giles was turning to leave that any real emotion was expressed. He turned back quickly and said fiercely: “Clare is very dear to me, Rainsborough. I know that you will treat her as the treasure she is.”

  “She is even dearer to me, Whitton. You need not concern yourself further with her happiness.”

  Given the coldness of Justin’s tone, his answer was like a slap in the face. Giles colored, nodded, and bowed his farewell to both of them.

  Chapter Six

  They set off on the first stage of their journey early in the afternoon, planning to stop in Farnborough. One of Justin’s cousins owned a small house there and had placed it at his disposal.

  “Do you mind if I close my eyes for a while, Justin,” Clare asked as they left London behind. “I find I am exhausted from this past week.” She slipped her hand in his and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “Not at all, my dear.”

  Clare was asleep almost immediately and did not wake up until they were only an hour from Farnborough. She could tell from the light that it was late afternoon and was horrified that she had slept so long.

  “I am so sorry, Justin.”

  Her husband looked at her with affectionate amusement as she sat up and smoothed her hair.

  “No need to apologize, Clare. Actually, I am very pleased that you feel so comfortable with me.”

  Clare blushed. It had felt very natural to be that close. And tonight they would be even closer.

  Justin’s cousin had made sure that his housekeeper had everything ready and had left a light supper for them.

  “This is so much nicer than an inn, Justin. I am grateful to your cousin,” Clare said as they sat down to eat after washing up.

  “I wanted our first evening to be ours alone, Clare. No friends, no relatives, no servants. I wanted you to myself,” he added, putting his hand over hers. Clare would have been very
ready to push her chair back and go upstairs right that minute. It amazed her that although she certainly had some natural fears about the night ahead of her, for the most part she was eager to become Justin’s wife. His slightest touch made her feel such desire that she was left breathless.

  It seemed a long time until dinner was over. “The housekeeper will be here tomorrow, so we can just leave the dishes,” said Justin with a smile. “Perhaps you would like to go up first, my dear?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” stammered Clare. She had not known how to make the move herself and was grateful to her husband for initiating things. She could feel his eyes watch her as she went up the stairs, and she hoped he would not be long in following.

  He wasn’t. She had just finished turning down the covers on the bed and was sitting in front of the pier glass, brushing her hair when Justin appeared at the door.

  “Let me, my dear,” he said and coming close, he took the brush, and leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck. Then he drew the brush through her curls gently. She could have sat there forever, in a trance of pleasure, but he put the brush down and whispered into her ear: “Your hair is very thoroughly brushed, my dear. And I am hoping that all my good work will be in vain. Come, let us to bed.”

  Clare crawled under the covers and watched as Justin began to undress. Although he had been back in England for months now, his skin was still bronze from his years in the West Indies, and instead of modestly lowering her eyes, Clare looked at him admiringly as he took his shirt off, exposing his well-muscled arms and chest. When he started to unfasten his trousers, she did look down and heard him give a soft laugh.

  In a moment, he was sliding in next to her. “I am sure that you and your mother spent hours picking out this exquisitely frothy night rail, Clare, and, unfortunately, I am going to slip it right off you.”

  Justin leaned down to give her a light kiss and sliding his hand down her leg, began to push her gown back as he traced the shape of her leg with his fingers. He rested his hand on her belly for a moment and then in one quick movement, grasped the gown with both hands and pulled it over her head. Clare lay there under the covers, very still, wondering when he would touch her. She wasn’t sure what part of her body wanted to feel him most: her lips, her breasts, or that unexplored territory between her legs.

  Her lips must have wanted him first, for that was where he began, gently at first, and then more insistently. She lay still for his first kiss, but when he teased her mouth open, she found she quite naturally put his arms around him and drew him closer.

  One of his hands was now on her breast, cupping it, circling the nipple with his thumb. And then, wonderfully, he slid down and took it into his mouth, teasing the nipple with his tongue, the same way he had with her mouth. She moaned with delight as he leaned over her.

  The bedcovers were hampering him, so he threw them off and crouched down above her, looking down into her eyes with such passion and tenderness that she had to close her own or be overwhelmed.

  She slid her hands down along his back and traced the line of his waist and hips. She could feel his manhood brushing her belly, but only had the courage to lightly touch it with her fingers, marveling at the combination of satin softness and hardness. Then he was kissing her belly and using his gentle fingers to part her thighs. She was embarrassed that he would feel how wet she was down there; she seemed to be turning into liquid.

  “Please, Justin,” she moaned.

  “Not yet, Clare. I want this to be as comfortable for you as possible.” And so he first brought her to an exquisite climax with his fingers before finally pushing himself very gently at first, and then harder, into her innermost self.

  It hurt for a few minutes, but then she was caught up in the rhythm. Her own pleasure had been so great that she was amazed at how wonderful it felt to have him come in great shudders inside her.

  They slept with Clare cuddled in front of him and made love again almost before they were fully awake the next morning. This time it was even better, if that were possible, and Clare lay there afterward, her body still, but feeling as though the ocean was moving through her, pushing her gently, flowing and ebbing as the rhythms of his loving had.

  * * * *

  They reached Rainsborough late in the afternoon, and Clare first saw her new home just as the sun began to strike the upper windows, lighting them up and making the faded red brick look pink and warm.

  “It is lovely,” she said, after Justin helped her down from the carriage.

  “I am glad you like it, Clare. I was worried you would feel a bit isolated here in Devon.”

  “But how could I feel that way when I have you, Justin.”

  He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before he led her over to be introduced to the servants lining the drive.

  And indeed, for their first six weeks, Clare felt as though she and Justin were living in a world as golden, warm, and sweet as a globe of honey.

  “This is our honeymoon,” Justin had said one night as he scandalized and delighted her by drizzling the sticky sweetness on her breasts and in her navel and then licked it off. She blushed and giggled, saying: “Turnabout’s fair play,” and did the same to him. They were sticky with honey and sweat as they finally made love and then took turns washing the other, which led to another hour of lovemaking, this time on the carpet, since the sheets were too sticky.

  “Whatever will the maids think?” Clare whispered as she lay in his arms.

  “Do you care?”

  “Perhaps not. You are turning me into a wanton, Justin.”

  “Good, so long as you only play the wanton with me.” It was an odd thing to say, thought Clare, but she forgot it immediately, as Justin kissed her into oblivion.

  They spent most of their time together, exploring the countryside on horseback or on foot, for it was almost as new to Justin as to Clare. He ignored estate matters, turning everything over to his manager, and when Clare protested that she should be learning her way around the house, he merely said, “Leave that to Mrs. Clarke. I pay her enough.”

  Justin turned down all invitations and turned away all visitors for the first few weeks. Every bit of his attention was concentrated on his wife, and Clare felt loved and cared for in the way she had longed to be all her life.

  One morning she had arisen early, and dressing quietly so as not to awake her husband, had gone for a short walk before breakfast. It was lovely to be out while the grass was still wet with dew and heavy with gossamer webs that would be invisible later in the day. It was the first time she had had to be alone in months it seemed, and she reveled in the hour.

  When she turned back and came in sight of the house, she was surprised and touched to see her husband, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair still tousled from sleep, setting out to look for her. She waved to him gaily and as he ran over to her, she saw that look of vulnerability in his eyes that had so touched her.

  “Where were you, Clare?” he asked, his voice almost harsh with worry.

  “Why, Justin, I only went out for an early morning stroll,” she answered. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Don’t ever leave without telling me again, Clare,” he said fiercely.

  “Of course not, my dear. Not if it worries you so,” she answered, puzzled by his vehemence but very touched by his concern.

  After their time of solitude, however, it became clear that they would have to let the world in. Justin began riding the estate and going over tenant concerns with his manager, while Clare finally got Mrs. Clarke to show her through the house and introduce her to her responsibilities. And early in August, instead of tossing all the invitations back in the tray, Justin lifted one up and said: “The Lyntons have invited us to a supper dance. Do you wish to go, Clare?”

  “That would be lovely, Justin. I am looking forward to meeting the people who will be our neighbors and friends.”

  * * * *

  The baronet and his wife were an older coupl
e with two children, a daughter, and their oldest, a son who had been serving in India for two years. Lieutenant Lynton was home on leave, and the supper dance was in his honor.

  Justin and Clare arrived late, just before the move in to supper. Clare had been placed next to the young lieutenant, who was a delightful young man only a year older than she. He had merry brown eyes, a quick smile, and kept her laughing through most of the meal with amusing tales about his time in the East.

  “You are giving me a very unrealistic view of war, I am sure, Lieutenant,” she said as they got up from the table.

  His face became serious for a moment. “Indeed, I have. But I have found looking for any humorous possibilities enables me to survive, Lady Rainsborough.” His eyes were bleak, but only for a moment, and without thinking, she laid her hand on his arm in silent sympathy. She felt Justin behind her, and withdrawing her hand, slipped it through her husband’s arm.

  “Lieutenant Lynton was keeping me well amused all through dinner, Justin.”

  “So I noticed, Lynton.”

  Clare was surprised at her husband’s tone, which was cold and dismissive. “I will see both of you later,” she said quickly. “I am looking forward to my waltzes,” she added, smiling up at each of them.

  But later, she was surprised to have Justin approach her for the dance which was to have been young Lynton’s.

  “Oh, Justin, I would love to dance with you again, but I am promised to the lieutenant.”

  “Not anymore. I convinced him that a newlywed couple wanted all their waltzes together, unfashionable though that may seem,” he answered lightly, lifting her chin with his fingertip and looking down into her eyes with that passionate concentration that always undid her.

  “As long as he doesn’t feel I slighted him, Justin, I am happy,” she replied after they moved off.

  * * * *

  On the ride home, however, Justin started to question her.

  “Whatever were you and Lynton laughing at over dinner, my dear?”

  “Oh, he kept me entertained from beginning to end with one foolish story after another about the army,” she answered.