Sweet Awakening

by Marjorie Farrell

  “All right, now,” Andrew said, and they jerked up and back. The old pike landed flopping on the bank as Sabrina and Andrew lost their balance and their grip on the pole.

  The fish was right on the edge of the bank, still leaping as though air were water. He couldn’t get very high, but Clare realized that he was going to be able to roll himself right over the bank and silently cheered him in his heroic effort. Then she realized that the hook was still in his mouth, still attached to the line and the pole. Without thinking, she scrambled over. She put her hand down as gently as she could on the wriggling giant, and when that made him move even more, she wrapped her skirt over him to trap him, and grabbing the side of his head, she began to work the hook out of his mouth.

  “Clare, what are you doing?" exclaimed Giles.

  Clare worked as fast as she could, knowing that she wasn’t doing it easily, only quickly and painfully. Finally it was free, leaving a jagged rip in the jaw, which she was sure would heal. She looked at the pike and whispered: “There, you are free again.” And lifting her skirt, she tossed him back into the water.

  Andrew and Sabrina had scrambled up by then and were standing as openmouthed as any fish. Clare turned to face them. “I am sorry,” she said, in a low, choked voice. “I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand seeing him played with and trapped like that.” Tears were running down her cheeks and as Giles stepped toward her, she motioned him back. “I am sorry to spoil the fishing, Giles. I have never enjoyed it,” she added, amazing herself and them. “Not the worms or the fish on the hook. Only the quiet and the trees and sun and water. I should have told you years ago.” She looked down at her dress and smiled. “I am as dirty as when Lucy threw those worms at me, aren’t I! I am going back to the house to change.”

  “You can’t go alone, Clare,” said Giles. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Nonsense. You all stay here, and I will see you at tea.” With that, she turned and started briskly for Whitton.

  Andrew looked over at his two friends. Giles was looking after Clare and then back at the water, as though trying to take in the fact that she had actually tossed the biggest fish in Somersetshire back in the pool. Sabrina was standing there, pushing her hair back from her face with a muddy hand, leaving her cheek streaked with dirt. Her dress was torn at the hem, where Andrew must have stepped on it when they went down. Andrew looked down at himself. Thank God he was no longer aroused. But his pants were as muddy as Sabrina’s hands. He let out a great shout of laughter. “Good for Clare!”

  “Whatever got into her?” asked Sabrina.

  “She threw him back,” said Giles, still unable to believe that his wife had actually tossed away such a fish. “Why, that fish is a legend around here.”

  “You caught him, Sabrina,” crowed Andrew.

  “And we landed him, Andrew. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She suddenly remembered the sensation of Andrew pressed close against her and turned away to fuss with her dress in order to hide her flaming cheeks.

  “Oh, well,” said Giles, resigned to fate. “What would we have done with him but mount him on the wall. He was too old to eat. But I can’t believe Clare has hated fishing all these years,” he added with such naive amazement that he set Andrew and Sabrina off into gales of laughter.

  “Oh, all right you two. I suppose I should have known. Or at least realized that Clare would never have said anything. At least she has enjoyed part of it, hasn’t she?” he asked, wondering to himself how many things Clare had not told him, wondering how well he knew his wife after all.

  “Come on, Giles, bring the trout, and we’ll have him cooked for tea,” said Sabrina. “I for one have done my share of fishing for the day!”

  * * * *

  Clare walked home feeling both exhilaration and fear. For once in her life, she had said what she wanted and it left her with the sensation of having jumped off a cliff. It was exciting, this new feeling of having some power, but also frightening. Whatever would Giles say to her? She was sure he must be angry, both at her cheating them out of the most famous fish in the county and for finally admitting that she didn’t like fishing and never had.

  When they all gathered for tea, however, there was only a little good-natured teasing from Andrew and Sabrina, with Giles joining in the laughter. But Clare was sure he was only politely hiding his displeasure. That evening, after she retired, instead of going right to sleep, she stayed awake until she heard him come up from the library where he and Andrew had had a nightcap.

  She knocked softly on the adjoining door, and Giles opened it, a look of surprise on his face. He dismissed his valet and invited Clare in.

  “No, I won’t stay, Giles. I just wanted to apologize for this afternoon. I am sure you must be very annoyed with me.”

  “Not annoyed, Clare. Just surprised. I never dreamed you felt that way about fishing all these years.”

  “How could you have. And I have enjoyed all but the actual fishing, Giles.”

  Giles smiled quizzically.

  “No, I am telling the truth,” protested Clare. “The walks to the stream and the fresh air. Even watching the water is very relaxing. It was just that until today, I would pretend that no fish were being caught. That wasn’t too hard, since I never caught anything!” Clare was slowly becoming conscious that her husband was standing there without his cravat, his shirt half-open. She noted with pleasure that Giles had dark brown curls of hair on his chest. Justin’s chest had been smooth ... but no, she would not think of Justin.

  Giles reached out and pushed Clare’s hair back from her face with one finger. She lifted her mouth toward him without thinking, and he bent down and kissed her. She was open to him, and he sensed the difference immediately, so he drew her into his arms and deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened under his, and he gently probed with his tongue. When she gave a little moan of pleasure, he gave himself hungrily and completely to the kiss until he felt her pull away.

  “I am sorry, Clare, I know I promised.”

  “No, no, I want you to, Giles. It is only that I am quite breathless,” Clare said with a shy smile.

  They were standing almost in the doorway between the two rooms, and Giles looked over her shoulder to her bed.

  “Your bed looks very inviting, Clare. John did not have a chance to turn mine down yet. We would be much more comfortable in yours?”

  Clare didn’t answer, but let him lead her over to the big four-poster. Giles sat her down on the edge and slowly pulled the ribbon on her dressing gown. It was silk, as was her night rail and as soon as he opened it, it slipped off her shoulders like water.

  “It is your turn, Clare,” he said, nodding toward his shirt.

  Clare reached out with shaking fingers and managed to undo the buttons to his waist and then froze, for his shirt was still tucked into his breeches. Giles took her hands in his and kissed her again, gently nibbling her lips and then her earlobe. His warm breath on her neck was deliciously arousing, and she could feel herself becoming slippery and wet as her center turned to liquid.

  She had never felt this way with Giles before. What she was experiencing now was similar to what she had with Justin. Surely that was a good thing, she thought, as she felt Giles cup her breast in his hand. It felt wonderful to reach her own hand out and run her fingers lightly up his belly over the soft fur. And it gave her pleasure to hear him groan with pleasure. To know that at least she was giving him what he had always wanted and so deserved.

  But when he whispered, “Just a minute, Clare,” and stood with his back to her, pulling off his shirt and breeches, she wished he had not left her alone on the bed. For all the warmth in her belly was turning slowly into emptiness. And when he turned toward her, his manhood jutting upward, she had to lower her eyes. She hoped he would think it shyness rather than fear. She let him slip off the night rail and move her down onto the bed.

  She couldn’t stop him, she decided. He was her husband, he was her loving friend, and he had never been anythin
g but good to her. She owed him a normal marriage. This would have occurred sooner or later, she knew, for he not only desired her, he wanted an heir. She only wished she could give him her whole self, but at the very least she could give him her body and pretend that she hadn’t retreated in fear.

  Giles had wanted the first time with Clare to be leisurely and more pleasurable for her than himself. But perhaps the fact that she wasn’t a virgin and therefore would not experience any pain, affected his own responses, for he was unable to control his own desire as long as he wished. He was inside her soon, driven to it by her soft moans as he circled her breast with his tongue. She was ready for him, he knew, for his fingers had told him that, and so when she lifted her hips to invite him in, he thrust into her.

  Clare felt she was two people: the woman on the bed making noises of simulated pleasure and a wraithlike self hovering somewhere in the corner of the ceiling gazing down. She wanted to be there for Giles, but she couldn’t be, for a part of her was back in the past with Justin. Justin had made love to her, had awakened her passion, had brought her to climax again and again, when she opened her deepest self to him. And then Justin had brutalized her. She couldn’t help feeling that the two things were connected: exquisitely pleasurable vulnerability that led to unimaginable terror.

  When Giles reached his own climax murmuring her name over and over, she held him close. And when he lifted himself up and lowered his hand to bring her a final release, she gently pushed him away.

  “I am sorry, Clare. I didn’t intend this first time to be so quick. But I wish to give you your pleasure.”

  “It is all right, Giles,” Clare whispered. “Your pleasure is mine, too.” And that was partially true. A part of her had been there with Giles, and she was happy that she was at last able to give him this.

  “You are sure?”

  “Yes, my love.” The endearment came naturally to her lips, surprising both of them. Giles turned on his side and pulled Clare against him. As he dropped kisses on the top of her head, he murmured, “All I have ever wanted was this, Clare, to hold you and to cherish you.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The next morning when Giles awoke, Clare was already up, washed and dressed. She leaned over the bed and kissed his forehead. “I find I am ravenous this morning, Giles,” she told him with a becoming blush. “I will see you in the breakfast room soon?” Despite their closeness the night before, he sensed again a barrier between them. Although this morning, it did not feel quite as strong. And perhaps a few nights like the last would bring it down completely.

  When Giles came down a quarter of an hour later, Sabrina and Andrew were already there, discussing their plans for the day.

  “I thought we had agreed to ride into Wells,” Sabrina was saying.

  “We had, but that was two days ago when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky,” Andrew replied.

  “There are not that many clouds this morning, Andrew. If you are not up to the ride, just tell me.”

  Andrew sighed a resigned “I suppose I will have to tolerate this” sigh, which annoyed Sabrina immensely. “It is uncommonly warm and humid, Sabrina, and I wager that those few fluffy clouds we see now will be thunderheads by the afternoon. I think a shorter ride is wiser. We could go into the village.”

  “But I need a new pair of riding gloves, which one can only find in Wells,” she protested. “Giles, tell Andrew if we start a little earlier, we will miss the weather. If there is, indeed, going to be any,” she added.

  “What do you think, Clare?” Giles asked, turning to his wife.

  Clare looked up from her plate. “It is quite close as Andrew says, but the sky is relatively clear. I would hate to disappoint Sabrina. And, I confess, I was looking forward to the ride.”

  Giles looked over at Andrew, who threw up his hands. “I surrender. If the ladies are adventurous enough, who am I to stop us.”

  “And Mrs. Fleck has already prepared us a picnic lunch,” Sabrina informed them, as though Mrs. Fleck’s good food was the deciding factor to ensure good weather.

  * * * *

  They set out a half hour earlier than they had planned, before the sun was too high in the sky. Two hours from Whitton, there was an old ruined keep where they planned to rest and eat. Wells was only a half hour beyond that.

  It was unseasonably warm, even for early August, thought Sabrina, as she felt the back of her neck become wet with perspiration. She quickly glanced up at the sky, and was reassured. It was still blue, still only dotted here and there with clouds.

  They had a few easy gallops, but for the most part did not push their horses, and by the time they reached the ruin, they were already a little behind schedule, despite the early departure.

  Mrs. Fleck had provided them with a simple, light meal: cold chicken and ham, cheese, fresh bread, and some very small, early apples. There were bottles of ale and lemonade, which although not cold, were still cool enough from the cellar to be refreshing.

  They tethered their horses in the shade of a large beech tree, and Andrew and Giles spread rugs on the grass inside the old keep. The crumbled stone walls reached high enough to provide some shade, and it was a very pleasant picnic indeed.

  “I expect that when we reach Wells, you may feel embarrassed, Clare,” said Andrew with unwonted seriousness.

  “Whatever for, Andrew?” she asked, sudden concern written all over her face. Surely word of her trial had been heard and forgotten quickly here?

  “I am sure word has spread that you are the woman who threw back the biggest and oldest fish in the county. I would not be surprised if there were placards greeting us as we ride in.”

  Giles laughed, and Clare giggled.

  “That was unfair, Andrew,” said Clare. “I was worried you meant news of the trial had proceeded me.”

  Andrew was immediately repentant. “I apologize, Clare,” he said, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “I never even thought of that.”

  “Nor should any of us,” said Giles. “It is over and done with, Clare. You are now my wife, the Viscountess Whitton.”

  Sabrina looked over at her brother. There was something different in his tone today. He sounded surer of Clare. He sounded satisfied. She felt her cheeks grow warm at the picture that flashed through her head. She was all of a sudden sure that Giles and Clare were very much husband and wife.

  The shade and the coolness the stones provided were so welcome that no one wanted to move, but finally Andrew got them going. They reached Wells very quickly and spent a lovely hour browsing through the shops. Sabrina found her pair of gloves, and Clare found a length of ribbon just the perfect shade of green for trimming one of her morning dresses. By the time they reached the lending library, however, the heat had become even more oppressive and the shop itself felt like an oven.

  Giles had been watching Clare carefully for any sign that she was overheated or fatigued. When he saw her sit down on a small chair against the wall, he went over to her and after a short conversation, came up behind Sabrina.

  “Brina, Clare is feeling undone by this infernal heat. I think we should go.”

  “Oh, Giles, I promised Mrs. Pleck that I would see if the grocers had some vanilla beans. She is out, and the grocers in Street doesn’t carry them.”

  “Why don’t you and Clare start home slowly, Giles, and we will catch up with you,” said Andrew. “I can hurry Sabrina along to the greengrocers.”

  Giles looked relieved. “All right.”

  Sabrina, who seemed most annoyingly impervious to the heat, spent another fifteen minutes browsing the lending library shelves, finally choosing Miss Austen’s latest and one from the Minerva Press.

  Then, when they reached the grocers, she took her time, chatting away to the proprietor and trying to decide if she should bring the cook some cinnamon sticks as well. “She can get these in Street, but the quality here is so much better.”

  “Wrap them up, too,” said Andrew, pulling some coins out of his pocket.


  Sabrina was just opening her reticule. “Andrew, don’t be silly. This all comes out of the household money. You don’t need to do this.”

  “Let me, Sabrina, as a gesture of gratitude for your hospitality. I assure you, I can afford it,” he added sarcastically.

  “I never meant that you couldn’t, Andrew,” she responded coolly.

  Damn the woman, and damn his response to her, thought Andrew. She could arouse him to desire or annoyance or anger in a moment.

  By the time they mounted their horses, Giles and Clare were a good hour ahead of them, and when they reached the ruin, it was clear that they had not waited.

  “Oh, dear, they didn’t wait for us,” said Sabrina.

  “We did say a quarter of an hour,” responded Andrew.

  He glanced up at the sky. “I expect that Giles decided it wasn’t wise to wait any longer,” he added, pointing to the huge thunderheads that were forming directly ahead of them.

  “You can say it, Andrew.”

  “Say what?”

  “I told you so. We are riding right into them, aren’t we?”

  Andrew grinned. “I resigned myself to this possibility hours ago, Sabrina. Come, let us see if we can outride the storm.”

  When they reached the halfway point, however, it became clear that they weren’t going to make it to Whitton before a cloudburst. Jagged streaks of lightning were lighting up a landscape suddenly gone dark, followed by great rumblings of thunder.

  “It is moving right toward us, isn’t it, Andrew?”

  “Yes. I don’t mind getting wet, Sabrina. In fact, it would almost feel refreshing,” he added. “But the lightning worries me. Do you know of any place we could take shelter between here and home?”

  Sabrina thought for a minute. “There is a deserted cottage just a few miles from here. I think we can make it before the storm breaks.”

  They had been sparing of their horses until now, but as they rode toward the menacing clouds, they pushed them as hard as they dared.

  Sabrina was leading the way, and at one point, when her hat blew off and her hair tumbled down her back, she turned to Andrew and laughed. That was something he loved about her, that she was willing to ride into the teeth of the storm and enjoy the moment.