“I want to, Finn. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it feels right. I want it to be you, and I want it to be now, before you go. Now, stop talking and come here.” Her voice was shaking a little, but she sounded determined, her eyes never leaving his, begging him not to refuse.
Finn lay down next to Abbie, pulling her to him and kissing her hard. He could sense her nervousness, but she kissed him back, guiding his hand to her breast. It was so soft and round in his hand. He’d never done more than hold her and kiss her, so this was new territory for both of them. Finn caressed her breast through the fabric, watching her face. She seemed to be enjoying it. Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, her breath ragged in the silence of the barn.
Finn closed his eyes, trying to remember what Charles had told him about pleasing a woman. Finn hadn’t really been listening, embarrassed by the images Charlie was bringing to mind, but he’d need to remember now. He wanted to do it right, and make sure that Abbie liked it. Abbie suddenly opened her eyes, looking at Finn. Her pupils were dilated in the darkness, but the expression on her face made Finn want to devour her. Abbie unlaced her bodice with trembling fingers and pulled down her chemise. Her white breasts were glowing in the moonlight, just begging to be kissed.
Finn bent his head, kissing the velvety skin and running his tongue over her nipple. She moaned with pleasure, exciting him. His cock was straining against his breeches, pushing against Abbie’s belly. He gasped in shock as Abbie pressed her palm against it, rubbing slowly. No one had ever touched him before, and the sensation was unbelievable. Finn took Abbie’s hand and moved it away. If she continued, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Instead, he slid his hand under her skirt. She was wearing hose today, but the flesh above them was bare and warm. Finn’s heart raced as he pushed his hand between her legs, exploring her. Abbie seemed to hold her breath, her back arching as he probed her. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but she seemed to like it, so he continued, enjoying the sounds she made. She gasped in shock as he slid his finger inside her.
“I’m sorry. I’ll stop,” he said quickly, pulling out his hand.
“Don’t,” Abbie breathed. “I don’t want you to stop.” She reached down and began to unlace his breeches, her hands brushing against his cock. Finn felt as if he was going to explode. His mind was screaming for him to stop and take Abbie back home, but his body wasn’t listening. Finn positioned himself between Abbie’s legs and followed his instincts. It took a few tries to finally penetrate her, but he felt her maidenhead tear as Abbie cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He wasn’t sure what to do, but his body was already moving, instinct taking over as he began to move his hips, sliding in and out of her resistant body. Abbie looked tense and uncomfortable, but began to relax after a few moments, sighing as he spilled himself inside her.
“Was that all right, then?” he asked, terrified she’d tell him he’d done it all wrong, and she never wanted him to touch her again. She nodded, looking up at him, her eyes full of wonder.
“So, that’s what all the fuss is about,” she said smiling. Her breasts were still exposed, her nipples taut and dark in the dim light of the barn. Finn looked at her bare legs and the dark triangle barely hidden by her bunched up skirt. His cock grew hard again, throbbing and wanting. Abbie saw his predicament and smiled at him, spreading her legs in silent invitation.
The second time was better. He lasted longer, finding a natural rhythm as he made love to her. Abbie was more relaxed this time. She just lay there at first, but then began to move her hips with him, drawing him in deeper, heightening his pleasure. He cried out as he collapsed on top of her, satisfied. God, he’d never expected it to be like this. No words could have described what he was feeling, their bodies still joined. Was it like this for everyone, or just for them?
“I love you, Abbie,” he breathed into her hair. “I love you so much.”
“I know, Finn. I love you too, and now I know that we’ll never be parted.” Abbie got to her feet, looking around for her cap. It had come off and her hair tumbled around her shoulders, released from its pins. Finn had never seen her with her hair down. It was so beautiful, cascading down her back and framing her face. He wished he could see it in the daylight, lit up by the bright rays of the sun. It must look like spun gold.
“We best go back now before we’re missed,” said Abbie, as she felt in the straw for her pins. She found a few and quickly put her hair up again before replacing the cap on her head. Finn couldn’t see her face clearly in the darkness, but he thought she was smiling. He smiled back. Now he was truly a man. He’d bedded a woman, and was going on a secret assignment come morning. How things had changed in only a couple of weeks.
Chapter 46
After nearly a week, Louisa was totally frantic. There was less milk with each day, Evie cried pitifully, kicking her legs and flailing her arms in frustration. Louisa was drinking a cup of ale per hour, but it wasn’t helping. If anything, her stress only made things worse. She alternated between bouts of crippling depression and anger. She raged at Kit for having sex with her, at herself for causing them to leave Virginia, and at Bridget for failing to do something to help. Her baby was going hungry, and there was nothing she could do.
By the seventh day, Evie stopped crying. She just lay there, lethargic and limp, her skin almost translucent. Louisa cried silently as she put the baby to her breast, praying that something would come out. Her heart was hammering with fear, her womb contracting painfully as Evie sucked desperately, starving for nourishment.
“We’re going to lose her, aren’t we?” Kit whispered, watching the baby’s struggle. He was deathly pale, his eyes full of fear. “There must be something we can do. We can’t just let her die, Louisa.”
Louisa felt something snap within her. She glared at Kit, her face hot with fury. “We are in the middle of the bloody ocean, in case you haven’t noticed. What am I supposed to do? There isn’t a lactating woman in sight. If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t be happening.” She froze at the sight of his face. She hadn’t meant to lash out at him, especially since he didn’t know about the possible pregnancy. Kit rose slowly, his face a mask of disbelief as he stared at her.
“What do you mean, if it weren’t for me?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Kit. I’m just so scared.” Louisa looked away from his expression of pure shock. He looked as if he was about to burst into tears, making her feel awful. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t had that little outburst in Jamestown, they would be at home right now, possibly with Valerie, Alec, and Finn.
“What did you mean when you said it was all because of me?” he asked again. Louisa could see the tension coursing through his body, his fists clenched at his side. There was no way he would just let this go. She sighed and faced him.
“Bridget thinks that the milk is drying up because I’m pregnant.” There, she said it. It was out there, although there was no way to verify if it was true. She hadn’t had her period and with no pregnancy test, only time would confirm Bridget’s suspicions.
Kit sank back onto the berth, the agony in his eyes painful to behold. She shouldn’t have said anything, but now he would blame himself for the situation. Kit looked away, unable to face her.
“Kit,” Louisa called out to him. “Kit, look at me.” He just shook his head, lost in his misery. Then he rose and walked out of the cabin, the door slamming behind him. If there was ever a moment when Louisa wanted to die, this was it. Her baby was starving, her husband was heartbroken, and she was possibly carrying a baby who was pickled in ale thanks to her attempts to get the milk to come back. Louisa’s face contorted in agony as she began to wail, rocking back and forth with the silent baby in her arms.
Louisa cried until there were no tears left in her. Evie fell asleep lulled by the rocking, but her little face was pale and sickly looking. How much longer would she last?
Chapter 47
Kit looked around. He could have sworn he heard Evie crying. The sound of her desperate screams followed him day and night, tearing through his brain and leaving him numb with fear. It was bad enough to think that his daughter might die of starvation, but to know that he’d caused it was pure torment. How could this have happened? First Finn vanished, and then they had to flee in the middle of the night to avoid Louisa’s sentence. At the time, leaving had seemed like the only possible solution, but now Kit tortured himself day and night, thinking of what he could have done differently. Leaving Louisa to her fate simply wasn’t an option. No matter the outcome of the trial, her punishment would be fearsome. The thought of Louisa being publicly branded with a hot iron or flogged left Kit in no doubt that he’d done the right thing. How could anyone do that to a woman, even if she had sinned? All she did was utter a few wrong words in an unguarded moment. Did that really warrant such cruelty?
But now, her punishment would be far worse. Louisa would have recovered from the pain and humiliation of her sentence, but she wouldn’t recover from Evie’s death. Kit’s mother had lost a baby when he was five, and he’d never forgotten the heart wrenching sound of her weeping, or the weekly trips to the cemetery to visit the tiny grave. His mother had learned to live again, but she was never truly joyful, the death of his little brother always there, making her feel guilty for being the one who lived.
He’d seen that same sadness in Valerie when they first came to Virginia. She’d recently lost a baby, and the pain of that loss was right there in her eyes every minute of the day. Finding her sister after all that time distracted her from her suffering, but she would never fully recover from the loss of her son. At least Valerie and Alec had never gotten to know the child they lost. He’d been a stillborn, but Evie had been alive and well, and would certainly grow up if not for the dastardly chain of events set off by Frederick Taylor’s arrival.
And now Louisa was pregnant. Kit couldn’t even spare a thought for the new baby. He had no right to another child, when it had been his anger that brought that child into being and caused Louisa’s milk to dry up. Kit had never felt so utterly powerless in his whole life. He had no way to save Evie, and no way to spare his wife the agony that would follow. Kit sank to his knees on deck and began to pray like he’d never prayed in his life. He would gladly die in exchange for Evie’s life if that’s what the Lord wanted. If only he would spare her.
Chapter 48
Louisa looked up as she heard footsteps outside the door. Maybe Kit had come back. She had to apologize, make him see that she wasn’t blaming him. How could he have known that this would happen?
“May I come in, yer ladyship?” Bridget asked. She was carrying a cup of something, which she set on the small table under the porthole.
“Have you seen Kit, Bridget?” Louisa asked miserably. “He is very upset.” That was an understatement, but Louisa didn’t really want to go into it. She was sure Bridget had noted her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin. Bridget missed very little.
“No, I haven’t seen his lordship. I’ve been in the hold, milking Lizzie.”
Louisa just looked up at Bridget, awaiting an explanation. No one was allowed in the cargo hold except the sailors, so why would Bridget go down there, and who was Lizzie? There was no cow on board.
“There are two goats in the hold, as well as several chickens. The captain suffers from a stomach ailment and only eats biscuit soaked in goat milk and the occasional egg. No one is allowed to go near the goats except Will Lawson, who milks them every day. I asked Will to let me milk Lizzie. This is our only hope of saving Evie.” Bridget pulled a thimble out of her pocket, setting it next to the cup. She took the sleeping baby from Louisa, unwrapping her blanket. Nothing woke Evie faster than a blast of cold air.
“Wake up, my pet. I have something for ye.” Bridget dipped the thimble into the cup, filling it halfway with milk and holding it to Evie’s lips, gently pouring the milk into her mouth so she wouldn’t gag. Evie made a face and tried to turn her head away, but Bridget held her firmly, periodically dripping some milk into her mouth.
Louisa just sat there, unsure of what to say. Evie’s stomach wasn’t ready for animal milk, but there was no other choice. They had to try. Bridget patiently refilled the thimble, working her way through half the milk in the cup.
“There now, doesn’t that feel better, my sweet?” she cooed to Evie. “Is yer belly full at last?”
In response to that, Evie threw up everything she had eaten, milk running from her mouth onto her blanket and gown. She was crying, her legs kicking madly as she unwrapped herself. An acrid smell filled the cabin, alerting them to the fact that the goat’s milk went right through her. Louisa began to cry again, but Bridget just busied herself with cleaning the baby.
“‘Tis normal, that is. Her belly is not used to the goat milk. ‘Twill take time. We have to keep trying. There’s milk left in the cup. We’ll try again in an hour. Just let her rest for now. Her belly must be aching something awful.” Bridget washed Evie’s butt in the basin, putting on a clean clout and gown and wrapping her in the spare blanket.
“Just hold her. Yer warmth will soothe her bellyache. I’ll just go wash these things up on deck. They should dry quickly in the wind. We’ll be needing them again soon.” She let herself out of the cabin, leaving Louisa cocooned in her misery.
**
It took Evie several days to get used to the goat’s milk. She cried nonstop for the first twenty-four hours; her belly aching as her system rejected the milk. Louisa was terrified that she would become dehydrated, using the thimble to pour some water into her mouth. Evie had noticeably lost weight over the past week, going from a lovely, plump infant to a scrawny writhing banshee. Kit rarely came back to the cabin, unable to bear his daughter’s crying. He slept with the sailors in the hold, huddled into a hammock. Louisa tried talking to him, but he just walked away, his eyes never meeting hers.
Every time Evie fell asleep, Louisa curled around her, begging the baby to absorb her energy, to take whatever she needed to survive. She held her close, hoping that the little girl would feel her love and the desperate desire to keep her alive. They were still weeks away from England.
Bridget went down to the hold every day to get a cup of fresh milk. Captain Reeves was exceedingly sympathetic when he found out about the problem, urging Bridget to take as much milk as necessary. He even offered to boil one of the hens to make chicken broth to feed Evie. Bridget thought they might have to try that if the milk failed.
By the third day, Evie seemed to feel better. She managed to keep down the milk without spitting it up. Bridget and Louisa waited with bated breath to see whether her belly would ache, but she seemed content as she fell asleep in Louisa’s arms. For the first time in days, Louisa felt a surge of hope. They continued to feed Evie every few hours. It was a slow process since they could only dribble a few drops of milk into her mouth at a time, but they took turns, making sure she got at least a quarter of the cup into her before falling asleep. Evie still spit up a little, but not like before, keeping down most of the food.
“I think she’s gotten used to it, yer ladyship. She’s a survivor, that one. Just wait and see.” Bridget showed Louisa the empty cup. “We’ve gotten nearly a whole cup of milk into her since this morning.”
Louisa cried with relief as the next feeding went equally well. Her breasts were nearly dry now, only a few drops coming out when she squeezed her nipples. The goat milk had
to work. Evie began to regain some of her color, getting visibly excited when she saw the thimble coming toward her. Every drop that made it into her mouth was the elixir of life. Louisa began to breathe a little easier, seeing Evie’s recovery. As long as the goats had milk, she would have food. Now it was time to patch things up with Kit.
Chapter 49
Louisa found Kit on deck, looking out over the ocean. His face looked blank as he watched the gathering storm, the black clouds rolling in from the north, bringing with them a driving rain and gusts of wind that nearly tore off her mob cap. It was just past noon, but it was getting darker by the moment, flashes of lightning illuminating the pewter sky with frightening frequency. Louisa pulled her cloak tighter around herself to keep out the chill and the rain and walked over to Kit. He didn’t turn his head as she stood next to him, just continued to look out over the churning water. They hadn’t spoken in days other than to discuss their daughter. Kit came to the cabin to check on Evie, but left as soon as he could. He couldn’t bear to look at Louisa, his face betraying his hurt every time their eyes met.
“Kit, please, talk to me. I’m so sorry about what I said.” Louisa put her hand over his, grateful that he didn’t yank it away.
“How’s Evie?” he asked. He’d inquired about Evie several times a day, anxiety darkening his eyes.
“She just went to sleep. She seems much better. Her belly is not aching like before.”
“Thank God.” He continued to stare out over the water, his hair blowing in the wind, freed of its customary tie.
A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) Page 21