Come Be My Love

by Patricia Watters

  Jon kissed her forehead... her cheek... the side of her neck. "Which brings up another subject, love. My proposal. Are you ready to say yes? If not, say nothing. I won't accept no."

  "I need more time," Sarah said.

  Jon kissed the side of her neck. "Then I’ll be over this evening and we'll discuss it in bed."

  "No, we won't! Now please Jon, do not bring up that subject again. Besides, Mandi still lives with me and could walk in on us at any time," she said, as an afterthought, realizing the statement was a bit of an oxymoron as it shouldn’t make any difference whether Mandi lived with her or not if she truly intended to keep Jon out of her bed.

  A feral gleam shone in Jon's eyes, as he said, “Then I’ll be sure to tell Wellington to keep Mandi occupied at his place until the wee hours of the morning." He slid his hands down her back, pressing her against him. "Meanwhile, what am I to do about my ongoing problem?"

  "I suppose you'll have to bear it like a man." She pressed her hands to his chest, intending to push him away. His muscles flexed beneath her palms. Her breath quickened. It was happening again. The tightness. The aching need. The indecent thoughts. But with Jon, the thoughts no longer seemed indecent, but instead... sublime....

  He cocked a brow. "Or we could go up to the hayloft right now." She smiled.

  He gave her an evil grin. "You like that idea? Me bedding you on a mound of fresh straw? Well, my wanton little witch, sorry to disappoint you, but Peterson and Tooley are due back in twenty minutes. When will Mandi be moving out?"

  Sarah curved her arms around his neck and nipped at his lips. "Not until after the wedding—at least two weeks."

  "My sweet, I have no intention of waiting until after the wedding."

  "I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Mandi’s moving out is still irrelevant as I have no intention of letting you bed me at all, and that is final."

  Jon pecked a trail of kisses across her forehead and down to her ear, into which he whispered, "Yes... well... we’ll see..."

  Sarah moaned, as Jon's breath tickled the inner recesses of her ear. "No... there’s... nothing... to... see," she said, finding it increasingly difficult to follow the gist of their conversation as he sent a trail of kisses along her neck while unbuttoning the top several buttons of her blouse. His lips moved to the hollow of her throat, and a throbbing ache began to build. "Jon please..." she said in a breathy voice, then realized her incomplete sentence was more a plea than a protest. Before she could complete her thought, he kissed her soundly, scooped her up in his arms, shifted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and started up the ladder to the hayloft.

  Her eyes popped wide open. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, reaching out for anything she could grab to stop him.

  “It’s fairly obvious what I’m doing.” His hands tightened around her legs. "I’m taking you up to the hayloft where I intend to ravish your beautiful body.”

  “Peterson or Tooley might come," she said.

  "Not for twenty minutes." In the hayloft, he grabbed a clean horse blanket, tossed it over the hay and lowered her to it, then smiled ruefully. “Now where were we... oh yes. You were eager for me to bed you here in the hayloft.” He nibbled on the lobe of her ear.

  "My darling governor,” she said, “you must take me for a complete ninny. I have no intention of allowing you to bed me in a hayloft or anywhere else.”

  Jon pecked her lightly on the lips. “Well then, we’ll just get on with your lessons.”

  “Which include, of course, lessons on how to undress me, I suppose."

  Jon looked at her in all innocence and said, “How wrong you are. No, this time you shall remain fully dressed while I give you a few tips on what a sweet young innocent can do to please a man, without compromising her virtue.”

  Sarah looked at him and smiled. “Governor Cromwell, it may surprise you to learn that even an inexperienced chit can do that without lessons."

  “Then show me.” He rolled onto his back and splayed his arms out in complete submission. “My body is yours to do with as you please.”

  Sarah gazed down at his broad bare chest, and blushing deeply, said, “Very well then, but you must promise to remain perfectly still, no matter what I do.”

  Jon's lips curved in a diabolic smile, and a devilish glint came into his eyes, as he replied, “I give you my word as governor. All I ask is that you be gentle with me.”

  Sarah laughed lightly as his mocked innocence. “I’ll try to contain myself.” For a few moments she stared at his broad chest, knowing that she’d already gone far beyond the bounds of propriety with her bold suggestion, but the sight of him offering himself to her without the threat of compromise was all too enticing. She might regret her brazen actions in the end, but for now she didn’t want to think beyond the moment.

  She slowly glided her hands across his chest, savoring the feel of his warm, bare flesh beneath her palms. Then bending over him, she began to trace little patterns down his neck with the tip of her tongue. The musky male scent of him filled her nostrils, and she kissed the hollow of his throat.

  "Good God, you're a fast learner," Jon said in a low, raspy voice while continuing to lay still, making no move to grab her.

  "An eager one," Sarah said, sending a trail of kisses along his shoulder. Then she slowly and languidly moved her palms over the contours of his chest, gazed down at him, and added, "I am a wanton little witch, aren't I? I never would have dreamed it." She moved her hand across his belly and down to where his trousers looked like a tent with a pole thrusting up and placed her hand there...

  In the distance could be heard the sound of a coach approaching, and she realized Tooley and Peterson were back. Hastily, she put herself together and bolted down the ladder, followed closely by Jon. By the time Tooley and Peterson entered the stables, Jon was again washing his horse, and Sarah was standing near, chatting with him.

  She was also vividly aware that her actions in the hayloft had been wild, reckless and impetuous, and she knew she must not let that happen again if she was to maintain her virginity. She also knew she loved Jon and she wanted to be alone with him, and hear him whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and feel his arms around her and savor his kisses. But when? She had Mandi's wedding dress to make and bloomer orders to fill. And for the next two weeks, Jon would be immersed in government affairs, which included several short trips to Westminster.

  But three days later, Jon managed to slip away between meetings. He located Sarah coming out of Wellington Brown's store. He only had to open the door of the coach, and she was in his arms. Behind the closed curtains of the coach, and while riding along Cadboro Bay, he kissed her in ways he’d never kissed her before, until Sarah thought she’d go crazy with need for him. And when they at last parted, she realized she was becoming obsessed with him. Possessed with need.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The wedding was perfect. Mandi made a beautiful bride and Wellington was as handsome and happy as a man could be. Guests included Ida and her family, many of the merchants and their families, Mrs. Dewig-Gertz and her husband, Mayor and Mrs. Harris, and Jon and Esther. Mandi and Wellington dashed for the coach beneath a shower of rice. They cuddled inside, laughing and kissing as the coach pulled away. For a few passing moments, Sarah envisioned the coach as Jon's elegant, midnight blue coach, and herself as his bride, snuggled close in his arms. A silly, capricious notion, which she quickly dismissed...

  Until the following evening, when Jon arrived to escort her to the ball.

  The sight of him nearly took her breath away.

  From the crown of his black silk top hat to the toes of his glossy black shoes he was immaculately dressed. His black tailcoat, tailored to perfection, nipped in at his waist, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders, and his close-cut black trousers, with stripes of braid down each side, emphasized his narrow hips and long legs. She eyed his fashionably tied white cravat, crisp white dress shirt with its tiny tucks, and white silk waistcoat, and
all she could think of was how like a bridegroom he appeared... And how dangerous such thoughts were.

  Jon slid his arm around her waist, pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. When their lips parted, he kissed her cheek and her neck where it curved into her shoulder, and said, "Let's skip the ball. I can think of a much more interesting way to spend the evening."

  Sarah smoothed her hands along the satiny lapels of his tailcoat. "But I have an affinity for silvery moonbeams," she said, "and you promised an evening of dancing under the stars."

  "Then stars and moonbeams you shall have, my sweet love," Jon said. He took her in his arms and twirled her around. Her gown of apricot duchesse, with its diaphanous overgown of white lisse and trails of poppy garlands and moss-green leaves, swirled around her like a cloud. She wore her hair pulled high on her head and caught with satin ribbon and clusters of tiny silk poppies, and as they twirled, long curls bounced at her neck and the tiny crystal sequins interwoven into her curls twinkled like dewdrops among the coppery tresses.

  Jon kissed her forehead and said, "You, my love, are like a beautiful wood nymph shrouded in a pale apricot mist."

  Sarah bit her bottom lip to hold back a smile of pure pleasure. "And you, my darling, look incredibly splendid yourself," she replied.

  Settled in the plush confines of the elegant coach, and nestled in the curve of Jon's arm, Sarah said, "Who, exactly, will be at the ball?"

  Jon shrugged. "Victoria's blue bloods and high-ranking officers of the Royal Navy."

  "Will Esther be there?"

  "Yes, with Mayor and Mrs. Harris. So you'll have at least two allies."

  "I hardly consider the mayor an ally," Sarah said.

  "But Mrs. Harris is." Jon patted her hand. "Having second thoughts? We can still return to your place. But then I couldn't be the envy of every poor clod at the ball. Let's see. There will be Judge Cameron, Attorney General Cary, members of the House of Assembly, and my legislative council and their wives. And, of course, our friend Mr. De Cosmos."

  "That doesn't bother you?"

  "De Cosmos? No. He’ll make the evening interesting. But not as interesting as it will be later, because you, my sweet, are definitely ready for the next lesson. Unfortunately, we have to endure this evening first."

  "Don't you like balls?" Sarah asked.

  Jon smiled down at her. "Yes, about as much as boiling in oil. But then I've never escorted a beautiful wood nymph before, and that makes all the difference."

  The coach turned onto the main road, and soon they joined the line of buggies and carriages heading for the naval base. And when they entered the grand ballroom, Sarah felt as if she'd stepped into a fairyland. Candles twinkled through hundreds of crystal teardrops in the wall sconces and glittered through garlands of prisms in the chandeliers, the tiny flickering lights reflected hundreds of times in the huge mirrors that lined the walls. "It's truly like a fairyland," she said, tilting her head back to gaze up at the chandelier above the dance floor.

  "It is a bit like that," Jon said, his eyes focused on her.

  Sarah gazed around the room at men dressed in finely cut evening suits and women wearing wide gowns made of the finest silks and satins, their coiffures lavishly fashioned with flowers and feathers and tiny gemstones. Long tables draped with white tablecloths, and exhibiting elaborate ice sculptures, held silver buckets of iced champagne, ornate silver trays with exquisitely arranged canapes, platters with an abundance of cheeses and cold meats, and compotes brimming with fresh fruits.

  Sarah took Jon’s arm and they strolled around the room. Almost immediately, she focused on a group of naval officers and their wives surrounding Admiral Windemere. Mary Letitia, who stood beside her father, looked away as if she had not been watching, when in fact, Sarah knew she’d been staring pointedly. Standing with a tall naval officer, Mary Letitia fluttered her eyelids and laughed merrily at something the man was saying. But Sarah knew she was not listening to the man's words because her eyes kept darting to them.

  Jon rested his palm over Sarah’s hand and ushered her toward a group of dignitaries who stood sipping champagne near one of the long tables. As they crossed the floor, the talk and laughter faded, and Sarah became acutely aware of probing glances. Smiling cordially at Jon, as if engaged in casual conversation, she said under her breath, "Is it my gown, or is it simply the fact that the governor has chosen to escort a woman of questionable character to the ball?"

  Jon gave her hand a reassuring pat. "Definitely the gown, and you in it. You've captured every male eye in the room, and the women are jealous of your beauty, as they should be."

  "Thank you for alleviating my apprehensions."

  "Ignore them."

  "I'll try." Sarah scanned the crowd. "It doesn't appear that Esther and the Harris’s have arrived yet, but I see that one of my proponents has." She nodded toward the wall, where Amor De Cosmos stood staring at them.

  Jon gave De Cosmos a dark look. "He should have sufficient grist for his editorial mill after tonight."

  "Aren’t you concerned?" Sarah waited for Jon's response, and when he said nothing, she looked up to find him gazing across the room, his eyes wide, his lips parted in surprise.

  "Good God!" he said under his breath.

  Sarah looked in the direction of his gaze and stared, dumbfounded. Standing in the entrance, with Mayor and Mrs. Harris, was Esther. Wearing a decolleté gown of shimmering electric-blue satin, her hair coiffed in an elegant twist of plaits and curls and bedecked with several iridescent, quaking peacock feathers, Esther was definitely not a drab mouse. Sarah finally found her voice. "I assume your mother didn't see Esther before she left to come here tonight."

  "That's a safe assumption," Jon said, his eyes fixed on his sister, who was turning more than a few heads. "I haven't yet adjusted to her wearing bloomers around the house," he said. "Now, her appearance is almost too much." He looked askance at Sarah. "You act surprised. I can't imagine you had nothing to do with this."

  "I assure you, I did not," Sarah said, continuing to stare in disbelief at Esther.

  Esther caught them staring and immediately glided over to join them. "Isn't this a lovely ball?" she said, her face glowing with excitement.

  Jon's lips curved. "I do believe our butterfly has emerged from her cocoon."

  "Then you approve?" Esther asked, eyeing Jon with a touch of uncertainty.

  "Of the gown, I'm not sure," Jon said. "But of the emerging butterfly, most definitely. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I'll get you some champagne."

  After Jon left, Sarah said to Esther, "Your gown is beautiful. Wherever did you find it? Certainly not in Victoria."

  "In San Francisco," Esther replied. "I just haven't had the nerve to wear it, Mother being the way she is." Flares lit her dark eyes. "She will undoubtedly have a fit of the vapors when she hears about it though. But by then I'll have had a glorious evening, so I refuse to worry about it." Her glance flicked beyond Sarah and fixed on a point across the room. "Isn't the admiral a magnificent man?"

  Sarah glanced around. "Admiral Windemere?"

  "Yes."

  Sarah more closely studied the tall, stately man with the thick crop of silvery hair, and to her surprise, found him staring at them, smiling. Esther blushed deeply. Snapping open her black lace fan, Esther fluttered it at her throat, sending peacock feathers quivering atop her head. Sarah eyed her curiously. "Does Admiral Windemere, by any chance, have something to do with your decision to wear the gown tonight?"

  "The admiral is my reason," Esther replied. "But don't tell Jon. I decided that if the man is ever to notice me, it would have to be tonight, because I fear one day another woman will ensnare him. It has been over a year since Mrs. Windemere passed away, so he's quite available."

  Jon returned with glasses of champagne, accompanied by a stocky, middle-aged officer who eyed Esther with pleasure. The officer muttered a few inane comments as they stood in a circle while sipping champagne, then he asked Esther to dance. After he'
d swept her away, Jon's gaze continued to follow Esther around the dance floor. "That's the damnedest transformation I've ever seen. Puzzling, but gratifying. Esther has always been so drab, at least in her appearance."

  "Well, she's certainly not drab tonight," Sarah said, smiling at the peacock feathers as they swished around with Esther's twirling movements.

  Jon took Sarah's arm. "I suppose we should pay our respects to Admiral Windemere."

  "Aren't you afraid he’ll be a bit out of sorts because you didn't escort Mary Letitia?"

  "From the looks of things, I seriously doubt he's given his daughter much thought tonight."

  Sarah noted that a bevy of middle-aged women, widows she presumed, surrounded the admiral. When she and Jon approached, the women turned and fixed their eyes on Sarah, and she was aware that she was being thoroughly scrutinized. Two of the women appeared to be slightly younger than Esther, the third somewhat older. All seemed to know exactly who Sarah Ashley was, as was evident in their cool glances.

  Scanning their faces, Sarah nodded and smiled cordially, then quietly ignored them. Within moments, all three women drifted away. But while Jon, Sarah, and Admiral Windemere were chatting, Mary Letitia walked up. She gave Sarah a baleful smile and turned to Jon and said, "May I have this dance?"

  Jon seemed too stunned to speak. After an awkward silence, Admiral Windemere said, "Please don't leave the young lady standing there, Jon. Do dance with her so that I might steal your lovely lady here and spin her about the floor, if you'd do me the honor, Miss Ashley."

  Sarah smiled. "Yes, I would be delighted."

  Admiral Windemere escorted her onto the dance floor and swept her into his arms, dancing with practiced precision. As he spun her around the floor, her gaze shifted from one side to the other while she tried to keep Jon's tall frame in view. Although her glimpses of him were brief, she noted that Mary Letitia's hand rested intimately around the back of his neck rather than on his shoulder, and her eyes appeared to be fixed on his.