The Fancy

by Mercedes Keyes

  “You ain’ got to wait on me, I’m yours to do whatever you want, Quinton. I just don’t want you to – t’treat me bad, hurt my heart and kill my soul.”

  He palmed the cheeks of her face, examining it with adoring eyes, “Never – no not ever!” His thumbs caressed her lovely skin, “You do know – that now – you are my wife, you do realize that – don’t you?”

  Her eyes grew large, staring at him in wonder, “Huh?”

  Quinton smiled, sniffed, laughing, “Suga, you are truly, Suga Caine, you are truly my wife – you and I – we are married, it is so, before witnesses, no matter how rotten; before God, no matter how abrupt I was, I vowed to take you as my wife, and I signed the book to say that I accepted this. You did the same, it does not matter why it happened, know – that it happened. You are my wife, you – are – my – wife.”

  “Huh?”

  With a bold, robust bark of laughter, Quinton scooped her high into his arms, spinning her about as she hung on for dear life, thinking that he’d really gone crazy now. The spinning stopped only because he was heading down the hall, and there was no room for such play. Entering his favorite room, he stepped right to his favorite chair before the fire; there he sat, holding her on his lap. Suga sat with her hands on his shoulders, trying to catch her breath, “I can’t be yo’ wife Quinton.”

  “Why? You tell me why this cannot be?”

  “’Cause, I’m just a common Negro, bedwench.”

  “No, nothing about you, do I find, common,” he reached up, caressing her brow, “It is not true, this thing you believe – God did not make you that, it is what man made you, white men – men who are selfish, deceitful, evil. They have taken control of a land, of a people, because they have become a law unto themselves. But know this, their day will come – a day that will judge us all.”

  She shook her head, afraid to believe what he was saying to her, “You sure you ain’t drink nothin’ funny Quinton?”

  He smiled, searching her features for the tiniest flaw, knowing there had to be something to mar her loveliness; unable to resist, he pulled her face to him for another kiss, realizing he could easily kiss her forever if that were at all possible, “You are my wife.” He freed her mouth to declare, and kissed her again, and once more he explained, “Our God, the One who created all things, made you a woman, made me, a man – and if we both – believe in him, then he is happy for us to be one, man and wife and we are, we are.” He kissed her again.

  Suga was dizzy from being kissed so much, her wet lips throbbing; she touched her lower one, giving a sad smile, but could not for the life of her, give into the enthusiasm he was displaying. “We gots to be careful, Quinton, folks ain’t gone like to hear this.”

  He kissed her again, and felt himself thickening, hardening beneath her bottom and knew that he must stop, or he would have her again, yet to do so, would show him to be thoughtless, callous. He paused once more with his forehead resting against hers, “Only God knows what a gift you have been to me, only He knows.”

  “You hear anything I say, Quinton? Folks ain’t gone like it.”

  “You think I care what they like? As long as they keep their distance, I care little for their thoughts! Enough of them, there are things I must tell you, and I want you to listen carefully.” She nodded, her eyes on him, ready to hang onto every word that he said. He wanted to kiss her again, “For your sake, I would have you, sit on the stool.” He asked gently. With a nod, she moved to it immediately, leaning on his knee as he sat forward, stroking the wavy edges of her hairline.

  “While in the barn, I prayed, and did a considerable amount of thinking, and I have reached a decision; that is, we will not remain here.” He informed her with the shake of his head.

  “Where we gone go?”

  “Home – my home – back in England. Home to my estates, I’ve traveled enough, I’ve learned enough and I have been blessed with the greatest gain of my adventures, and if I am to carefully treasure that, to stay here is out of the question. I will have you where it is safe; with you as my wife, I could not rest knowing at any time, you could be taken from me, taken back to the South, used as a slave, or worse… no, it is time for me to go, us – to go.”

  Suga sat thinking about it, and wanted to ask, “You got lots’o’money Quinton?” He was busy touching her hair, getting to know it although it was wound tightly in braids, “Yes, my lovely wife, I have lots of money.” He answered truthfully.

  “Is it – ah - you got enough to maybe – buy my mama?” She asked hesitantly. He paused; staring into her eyes, he sighed, giving it some thought, “Yes, I have enough to buy your mother – however – the problem may be that her master will not wish to sell her.”

  “He greedy, he sell ha’ – he like money. Try Quinton, please?” He reached behind her head, palming it and pulling it forward to kiss her brow, “I will try.”

  “How long it gone take-…”

  “How long will it take…” He corrected.

  She sighed and nodded her head, “How long will it take.” She changed it to ask. “It is quite the journey, in order to get there; we will have to go by ship.”

  She leapt off the stool, “Don’t want to. Don’t like it.”

  Quinton stood, “Suga, I promise, you will not be subjected to the conditions you endured before.”

  “We will have a comfortable room, heat, clothing, food, all that is needed.”

  “I’on like it Quinton,” Suga whined, uncertain, chewing at the corner of her mouth, “Ain’t no other way?”

  “No my sweetheart, there is no other way, you have my word, it will not be the same as before, nothing like.”

  She stood thinking about it, not wanting to give in, but had little choice in the matter, “Your word, Quinton?”

  “My word.” He stepped closer, “Have I broken my word to you yet?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Slowly she nodded.

  “Good, I want you to trust, that I would let no harm come to you. Now…” He couldn’t resist touching her hair again, “… what is there to eat?” He asked smiling.

  Sure enough, as she prepared his dinner, it began to snow, he watched it fall, thinking about all that must be done to prepare them for travel in the next few months, and he figured by early spring, his servants should arrive. It would have to be then that he go for her mother. Now that he had Suga, he was sorry that he’d gone it alone. Simply put, he no longer trusted those within the town and hoped their need for him as a physician overrode any maliciousness they might have towards him. One thing was certain, should anyone try anything, he had no qualms against killing should it come down to defending his wife and his home; and he was well armed to do so. Making sure they had their privacy, he closed and bolted the shutters pulling the curtains to; blocking any possible peeping Toms; he wouldn’t put it past some to come snooping around, peering into their windows out of curiosity. He was done with the act of treating Suga roughly for the sake of those who might see; their home was her sanctuary as well as his. He turned to see his food steaming but no place setting for her.

  “My wife – shall eat at our table with me.” He informed her, coming away from the window to sit at the head of the table, eyes on her; he nodded to where he would like to see her sitting.

  Smiling, Suga quickly prepared a place to his right hand, he did not want her at the opposite end of the table, even though it was relatively smaller than what he had become accustomed to.

  Enjoying their food, he brought up what else was on his mind, “Suga, this night – I have a great favor to ask of you.”

  Her eyes met his, nodding to hear what that might be. Quinton took a deep breath and then, “We need to give you, a more – fitting name.”

  “My - my name? I got a name.”

  “Yes, and as lovely as it is, be certain, that I will always call you by that name when it is just the two of us; however – I would have you with a name that will o
ne day fit the title you will be given.”

  “Title?”

  “Yes, title.”

  “Don’t know what you mean Quinton.” She sat back in her chair, her mind wondering what he was getting at.

  “Yes… so here we are at the rest of what I must explain. Do you recall, those men addressing me, as Earl of WhistHirst?”

  “They crazy – yo’name Quinton.”

  He couldn’t help himself, he started laughing, shaking his head, for some reason, and recalling seeing that same look on his mother’s face.

  “You laughin’ at me,” She asked, with a brow pinched.

  “No sweetheart, not at you; I am laughing at myself.”

  “Why? You ain’ did nothin’ funny.”

  He laughed some more, “Oh my mother would disagree with you there, except, I highly doubt, that she will be laughing about it.”

  “I’on understan'.”

  “No, but you will – I will see that you understand; in either case, for now, I want you to agree, to another name for yourself, in fact, I will let you choose your new name.”

  “Don’t need no new name, I like Suga just fine.”

  Quinton sighed, thinking.

  “Quinton?”

  “Yes my sweet?”

  “Wha’s a Earl?”

  He was cutting into a bit of rabbit and popped it into his mouth, moving his eyes to her as he chewed, “I am, Suga, I am an Earl.” He answered as a matter of fact.

  “Huh?” She’d never heard of such a title, all she knew was what she’d been exposed to, being born and raised on a plantation, to be sold off one day.

  “After dinner, I will be giving you a new book to read, but for now – in answer to your question, an Earl is a Lord-…”

  “Like Jesus Christ, in the bible?”

  “Not quite, he – has greater power, I – merely own land, property, lots of it, passed to me upon the death of my father, who was a Marquis-...”

  “Wha’s a Marquis?”

  Quinton smiled, chewing, swallowing he answered, “A Marquis is a man who has done something honorable in the eyes of the monarchy, thus, they bestow upon him a title, lands, an area in which is his to gain benefit, wealth from. If he takes a wife in marriage and she blesses him with sons, it is the eldest son who will inherit all that is his-…”

  “You the oldest son, Quinton?”

  “Yes, I am the eldest son. I have a brother, and long ago, had a sister as well, unfortunately, she died at a very young age; I wanted to save her, I could not.”

  “I wanted to understand why she died. Nothing else meant more to me than that – getting to the bottom of this mystery of life and – death.” He explained, continuing to enjoy his meal.

  Suga found herself lost in a dream as she took in all there was about him. The color of his skin, the curly mink like texture of his hair; his captivating blue eyes, his engaging smile and his matter of fact way; his honesty, his care, his treatment of her from the moment he found her in the ship.

  “You are – beautiful – Quinton, as beautiful as anything I have ever seen.”

  He looked up smiling, “Well said; very well said. That’s what I want to hear, properly spoken English.”

  “That is another thing we positively must get right, your manner of speech; we have much to do in a short time.” He went on as if she had not just called him beautiful.

  “Eat up.” He nodded to her food that was growing cold.

  Suga gave a nod, picked up her fork and once more began eating – thinking, she would do this for him; she felt that she owed him; she must do what was expected of her and told him so.

  “I want you – proud of me, Quinton. I will do, my bit, and speak as you want.” She glanced up, still shy at times, gazing at him showing her slight smile.

  He was done eating, and with his elbows on the table, chin resting on his knuckles, eyes twinkling, “You – really think that I am beautiful?” He asked, flirting with her.

  She blushed and nodded, hesitant to speak; she felt she must learn to form her words correctly before saying what she thought.

  He found it hard to take his eyes off of her, and wondered if she could handle having him that night, “Suga … look at me.”

  Her eyes met his immediately.

  “This night, and every one to come – you will share my bed. The other room is yours still, but not to sleep in, you understand?” He asked gently.

  She nodded, that she understood and went back to nibbling at her food, feeling his eyes on her. She glanced up at him, “You – want me – Quinton?”

  “I do, I do – so much so, that – I fear I spoke too hastily in saying that I could wait. Even so, if you did not wish it – I would never again, force myself on you.” He could barely control his breathing with his passion for her so intense.

  Suga felt her heart take off beating madly; below, a tingling throb she had never felt made her thighs squeeze in reaction, all due to Quinton and the way he made her feel. She stood, taking her food and putting it on the floor for Moose; who devoured it within seconds; without a word, Suga headed for the stairs.

  Quinton sat for a moment, trying to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, closing his eyes, breathing deeply he too rose from his seat, and already his erection was prominent, aching, coming to life for what he longed to do to her. Buying time for himself to calm down, he went about checking both doors and all windows.

  “Moose, there’s a good boy,” He scratched his head, behind his ears, “… you guard the house as we sleep boy, you hear?” Of course the animal hadn’t a clue of what he meant, but was excited all the same for his attention.

  Blowing out the flames of each lantern, he carried the last one up to their room. Upon entering, the fire was going and there, in bed, she sat, beneath the covers, her shoulders bare, her slender arms holding them in place over her breasts; his eyes traveled across the room to where her clothing lay across his sea chest. All was quiet aside from the crackling fire. Setting the lantern on his nearby bureau, Quinton went to the bench next to it, sat down and started removing his boots.

  The entire time, Suga sat watching him; neither saying a word, he, for once, found his tongue tied. She watched him remove his stockings, next his vest, then his shirt. His chest was hairy; the pattern was centered and shaped like a diamond, the bottom of which sent a line of hair trailing down his firm stomach, disappearing into the waist band of his trousers.

  She gulped, nervously, yet resolved, unable to pull her eyes away as he unbuttoned the front panel, letting it fall away to reveal the top of his crotch and a thick thatch of pubic hair. Her eyes flickered from there up to his eyes and back down again, unsure if she should be watching him as he went to push them down; she chickened out at the last moment and looked away.

  Quinton chuckled, “Surely, my little rat-slayer is not afraid.”

  Shy, she glanced back to look right at it – and made a face, grimacing, “Can’t think o’nothin’ the Lord make, uglier than that.”

  Quinton exploded into laughter; he laughed so that he ended up staggering to the bed and moving the covers back, clambering in next to her, unable to stop the mirth that bubbled continuously from him. “Shame on you, all that our Lord has done, he has done to perfection.”

  Unable to help herself, she covered her mouth, letting escape a bit of laughter, the first real laughter Quinton had ever heard from her. No matter how she tried to hold it in, it poured out, spilling between them, making him control his own just to hear it. She had a deep throaty, raunchy type of laughter that came straight from her gut, and went right to his loins, arousing him all the more. He moved closer to her, taking her hand away from her mouth; she sniffed, pulled her bottom lip in, moistening it and shielded her eyes, lowering them from him.

  “You – make me happy, Suga; you make my soul light up with laughter and joy and admiration.”

  “It has been such a long time – longer than I can remember ever feeling as I do now. Is it any wonder th
at I never married; You see I was waiting for you, waiting – to find you.” He moved closer still, his hand going to her slender neck, pulling her toward him as he slanted across her, to kiss her luscious full lips again, easing his tongue into the seam of them, brushing it across her teeth and finally into her mouth. Slowly savoring the taste of her, his hand traveled lower to the covers, pushing them down her body to reveal her pert, round breasts; his palm covering one with a squeeze, kneading it gently; from one to the other, with the pad of his thumb rubbing the sensitive peaks while the slant of his body and leaning pressure coaxed her to ease onto her back further into the bed where he could move over her when ready.

  Already their breathing had become labored as the sensual tension between them built. Suga could feel his lengthy erection rubbing against her hip, hard, hot and ready to penetrate; the sensation made her flood with wetness, a moan escaped with her rising urgency. His fervent kisses moved from her lips, over her chin, down to her neck, leaving fire in its wake.

  There was no doubt about where he was going; Quinton had imagined kissing her breasts hundreds of times, if not thousands and now, finally, he would. He had a problem however, he ached to be inside of her; he ached to feel her heat surround him, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out to ensure that she too, felt all the pleasures that were now coursing through his body, growing in volume so he was barely able to keep control.

  The heat of his warm moist mouth covered one of her nipples sending a jolt of pleasure so acute it almost brought Suga’s back off the bed – she cried out his name, grabbing his head, her fingers in his hair so that he would not stop suckling at her sensitive tips.

  “Ach – Quinton, oh…” She gasped, feeling the room spin around them.

  His pelvis gyrated, rocking back and forth against her thigh; his hand left her breast to his mouth to seek something more; traveling over her flat stomach and down to the thatch of dark hair covering her heated mound – his fingers went on to part the wet folds, sliding lower toward her throbbing entry where they glided in to test her readiness.