Stand and Deliver Your Love

by Sheffield, Killarney

  When Byron took her in his arms and began to twirl her around the floor she trod on his toe by accident. His eyes sparkled, conveying his amusement. “Relax. Just follow my lead. The steps to this new dance are really quite simple.”

  Sarah nodded stiffly, trying to concentrate on the intricate pattern, but Byron’s warmth and the close proximity of his lips made her light-headed and simple-minded.

  “This dance is a favorite of the king’s although it is still considered to be inappropriate for unwed ladies to partake in.”

  “It has been a long time since I danced,” Sarah murmured, “I used to hide on the backstairs and watch the balls at my parent’s home as a little girl. I suppose the last time I danced with a man was at my coming-out ball. My parents died soon after.”

  “Then we shall have to attend as many balls as we can, so you may dance before we leave London,” he granted. Sarah jerked he gaze to his. “Leave London?”

  “Yes, we will be going back to my country estate as soon as my business here is finished.” Before she could protest, the dance was over and Byron was leading her back to her chair beside the duchess.

  The crowd parted and Sarah winced. Lady Livington approached with a bevy of ladies trailing in her wake. “Lord Cobbett, darling,” the lady simpered. “I was most disappointed when I did not receive an invite to your wedding,” she purred. She glanced at Sarah, her eyes widening in recognition.

  Sarah schooled her face into a blank mask before Byron took the woman’s hand and kissed the air above the back of it graciously. He cast Sarah an apologetic smile. “My apologies, Lady Livington, it was a simple ceremony and only a few close friends were invited.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed at the cut, but she smiled. “Do I know your bride? She seems vaguely familiar to me….”

  A sickening feeling welled up into the pit of Sarah’s stomach but despite it she kept a smile on her face. “I do not believe we have been formally introduced.”

  Lady Livington ignored her turning instead with feigned wide-eyed innocence to the ladies behind her. “Now I remember. She is the little maid from the king’s ball.”

  When the ladies behind her gasped, Sarah wanted to crawl into the nearest corner to hide. She strained to keep a polite smile on her lips. Vindictive little trollop.

  “I am quite sure you are mistaken, Lady Livington,” Byron said with a polite smile that did not match the icy glint in his eyes. “My new bride is the daughter of the late Duke of Wellington.”

  The woman glared at her for a moment then smiled with sugary sweetness. “Oh my, I wasn’t aware you were even alive.”

  The women behind her tittered. Sarah clenched her fingers together in her lap. The nerve of the harlot! It was all Sarah could do to restrain herself from flying from her chair and scratching the woman’s eyes out.

  “As you can clearly see, my wife is very much alive and well,” Byron drawled.

  The woman smiled, but the spiteful look in her eyes remained. “Well, I am sure all of the ladies present will be absolutely captivated by the tale of her pursuit for your love. It is not every day a lady chases a lord around the countryside dressed as a highwayman to extract a marriage proposal out of him.”

  Sarah’s anger rose to the boiling point. She clenched her shaking fingers so tight her nails bite into the tender flesh of her palms.

  Byron cast Lady Livington a reproachful glare. “I thought it was very romantic. After all, there are so few love matches these days. Would you agree ladies?” Byron smiled at the women gathered close.

  The women sighed and giggled. “Very romantic. How lucky for you,” they babbled.

  Lady Livington turned a frosty eye to him. “I am sure I would not know, Lord Cobbett, since I have yet to find a man worthy of such adoration.” She turned and marched away.

  The ladies gathered around Sarah asking a multitude of questions regarding their courtship. When Sarah turned to smile her thanks at Byron, he was already talking to a group of men a few feet away. She turned back to the women as they introduced themselves and smiled.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sarah dismissed the maid and sat down at the dressing table to brush her hair before bed. The girl had already done the task for her, but she needed something to occupy her hands as she nervously awaited Byron. She paused when heavy footsteps approach her door. The footsteps passed by instead of stopping, and entered the room next to hers which she knew belonged to the marquis. Her hands trembled as she laid the brush back on the dresser and smoothed her sheer nightdress. Even though she had already lain with Byron she was apprehensive. What if she displeased him in some way? What if he did not find her small breasts and body appealing? After all, she was no longer forbidden fruit. Would her body betray her as it had done once before?

  When the light under the connecting door went out she stood, blew out her candle

  and hurried to bed. After pulling the ties releasing the bed curtains she placed herself exactly in the middle of the large feather mattress. With the covers pulled up to her chin she lay, hardly daring to breath.

  The door connecting her room to his opened with a small squeak. She waited. Footsteps crossed to the bed. A match was struck and the bedside lamp flared to life. She lay fixated to the shadow on the other side of the curtain. The match was extinguished and the shadow turned toward the bed. The curtain drew back. Byron stood there and she gasped when she realized he was totally naked.

  He smiled at her and climbed onto the bed. The muscles on his chest rolled as he

  leaned forward. “Tonight, I shall show you how to make a babe.” Sarah clutched the bedclothes tighter, closing her eyes. “We might have already done that, my lord.”

  His breath tickled her face before he spoke in a mocking tone. “If you are with child, Madame, then it could not be mine, for I have yet to take your maidenhead.”

  “My what?” She opened her eyes, mesmerized by his hot stare.

  A look of astonishment crossed his face before he covered it with an amused smile.

  “Your maidenhead. Do you know so little about what happens between a man and a woman?”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “I know plenty.”

  He leaned his face close to hers and smiled. “Then you know when I do this….” He lowered his face to hers and touched her lips with his own. His tongue slid along her lower lip before he pulled back just the slightest bit. “…and this….” His hand slid under the blanket and brushed her breast through the thin fabric of her nightdress.

  Sarah gasped, trembling as his fingers paused to circle her tender nipple, teasing it into a hard nub. His kiss deepened and she responded by closing her eyes and releasing the blanket.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, one on either side of his head. With a low moan he released her lips and began to rain little kisses along her jaw and neck. The most wonderful warmth began spreading from between her legs up her entire body, until her head and body seemed one and the same. The mattress shifted as he lay down beside her and moved his hand to tease her other breast. She let her arms fall to her sides. How is it he can make me feel this way?

  As if he heard her unspoken question he raised his head and smiled. “And when I do this,” he whispered, “you will still not know fulfillment.” He lowered his head again and this time took her nipple in his mouth, fabric and all, teased and suckled it until she cried out with pleasure. His free hand eased her nightdress up to her hips, and then slipped down between her legs to the apex of her womanhood. His fingers began to stroke the tender nub hiding between her most intimate folds of flesh. Sarah jerked and closed her legs on his hand as his touch sent a bolt of pleasure through her whole body. His fingers stilled until she relaxed, then stroked her there again. This time she sighed and let him do as he wished. Her mind and body hummed with pleasure. When he released her breast and returned to her lips, she whimpered in protest. He placed a light kiss on her mouth and then chuckled as he moved down to pleasure her other breast. Wh
en his fingers stopped stroking she whimpered again and thrust her hips upward. Again he released her breast and chuckled. He returned his fingers to their place stroking her nub and ran his tongue along her ear lobe.

  “And when I do this,” he whispered, “you will be almost ready for me.”

  Sarah moaned as the pressure in her womb built to a fevered pitch. He continued to stroke until her hips began to move in a rhythm of her own desire. Then he stopped and moved over top of her. When something hard pressed against her stomach she tensed. Opening her eyes she stared up into his in confusion. He smiled and took her hand in his bringing it to rest upon his hard, swollen member.

  She gasped. He held it there. “Do not be afraid, for this is what will bring you the greatest pleasure of all.” His other hand stroked her until she was lifted into the heavens. She let her eyes close as her mind clouded. His whisper seemed to come from far away. “You will know when I do this, you are mine. Only then can you conceive a babe.”

  There was pressure and a moment of pain. Sarah cried out but before she could protest she was drawn to his movement inside her. Then she could have sworn she was falling. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her body. Her eyes flew open as he thrust into her one last time and she cried out. He stiffened on top of her, his face a mask of pure pleasure. All the energy drained from her body and she floated back down from her utopia.

  Byron slid from on top of her and lay beside her, his breathing fast and ragged. Pulling her to him he nuzzled the back of her neck. “Sleep now, before I must show you again.”

  Sarah tried to relax and sleep, his breath tickling the back of her neck reminded her of where she was; curled up in the arms of her new husband. The husband who didn't take her seriously and cared little for the children she loved. What was she going to do? If Byron took her back to the country, she would never see the children again. She had to convince him to stay in London, but how was she going to do that? She couldn't very well tell him she wanted to stay with the children after he had already forbidden her to have anything more to do with them.

  How were the children going to survive without her help? Could Bert and Ann keep running the house and providing for them? Did they even know what happened to her?

  Sarah made up her mind to go back to the orphanage. Byron’s breathing was deep and steady. Sure he was asleep, she eased out from under his arm. When it dropped to the top of the blanket she froze, fearing she had awakened him. There was a slight pause then his breathing resumed its steady rhythm. Taking a deep breath she rolled from the bed and hurried to her wardrobe. She cringed when the wardrobe door squeaked as she opened it. She darted a nervous glance over her shoulder. He still snored, the sound not disturbing his slumber. She snatched the first gown her fingers touched from its hook, picked up the matching slippers and crept to the door. With one last look over her shoulder she slipped out into the hallway. Looking both ways to make sure there were no servants around she stripped off her nightdress and donned on the yellow day dress and matching slippers. It was not the best choice in dress for wandering the deserted London streets but there was no way she was going to take the time to go back into the bedchamber to find another and risk waking Byron. She stole down the stairs to the main entrance. There was no sign of any servants. With a sigh of relief she exited the front door.

  It was eerily quiet except for the odd meow of an alley cat as she made her way along the cobblestones, hoping she was going the right way. Just when she started to worry she was lost, she recognized the bakery a short block from the orphanage. She quickened her pace and soon was on her own familiar doorstep. Gasping, and out of breath she opened the door and slipped inside.

  “Put your hands up.”

  She froze, and then giggled. “Bert! You frightened me.”

  “What the hell?” A candle flared to life. Bert held it up. “Mistress! You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  Sarah grinned and crossed to the fireplace, holding her cold hands out to the warmth. “It is nice to see you too, Bert.”

  “What happened to you? I heard you were taken to Newgate.”

  “I was, Bert. It is a long story.”

  He shook his head. “Well, sit down, I’ll fetch Ann and you can tell us both the whole thing, eh?”

  Sarah giggled when he took the stairs two at a time almost falling in his haste to get his wife. Instead of sitting, she went into the kitchen and put a pot of water over the fire to boil.

  Within minutes Bert was back with a sleepy Ann in tow. “See. Here she is,” he said to his wife.

  Ann began to sob. “Lord be praised, you are home child.” She wrapped her arms around Sarah. “We thought you were dead.”

  “As you can see I am fine, Ann.” Sarah gently pried herself from the elated woman’s grasp. “I put water on for tea. Sit down and I shall tell you all that has happened.” The couple was silent as Sarah related the whole story to them, from the time of her capture up until then.

  Ann smiled and dabbed her eyes with Bert’s handkerchief. “You got your wish.” Sarah shook her head. “I wish I had not.”

  “Why? You married the man you love and now with his blunt we shall never have to worry about the little ones again.”

  A tear trickled down Sarah’s cheek before she could stop it. “I have run away from him. He has forbidden me to continue to help the children.”

  “The fiend. Doesn't he know how bad their plight is?”

  “I tried to tell him but he does not care.”

  Bert shot a wary look in the direction of the door. “He’ll come looking for you.”

  “He will not find me here,” Sarah vowed.

  Ann tut-tutted and shook her head. “If he wants to, he’ll find you.” A baby’s thin wail broke the quiet of the night. The housekeeper got up. “Poor thing, the milk turns sour in his stomach and he cries.”

  Sarah put her hand on the older woman’s. “I will sit up with him tonight, Ann. I am afraid I will not be able to sleep anyway.” She headed for the stairs before Ann could protest. The baby’s cries intensified by the time she reached the room. Sarah picked the squalling infant up and cuddled him close against her shoulder. Patting his back she swayed and murmured soothing words to him.

  Byron wouldn't find her here, she told herself. After a while he would give up searching and have their marriage annulled. The only problem now would be how to raise the funds she needed to keep the children fed and clothed. There was no way she wanted to go back to robbing coaches. If caught a second time she would surely hang. There had to be some way she could earn enough money to provide for them all. Sarah put the problem from her mind as the baby continued to wail. Tomorrow there would be time enough to think on the situation.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Byron swore and kicked Bacchus into a fast trot. The horse tossed his head in protest, pinning his ears, but sprang forward into the busy London traffic. Byron let the horse pick his way amongst the carriages, handsome cabs, vendors’ carts and foot traffic without paying much attention. He kept his eyes on the crowds for any glimpse of Sarah.

  Where is the woman? She couldn't have just vanished into thin air, but that was exactly what it appeared she had done. For two days now he had searched every orphanage, street, ship and dock he came across with no success.

  Seeing an alehouse he stopped and dismounted, handing his reins to a young boy. He needed to slake his thirst and drown his anger. He promised the lad a halfpenny when he returned, if he held the horse, and strolled into the inn.

  A buxom young serving girl hurried to his side immediately and guided him to a dirty table in the corner of the room. “What can I get for you, my lord?” She gave him a seductive smile and leaned over to make sure he noticed her large bosoms.

  He ignored her blatant attempt to entice him. “Bring me a bottle of blue ruin.”

  She tossed her black curls, gave him a pretty pout and flounced off, her hips swaying in a practiced, provocative way.

  Byron glanced ar
ound the room. Mainly middle-class men were drinking and playing cards. Maybe one of them knew where he might find Sarah. When the barmaid returned with his bottle he gave her a winning smile.

  With a giggle she plopped down onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Pushing her ample breasts in his face she giggled again, no doubt hoping he would ask her to go upstairs with him. “I am looking for someone.”

  The girl giggled. “Then you came to the right place. I can be that someone.”

  He winked at her. “Yes, you could, but unfortunately you are not the one I am searching for.”

  The girl pouted for a moment then favored him with a coy smile. “Perhaps you would be grateful if I was to help you find this someone, eh?”

  “Perhaps,” Byron said, playing her game.

  She eyed his glass. “Perhaps enough to share your bottle with me?”

  He poured himself a glass. “Mayhap enough to give you the rest of this bottle.”

  The girl licked her lips. “Perhaps, you might also be grateful enough to come with me up yonder?” she tipped her head toward the narrow stairs to the rooms above used by the barmaids to entertain paying customers. Byron shifted her weight to keep her from gyrating her buttocks against his inflamed manhood.

  “We shall have to see.” He was fast getting tired of the game but was unwilling to give it up until he knew if she had any information useful to him. “I am looking for a blonde girl about this high.” He held his hand up about Sarah’s height. “Her name is Sarah Wellington. She looks after orphans.”