Serephina glowed red. The Matron meant marriage, which was a large and comprehensively unspoken step. Guardedly, she looked up at him as he stood there, slowly running his teeth across his lower lip like he was still tasting her. Heat suffused her again. She wanted him wantonly and she didn't care what his intentions were, not daring to hope they were firm enough to petition for her. They didn't know each other well enough, and she certainly didn't want him to do so out of guilt.
She wanted to make sure he understood that, but Matron would not let them speak further. Looking back at him, she almost stumbled as Matron dragged her back to the main building of the factory. Warmth was still flooding her. He was here. He'd come to her and he'd kissed her thoroughly, like he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Matron gave her a stern look as she grinned like a dunce. "I love him," she said.
Matron huffed again and let her go when she was inside. "Watch yourself, Miss Woodford, love does not disengage you from your responsibilities here. Don't make things difficult for yourself. If he is a decent man, he will petition for you. If he doesn't, you would be beyond moronic to run off with him."
Serephina considered her words as Matron marched off. He would never ask her to do that, she said to herself. Matron didn't know him, she wanted to call. He didn't break the rules; he followed the intent of the law like few others.
But a dreamy quality refused to leave her. She ran her fingers over her lips, still not believing he was here; he'd come for her and he wanted her. Did she dare to hope for another future for herself—one with joy and love? She was scared to, because if such a future was within grasp, at least in her mind if nothing else, then anything less would be devastating. He'd better not toy with her; she couldn't bear it.
Chapter 32:
* * *
Weeks went by and Serephina was starting to worry that she'd taken it all wrong, that he'd seen her, dispatched the obligation he'd felt and had gone on with his life. Trying desperately not to, she couldn't help feel deeply hurt, but there was still that hope there—that he would come.
Her good behavior had moved her to probationary status and they were starting to urge her to take a position somewhere, as a ladies maid or a retail assistant. She'd even had an offer of marriage from a dairy farmer living six hours hike inland and Matron had been displeased with her when she'd turned it down. There was no way she would accept another marriage when there was still hope—she probably couldn't accept it even if there wasn't. She was not about to be sold off like chattel.
Both Rachel and Doreen were gone, in the city somewhere. Doreen had taken a position as a kitchen maid and Rachel was now the mistress of an influential man. Marriage wasn't the only option, it seemed, if the person was powerful enough.
A new ship came with new prisoners. This time, Serephina was the one standing around the yard as the frightened newcomers were divided into their classes.
The days trudged together into an endless set of work tasks and endless deliberation for her about what she'd understood and what she'd gotten wrong. She was taken out of the fields and assigned to the laundry room, which was so hot and steamy she felt faint most of the time.
"Matron wants to see you," Clara said, her head popping around the door of the laundry.
Serephina put the sodden sheet aside and nodded to Mrs. Menning, who was supervising the laundry. Wiping her hands, which were red from constant heat and work, she made her way to the main building where Matron kept her office. She stepped inside the building and saw him. He turned to her when he heard her coming in, and she felt like her heart had stopped. He'd come. Elation soared in her chest. He'd come for her.
He was dressed in a blue uniform, a policeman’s uniform, and his hair was combed. He looked nervous, but he smiled when he saw her. Restraining herself, she suppressed the urge to run over to him and throw herself into his arms.
"Mr. Cox here has a petition to take a bride," Matron said, but Serephina couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He looked so handsome. "He has requested you to be that bride. Do you accept his offer?"
"Yes," she said in a rush. A wisp of something flittered through his eyes, but he immediately returned to his guarded expression.
"I think that settles it then. You can marry in the chapel here. Is this something you wish to do now?"
"Yes," he stated.
"Then go change into your Sunday bests, girl," Matron said. "But before you go, I will warn you. Crime of any kind is not tolerated here. If you get caught stealing, Miss Woodford, you will hang. Do you understand me?"
Serephina nodded. She didn't intend on stealing anything. The purpose of her actions was resolved now. She hoped Mr. Cox understood that too. She didn't want to leave; she wanted to stay in case he disappeared like mist in front of her eyes. With a smile, she bowed slightly then rushed out of the room and upstairs, changing as quickly as she could.
"What's the rush?" Martha asked when she bounded down the stairs dressed finer than she should be.
"I am marrying," she said, still not quite believing this was happening.
"Now?"
"Yes, now. In the chapel."
She ran to the chapel where he was waiting outside for her, taking her hand when she reached him.
"I should have bought you a wedding dress. I didn't think of it."
"It doesn't matter," she said, smiling. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
He didn't speak for a moment. "Do you want me?"
"Yes," she said, trying to convey how much she did. Groaning silently, she realized that he had the same concern as she'd had about him, that she was marrying him only to get out of prison. "I would run away with you if you asked me. Or I would wait seven years if necessary, but I would still marry you."
Pulling her hand, he pulled her to him into a kiss. Serephina closed her eyes, melting into the sweet softness of his lips. This was where she belonged—she just knew. It was a chaste kiss, because a crowd had gathered. Serephina blushed wildly when it broke, but she couldn't stop the beaming smile. "You are a policeman," she said.
"Yes, I am a member of the Sydney Foot Constabulary—a Sergeant." She knew it was a lesser designation than what he'd had in London—effectively a demotion. She was sorry for it, but not enough to regret him being there.
"You look handsome." She watched as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She would do her best to be a good wife, not really sure what that would entail, but she would do it. There was also the other part to being a wife—the completion of what they'd started. She was his now and she was about to give her body and heart to this man. Searching her mind, she knew she felt no doubt.
The door to the chapel opened and Reverend Millford let them in. Women flowed in behind them, seating themselves in the pews and Reverend Millford started, running through the standard vows. He started by asking Mr. Rowan Cox if he would take Miss Serephina Woodford to be his wife. Serephina held her breath until he answered, and he drew a ring out of his coat pocket, placing it on her finger. It was a simple gold band and it was perfect. Then it was her turn and she brought her attention to the Reverend hoping she didn't get this wrong. Would she take Mr. Rowan Cox as her husband? Blood rushed in her ears and she wasn't entirely sure her consent was audible. She didn’t have a ring, but he didn’t mind. The Reverend pronounced them man and wife. Rowan smiled and Serephina was mesmerized by it. This was her husband. He was strong and proud, and absolutely beautiful.
The next part was a blur. People were congratulating her and before long, she was down in the jetty where a small sailboat waited for them. They sailed immediately and Serephina waved as they slowly pulled away from the jetty. She was never going to see that place again, she realized, and through this marriage she had effectively been pardoned.
Rowan—her husband's name was Rowan. She'd known that, but she could call him by his first name now. He was hers. He held her hand as they sat on the bench at the back of the small boat, while the two men sailing it were up the front, managing the sails
and rudder. It would take them hours to get to Sydney, but Serephina loved every minute of the journey, sitting there holding his hand.
Rowan led her up a set of stairs. "These are our rooms," he said. "It isn't much, but it is all I can afford on this salary." He opened the door to a living room with a table in one corner and a fireplace. The room was papered a dusky-pink roses and the windows were framed with yellow curtains. It was small but cosy. This was where she would live her married life with him. They would eat there and sit there, and sleep in the bed she could see through a door to the right. "It isn't what you're used to."
"You mean a hammock? No, it's a darn sight better."
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to him, into his arms. "You know what I mean."
"It's perfect," she said. "We will be happy here." There could be children, she realized and blushed when she considered the process of getting them there.
Rowan groaned and leaned down to claim her lips, which she gave immediately, snaking her arms around his back. She let the sensation of the kiss wash over her, eagerly accepting its heavy promise. She wanted so much more. Her husband. His arms gripped her tightly to him as he deepened the kiss. She held back nothing from him, urging him to claim all of her.
She felt his hard body along hers and fire ignited deep inside her. She wanted to be utterly consumed by it, by him. His hardness was pressing into her belly and she'd been told this would hurt, but she didn't care. He would be inside her and she wanted that.
He kissed her neck as he undid the buttons down the front of her dress, revealing her skin to the cold of the air and the warmth of his hand, which moved down and gently kneaded her breast through the thin shift. Delicious sensation shot down her body making her knees weak.
"Come," he said and pulled away from her, still holding her hand. He moved to the bedroom and she followed. Reaching down, he lifted her dress and shift over her head, leaving her bare.
"Beautiful," he said as he trailed his fingers gently over her collar bone and down across her chest. Reaching forward, he kissed her again, joining their bodies together. It felt as important as air, touching him. It was familiar and safe—where she belonged. It had only officially been a matter of hours, but she couldn't image a time when she didn't belong to him.
He urged her down on the bed and she stretched out, watching him as he undressed. It was the most glorious sight she'd ever seen. His corded muscles strained as he moved and she saw the scars on his body, wanting to kiss each one of them, coax the angry tissue to heal and fade.
Coming down, he joined her on the bed and she felt the weight of him descend on her. His elbows held his weight and he came close, looking her in the eyes, tracing her cheek with his finger. Her mouth wanted to capture his finger as he teased her. "I will be the best husband I can, " he said. "But I have little experience in being a good husband."
"I have no experience in being a wife," she replied, running her hands down his bare sides, feeling the smooth skin over firm muscles, "but I think this is an excellent start."
"Do you?" he said with amusement. "And what would you like me to do?"
"Kiss me," she said, her eyes drowning in his. "Touch me. Be inside me."
He raised his eyebrows. "Are you scared?"
"No."
"It will hurt a little."
"I don't care."
"You are my little hellion, aren't you?" he smiled, but then grew serious. "No more illicit activities. From now on, you must accept the limitations of what I can provide for you. This might be all I can ever offer."
"Then it is perfect. All I want is for us to love each other—nothing else matters."
He smiled. "I think I can manage that."
Leaning down, he claimed her lips again, slow, heady strokes as his tongue explored hers before pulling away. "Tell me to stop if it's too much."
"Don't stop," she said breathlessly, reaching for his lips again. Her legs moved apart for him, drawing him closer to where she wanted him. Her core was pulsing wildly at the touch of his hardness pressed to her, but he shifted away, trailing kisses down her chest until he reached her breast. Taking one of her nipples in his warm, soft mouth, Serephina gasped as the urgent, delicious sensations flowed through her body. She hadn't realized such a simple act could be so powerful. His tongue whirled over its peak, teasing it with sharp flicks. She didn't think she could take anymore. She was on absolute fire.
Grinding her hips to his, she sought more of the wondrous tension it created. How could hurt possibly compete with such pleasure? She was on tenterhooks, begging for every sensation wrought, knowing instinctively there was more.
He pulled back and away from her and Serephina wanted to protest. Standing up next to the bed, he undid his belt and Serephina watched as he revealed the hardness hidden under his clothes. This was him, everything he was and he was glorious. She welcomed him back into her arms and reveled in the feel of being completely naked, bare skin against skin. His thighs were strong and she wrapped her legs around him. The heat was so intense at the apex of her thighs, she wanted to beg him to come to her, knowing she was anticipating him.
As he moved, she felt him as her entrance, pushing gently in. She held her breath as he pushed further into her, creating the most curious sensation. A sharp pain made her jerk and he stopped. Her maidenhead had broken. "Hush," he said, assuring her. "It's done now."
After a moment, he pushed further in, giving her a sense of fullness until he was encased completely in her body. The urgent friction returned, but he was too heavy for her to move. Then he pulled back and pushed into her again and waves of pleasure rippled through her, making her gasp. Her whole world shrunk to only exist of his eyes and the urgent joining of their bodies. Each repetition, drove her further down into an alternate world that consisted only of the ebbs and flows of pleasure.
Picking up speed, he drove her on until her whole body tensed, only anticipating the next trust. The tension grew so fierce she didn't know whether she would survive it, until her body culminated into intense waves of pleasure pulsing through her body and mind, making her arch into its heady storm.
He'd introduced her to this, this unknown world she hadn't even known existed. She'd been seeking this all along, she realized, back in London when he'd kissed her—this is what she'd wanted from him, love so strong it tore the world apart.
His trusts only kept the pulses coming until he faltered and ground into her, crying out. She wanted him deeper, as deep as he could possibly go and she opened herself to him as much as she could.
Gasping for breath, she just lay there as his weight came down on her. She didn't want it to be over; she wanted to do it again, but she was too exhausted to move. There was no place else she wanted to be in the whole world, but lying there underneath him. Reaching up, she held his head to her chest, kissing his brow. How could things be so wonderful?
Finally, he moved, rolling onto his side and kissing her. Following him, she rolled onto her side as well, facing him. His arm came up and rested on her ribcage, drawing her to him. She nuzzled into his chest and closed her eyes.
"You'll like Sydney," he said. "This is a good place. We can return to England if you want, later."
She shook her head. "I want to be where you are. Those are my only requirements."
He gripped her tighter and Serephina luxuriated in the embrace. "Can we do that again?"
He chuckled. "You're going to have to give me a minute, but yes, we can do that whenever you want."
In their small flat, Serephina stood waiting for Rowan to return at the end of his shift. He worked down by the Rocks, roaming the streets to spot and deal with any trouble. Sometimes she went to his sector and sat somewhere just waiting for him to pass by, calling out some of the more colorful compliments she'd learned from the women she'd shared a ship with. He would blush bright red, which he only seemed to do for her, and he would repeat what she'd said to him when he got home, walking her back to the bedroom.
Pressing her
hands together, she waited, completely naked. The door handle turned and she waited with anticipation. The door opened and he saw her, closing the door sharply behind him so no one would see his stark naked wife greeting him as he returned from work. His eyes traveled her form appreciatively and then he looked her in the eyes like she was playing this game with an unfair advantage. "What have you been doing today?"
"Just waiting for you."
"No emancipationist meeting then?"
"Not today." Serephina had joined the emancipationist movement, which sought to improve conditions for the convicts transported there, and their subsequent treatment. Although she'd sworn she'd never have anything to do with the Parramatta Female Factory again, she'd been instrumental in setting up the orphanage there, and the acceptance of unwed mother, and other former convicts who fared poorly after their release.
Rowan stepped toward her, skimming her hip with his hand while he placed his policemen's hat down on the table behind her. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I can think of something," she said, worrying the brass button of his uniform.
"I am going to have a child in your belly by next week if we keep this up."
Looking up into his eyes, she smiled. She couldn't imagine anything better—a child, half her and half him. Reaching up, she kissed him, sweetly to begin with, but it morphed into pure need. She couldn't live without him even if she tried and she worried relentlessly over him while he was at work—even as she knew that her husband, Sergeant Rowan Cox, was supremely capable of dealing with any trouble that came his way.
He would be promoted before long. It was only a matter of time, but for now, she loved seeing her husband in this uniform and loved teasing him on the streets whenever she found him. Their life was perfect and she would never put him in jeopardy. She would certainly never steal again, except for one man's heart—repeatedly.
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