Bewitching My Love

by Diane Story

  Rowen sat his fork down and took a sip of his Brandywine. Fern held him captive all during dinner with her laughter and tales of her childhood antics while she was imprisoned in the orphanage. “I still don’t understand why you were never adopted, Fern. You are a beautiful woman, and I know you had to have been a beautiful child. How old were you when you left?”

  “I was seventeen when I left the orphanage. I’d saved up enough of my own money to get my own place and I had a small inheritance from my parents. They left me enough to get me through college, and to purchase my condo. I don’t know why I was never adopted Rowen, but it doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m a grown woman with my own choices to make, and I’m quite happy, right where I am.”

  After downing the last few drops of his Brandywine, Rowen stood up then moved around the table until he stood in front of her. Reaching out his hand he waited for her to take it. “Come, let’s go back inside. The breeze is a little cool out here, don’t you agree?”

  Fern looked at his hand and realized this was her deciding moment. In her heart she knew her decision had already been made. Gently, she placed her hand in his and stood up. Their bodies were just inches apart. “Alright, let’s go in.” There was a lot about him she didn’t know, and so much she did know. Like the way his eyes creased in the corners when he smiled, and the way he looked at her with obvious hunger and desire.

  Rowen circled his arm around Fern’s waist and walked with her back into his bedroom. On one side of the room stood his couch, on the other side, his four-poster bed. He knew which one he preferred. Turning her in his arms, he looked down into her soft hazel eyes and noticed that tonight they sparkled with a little more green than usual. “I’m going to kiss you, Fern. If you intend to run, do it now. Because tonight, I won’t be satisfied stopping with just a kiss.”

  Fern reached up and held his face between trembling palms. “Tonight Rowen, I don’t want to run.” Pulling him down until their lips met, she kissed him. A moan of submission escaped her throat and she let her body relax against him. Winding her arms around his neck, she held him, pulling him with her until they stood next to his bed.

  Rowen dragged himself away from her just long enough to pull the covers back then undress her. Turning her around until he had her back against him, he bent down and brushed her long hair to one side then nuzzled her neck. Inhaling every bit of her sweet scent, he kissed the soft place behind her ear. As he unzipped her lime green dress, he let his lips trail down her spine until he heard the flimsy material hit the floor beneath their feet. On his way back up, he nibbled her skin to become intoxicated from the taste and feel of her flesh. She was exquisite, sensual and perfect. After releasing her bra and sliding her panties down her long legs to join her dress on the carpet, he reached around and held her with his strong arms, cupping her breasts with both hands. Gently he played over her silky nipples until they grew hard against his thumbs. He smiled when her head fell back against his chest and a soft moan escaped her lips, it was her way of telling him she wanted more. He was more than anxious to oblige.

  Fern knew the fire of final submission would be intense; after all, lovemaking could only be sublime with Rowen. But when the fingers of one of his hands slipped down to tease the soft flesh underneath the curls nestled between her thighs she felt her knees weaken and her bones turn to jelly. Rowen caught her and lifted her in his powerful arms, enabling her to pay him back. Before he could drop her into the plush cushions of his bed she had his shirt unbuttoned and his powerful chest exposed to her impatient hands. As she ran her anxious fingers through the thick hair, she bent her head down and tasted him. From her own experience, she knew she could pleasure him with her tongue. After placing several soft kisses over the hard muscles of his chest, she let her tongue gently circle his nipples. Amazed when they grew harder with each stroke, she continued until she felt his body grow warm beneath her hands and she could feel the evidence of his desire throbbing against her hip.

  As sweet as her teasing was, Rowen had to have more. With a grunt, he deposited her onto his bed then quickly shed his clothes before joining her. Her pale skin lay in stark contrast to the crimson velvet of his blankets, but her hair blended into them. He stood staring down at her in awe. “You are so very beautiful.” He went to her outstretched arms and joined her on the covers. “Before I make you mine, Fern there’s something I must tell you.” He nibbled her chin and traced the line of her jaw with his tongue.

  Fern pulled his head back and looked into his eyes. “I know what you want to say, Rowen, but I want to say it first.” She studied his face and hoped she wasn’t wrong. “I love you, Rowen.”

  “I know you do Fern. You wouldn’t be here with me right now if you didn’t.” Taking her mouth, he kissed her deeply. As he reached for the velvety softness of her mouth, their tongues mated in a duel of passion. Clinging to her body he pulled back one last time. “And, I love you Fern.”

  Fern gasped, arching her back when his hand found her soft mound once again. As he pleasured her she trembled, yelling out as his teeth slid over one of her erect nipples. He suckled her until she withered beneath him, her heart racing against her ribs.

  Her hands found their own way over his body. Reaching down between them she found him, hard and erect, pressed against her hip. Shy at first, she let just her fingertips run over the velvety skin of his manhood. But as his breathing became shallower and she realized the pleasure she brought him, she became brave, allowing her fingers to wrap around him, caressing him while she laid her head back to enjoy her own newfound pleasure.

  Rowen fought to maintain control. Reaching down, he held her hand still. “That’ll be enough, young lady, I don’t want it to be over too soon. I’ve waited a long time for this.” Rising up on his knees, he slid down between their bodies until he lay between her outstretched legs, kissing her lips and her neck then on down to savor her breasts. He suckled the pink tips of each breast until her nails dug into his back, and then he slid down further, letting his tongue dip into her tiny navel. Slipping his hands underneath her derrière, he raised her hips, eager for the taste of her womanhood.

  Realizing his intent, Fern struggled to sit up. “No, Rowen, no. Please, I’ve never…”

  “Shhh love, I know you’ve never done this, just lie back and let me pleasure you. I promise I won’t hurt you.” Feeling her relax, he continued on his course.

  Fern let her shoulders fall back on the pillows and cried out when a wave of pleasure raced through her body. Rowen’s head was barely visible between her legs and the things he was doing to her made her blush. But she didn’t want him to stop so she closed her eyes and gave in.

  Rowen felt Fern’s body become rigid and he knew she was close to experiencing her first climax. He wanted to share it with her, to feel it. Pulling himself up, he sat on his knees in between her open legs and reached out to caress her soft breasts with his palms. “I can’t wait Fern, I want you. Look at me love, look at me as I make you mine.”

  Fern opened her eyes and held his. She was ready, she wanted him completely. “I’m ready, Rowen.” She continued to hold his eyes as his hips pushed forward. In one swift, powerful movement Rowen held her innocence, then took it as he surged deep into her body. The pain was brief, quickly replaced by an intense pleasure building within the depths of her abdomen.

  Rowen felt her innocence tear away, and at first it pained him to think he’d hurt her. But as her pleasure began to build, and as her body stretched to accept him, he lost himself in the delicious feel of her. Her flesh was warm and intense, so much more than he expected. Burying himself deeper with each thrust, he soon had her calling his name, urging him on with raspy cries of pleasure. With his hands, he raised her buttocks until they lay pressed against his thighs then dipped down to suckle her breasts as she offered them with her arched back.

  Fern was lost in the ecstasy of the moment, raising up she thrust her hips forward in unison with Rowen’s. She didn’t know if she was doing it r
ight, but it felt right. When her name rolled from his tongue in desperate, pleading whispers, she knew it was right. As his teeth nibbled the tips of each breast, she felt like the fire in her belly was going to overflow, like the fire of a volcano, it raged through her veins. And then it happened, grasping the velvet blanket in her clenched fists she yelled out against his shoulder. Sweet spasms rocked her body, and a multitude of emotions exploded with it.

  Feeling her release, Rowen couldn’t hold on any longer. Picking up her hips, he surged forward, meeting her climax with his own. And yet another burst of pleasure washed over him, as the sweet spasms of her body reacted from his own release.

  Afterward, Rowen held Fern close, as they lay cuddled together on top of the velvet bedspread. “I want to marry you, Fern. Let’s go find a justice of the peace tonight. No sense in waiting, I love you and you love me. I want you in my life forever. I want to be the father of your children, and I want…”

  Fern’s fingers stopped their endless caresses in the dark hair of his chest. Raising her head, she looked into his eyes and saw he was serious. “I do love you, Rowen, and I do want to marry you. But let’s wait until tomorrow. I’m not ready to give you up right now, I want you to make love to me again.” Reaching up, she kissed him, and as she let her fingers dance down his chest, past the deep muscles of his abdomen, she wasn’t surprised to find him ready to comply.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rowen stretched in the morning sunlight as it filtered across the bed. Remnants of Fern’s perfume still lingered on his pillow, bringing back memories of their night in full, blissful, force. He rolled over gently hoping to find her asleep next to him so that he could wake her up with his charms by using kisses and slow passionate lovemaking, but she was gone.

  “Fern, where are you love? Come back to bed so that I can ravage you one more time.” Receiving no reply, he sat up and scanned the room; she was nowhere in sight. Maybe she was in the shower, he’d join her. Throwing back the sheet he didn’t bother to cover himself as he made his way to the bathroom. Whistling a tune, he pulled the door open, expecting to see her silhouette against the shower door, hoping she was there. But she wasn’t.

  Scratching his beard stubble he reached for his robe and headed toward the kitchen, maybe she was getting breakfast for them. As he skipped down the stairs two at a time he could hear Betty singing to one of her favorite oldies. Swinging open the doors, he found her alone. “Have you seen Fern this morning Betty? I thought she might be down here fixing us some breakfast.”

  Betty’s brows furrowed together when she saw him. “Sir, you startled me. When did you get home? I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow!”

  An involuntary chill ran down his spine. “You know I got back last night, in fact I never left. Remember, you fixed Miss. Abbott and myself some steaks for dinner? So, where is she, did she go home?”

  “Sir, are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve been gone for almost ten days; maybe you caught some strange bug over in Barbados. I’ll call the doctor.” Betty sidestepped him to get to the phone.

  Rowen watched her and shuddered again when the chill made its way back up his spine. “Betty, I’m not sick…” Stopping mid sentence, he stared past her to the calendar she kept on the wall. “Is that calendar correct, Betty?”

  “Yes sir, you know I change it everyday. Helps to remind me of my shopping days.” Betty frowned deeper when he pushed past her.

  June 6, 2002. He blinked several times, trying to tell himself he was dreaming. “Wake up, Rowen, wake up.” Leaning against the wall he bumped his forehead against the calendar as if it could wake him up from his newest nightmare.

  “Sir?” Betty touched him on the shoulder.

  Jerking his head away from the wall, Rowen woke up. “Fern, oh my God. I have to stop her.” He left Betty staring after him as he rushed out. Racing up the stairs, this time three at a time he made it to his bedroom just as his clock chimed at the top of the nine o’clock hour. It took him half a minute to change back into his 1692 clothes and grab his flintlock pistol before yanking open the doors of the wardrobe. A sinking feeling gripped his stomach as he stepped through the doors, the last thing he saw was Fern’s lime green dress lying on the bottom of the old wooden floor in a crumpled heap.

  Betty hung the phone on its receiver then walked back over to the sink, sinking her arms elbow deep into the deep white suds. A low cackle started in her throat, then she burst into full laughter, water splashing at her feet. Looking at the window above the sink, she watched as her image changed. Once her true image took over, Elizabeth replaced the towel back on its rack then made her way back up the stairs. Rowen Nichols would be gone, attempting to save his true love and she could return home, her deed was done.

  * * * *

  Fern crept through the village unnoticed. Children ran past her with their worried mothers in tow, oblivious to the woman from their future. In the distance the sun glistened on the massive oak tree on top of gallows hill, the noose swinging aimlessly in the wind. Something forced her to keep walking, until finally she saw the house she was seeking. Digging deep into the pocket of her Mantua, she felt the pistol that she’d stolen from Rowen. She’d loaded it before leaving the old woman’s house.

  As silent as a mouse, she crept around until she could see through the windows. There sitting at the table were the two people she was seeking. They were engrossed in a conversation, heated from her point of view. She would kill them both at one time; it would be easiest that way. Rowen was waiting for her; he would be wondering where she’d gone. “Must hurry,” she whispered to herself.

  She knocked timidly on the door at first, then harder when they didn’t seem to hear. Smiling from underneath her cape she greeted Sarah, she was large with child. “Might I have a word with you, Sarah Nichols?”

  “Who art thou?” Sarah frowned at the woman standing in front of her before she recognized the eyes. “Mary? Mary Wilds? Leave here, ye are not welcome at my house. Thou art but a whore, who should be hung on gallows hill just like thy mother should be.”

  Fern caught the door just before it slammed in her face. “I think not Sarah, go get your husband, I have words for him as well.”

  “I will not, leave us…” Sarah stopped when the pistol was forced against her chest.

  “Now.” Fern felt the word sting her throat as she forced it through clenched teeth.

  “What is happening here?” Hearing the harshness of Sarah’s voice from the other room, Jonathan came to investigate.

  Both women turned to watch Jonathan crossing the room toward them. “Stop right there, Jonathan Nichols.” Fern flashed the pistol back and forth between them. “I mean it, or I’ll kill you first.”

  “Mary, is that ye? My love, there is no need for this. Please, put the pistol away. Come now, I’ll take ye back to the cottage.” Jonathan stepped forward, his hand outstretched as he reached for the gun.

  Fern stripped the Vizard from her face and stared at him as she cocked the pistol. “I am not your Mary; but I am from your blood. I am here to kill you at the bidding of my grandmother Elizabeth Wilds. Tonight I am compelled to kill you both for what you will do to Mary. You must see I have no choice, I must kill you.” Fern’s finger teetered on the trigger.

  Sarah was sobbing, frozen to her spot. She could only watch in horror as the crazed woman prepared to kill Jonathan. “Pl…please, Mary. Don’t kill us. Can’t you see that I am with child? My child will die as well.”

  Fern’s eyes were wide; her breathing was coming faster and faster. Something was trying to wake her, or someone. The voices ran together in her mind, some screaming to kill them. Others, gentler, begged her to wake up. Pushing the pistol toward Sarah she screamed. “Shut up, can’t you see I have no choice?” Turning the pistol back toward Jonathan, as she squeezed the trigger, she saw the terror in his eyes.

  The loud shot rang out, knocking her to the floor. Scrambling to get to her feet, she found herself forced back down
by two strong hands. “Get off me Jonathan Nichols, it is your turn to die. You must die, don’t you see?”

  “Be still Fern, I’ve got the pistol. Nobody is going to die today.”

  Fern rolled her head sharply around. Rowen had her pinned to the floor, his pistol back in his coat pocket where it belonged. “Rowen?” she cried.

  “Yes love, it’s me.” Standing up, he pulled her with him and held her close to his chest as she cried.

  “Did I kill her, Rowen, oh God, please tell me I didn’t.” Fern buried her head against his coat and sobbed. The reality that she’d once again been pulled into a spell was more than she could take.

  Rowen stood holding Fern as his eyes held Jonathan’s. Jonathan obviously wouldn’t know them. Somehow he was going to have to get them out of this mess. “Please excuse my wife, she’s been afflicted lately. I’m taking her to see the reverend this afternoon. I apologize if she frightened you. We’ll just leave now.” Hoping it would be enough, he turned Fern to leave. But Sarah’s angry voice stopped him.

  “Witch!” Sarah screamed. “Arrest them, Jonathan.” Sarah turned to Jonathan, expecting him to do as she demanded.

  “We are not witches, good sister Nichols, my wife is ill, that is all. We will be leaving Salem Village right away, tonight. There is no need for hysterics.” Rowen saw Jonathan was having doubts. “Please, Jonathan Nichols, let me take my wife home, you can see she is sick.”

  Jonathan stared at the sobbing woman; the girl was right, she looked just like his Mary. Pulling his pistol from his jacket, he held it on them. “Ye are under arrest. Hereby accused of witchcraft. I will take ye to the dungeon, there ye will wait until his worship, Judge Hauthorn can see ye and set a time for thy hearing.”

  “Yes, take them to the dungeon. May ye rot in hell, Mary Wilds!” Sarah turned her back as Jonathan escorted them from her house. Finally she would be rid of her husband’s mistress.