George set aside his plate, leaned forward, and kissed Madeline lightly on the lips.
“What are you doing?” she asked. She wasn’t shocked, just curious.
“I’m showing my love for you. Being with you makes me happy.”
“I like being with you too, George.”
He kissed her again. This time the kiss was longer and more demanding. His tongue slid into her mouth, exploring it leisurely and inviting her tongue to do the same. The sensation was odd, but strangely pleasurable. Her breasts pressed against his chest as he gathered her to him and held her close. She’d never kissed anyone before, but once she kissed him back, it came naturally and she melted into him, eager for more.
Madeline barely noticed when George pushed her down on the blanket and covered her body with his own. Some inner voice told her what he was doing was wrong, but it felt good and she didn’t want him to stop. Her loneliness and need for affection refused to let her push him away. He was giving her the love she craved so desperately. How could she reject him?
George pushed down her damp camisole and cupped her breast, massaging her nipple with his thumb until she shuddered with pleasure. She’d touched her breasts many times while bathing, but it had never felt like this. She roused to his touch, and her reaction spurred him on. George lowered his head and caught her nipple between his lips, sucking gently until Madeline let out a low moan. How could something so simple feel so wonderful?
“George, you shouldn’t,” she murmured.
“Give me one good reason to stop,” he whispered, capturing her lips once again.
Madeline tried to think of a reason, but her brain seemed to have turned to jelly. She couldn’t think, she could only feel, so when George’s hand slid between her legs, she arched her back, eager to discover what other delights he had in store for her.
“You are so beautiful, Maddy. So ripe for the picking.”
“I’m not fruit.” Madeline giggled, surprised by the comparison.
“Oh, but you are. You are ripe, and delicious, and bursting with juice.”
Her cheeks heated. He must be referring to the strange wetness between her legs. She tried to clamp them together, but he shook his head and parted them with his knee.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your desire,” George murmured. He slid down and pulled off her pantaloons, making Madeline gasp with embarrassment. She opened her mouth to protest, but changed her mind since George was leaving a trail of kisses down her belly as his fingers explored the part of her that no one had touched since she was a small child, leaving her breathless with pleasure.
Madeline cried out when his tongue found her center. He lapped at her like a lazy kitten, not hungry enough to eat quickly, but not full enough to walk away from its bowl. His tongue was slow and persistent as it probed and stroked her. Madeline shuddered with the sensation, too aroused to ask him to stop. She was vibrating like a tuning fork, her whole being focused on the spot George was working on.
“You like that?” he asked with a low chuckle.
“Yes.”
“Now we’ll do something I like.”
George moved back up and pinned Madeline’s wrists with his hands, kissing her urgently. She tried to wiggle away from him as she felt the tip of his manhood push inside her. This had gone too far. Her virginity was for her future husband and had to be preserved—or so Miss Cole had said when she’d counseled Madeline in lieu of her mother. She had no idea what would happen if George actually penetrated her or how her husband would know that someone had been there before him, but it felt wrong and had to stop.
“George, no, don’t,” she pleaded, but he ignored her. He pushed harder, overcoming her body’s resistance to this unexpected intrusion. Madeline cried out as pain tore through her and then George’s hard shaft filled her, her tender flesh stretching to accommodate it. Despite the pain, the sensation was strangely fulfilling. He began to move within her and Madeline forgot about the discomfort as waves of pleasure radiated through her lower belly.
“Open up to me, Maddy,” George whispered into her ear.
Madeline did as she was told and spread her legs, arching her back as George drove deeper into her. They moved together in rhythm until he let out a strangled moan and collapsed on her. Afraid to move, she lay beneath him, still quivering. The unfamiliar throbbing between her legs felt so good, she wished he would take her again.
Without saying a word, George flipped onto his back and stared at the sky, folding his arms behind his head.
“Did I please you?” Madeline asked, worried he wasn’t happy with her.
George turned onto his side and cupped her cheek. “More than words can say. I love you so much, Maddy, but we must keep this between us. Some people wouldn’t understand.”
Madeline nodded. No, they wouldn’t understand. She wasn’t sure she understood either, but she wasn’t about to question George. He was the only person who’d shown her any real kindness since her father died, and losing his love was the worst thing she could imagine. She glanced down and was shocked to see blood covering his softening penis.
“George, what…?”
“Don’t worry. It’s normal to bleed the first time.”
“Is it? How do you know?”
George laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “You are so wonderfully naïve, Maddy, and so innocent. I’m proud to have been your first.”
“Shouldn’t my husband have been my first?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. He’ll never know the difference if you cry out in pain and squirm a little on your wedding night. Men believe what they want to believe. You’ll only have to pretend the first time.”
“Do people do this often?”
“They do it all the time. And it gets better and better. You’ll see.”
Madeline felt a warm glow in her belly. George was pleased with her and they would do this again, and as long as it didn’t cause problems with her future husband, she was more than happy to oblige. Nothing had ever felt as wonderful as having George inside her and knowing he loved her and she’d made him happy.
“Go in the water and wash off the blood,” he instructed. “You don’t want Cissy seeing blood on your bloomers.”
Madeline did as she was told and then allowed George to help her dress.
He kissed her again, very tenderly. “Say you’ll always love me, Maddy.”
“Always, George.”
“That’s my girl.”
Chapter 32
The next few months were the happiest Madeline had ever known. With Amelia away, she took on the role of the lady of the house. George treated her as if she were his wife, and even Sybil’s attitude toward her had thawed, finally allowing Madeline to forge a fragile friendship with her grandmother. They spent hours sewing or reading in the parlor and even entertained guests, who came more frequently since Amelia’s departure. Mr. and Mrs. Clinton called several times, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, and Mrs. Montlake came for tea with Gilbert every other week. Gilbert had lost some of his reserve and spoke to Madeline of horses, which he loved, and the family business. He was being groomed to take over for his father when the time came, and found he enjoyed the challenges and rewards of running a plantation.
Preston Montlake had recently taken Gilbert along on a trip to New York to visit the Monroe Mills, and Gilbert was full of stories about life in the North. What seemed to have impressed him most was the cold, and the glorious foliage of Upstate New York as autumn swept over the mountains and valleys, painting the landscape in crimson, gold, and burnished orange. Gilbert was wise enough, or maybe too cowardly, not to engage Madeline in political discussions, and their conversations remained easy and light. He was a pleasant enough young man who seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. Madeline thought George might resent the time she spent with Gilbert, but he didn’t seem to mind in the least.
“It’s only natural that young men will be interested in you, Maddy,” he said. “Gilbert is a family friend
and you should be kind to him. Take him for a walk in the garden, or play a card game. You need friends who are closer to your own age.”
“But I want to be with you,” Madeline replied as George nibbled her earlobe.
“You are with me, but we can’t make our feelings for each other public. Not yet.”
“George, what will happen when Amelia returns?” she asked with trepidation. The question had permeated her every waking moment since that day by the lake, making her sick with worry. She had tried to hide her insecurity from George, but she was sure he was aware of her fears and probably harbored some of his own.
He gazed down at Madeline, his head resting on his hand. He looked very serious, which didn’t happen often, so she braced herself for whatever he was about to tell her.
“Maddy, my relationship with Amelia is fractured beyond repair. We haven’t shared a bed in nearly a year, not since she found out she was pregnant again. As you saw yourself, she tried to leave without even saying goodbye. But she recently lost a child, and I won’t be cruel to her. She is my wife, and the woman who carried three of my children. In due course, I will obtain a divorce, but for now, you must be patient and keep your feelings for me to yourself.”
“What if Amelia doesn’t want a divorce?”
“Amelia has been gone for months. If I wished to file for divorce, I could cite abandonment as grounds for my petition, but there’s no rush. It will all work out. I promise. Now, come here,” George said and pulled Madeline toward him, his hand sliding between her legs. She opened up to him, but her thoughts lingered on their conversation. He meant to obtain a divorce. Did that mean he would marry her? Would this really be her life? And was it possible to retain this kind of happiness for long?
George came to Madeline’s room nearly every night and often stayed till morning, making love to her into the wee hours and sleeping next to her as if they were husband and wife. He encouraged her to tell him exactly what pleased her and what didn’t, and after a time she let go of her inhibitions and began to explore his body freely and learn what brought him pleasure. He wasn’t shy about showing her what he enjoyed, but never insisted she do anything she didn’t want to.
“George, was it like this with you and Amelia?” she asked, jealous of her rival. Amelia was never far from her thoughts, and Madeline alternated between feeling possessive of George and eating herself up with guilt. Amelia was her friend, and didn’t deserve this, not even if she thought her marriage was at an end.
“It was in the beginning. We sailed to France for our wedding trip. We hardly left the cabin that first week,” George said with a wistful smile. “We were so happy.”
“Did Amelia know how to please you?”
“Not at first. I had to teach her, just as I’m teaching you.”
“And how did you know? Who taught you?” Madeline knew very little about this aspect of human nature since no one had ever mentioned this kind of intimacy in her presence. Now that she knew what took place behind closed doors, she regarded the people she knew through different eyes, wondering if they did the things she did with George, and whether they enjoyed it. Had her father shared his bed with Miss Cole? Did Mr. and Mrs. Clinton, who seemed so uptight, spend hours in bed taking turns pleasuring each other? It seemed highly unlikely, but Madeline realized appearances could be deceiving.
“There are places in New Orleans where men go, Maddy, where there are women who are paid for their favors. They like nothing more than an innocent young man to educate.”
“Do you mean a brothel?” Madeline asked, scandalized that George would admit such a thing to her. She’d only recently learned what a brothel was, and was still shocked that such places existed openly and that many married men went there regularly.
“Yes, a brothel. After my father died, Preston Montlake took me under his wing. He took me to an exclusive establishment that he frequents and paid for my education.”
“Did you not wish to remain pure for your wife?” Madeline could hardly fathom the idea of prim and respectable Mr. Montlake frequenting a brothel, and she couldn’t help wondering if Mrs. Montlake knew of her husband’s activities and turned a blind eye. Was that normal in a marriage?
George laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “Believe me, Maddy, no woman wants a bumbling idiot in her bed, which is what I was my first time. A woman’s first experience defines the rest of her life, and I wanted to make it special and wonderful for my wife.”
“Like you did for me?”
“Was it special and wonderful?” George whispered, and then ran his tongue along Madeline’s lower lip.
“You know it was.”
“Then I served you well. And I will do so again.”
Madeline tried to put Amelia from her mind, but her conscience gnawed at her, reminding her every day that she was usurping Amelia’s rightful place. The letters from Amelia didn’t help. She’d written several times, inquiring after the family and regaling them with news of her hometown. Amelia seemed in better spirits, and begged George’s forgiveness for not rushing home. She was regaining her health and vitality, and praised his generosity of spirit in putting her needs before his own. Sybil ranted and raged at Amelia’s selfishness and her shortcomings as a wife, but Madeline wished that Amelia would never return. Amelia was happy with her family, and Madeline was happy with George. It could all be so simple if everyone just did what they wanted.
Madeline sometimes caught Mammy’s worried gaze on her, but she’d barely seen the old woman in the past few months. Madeline had no reason to visit the kitchen house, and Mammy had no call to come into the main house. Their paths rarely crossed, and the ache caused by the betrayal of her old nanny began to heal. Madeline still grieved for her father, but the pain lessened every day as she blossomed from an innocent child into a sensual young woman. She was young, she was in love, and she was happy for the first time since her mother had died.
George spoiled her, and often took her for carriage rides and on his monthly visits to New Orleans. They didn’t go on a steamboat again, but Madeline cherished the memory, and instead enjoyed riding in a fine carriage with her handsome George by her side. She was almost sixteen, but she felt like a woman of the world when she accompanied him to restaurants or joined him for an evening at the theater. George always introduced Madeline as his beloved cousin, and treated her like a charming ingénue in front of his acquaintances. She didn’t mind. She understood his obligations to Amelia and gladly acted the part, playing the innocent and gazing at George with adoring eyes, the easiest part of all, as he squired her about town.
As October gave way to November and then December, the plantation grew quieter and grayer. The cotton-picking season had ended, and after weeks of ginning the cotton, finished bales were sent down the river to their various destinations. George sent nearly five hundred bales of cotton to Mr. Monroe’s textile mill in Kingston, New York, a transaction he was very pleased with.
A quantity of cotton was held back, to be carded and then spun by the slaves. The finished cotton would be used on the plantation for new bedding and clothing. Sybil supervised the carding and weaving process, and then allocated the finished cloth to various purposes. Madeline was given lengths of cotton to make new undergarments and night dresses for herself under the supervision of Sybil, who was practical to a fault.
“Why should we pay a seamstress when we can easily do this ourselves?” Sybil demanded. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” she added, giving Madeline a meaningful stare.
Madeline cringed under her grandmother’s gaze. What if she knew about her intimate relationship with George? What would she do? She’d been eager to send Madeline away to a school for girls, and perhaps she would insist on it before Amelia returned. But Sybil said nothing more and Madeline began to relax.
She didn’t mind sewing since the weather wasn’t suited to walking and George spent much of his time at the neighboring plantation. The sugar cane at the Arabella Plantation was still
processed by hand, a long and laborious process that required several steps and all able-bodied slaves. Mr. Campbell of Oak Ridge Plantation had recently invested in a steam-powered mill and George was smitten. He spent hours at Oak Ridge, discussing the charms of the steam engine with Mr. Campbell, who was only too happy to show off his new ‘baby.’
But eventually, all the cotton was shipped, and all the sugar had been ground, and the plantation entered a period of quiet contemplation as the end of the year approached. This was a time of rest for the slaves, and a time of idleness for the owners. The new sugar crop would not go in until January, so George had nothing to occupy him till then. He became listless, since he no longer rode his acres every morning. The fields were bare and brown, the endless acres often shrouded in a soupy fog in early morning. George still consulted with his overseer every day, discussing the rotation of the fields to ensure the soil didn’t grow depleted, and making plans for the spring planting.
The days grew cooler, the fecund humidity of summer replaced by drier, brighter weather. George often left in the morning and didn’t return for a day or two, joining his friends in various entertainments, since everyone now had more free time. Madeline missed him when he was gone, but didn’t utter a word of reproach, waiting patiently for George to return. Even Gilbert’s visits became less frequent as his family attended various parties and prepared for their own Christmas ball, to which the Bessons were invited.
Sybil took Madeline to New Orleans to order a new gown for the social event of the season. Madeline hoped to see Miss Cole at Mrs. Bonnard’s establishment, but there was no sign of her in either the front parlor, where the gentlemen waited for their ladies to finish the fittings, or the back rooms, where numerous seamstresses crouched with a mouthful of pins, tucking and adjusting until the gowns fit just right and the hems were perfect. Madeline hoped that Paula Cole had been able to escape the hardship of her new life and found employment as a governess. It lifted her spirits to think that Miss Cole had moved on to something better.
The Unforgiven (Echoes from the Past Book 3) Page 21