The de Wolfe of Wharf Street

by Carter, Elizabeth Ellen

  “Keep reading to me,” Gabriel’s breath sent heat through her. “You’re a fine teacher.”

  “How do you expect me to when you keep touching me like this?” she asked.

  He offered no suggestions, instead chuckling at her ear. One hand tugged the garter ribbon and the stocking loosened at her knee, while his other hand had found its way into the neckline of her bodice.

  The sensations that coursed through her were unmatched in her experience. His every caress made her more and more wanton.

  “Do you seek to undress me and have your way with me here, good sir?”

  “’Tis a very dangerous suggestion you give me. I can now see it in my mind’s eye. Would you like me to describe what I see?”

  His hand at her knee grazed her inner thigh and her reply was a sigh.

  “My love,” he breathed, “I want to bring you such pleasure, I want to savor the look on your face when you reach the heights that I shall bring you. I want to keep that look with me, to treasure it, for the time we are apart.”

  Gabriel continued to speak words of desire. “I want to lay you down on the blanket, naked as the day you were born. I should like to taste your lips until they are the red of strawberries. Ah, your sweet flesh.” He brushed his fingertips across her nipples and she felt them swell. “I’d bring them to the same hue as your lips.”

  His other hand ventured further to the junction of her thighs, gently stroking her mons. “And that would be just the beginning. I would taste you, take my fill of you, and have you cry out for me.”

  His thumb parted her folds and the bundle of nerves there budded to life. She closed her eyes and her knees fell open to give him greater access and increase the pleasure.

  Such pleasure!

  “Gabriel.” His name was the only word she could utter. He touched her slowly, stroking until her flesh became slick and her body anticipated their joining and yet she sat trapped, but willing, in his arms, fully dressed as was he.

  His touch grew bolder, his other hand openly palmed the flesh of her breast. He’d given her a view of herself she had never expected. It was as though she watched herself on that blanket, giving in to the desire. In her mind’s eye, her lover was naked, too, his long blond hair shining in the sunlight.

  She imagined their joining, the friction of their bodies creating scorching heat until they were one body, soul and mind.

  Cassie pressed herself against his hand seeking that touch of heaven she knew lay just beyond this moment.

  “Yes, beloved, yes!”

  When the rushing in her ears stopped, she could hear rapid panting breath, his as well as hers. Cassie turned to face him. Her face flushed.

  She couldn’t bring herself to say the words to express how he made her feel and what she wanted from him. Cassie closed the book. She shifted her body to press herself against his hardness. No longer would she resist the desire.

  Her bodice was in disarray, breasts exposed. And she did not care. She leaned over him to place the book on the basket behind him, her body brushing over his provocatively. She heard Gabriel groan.

  She settled back on her knees and looked down at him, watching his eyes flicker across her breasts, then up to her face. Never before had she been aware of the raw power she wielded until that moment. Gabriel’s blue eyes told her the truth. He would do anything for her, to her, and with her.

  The thought of it aroused her more. Then Cassie found her voice.

  “Make me your lover. Give me what I see in your eyes,” she said. “If this is to be our only moment, then it is one I want to remember in the coldest winter nights.”

  Gabriel sat up and loosened the ties on his shirt. He pulled it over his head and tossed it aside, then hauled her into an embrace and another searing kiss. The hair on his chest brushed against her breasts and her nipples became erect. His hands shoved down the loosened bodice exposing even more of her to him.

  He used his superior weight and leverage to press her onto her blanket. He was now between her legs, her skirts ridden up to her thighs.

  “Do you really know what you’re asking?” he whispered, sliding a hand up her inner thigh once more. Her legs parted and she arched her back, silently giving her answer. His fingers brushed lightly between her legs and Cassie knew he took their sexual play seriously.

  Gabriel’s mouth lowered. He took his time, kisses became open-mouthed worship of her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. His lower body rested on hers, the pressure of his still-clad lower body held her beneath him.

  Her arms were trapped at the elbows where the neckline of her gown had fallen. Cassie could do nothing except revel in the sensations, offering moans and cries of pleasure as he found sensitive parts of her body that responded in delight to his touch.

  And still, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to touch and taste him. All of him. Cassie pushed against Gabriel’s shoulders.

  He watched her closely as she sat up and swiftly loosened the lacings that held her in her clothes. Cassie turned her back and felt Gabriel tug at the laces until that garment was free.

  By the time he had removed her chemise, Gabriel had undressed. He took hold of her hand and, together, they lay down, watching the dappled sunlight play across their skin. Cassie ran her arms along Gabriel’s arm, feeling the contours of his muscles beneath.

  To her surprise, he did not hurry with their coupling. In fact, he rolled onto his back and let her begin an unhurried exploration of his body.

  “I wish we did not have to part,” she whispered.

  Gabriel brushed her cheek with this hand.

  “Jacob worked for seven years before he could wed his beloved Rachel. I’ll only be away for one.”

  She found a smile. “You’ve been talking to my cousin again. He will have you joining a seminary before too long.”

  Gabriel laughed. “I’m far too impious for that. No, it is a secular life for me.”

  Before she could say more, Gabriel reached up and drew her beside him, kissing her nose before running gentle hands along her waist and reaching lower to stroke between her legs while covering her face with kisses.

  “Beloved, Cassie… promise you’ll wait for me,” he murmured against her cheek. She would promise him anything as long as he continued to touch her, arousing her once again. She cried out his name in delight. He entered her swiftly taking her by surprise. His body joined with hers, filling her completely.

  Chapter Thirteen

  April 1629

  When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

  I all alone beweep my outcast state,

  And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

  And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

  Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

  Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,

  Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

  With what I most enjoy contented least;

  Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

  Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

  Like to the lark at break of day arising

  From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

  For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings

  That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

  Gabriel smiled to himself as the ink dried on the newly transcribed sonnet.

  Cassie would be delighted to see his penmanship much improved, and he hoped she appreciated the sentiment.

  The letters between them took weeks to arrive when they were in England and months when they were in Europe. At this rate, his latest letter to Cassie might well arrive after he and his brothers returned home.

  Home.

  To Barnstaple.

  They had seen beautiful palaces and cathedrals on their travels – the Notre Dame Cathedral and its sinuous flying buttresses, the work that had begun on the labyrinth of canals in Amsterdam, and his favorite of all, the mesmerizing horologe in Prague’s Old Town Hall.
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  He and his brothers spent their first week in the city fascinated by the large timepiece. It seemed to be nothing short of a miracle.

  Gabriel described it the best he could – the parade of Apostles through the windows above. Not only did it tell the time, but it also showed the phases of the moon, and when the sun would rise and fall. The ominous figure of Death in the form of a skeleton tolled the hours. In that letter he had included a sketch Raphael had made of the clock.

  Those memories would be with him forever, but no sight had moved him more than the towering spire of St Paul’s Cathedral in London. Their month-long season in England’s capital was the finale of the tour.

  The spire pointing heavenward reminded him he was close to home.

  As he promised Cassie, he wrote in detail his thoughts and observations of all he had seen and done. Now, with English soil beneath his feet and the same stars in the sky at night, he would soon be returning home to claim his beloved.

  Like Odysseus and Penelope. Gabriel smiled to himself. Alongside the Bible that accompanied him on his travels was another book gifted to him by Uriah Makepeace, an abridged version of The Odyssey by Homer.

  He would surprise Cassie in person and read it to her.

  The sound of his brothers returning from their errands pulled Gabriel from his daydreaming. He signed his letter, sealed it, and called for a messenger. He withdrew a letter from his writing box, one dated two months ago.

  He brought it up to his nose and breathed deep. If he concentrated hard, he could detect the lingering traces of lavender.

  The contents of the letter he knew by heart. Cassie had written to him from Ireland. Her beloved great-aunt, Patricia, had not long survived the passing of her husband, so she stayed to bury them both. Uriah was soon to make the passage over to join her and help sell up what remained of the house. They expected to return to Barnstaple for Easter.

  Today was the seventh of the month. Good Friday would be the thirteenth. A chill wind touched his neck, drawing a line of gooseflesh down his back.

  The thought of that being an ill omen lasted only a moment. There was no such thing – only his brothers opening the door to their room.

  “Well, we have another payment from Zagorsky,” said Michael shaking a small leather purse. “He has paid over our wages since the takings at the gate exceeded expectations.”

  “It’s a bribe to keep us all together. He wants us to stay in London until the end of the year,” said Gabriel. “I told him that our season ends with the month. That was our agreement.”

  He looked at his two brothers and was proud to know them as family, as performers, as men. Their mother, God rest her soul, could be well satisfied.

  “Well, little brother,” said Raphael. “Finish your accounting book and pay us our allowance. I’m in need of an ale down at the tavern on the corner.”

  “Ha! More like in need of a tavern wench,” Michael joked.

  Raphael shrugged his shoulders, undeterred by the teasing.

  Michael pulled a strong box out from under his bed and a key out from under Raphael’s and opened the box. He withdrew another locked chest and a ledger book from that.

  From their payment today, Michael counted out the coins twice before putting aside six silver coins. He entered the figures in his ledger. The bulk of the coins went into the chest – it may not be a fortune just yet, but it was more than enough to get them established.

  It was a sacrifice to be sure. Each of them was within his rights to have his share then and there.

  “Are we still agreed?” asked Gabriel as he had done every time they had been paid. “A home for us all, together?”

  And each time the answer had been an unequivocal “yes”.

  Now there was just one more person he wanted to hear that word from.

  Gabriel accepted his payment from Michael and arranged to meet his brothers at the Red Lion at four o’clock. There was an errand he had to perform first.

  Standing on the street corners were the newssheet sellers, raising their voices to be heard over the hubbub. King Charles had dissolved Parliament to bring England under his personal rule. The Barbary pirates had made a raid on a town in Cornwall. The effects of Buckingham’s poor handling of the affair with the Spaniards were still being felt, even though the peer had paid with his life.

  But he saw nothing of that.

  There was a store in the markets selling jewelry, and he had his eye on a gold ring with an emerald in the center, the color of Cassie’s eyes, surrounded by round amethysts which reminded him of the lavender she wore.

  And, in one short month, he could give his token of devotion in person.

  Gabriel smiled to himself.

  Home. Soon he would be home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Taunton

  Early May, 1629

  The man had returned.

  Gabriel made eye contact with him a moment before forcing his attention back into rousing the crowd for their performance. It was all part of the routine, the clapping, the cheering. The more excited they became, the more coin fell into their cap.

  It was cream on top of what they’d earned by the end of the season with Zagorsky’s troupe. They’d intended to travel directly back to Barnstaple from London but when the innkeeper here learned who they’d just finished with, he proposed a money-making deal – four nights of performances in the field behind his tavern.

  The entrepreneurial innkeeper would spread the word and rake in the coin on drink and food from the crowds they attracted; they would have their accommodation and meals for free, and anything they received passing their caps about after their shows.

  It was an offer Michael, in particular, was excited by, as accountant of their earnings, even though Gabriel rued the delay in his own plans.

  Raphael held his position in the center of the field while Gabriel performed a series of backflips until he was about twenty feet away from his brother. Michael performed the last of his aerial cartwheels until he was about the same distance on the other side of Raphael.

  On cue, Michael and Gabriel ran straight at Raphael who jumped just at the last minute. The two brothers gripped Raphael’s legs to lift him high enough to place one foot on each man’s shoulders.

  Gabriel and Michael locked arms and shuffle-turned to display Raphael to the crowd.

  The man in his voluminous black cloak was still here.

  “Four nights. He’s not a performer,” Michael muttered. “Do you think he’s a thief taker?” Raphael called three, two, one and executed a back flip onto the ground.

  Gabriel shook his head.

  “I don’t know. We’ve not done anything to justify the attention he’s been paying.”

  Without missing his cue, Gabriel extended his arms behind him. Raphael gripped them. Gabriel jumped and folded himself into a tuck before extending himself up and into a full handstand. He locked his elbows and tightened the muscles of his abdomen while Raphael took his full weight and lifted him skywards.

  The crowd gasped, then applauded. Raphael huffed with effort as he bent his arms at the elbows.

  One, two, three!

  Raphael pushed hard, which gave Gabriel the momentum needed to spring off into a double somersault back onto the grass.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Michael called, then approached a matron standing at the front of the crowd. He bent to one knee and took her hand. “Especially, the ladies,” he said with a flirtatiousness that had some of the more eligible young females reaching for their fans. The grey-haired woman nearly swooned.

  Over the years, all three Hardacre brothers had played the part of the swain, but Michael seemed to have a particular knack for it. While their youngest brother played to the crowd, Gabriel and Raphael sprinted to the side of the arena to a red lacquered chest. They pulled out black masks and scarves for their role as thieves.

  “My Lady!” said Michael, “forsooth I go into battle and need but a small token of your regard to defeat yon evil a
ssassins!”

  “He’s laying it on thick, isn’t he?” muttered Raphael.

  Gabriel chuckled. “Michael’s calculated it’s worth an extra half-groat in the cap each time he does it.”

  He picked up a rapier from the chest, which looked threatening enough at a distance, but up close it wouldn’t fool an armorer. These were playthings, actors’ props, but to an audience already primed to see a battle, they were very effective, indeed.

  Gabriel and Raphael hit their marks on the far side of their makeshift arena. All eyes were on Michael as he told the backstory to the crowd – a noble knight had learned his lady love was captive to brigands and he would rescue her no matter what the odds.

  He approached their chest of props and picked up a large black felt cavalier’s hat complete with a plume of yellow ostrich feathers.

  The crowd would be rooting for the cavalier, of course – a fight against two better armed opponents always had their audience enthralled. Michael donned a cloak with a dramatic sweep of the fabric.

  A lot of sleight of hand is covered by such devices, Gabriel considered, before he and Raphael took their turns riling up the crowd.

  Both “assassins” acknowledged the booing and hissing of the crowd by making menacing gestures with their swords while Michael charmed the audience as hero of this tale.

  Gabriel performed a side cartwheel then pulled his sword and threatened Michael with it, having seemingly caught the “knight” unawares.

  With exaggerated actions, Michael swept back the cloak over his shoulder, brandished his own sword, then advanced.

  The two men parried, steel against steel, circling around each other.

  It wasn’t real unless there was some element of risk, so Gabriel and Michael held eye contact as they moved.

  Most of their performances were rehearsed for the split-second timing they needed for the acrobatic displays. A misstep or a miscue could result in serious injury or worse. Their mock fights, however, were a little less tightly choreographed. The three of them agreed that it added more thrill and spectacle if each were allowed to improvise a little within their roles.