Bessie (27 page)

“You lied, didn’t you?”

“I...yes! I lied. Wait? No...”

The last word was drawn out. It resembled a howl. Bessie had never heard anything like it. Black-Heart must have had the same impression, for he snorted and pawed at the ground.

“I was not just a passing fancy to you. Admit it.”

“I...can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Everything will fall apart.”

“Why? You’re not doing anything. You’re not even touching me. If she asks, I’ll tell her so.”

Bessie shoved the jerkin onto his shoulders, freeing his chest, and hampering his movement at the same time. He was breathing excessively hard. And there was the oddest lump at his groin. It pressed into her belly. Through her skirts. In a continuous series of movements. She gasped when she saw it, and her gaze flew back to his. Devon had untwisted his face and was regarding her with narrowed eyes.

“Are you...finished?” he asked.  

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“I would say...’tis a bit obvious.”

Bessie frowned. That didn’t make any sense. Unless it was the hard part of him that kept thumping into her waist. She tentatively moved a hand toward it. He jerked backward as if burned, leaving her hand hovering in mid-air.   

“Don’t you dare.”

The words were deep. Frightening. They lingered in the air. Black-Heart pawed at the ground behind them again. Bessie moved to his belly instead, and rubbed along lumps beneath his skin that rippled and bunched beneath her fingers. She reached one of his nipples. They were small. Tight. She flicked a fingernail across it, watched him shudder, while her body matched. And then she looked up at him again.

“Someone has to dare. You won’t. You’re too afraid.”

“I will not dishonor her. Damn you for asking it.”

“But, you don’t touch her, either. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t touch her. You can’t touch me. I don’t appeal to you anymore—”

“You’re right! You do. You appeal to me. You do. I forfeit. Oh. Hell.”

“What is it?”

“I’m losing...damn me.”

“You are going to touch me?”

“No! You little fool! I can’t! How I want to, but I...just...can’t!”

“But why?”

“If I touch you, we’re lost. I won’t be able to control myself. I won’t.”

“And you’ll give me a babe? Is that it?”

“Yes! No! Not you!”

“It wouldn’t matter if you gave me one, then?”

“Show some compassion, for pity’s sake.”

“Compassion? It wasn’t I that sought you out, then told all and sundry that you were just a passing fancy and no longer appealed to me.”

“Is this...revenge? Is that it?”

“I don’t want revenge.”

“What do you wish, then?”

“Words.”

“What words?”

“Would you...?”  Bessie took a breath, and asked it. “Choose me over her?” 

His reply was flung at her. It was a bellow that sounded like he was in pain. Before she lost her nerve, Bessie lowered her bodice and slammed her breasts to him. Heat seared. It was followed by a flash of something that arced through her and then disappeared. She slid herself across his belly and back again, chasing the sensation.

“Please stop. Please?” 

He sounded like he was sobbing. And it stopped her. She pulled back from him. She lifted her bodice back into place with fingers that didn’t feel like they belonged to her. She didn’t know what was wrong. Everything had backfired. He didn’t look like he’d enjoyed any of this. She was defeated. And she knew it.

“Very well, my lord. You win.”

Bessie stepped back. Devon’s groin area was distorted beyond all proportion. And as she watched, it actually
moved
! Bessie gasped and moved back another step. One more. She put both hands over her mouth and nose. She didn’t dare make a sound. He was watching her with an emotion so vivid, she felt it.

“Win?” he asked. “There is no winning. I’m leaving now. You going to stop me?”

She shook her head. Devon rushed past her. Bessie watched as he jumped over the gate, clumsily, one hand at his front, protecting it.

“Where are you going?”

It probably looked like she was chasing him to the gate. Black-Heart joined her and stuck his head over the top rung.

“To the nearest full rain barrel. You might wish to do the same.”     

“Whatever for?”

He didn’t answer. He simply lumbered out of view. Bessie stood beside Black-Heart and they both watched him go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Oh Roberta...what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I sleep?”

“You need to stop pacing if you wish to do that.”

“I am not pacing.”  Bessie stopped in the center of her room, and then turned about again. “Very well. You are right. But I cannot sit still. I feel like a thousand needles are pressing against me.”

“Dear me. I’d best send for Augusta. You may have caught something.”

“No. Wait. It’s not painful. Definitely not that. It’s more...ah! I cannot explain! It’s more a tingling sensation...and it’s everywhere! If feels like I’ve been out in a winter storm too long, and then sat too near a fire. No. That’s not it. It’s more like I’ve imbibed too much ale and then listened to a beautiful bit of music. Or a minstrel’s opining. Or a poet’s love-filled words. No. That isn’t even right.”  Bessie’s sigh was so strong, it lifted the hairs off of her forehead. “Thoughts of Devon pester me without end. I swear I can even
feel
him. Everywhere. I’ve been waking in the midst of the night and before I get a candle lit, all sorts of things happen.”

“Like what?”

“I can sense him! I do. I’m afraid when I get a light I’ll actually see him, but he’s never there. And since my failure last night, it’s gotten
worse
!”

“It didn’t sound like such a failure to me.” Roberta started picking at her sewing hoop again, acting as if they discussed nothing of import.

“Well, it was. Why else would he need a rain barrel?”

“For a cooling off. Sounds like your plan succeeded quite well.”

“Then, where has he been all day? Why haven’t I caught the smallest glimpse of him? He was gone before daybreak, and hasn’t returned yet that I know of.”

“Perhaps he’s back. Do you wish me to check for you?”

“No!” 

Bess made as if to race to the connecting door. She should have known Roberta was teasing. From her reclining position on the settee, she didn’t look like she was going anywhere.

“You really wish to know where your husband is?” the maid asked her hoop.

“Yes.”

“Very well. I will tell you. The man will be anywhere but near you. I’d guess he’s terrified of running across you.”

“Terrified? Are you certain?”

“I was wed, Bessie. Eight years before my Maurice passed on and I entered your service. Trust me. Your husband is at his wit’s end. He doesn’t dare be near you.”

“But...why?”

“Perhaps...you’d best sit down. I have a few things that need saying. Serious things.”

“You do?”

The maid put her sewing aside and regarded Bessie. She looked serious. And she looked flushed. Embarrassed.

“I do. But I am a bit...hesitant. What I am about to tell you is...not my place. It would have been your mother’s duty, if she hadn’t passed on so soon after your birth. After that, it should have been any of your previous husband’s, if they hadn’t the same trouble. And it definitely should have been Lord Hildebrand’s, but I’ll hold my tongue on that for the moment. So. As I said, I am overstepping my place. I hope you forgive my blunt tongue, but I’ve finished going all about the bush. Someone needs to explain things to you. I cannot sit idly by and watch this game of yours any longer.”

Bessie dropped onto the dressing room stool. It made a distinct clatter.

“This is beyond the talk we had when you had your first woman-time. Remember that? Well. Time has a way of passing. How was I to know that your guardian would up and wed you off again? Without warning? And this time, to such a young, handsome fellow, it shouldn’t even come up that I need to explain anything. That man should have taken what belongs to him long before this.”

“What belongs to him?” Bessie asked.

“Your innocence.”

“Are we talking about...the consummation?”

“That...and more.”  The maid’s blush was so severe, her cheeks looked crimson and she wouldn’t meet Bessie’s eyes. “You know so little. It’s hardly possible at your age and experience, but there it is. And this is difficult for me, Bessie. Maybe if one of my babes had survived infancy, I’d have some experience.”

“I didn’t know...you’d had babes.”

“Four of them. All buried within their first year. And then my Maurice passed on, and I was left to enter service. It’s ancient history now, love. Your father was a sea captain. He couldn’t stay ashore and watch a motherless babe. That’s what brought me to you. I’ve sheltered you, watched you grow up, and now it’s befallen me to explain things between a man and woman. So. Where to start? You see—uh. There is—. A man has a part—. And it grows...oh. Heavens. We never even let you see a stallion mount a mare in the stables. You’ve never had a pet. Perhaps I should send for Augusta. She’s had experience at this.”

“I am not that naive, Roberta.”

“Truly?”

“I know Devon has...trouble at times.”

“Trouble?”

“He has this growth. It’s big. And hard. And it
moves
!”

“Oh. Yes.”  The maid put a hand over her mouth. And she was even redder than before. “That would be the male’s part of this...consummation thing. That is his...yes. Well. That is the part he is going to put inside you. In basically, the same area.”

Bessie’s eyes went huge. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Oh, no. It’s actually quite nice. Or, I should say, it’s ever so pleasant once the first time is accomplished. Breaking through that makes the first time a bit...um. It can be unpleasant. But it may not be. Depending on the man. And the circumstances. And the size of his...oh. This is terribly difficult.”

“Is it painful for him, too?”

“Heavens no. I believe men find it perfectly enjoyable every time.”

“Oh. That’s not fair.”

Roberta giggled and looked even more embarrassed. “You can say that of everything in life, love. It isn’t fair. Men are larger. Stronger. Always have been. They are also lusty. This affliction you spoke of? The needle-thing?”

Bessie nodded.

“If you suffer that sort of thing, what of him?”

“He suffers like that?”

“His is probably worse. Much worse. But the cure for what ails both you is on the other side of that door. There isn’t another one, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t try and seduce him again. I made a muck-up of it before.”

“That’s because you were the village wench, and he’s staying true to his wife.”

“Who is he going to think is in his room if he sees me now? The queen?”

“You’ll just have to talk fast. And I’ve got a little something that might help. It’s a nightgown I’ve been working on.”  Roberta bent over the far side of the settee, fussed about in her sewing basket, and then lifted out a bit of fabric too sheer for even a veil.

“That is a nightgown?”  Bessie asked as Roberta brought it to her. It looked flimsy enough to tear with any type of pressure.

“It will be perfect.”

“Oh, Roberta, as much as I want to. I just can’t. Not yet. You don’t understand. He didn’t mention love last night. Not once.”

“Did you put the thought in his head? Maybe he needed a hint.”

“It...slipped my mind.”

“So, why wouldn’t he touch you?”

“It was something about babes, and that he gives lots of them.”

“The man’s onto something there. Look about you.”

“But, I want one. I do.”

“Go to him. Tell him. Don’t tell me.”

“He won’t touch me as Lady Hilde, either. He thinks I don’t want babes, but I do.”

“Who would tell him such nonsense?”

“I don’t know. He thinks I’ll lose power if I have babes. I don’t have any power.”

“Why didn’t you say that, too?”

“Because I wasn’t listening very well. I wasn’t thinking, either.”

“You haven’t been thinking properly since you wed. Why, if you only knew...you’d cease this foolishness, and claim that man before another woman does.”

“I am going to claim him. Just on my own terms. Can’t you give me that?”

“I’d give you any terms you wish. Haven’t I been proving it each and every day that I keep my mouth silent? I just hope your terms don’t come too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“He’s frustrated, love. He doesn’t sleep much. I’ve seen the conditions of his bed linens. I’ve also seen the circles beneath his eyes. He’s avoiding you. He seeks out cold water. He’s nigh at the breaking point. You made a mistake when you brought so many maids here, too. You should have kept your household free of women.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been trying to explain it. Your husband is a man, Bessie. Men are lusty. They have needs. He can’t rest for want of them. He’s avoiding you. He doesn’t dare touch you. He’s down to his last resort.”

“And what would that be?”

“Keep your eyes on the little yellow-haired wench. She’ll take your man from you in a moment, if he’d look her way.”

“Amanda? No. You’re mistaken. She’d never do any such thing! I’ve known her since Bargerelle. She’s been with me since then.”

“Ah, Bess, my dearest, I’d not say a thing to cause you worry, but I know women.”

“But he wants me.”

“And, if he can’t have you, where does that leave him?”

Bessie lifted the gossamer nightgown. “Perhaps I’d best wear this, after all.”

“Praise the Lord! I’ll get some sleep.”

“You’re saying all this so we’ll get some sleep?”

“Oh no, love. It’s me that’ll be getting sleep. Trust me. He will keep you up for what’s left of the night. He’s been denied too long. I don’t know how he stays true to you.”

“How do you know he does?”

“A man that has had his needs met does not walk into things. He does not leave his food half-eaten. He doesn’t wear himself out jousting, or building dams, or whatever else he’s been doing. He’s been ailing at it for some time, and you’re blind. I swear, he looks at you with such a yearning expression, it fair takes my breath away. And what do you do? Ignore him.”

“I...wasn’t ignoring him. I daren’t look at him most of the time.”

“Have you asked yourself why?”

“Because I might do something stupid.”

“Like what? Tell him you love him?”

“Yes.”  The word was whispered.

“Oh. Heavens, child. I think you one of the luckiest women on this entire isle, and you toss it away.”

“But he cares nothing for me!”

“Go. Make him do so, then.”

“How?”

“A bit of scent on your bosom. This nightgown. Your hair unbound. It won’t be difficult. Trust me.”

“How long will I have him, if I do that?”

“He’s got a dozen sisters and brothers. It mustn’t have been a problem for his sire.”

“There are only nine. And a large gap between Byron and Lizzie.”

“The man probably had to sleep sometime.”

Bess blushed and giggled at the same time. “You really think I’d have him?”

“Dearling. Trust me. You’d have everything. Here. I’ll help you.”

Bessie’s heart beat louder and faster as she hurried. She didn’t dare look at herself in her own looking-glass. She was too shy. The nightgown was so sheer it would probably slide through her wedding ring. She didn’t bother with the scent.

His sheets were made of thick linen. She’d ordered and paid for them, herself. She’d also made certain they were starched and ironed to a crispness that cooled the skin. It had been one way of telling him she cared. She wondered if he’d noticed.

He would when he found out who she was. That much was certain. She smiled to herself as she snuggled into his bed.

And she didn’t start crying until the sun came up.