Read Just Beyond Tomorrow Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
Just Beyond Tomorrow (36 page)
“Too long,” he told her, rising, and pulling her up to continue what he had started.
Soon Barbara's clothing lay in a heap upon the floor of her bedchamber, and she lay upon her back in her bed watching as he removed his own garments. Wickedly she pulled apart her nether lips to his gaze and played with herself before his blazing amber eyes. Her little pointed tongue licked suggestively along the outline of her lips, taunting him. She took the two fingers that had been used to arouse her now swollen lovebud and put them into her mouth, her blue eyes never leaving his.
“Hurry!”
she urged him, her lust plain for him to see.
“Hurry!”
she urged him, her lust plain for him to see.
He had to be careful of the clothes he wore, for he had little else, Charlie realized. But he couldn't stop looking at her, and he could feel his male member growing harder and harder as he did. His fingers were clumsy as he struggled to undo his garments. Barbara had always been a fascinating and inventive mistress, but he had certainly never wanted her like he wanted her now. Finally and successfully denuded, he wasted no time in joining her in bed. Their mouths mashed together in a passionate kiss again. He filled his hands with her wonderful big breasts, squeezing firm, yet soft flesh, rolling the large nipples between his fingers.
“Fuck me!”
she husked into his ear. “We can play later, Charlie, but I want you filling me.
Now!”
she husked into his ear. “We can play later, Charlie, but I want you filling me.
Now!”
He obliged, and groaned with the incredible pleasure the simple act of thrusting into her gave him. “Ahhh, God, Barbara!” He began to piston her vigorously.
“Ohh, yes! Oh, yes, Charlie!” she cried, wrapping her thighs about his waist. “Ohhh, fuck me! Fuck me!
Fuck me!”
She almost screamed with the incredible sensations his hard love lance was giving her. She couldn't remember him ever having been so big before, or was it that she had just forgotten? She couldn't seem to get enough of his lust. Her hips pushed up to meet his every plunge.
Fuck me!”
She almost screamed with the incredible sensations his hard love lance was giving her. She couldn't remember him ever having been so big before, or was it that she had just forgotten? She couldn't seem to get enough of his lust. Her hips pushed up to meet his every plunge.
His head was spinning. How long had it been since he had had a woman? He couldn't remember, and the knowledge shocked him. He was a man who had always enjoyed his bedsport. He had had a loving wife, and Barbara had always been a wonderful mistress. The warmth of her response to him, the warmth of her lush flesh, sent his senses reeling. He was like a boy with his first woman, and he was absolutely unable to control himself. “Oh, God'” he groaned, and his passions burst forth, filling her with a surfeit of his lusts.
“Ohhhh, yes!”
she echoed his satisfaction as she felt his love juices rushing forth, and she released her own pent-up desires.
she echoed his satisfaction as she felt his love juices rushing forth, and she released her own pent-up desires.
And afterward as they lay in each other's arms, Barbara Carver asked him bluntly, “How long has it been since you made love to a woman, my darling Charlie?”
“Months,” he admitted with a weak grin.
“You have battered me,” she told him, smiling. “I hope there is enough left in you for another round tonight. I have missed you.”
“Perhaps more than a single round,” he said with a chuckle. “I have missed you, you irreverent wench. Are you this wild with your Puritan lover? Or is the whispering of naughty words in his ear just enough to satisfy him?” Leaning over, he kissed her breast.
“We play a game, he and I,” she told Charlie honestly. “I am a naughty schoolgirl with lewd and lascivious thoughts that I confess to him. Then I must bare my bottom to him for a spanking. Only then does he fuck me, and quickly afterward sneaks off back to his wife.”
“ 'Odds fish, sweetheart, he doesn't hurt you, does he?”
Barbara laughed. “No, of course not. You know me better than that, Charlie. I would not permit such a thing. It is just that he feels so guilty about fucking me, or any woman for that matter, that he cannot become aroused in a normal fashion. I have tried with him; but he needs to play his little game, and he is grateful for my cooperation.”
“Do you see him in the village?”
“Sometimes, but I never acknowledge him, for we are not supposed to know one another well enough,” she explained. “His wife is a dreadful shrew. She may suspect him of such roguery, but she cannot prove it. He is terrified of her, so does not come too often. Once, however, when someone in the village suspected my loyalties, he defended me, and even got his wife to do so by suggesting that my accuser harbored lustful thoughts toward me or covetous thoughts for my small property. I was a respectable widow of a respected man who lived quietly in her mourning.” Barbara laughed. “I was actually quite surprised he was so daring.”
“He is obviously fond of you for your kindness,” the Duke of Lundy observed. He took a tendril of her dark blond hair between his fingers and kissed it. “You have always been kind, Barbara.”
“I had best go and get some cooling liquid for your brother,” she said, arising from the bed and pulling her chemise back on.
“Hurry back,” he said, a wicked twinkle in his eye.
Chapter
16
16
P
atrick Leslie felt very groggy when he awoke just before dawn the next morning. Outside the window of the chamber, the sky was beginning to lighten. He moved slightly, groaning with the pain in his left shoulder. Almost immediately the door to the chamber opened, and Charlie came in. He was fully dressed. Pouring a goblet of watered wine, he brought it to his brother.
atrick Leslie felt very groggy when he awoke just before dawn the next morning. Outside the window of the chamber, the sky was beginning to lighten. He moved slightly, groaning with the pain in his left shoulder. Almost immediately the door to the chamber opened, and Charlie came in. He was fully dressed. Pouring a goblet of watered wine, he brought it to his brother.
“Drink it. You've got a slight fever which Barbara tells me is to be expected, but the wound is clean, with no infection,” the Duke of Lundy advised his younger brother.
Patrick eagerly swallowed down the cool liquid. When he had slaked his thirst, he said, “I heard ye last night. Jesu, Charlie, I dinna know ye had a mistress. Surely Bess dinna know. It would hae broken her heart, for she loved ye deeply.”
“Nay,” Charlie reassured his sibling, “Bess never knew. I loved her above all women, but Christ, man, I'm a Stuart! We have great appetites. Bess and I were married six years when Barbara and I renewed our acquaintance. Bess was with child, while Barbara had been a widow for several years.”
“So ye slept wi' her?”
“I was Barbara's first lover, Patrick. When Madame Skye found out, she was furious at me, for Barbara was a respectable girl; but the future Duke of Lundy would not wed a merchant's daughter according to her. Our great-grandmother first made certain that Barbara was not carrying my child. Then she made the match for her with Squire Carver. I never saw her again until the first of the civil wars. I was in Worcester, and we met on the street. We spoke. I learned she had been widowed for several years. One day I came up here to visit her, and . . . well . . .”
“Ye couldn't resist fucking her?” Patrick inquired mockingly.
Charlie grinned. “Nay, I'm afraid I couldn't. Barbara is a most delicious armful, but more important to me she is a good friend. Sheltering us like this is very generous of her, for if it is known that she gave refuge to two royalists, she could be executed. And that, little brother, is why I must leave now for Bristol. It is almost dawn, and I do not want to be seen. Out here, even in this splendid isolation, one never knows who is watching or even why.”
“Then, I should go, too,” Patrick said, and he attempted to get to his feet, but fell back against the pillows. “Damn, Charlie, I am as weak as a kitten.”
“Barbara wants you to remain until you are stronger,” his brother said. “And then, too, you will need to know what has happened in its entirety before you make your plans to go north.”
“And ye dinna?” Patrick demanded.
“Nay. I know what I need to know. The king's forces were badly beaten yesterday. I expect my cousin has escaped, for he has always been good at extricating himself from tight situations, but for how long he is allowed to be at liberty is another matter. It will take all his cunning to elude his enemies. Cromwell's people will be set to finding him. A large reward will certainly be posted. I must get to France to tell the queen what I know and to assure our mother that I am safe, that we are all safe. If I were captured, Cromwell's people would think nothing of shouting the capture of Charles Stuart from the rooftops. Indeed, it would be no lie; but the fact it was the wrong Charles Stuart would not be mentioned, and the king's forces would lose heart. And even when the lie was fully proven, it would be difficult for the king. So I must be on my way, Patrick. Give me your hand, little brother. I do not know when we will see each other again, but we will one day. Shall I bring Mam your love?”
Patrick nodded. “Tell her about Flanna and the bairn,” he said. “God speed, Charlie. Try not to get yerself killed.”
“I won't,” the Duke of Lundy promised, and then clasping his brother's hand a final time, he released it and was gone through the door.
Patrick Leslie felt the tears slip down his cheeks, and he impatiently wiped them away. Had that damned woman not shot him, he, too, would be ready to travel. As it was, he ached, and if the truth be known, he was absolutely exhausted with his travels and the fears they had all suffered in Worcester. Unable to help himself, his eyes closed, and he slept once again. When he finally awoke, the sun was setting to the west over the purple hills he saw through his bedchamber window. A figure seated by the small fireplace arose and came forward.
“How are you feeling, Patrick Leslie?” Barbara Carver asked him. She bent and felt his forehead. “Your fever is gone. Excellent! I obviously did a good job of surgery on you.” She smiled a brilliant smile, and he was again aware of how lovely she was.
“I'm better than I was this morning,” he told her. “Is Charlie really gone, or did I dream it?”
“Your brother is gone,” she told him. “And we have seen no one else the whole day. That may not last, however, and I want you to be ready should we have visitors. While I do not expect my Puritan friend, he could come. The ideal situation would be for me to put you in the priest's hole. When you feel able to get up, I will show you where it is. And it would be better if you remained in the house where you cannot be seen; but that, too, may not be entirely practical, so we must have another plan. If someone comes and I cannot hide you, you will be Paddy, a stableman sent to me from Queen's Malvern by Mr. Becket, the majordomo. You can hear, but you are dumb, and when the duke dismissed all his servants and departed England, Becket felt sorry for you and sent you to me as he knew I was without a man to help around the place now. You must be dumb because your accent will surely give you away as a Scot, Patrick Leslie, and no one will believe that you were not with the king.”
“I should leave as soon as I can,” Patrick said. “Ye have been very kind, Mistress Carver, but I wouldna endanger my brother's
good friend,
who hae so graciously sheltered us.”
good friend,
who hae so graciously sheltered us.”
Barbara Carver laughed. “You do not approve of me, do you, my lord? I am sorry, however, because Charlie and I are long-time friends from our childhood. I would be remiss if I allowed you to endanger yourself. You cannot leave until your shoulder is healed, nor can you leave until we learn the lay of the land. Now, if you think you can get up, you may have supper with me downstairs. I expect you are very hungry at this point. When did you last eat?”
“I canna remember,” he said, feeling a bit guilty that she had seen his disapproval of her when she was being so generous. He sat up and put his long legs over the side of the bed. His head spun for a moment, but then cleared. He sat for a time, and then he arose. While his shoulder hurt like hell, he felt all right otherwise.
“Lucy has roasted a nice joint. I can smell it from here,” she said with another smile. “Come along. If you feel any weakness, I will help you.”
He slowly descended the staircase, and she led him into her little dining room, indicating he sit at one end of the table. Her old servant came forth from the kitchen carrying a platter upon which was a roast of beef. There was already bread, butter, and cheese upon the table along with a plate containing a roasted chicken. The servant didn't wait to ask. She simply piled his plate with food and ordered him to eat. He saw his hostess hide a smile. When he had finished everything that had been put upon his plate, she brought him a dish of egg custard and some strawberry jam. He greedily spooned it up. And all the while his glass was kept filled with good red wine that he recognized as coming from his family's estate at Archambault in France. He finally pushed himself back from the table.
“The old woman is a good cook,” he remarked.
“Her name is Lucy,” Barbara said. “You ate well, so I may assume you are on the road to recovery. Again, my lord, I do apologize for shooting you last night. I did not expect visitors, and certainly not Charlie. I hope you can forgive me.”
The wine had mellowed him, and he thought, who was he to stand in judgment of his brother and Barbara Carver? As Charlie had pointed out, he was a Stuart, and it was a well-known fact, at least in Scotland, that Stuarts had large appetites for life. “Ye couldna hae waited until ye received a hail?” he asked her.
“If I had not, you might be dead,” she said. “I aimed for your heart, Patrick Leslie “
“Ye're a poor shot,” he told her with a small grin. “God help us when a woman hae a gun. If ye hae been my wife, I would be dead, for Flanna is an excellent shot wi' a bow. Aye, I forgie ye, Barbara Carver. Ye hae nursed me well, and fed me even better.”
“You are very different from Charlie,” she noted.
“Aye,” he agreed. “He's an Englishman, born and bred, but I am a Scot, born and bred. Still, we are brothers and love each other dearly. Our mam gave birth to five sons, two Englishmen and three Scots. I have two English sisters and one Scots sister, but we are all family and loyal to one another.”
“You must be that you came down from Scotland to try and dissuade Charlie from being with the king,” she noted.
Lucy bustled into the dining room. “Someone's coming!” she said. “Best to hide our visitor, mistress.”
Barbara Carver arose quickly. “Come with me, Patrick Leslie.” He followed her into the little parlor, watching with amazement as she went over to the fireplace and, reaching inside, touched the far wall, which immediately swung open. He needed no urging, and carefully avoiding the blaze in the hearth, he stepped over and around it to fit himself into the niche behind the fireplace wall. “I'll come and get you when our visitor is gone. Depending on who it is, it may be a while.”
Old Lucy shoved a flask into his hand with a nod. Then she and Barbara closed the back wall of the fireplace on him. Patrick looked about him. The space was small, but not impossible. He could stand if he chose, or there was a trifooted stool to sit upon. To his surprise, the space was not stifling despite its location. He uncorked the flask and sniffed.
Wine.
Well, he didn't need it now, having just finished a good meal. He put the stool into a corner of the little space and, sitting down, closed his eyes.
Wine.
Well, he didn't need it now, having just finished a good meal. He put the stool into a corner of the little space and, sitting down, closed his eyes.
Her musket in hand, Barbara Carver hailed the incoming visitor, and then cursed softly beneath her breath. It was her Puritan protector. Setting the gun by the door, she put on her most cheerful smile. Then, remembering the magnificent stallion in the stables, she hissed to Lucy, “Go and take his damned horse lest he see Lord Leslie's beast and ask questions.”
Lucy hobbled out just as Sir Peter arrived and slid from his mount. “Give the beastie to me, yer worship,” she said. “I'll take care of it.” And she moved as quickly away from him as she could, clutching the horse's bridle.
“Darling!” Barbara cried softly, and opened her arms to him.
“My dear,” he chided her, “go inside lest someone see you.”
“Oh, Peter, it is already night,” she protested prettily, but she obeyed him.
He entered the house and kissed her briefly. “I cannot stay, but I wanted to come and tell you what has happened.”
“Oh”âshe poutedâ“and I have been so naughty, sir. I truly need a spanking.” Then she sighed.
“Elsbeth knows I'm here. She insisted I come and warn you of the villains traversing the countryside right now. She invites you to our home for safety's sake. I told her you would not come, but she still was adamant that I come to make certain that the poor widow was safe. I must return almost immediately.”
She pouted at him again. Her breasts were very visible over the top of her gown, and he could scarce take his eyes from them.
“So, madame,” he said, “you are in need of some correction?”
She smiled seductively, putting a single finger in her mouth and sucking on it. She lowered her eyes to allow her eyelashes, which were dark in comparison with her hair, to brush her cheeks. Then she held out her hand to him. “Come upstairs with me,” she tempted.
“I can't, but your parlor will do nicely, my dear. First I shall punish you for your naughtiness, and then I will tell you what has happened before I return home to my wife. Come, madame!”
Barbara Carver felt her cheeks grow pink as she considered just how much of what would go on in her parlor could be heard from behind the fireplace wall, but there was no help for it. She allowed Sir Peter to usher her into the room. He sat upon a chair, and she dutifully put herself over his knees. Her skirts were immediately, indeed eagerly, raised, and he began to punish her smooth white bottom with blows of his gloved hand. She squealed and wiggled as was her custom until finally he cried,
“Enough!”
She was then hustled across the room and bent across a tabletop, her skirts still uplifted. He entered her almost at once, sobbing, pumping her briefly before releasing his juices. Stepping away from her, he lowered her skirts and helped her to rise.
“Enough!”
She was then hustled across the room and bent across a tabletop, her skirts still uplifted. He entered her almost at once, sobbing, pumping her briefly before releasing his juices. Stepping away from her, he lowered her skirts and helped her to rise.
“Ah, my dear,” he said as they now sat together upon the settle, “you are as always such a comfort to me.”
“I am glad,” she murmured. 'Odds fish! The man knew nothing of making love. “I know how difficult these times are for you, Sir Peter. But tell me now, for I am so very eager to learn what has happened. A peddler passed by last week and said the king's army was in Worcester. Is it true?”
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