Riverbreeze: Part 2 (10 page)

“When I first saw you singing in Francis’ keeping room and I saw your eyes, I knew I would give you this ring. I couldn’t explain it; I didn’t even know who you were at that time, but I just had this feeling that you were meant to have this ring.”

“I feel so honored. Your mother’s ring.” She looked up into her husband’s face. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smiled. “Your welcome, Mistress Bassett.” He said, gently wiping her tears away.

She smiled at her new name, her lips wobbling a little as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “I do not have anything for you.”

“Your gift to me is you.” He said, gently cupping her face. “You are all that I want.” And he kissed her, first gently, then more intensely. She responded by cupping the back of his head with one hand and he deepened the kiss, thrilled by her touch. He pulled her even closer to his body, letting his hands roam over her back and downwards. The kiss lasted for some time until finally, breathless, they broke apart.

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” He panted. “I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

“’Tis all right.” She said, her green eyes amused. There was also a becoming blush to her cheeks. “I like it when you kiss me like that. Remember, I told you once before that you may kiss me all you want and wherever you want.”

He shook his head at her. “I’m at a loss for words, Elizabeth.”

She laughed at his expression. “Then do not say anything. Just kiss me again.”

And he did, with alacrity, this time holding her firmly against his aroused body while she clutched his shoulders. Then his hands made their way to the back of her skirt where he tugged impatiently at the ties. They finally came untied and her skirt fell to the floor, puddling around her feet.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast.” He said, breathing heavily in her ear.

“You’re not.” She whispered back, her hands, in turn, going to the laces of his buckskin trousers.

“Are you not the least bit afraid?” He asked, shocked at her boldness. He placed his hands on hers, stopping her momentarily from unfastening his pants.

She shook her head. “Why should I be? I know it will hurt a little the first time, but my governess told me that the marriage act is nothing to be afraid of. In fact, she told Evelyn and me that it can be quite wonderful. You are my husband, Robert. I am not afraid of you.”

He almost growled as he grabbed her for another kiss. Then he pulled away, saying, “You undo your buttons, I’ll undo my laces.”

“Are
you
afraid of me?” She teased him, taking her hands from his. She started to unbutton her bodice.

Actually he was a little afraid of her boldness, but he couldn’t admit that to her. “Of course not.” He lied easily. “Let’s just say I’m not used to a woman who is so eager.”

“Oh.” She said in a small voice, looking down at her buttons. Her fingers stilled at the second button of her bodice.

“Oh no, now I’ve hurt you.” He grabbed her shoulders. “I didn’t mean that. Go ahead; undo my laces.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. And if I’m to be honest, I want your hands all over me.” He said. But when her fingers started working on the laces again, it took all his will to stay still.

She smiled gently at him and he realized he felt like this was his first time instead of hers, but her forwardness was so unexpected. He realized that her view of sex was completely the opposite of Kathleen’s view and suddenly a weight lifted from his shoulders.

He reached for the buttons of her bodice and she smiled wider in approval. They held each other’s gaze as they unfastened each other’s garments, unafraid, unreserved, free to enjoy each other without restrictions.

Quickly he pushed her bodice off and she pushed down on his leggings until they slid down his slim hips on their own. He kicked them away but then felt ridiculous standing there with his shirt poking out. So he quickly picked her up and laid her on the bed with the plan to strip off his shirt before joining her. However, a particular garment that she wore under her chemise caught him off guard and he blurted out, “What the hell are those?”

“These are my drawers, sir.” She said indignantly.

“I’ve never seen anything like them.” He said, eyeing her legs covered by the offending fabric.

“Do you often look at women’s underclothes?” She asked, her eyebrows arched.

He opened his mouth to hotly deny that he looked at women’s undergarments, but then a thought came to him and he chuckled. “No, I do not.” He answered seriously. “but there was a time when Jamie and I would spy on Maureen and Kathleen…”

She gasped. “You naughty boys!”

Robert continued laughing. “One time they caught us and they told father. By my troth, he switched our bums until we were wailing. Jamie and I couldn’t sit down for days after that without feeling pain.”

“I’m sure you deserved every stroke.” She said primly.

“We sure learned our lesson. We never spied on the girls again.” He said, but a devilish smile broke out on his face. “Or at least we never got caught again.”

She couldn’t help but smile along with him. “You must have been an incorrigible child.”

He just shrugged his shoulders, not looking sorry at all.

She noticed that a change had come about as a result of that short interruption in their foreplay. Boldly she said, “I fear, sir, that you’re not going to be much good to me now like that.” She pointed directly at his groin.

He looked down at himself. Alas, his shirt was no longer poking out.

“Take those damn things off.” He growled, stripping out of his shirt. He threw it on the floor and then grabbed at the offensive drawers, pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder. Her chemise came next and then she was lying naked on the coverlet. Her skin glowed like a sunset in the light of the hickory fire.

Elizabeth didn’t have a moment to breathe after that. But Robert noticed that she didn’t seem to mind. She was everything that he could have wished for; she was more than he could have wished for. As Jamie had said earlier that day, God’s blood, he was one lucky bastard!

* * *

But in the bedchamber at the other end of the hall, Evelyn lay beside her sleeping husband, crying softly to herself, having felt her twin’s momentary pain of lost virginity, but not her own.

Chapter Twenty: Confessions

“Did I hurt you at all?” Robert asked in a whisper.

It was a short time later and he was holding Elizabeth in his arms. They were snuggled under the bedclothes, comfortably warm and sated.

“It was only a pinch.” She said, her fingers trailing playfully over his chest.

“Next time ‘twill be better.” He said, kissing her hair.

“I know.” She said nonchalantly. She smiled lazily as she gazed up at the paneled canopy over them. “This bed is quite magnificent.”

He chuckled a little. “Yes, ‘tis rather grand.” He reached out and grabbed one of the solid, ornately carved oak posts and tried to shake it, demonstrating its sturdiness. “It arrived from London just this past month. ‘Twas a pain in the arse to assemble, but a master of his manor must have a grand bed, do you not think so?” He asked wryly.

“Oh, indeed.” She said, smiling, echoing his tone. “And for his lady, as well.”

“And for my lady, as well.” He repeated, turning to kiss her lips and then down her neck. “And you are my lady.”

“For ever and ever.” She sighed, relaxing in the comfort of his arms and letting her head fall back.

“You have the loveliest skin.” He murmured, kissing along the column of her neck and behind her ear. “So soft and white; pure and white as the most perfect lily.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, luxuriating in his attention. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She said, running her hand over his muscular shoulder and up under his hair.

“My skin is hardly perfect.” He said innocently. He thought that his skin was now the tanned skin of a planter and not the protected, pale skin of a nobleman. He didn’t realize that his words had another meaning until he felt Elizabeth withdraw from his attentions and heard her tentative voice.

“Robert?” She asked shyly. “What happened to your back?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Of course she had felt his scars while caressing his back. And he had felt how her fingers had slowed over the areas where the thickened skin was, stopping to feel them more thoroughly, then quickly moving her hands away, afraid that she may have offended him.

“Would you like to have a look?” He asked. His back wasn’t all that bad, he knew. He had never seen the scars, but Jamie had described them to him, just as Robert had described Jamie’s to him. There were no more than a few patches of silvered skin over both shoulder blades, where the worst of the strikes had been concentrated. It really was of no consequence to him.

“You do not mind?” She asked.

“No. You’re going to see them sooner or later anyway.” He said offhandedly.

He threw the covers aside and rolled out of bed to fetch one of the candles. He handed it to Elizabeth, who sat up against the pillows, pulling the sheet modestly up over her breasts. In the light of the candle he could see her face and he was amused to see how serious she was. He was even more startled to see how much her hand shook, making the little flame dance upon the candle.

He flashed her an easy smile and said, “There’s no need to be so serious.” He settled himself, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet over his lap. It was chilly in the room, despite the cheery, little fire and goose bumps covered his body as he shivered a little. He felt the bed shift as she moved behind him on her knees, and then her cool hand came down on his shoulder to steady herself when she lost her balance. Then he could feel the heat from the flame as she held it close to his skin and the tender touch of her cool fingers skimming over the scars.

“How did it happen?”

He shrugged a shoulder in dismissal. “My brother, Wesley…”

“Your brother did this?” She exclaimed in outrage. “Why would he hurt you?”

“Because he was and always will be an utter bastard.” He spat; then he quickly apologized for his indelicate swearing in front of her. She just waved the slip of the tongue away. Continuing he explained.

“I told you about him before. He’s my half brother, the product of my father and his first wife…” He could still feel the heat of the flame close to his skin, and her smooth fingertips exploring the whole expanse of his back, causing more goose flesh to rise up all over him. He liked the sensation though, her willingness to touch him, to explore him. He remembered how Kathleen had shied away from touching his back; how she had purposely avoided touching his scars as if she were either repulsed by the ugliness of them or sickened by the image of the act that had caused them. He never knew her reason; she had never told him and he had never asked. He had just accepted it.

On the other hand, Makki had liked them, seeing them as symbols of bravery. And now Elizabeth, curious, outraged, concerned. How different his women were.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “He hated us, Jamie and me, he hated us with a passion; and he let us know it every day of our lives after our father had died. Poor Jamie received the worst treatment; I know not how he held up…pure stubbornness, I guess.” He shook his head, causing his unbound hair to whisper across his shoulders. As if inviting her touch, she smoothed the thick strands, offering sympathy, making him shiver again. “I knew we could not go on living like that until our maturity. Jamie suffered horribly; Wesley would beat him at least once a week and he was wasting away from lack of food…”

“You mean he starved him?” Elizabeth asked in shock.

By this time, she had seen enough of his back and she was cold. But she didn’t want to interrupt his story so on her own she settled herself beside him and placed the candlestick on the side table. When she reached for the quilt, Robert helped to pull it around them, holding her close to his side.

He didn’t look at her, but stared straight ahead into the flames in the fireplace as he continued, “No, not outright, but whenever Jamie disobeyed Wesley, which was almost every day, the little fool, Wesley would forbid him any supper. Mrs. Biddle, though, bless her heart, would sneak food into our chamber for him whenever she could, but it wasn’t enough. I was getting desperate; I was so afraid for Jamie. If I hadn’t gotten him away from Wesley, I know not what would have happened to him. I feared that Wesley would kill him one day.