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24: Passion blooming
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Promised to the father, married to the son 25: Unexpected pleasure
*Ben* I am reluctant to admit that I might never have enough of simply kissing her. The way her luscious mouth moves beneath mine, how it welcomes me, how it has me anticipating her womanhood welcoming and closing around my cock. Because I want her so desperately, I fight to curb my body’s aching needs, refusing to give in too quickly to the temptation of her. But before the night is done, I plan to know her in every way possible. She is remarkably beautiful, every inch of her is flawless. She could bring any man she wanted to his knees. Which is why I vow here and now to never go to my knees for her. Breathing harshly, I tear my mouth from hers, plowing my fingers into the thick silken strands of her hair, and begin removing the pins. Gasping for breath, she says. “It would have been easier if you’d done that whilst standing”. “I didn’t want anything to obstruct my view”. I comb her hair out over the pillows, the glorious red in stark contrast to the pristine white. All the while
Promised to the father, married to the son 26: Afterglow
*Ben* I must have done it properly. It leads to another round. One that goes a little quicker than the first, but is no less intense. She's so blasted tight that at first I had thought she was a virgin. But there had been no blood to clean up. And she is far too comfortable with a man’s body not to have been around one before. Still if I didn't know better, I would think the pleasure she had experienced had taken her by surprise. We have finally gotten around to moving the bedding aside. She is lying on her back, one arm raised, her hand toying with strands of my hair, while I rest up on an elbow and trail my fingers over her sternum, along her ribs. I had tried going down her side to her hips only to discover she is a bit ticklish. Who would have thought ? “I’ve never done this”. She says quietly. I still, my hand a quarter of an inch away from cupping her breast. “You were a virgin? But you were married. There was no blood”. She laughs lightly, running her fingers up over my scalp.
Promised to the father, married to the son 27: Tales of love
*Ben* I wake her up before dawn so I can have her before sunlight steals into the room. Then, even though she invites me to stay, to prove to myself I still possess enough willpower to resist her charms, I dress and go to the library to study my ledgers. Instead, I keep seeing her sitting in the chair before the fireplace that first night. We will probably spend many nights there. Either there or in my bedchamber or wandering the hallways. It isn’t as though I am providing her with an abundance of options. Not that she needs any options. She is there to warm my bed and provide me with an heir. She isn’t supposed to make me want to laugh. She isn’t supposed to make me want to give her more. Nor is she supposed to make me glad for her presence when I walk into the breakfast dining room after growing tired of staring at her empty chair in the library. She is dressed in the dark blue she had worn yesterday, which I suppose signals that she is going to tidy up the music room a bit more. I
Promised to the father, married to the son 28: A trip to the village
*Skye* The open vintage sports car doesn’t have a driver, so I sit beside Ben while he expertly handles the wheel. I am not surprised by his skill or the fact that he hasn’t chosen a vehicle that requires a driver. He is accustomed to doing it for himself. He doesn’t seem to mind it or consider being pampered as his due. I know I need to stop comparing him to other men I have known, and yet I can’t quite seem to help myself. He possesses not only a physical strength but an inner one as well. I can’t imagine him succumbing to madness, doubting himself, questioning his abilities … I can’t imagine him ever being anything except confident in his beliefs and actions. I am rather glad he asked me to join him. While I welcome time to myself, I want to be more than simply his bedmate. I want to mean something to him, which is a silly thing to wish and yet I do. Although we don’t speak, there is a comfortableness to the quiet. I find it pleasant being with him in the silence, because he isn’
Promised to the father, married to the son 29: A beautiful gift
*Skye* As we walk, I count five taverns. I suspect my husband has frequented them all. Ben turns us onto another street. We pass a hostel and a blacksmith. At the end of the road stands a large building with huge doors that hang open. The sign above them reads “Cabinetry and Such”. Ben begins guiding me toward it. I am rather certain why we are here, and quite suddenly I don’t want him to give me another gift. Digging in my heels, I resist until he stops and looks at me. I shake my head. “I don’t need a dressing table”. “You told me that ladies require them”. He says. “I was being difficult”. I admit. He arches a brow. “As opposed to now when you are being so accommodating ?” “You’re allowing me to have servants. You’re arranging for the piano to be tuned. I can go without a dressing table. Or I can find one in an abandoned bedchamber”. I say. “I’ve already stated that’s not an option”. He shakes his head. I can’t explain why I am not comfortable with it. I just am not. “I didn
Promised to the father, married to the son 30: A ladies maid
*Ben* So she thinks she knows me, does she? Well enough to speak of me to a laborer as though we are friends. I don’t like that she might actually be figuring me out and I like even less the things that I am starting to anticipate about her. I knew her eyes would widen in surprise and pleasure when I asked about the blasted tuner for the piano. I knew she wouldn’t be entirely comfortable taking the dressing table. But it is ridiculous to spend coins to have another made when my father already purchased one that went unused for more than a quarter of a century. I don’t take any satisfaction in my ability to predict her reactions. Takes far less in her ability to predict mine. Therefore, I decide to do something entirely unpredictable and bring her to Lydia’s Teas and Cakes before we return home. As we enter, those whiskey-shaded eyes of hers glow with absolute delight. And I curse my stupidity. It’s being far too accommodating. It doesn’t help matters that it always causes this odd se
Promised to the father, married to the son 31: Jealousy
*Ben* I think about Skye while I am at the mines. I think about her while I gallop my horseover the moors toward the manor. I think about her as I bathe, while I stride through the hallways in search of her, fairly certain where I will find her. In the music room. I am not disappointed. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the door jamb and simply watch. Standing on a ladder, dusting my mother’s portrait, she is dressed much as she had been the day before, just without my hessians, as she now has two strapping lads, one about six inches taller than the other, to deal with the pesky spiders. The new servants are moving furniture so two young women, one of them Cullie, can roll up the various carpets. I suspect they will be getting a beating in the morning, along with the draperies that have already been removed. Another young woman is using a long-handled broom to sweep away the dust and cobwebs from the walls. White sheeting has been placed over the piano to protect it fr
Promised to the father, married to the son 32: Missing her
*Ben* Three evenings later, after returning from a day at the mines, I am disappointed to find the door to the music room locked. I have grown accustomed to finding my wife there, to having a few minutes to observe her before someone spots me lurking in the doorway and gasps or shrieks in surprise. In spite of my assurances that no ghost is hovering about, it seems some are still expecting the sudden appearance of a wraith. I don’t much like that I anticipate seeing Skye at the end of the day, that she has so quickly become an intricate part of my life. I awake with her in my arms, and if I am fortunate enough to find the sun has yet to appear, then I begin my morning with a rousing sexual encounter. She is the most enthusiastic partner I have ever known… or perhaps it is simply that I take such satisfaction in pleasuring her. Her moans and cries inflame my desires. Even now, standing before the blasted locked door, I want her. But I won’t take her, not until we dine. I am determined t
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