Elusive Flame

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Hardly!” Cerynise scoffed in amusement. “You’re the best thing that has happened to the shipping company. Uncle Jeff said as much when he and his family came to see Marcus.”

  Beau shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he straightened. “Uncle Jeff is only saying that because he’d like for me to stay on without making another voyage.”

  “Aye, I heard him, but he also said you were good for business and that if you’d stay, he’d give you whatever you wanted.”

  Growing wary of her motives for such talk, Beau searched his wife’s face. “Are you trying to tell me that you’d like it if we didn’t take another voyage together?”

  “Absolutely not!” Cerynise denied, catching his hand and drawing him down to her again. “I will go to the ends of the earth to be with you. I’m just saying that you’re blandly dismissing how important you’ve become to the company. Uncle Jeff can manage it for another year or so without you, allowing us to take the voyage, but I think he’d be absolutely delighted if you’d commit yourself fairly soon to taking over the business after your return.”

  “What about Harthaven? My father has mentioned that one day he’d like for me to take over.”

  She smiled and, gathering his fingers in her hand, lovingly pressed his knuckles against her cheek. “Do you honestly think your father would know what to do with himself if he gave over the management of Harthaven to you? I believe that running the plantation is an elixir of youth for him, as much as your mother is. Perhaps it will be for you someday, but I don’t think you need worry that your father will be offended if you go into partnership with Uncle Jeff. Of the two men, your uncle needs your help more. Clay is clearly not interested in managing the company for his father, and since you’ve been there, Jeff has had more time to enjoy himself.”

  “It has been rather nice living so close to my work,” Beau confessed. “And certainly living at Harthaven would be a problem with Pa and I so much alike. To be truthful, I guess I’ve enjoyed what I’ve been doing well enough to want to continue after the conclusion of the voyage. I’ll talk with Uncle Jeff more about it in the next few weeks. As for now, I’ll be late if I don’t leave fairly soon.”

  After savoring a kiss from her lips, he fondly caressed the small black head nestled near her breast before giving her an affectionate wink and bidding them adieu with, “I love you both.”

  Seventeen

  OCTOBER SWEPT IN, and as Marcus advanced to a marvelous age of six weeks, he surprised his mother by settling down for longer stretches at a time, sometimes even sleeping through the whole night. Of course, Cerynise had to be prepared to devote herself entirely to fulfilling his needs once he woke, for he’d be outraged if he had to wait. She gladly yielded him that favor, for she rather enjoyed not being awakened to his demands in the middle of the night.

  It was late afternoon on a decidedly nippy day. Beau hadn’t yet returned home from work. The baby had been recently fed and, at present, was sleeping in the nursery. Hatti’s granddaughter, Vera, a young woman of eighteen, had been ensconced as the boy’s nursemaid and was now watching over him in his room. It had been established from the first that after the final feeding at night or upon the parents’ retirement to their bedroom upstairs, the girl would return to her own room in the servants’ quarters, allowing the couple the joy of tending their child in the privacy of their chambers, if such a need arose.

  Surveying herself in the long, standing mirror in the dressing room, Cerynise was of a mind to think that except for a fuller bosom, no other evidence remained of her having given birth only a few weeks ago. The delicate clinging cloth of her chemise displayed a waist that was once more slender, and hips and thighs that were sleek and trim. Bridget had learned to create elegant coiffures for her, but for a more casual evening at home, Cerynise’s hair had been coiled sedately on top of her head and softened by a few wispy tendrils falling against her neck. The maid had helped her into a soft creation of olive green and burgundy paisley, the rounded neckline, cuffs and hem of which were trimmed in the darker reddish hue. It was just the sort of thing that suited Cerynise’s mood on this cozy autumn afternoon.

  Accepting a burgundy shawl from Bridget, Cerynise adjusted it around her shoulders to properly hide her bosom. The fact that her breasts were much fuller now definitely made the garment more than a little risqué, for she was nearly overflowing the scooped décolletage.

  “The cap’n is bound ta admire ye, mum. He won’t be able ta help it,” the maid said with an approving smile.

  Cerynise felt her own senses racing. “I feel as giddy as a schoolgirl receiving her first beau,” she admitted with an effervescent smile. “Are you sure I look all right?”

  “Like the beauty ye are, mum,” Bridget assured, laughing softly. She could sense her mistress’s excitement over the coming evening and was wont to imagine that she’d be just as thrilled once Stephen Oaks became her husband and they could share the marital bliss that Cerynise and Beau Birmingham seemed to enjoy.

  Cerynise fretted a little longer, wanting to look her best for her husband. “You wouldn’t tell me that if there was something wrong, would you, Bridget?”

  “Mum, take my honest word for it,” the maid warbled cheerily, “ye’re as close ta perfection as the master will be able to bear.”

  Cerynise drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

  Bridget patted her hand. “Ye needn’t be, mum, for ’tis no lie that ye’d be fetchin’ even in an ol’ sack.” The maid stepped to the door and paused there to gaze back at her young mistress. “Ye’re a vision, ta be sure, mum.”

  Bridget took her leave, and as the sounds of her hurrying footfalls drifted back through the silence of the house, Cerynise continued to ponder her reflection, trying to imagine how she might look from Beau’s perspective. No slightest evidence remained of that mere slip of a girl whom Germaine had once ridiculed as Sticks. Indeed, with her round breasts nearly overflowing the cloth boundary, she looked rather voluptuous for a woman approaching ten and nine years of age. She smiled as she remembered Beau pausing at the dressing room door that morning to take in the view as she stepped into the bathtub. The fact that he had been physically affected by the sight brought a smile to her lips even now. Time hadn’t allowed him to assuage his lusts, which made his homecoming this evening even more anticipated. Still, Cerynise was wont to savor the memory of her handsome husband standing there completely dressed and fully aroused. The remembrance of the moment heightened her own excitement, and with a sly smile, she paused to dab a delicate fragrance in the cleavage between her breasts.

  Making her own way through the bedroom, Cerynise glanced toward the huge tester bed where Beau had held her so tenderly and with dutiful restraint since Marcus’s birth. It was not to say that they hadn’t given themselves over to a fair amount of passionate kissing and erotic caressing during the past weeks. Indeed, if it had been left up to her, they’d have resumed their relations much sooner, but Beau had been afraid of hurting her. Now it was their night. Thus, it was with a light step that she went downstairs to await his return in the study which, except for their bedroom, had become their favorite sanctuary.

  A breeze had sprung up from a northerly direction the night before, and a small fire had been lit in the fireplace to banish the chill that had invaded the study. Securing the cozy mood of the room, Cerynise flipped down the slats of the plantation shutters covering the windows and turned down the lamp that had been left burning on a table. A chaise lounge, residing in front of the fireplace, invited her to the comfort of its soft Moroccan leather and the tapestry pillows that cushioned its sloping end. It was where she most often reclined with Marcus in her arms while Beau worked at his desk only a short distance away.

  Smothering a yawn, Cerynise relaxed back upon the chaise and readjusted the pillows behind her back to a more comfortable position. With the warmth radiating from the fireplace she had no need of the shawl and allowed it to fal
l away from her shoulders. Then she leaned her head back to await the sound of her husband’s return. In swiftly advancing degrees, she yielded to the increasing weightiness of her eyelids.

  It seemed no more than a moment before a familiar awareness began to penetrate her befogged slumber. Struggling upward from her nap, she lifted drooping eyelids for a brief peek and then, closing them again, smiled sleepily. Her husband was sitting on the chaise beside her, having doffed his coat and waistcoat, stripped away his cravat, and loosened his shirt to the waist. The amused smile he wore assured her that he had been watching her.

  “Good afternoon, my pet,” he murmured when she finally managed to lift her eyelids and keep them open.

  “I must have dozed off,” she mumbled drowsily, trying to sit up. “And here I had intended to greet you at the door.”

  Beau leaned over her, preventing her escape as he pressed his lips to the fullness swelling above the shallow top of the bodice, very near a pliant peak hidden beneath. “I didn’t mind, my sweet. I was enjoying the view.”

  She giggled. “Brief though it was.”

  He glanced up at the clock on the mantel. “I came home thirty minutes ago.”

  Her brows gathered in confusion. “That long? But why didn’t you wake me?”

  “As I said, I was enjoying the view.”

  Cerynise reached up and, slipping a hand in the opening of his shirt, caressed the muscular firmness. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  “So am I,” he breathed, bending near again, this time to caress her lips with his own. Her mouth parted eagerly beneath his, and he enjoyed a slow, languid search of the honeyed depth.

  Cerynise sighed in contentment as he sat back. “You convey me away to ecstasy with your kisses.”

  A black eyebrow raised to a skeptical angle. “I thought I only did that when we made love together.”

  “Oh no, sir. Your kisses are very fine indeed.”

  He came near again, this time tracing his tongue with tantalizing slowness over her breasts, venturing across a swelling mound, dipping into the fragrant trough, and then rising again to the peak, much like a ship crossing a rolling sea. Tugging her gown down from her shoulder, he bared a pale pink crest and halted her breath as he leisurely stroked a warm, wet brand across it, causing Cerynise to shiver as a delicious excitement rippled through her.

  “Do you like that?” he queried, lifting his mouth to tease hers.

  “You know I do.” Cerynise sighed, looping an arm behind his neck as he drew her up with him. Their mouths played in sweet union as his fingers progressed to the back of her gown and unfastened it. With a shrug of her shoulders, she swept it forward and pulled free of the bodice as he held the cuffs. Beau clasped an arm behind her and, lifting her until her hips were off the chaise, quickly banished the gown to the floor. He continued to ply her lips with kisses as his fingers plucked open the buttons of her chemise. The undergarment fell open, spilling the lustrous orbs into his eager grasp. His mouth took possession, setting off a flaring ecstasy in her loins.

  “Have you locked the door?” she whispered, threading her fingers through his thick hair as his hungry mouth devoured the swelling softness.

  “I couldn’t resist with so beautiful a captive close at hand.” The brush of his breath warmed a pliant nipple as he rasped out an answer. “I’ve been thinking of this all day, my sweet.”

  “So have I.”

  His hand slid underneath her petticoat and advanced over the top of a stocking. Then he pulled back in surprise and stared at her in amazement. “You’re not wearing any pantalettes, madam!”

  Cerynise smiled coyly as she drew an imaginary C upon his chest. “Are you scandalized?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied with a chuckle, belying his answer with a provocative search upward.

  Cerynise moved to welcome him and gasped as small jolts of sizzling excitement began to surge upward from her womanly softness, setting her on fire for him. She writhed beneath his touch, wondering how long she could bear such rapture without being completely swept away. “Don’t rush me, Beau,” she begged breathlessly. “I want to wait for you.”

  He yielded to her plea and, standing back, began to unfasten his placket. She kicked off her slippers and, rising to her knees before him, tugged the tail of his shirt out of his trousers and pushed the garment over his shoulders. Her hands returned to stroke the hard, muscular ribs and followed his falling pants to caress his manly loins. Beau might as well have been frozen, so enraptured was he by her artful fondling, except that flames began licking upward through his being, threatening to consume him in one quick rush. He closed his hand over hers, for the moment forestalling her bold handling of his person.

  “My plea is the same as yours, madam,” he murmured huskily. “Give me a moment to cool down, and then we’ll get on with the business at hand.”

  He kicked free of his boots and shed the rest of his clothes. Then he came back to her in all of his naked glory. Pressing close against him, Cerynise moved her breasts temptingly against his chest, teasing him until he moaned softly and clasped them greedily in his hands for another taste of the delectable fare. Soon their mouths and tongues blended in a rapacious search, and with eyes dark with desire, Cerynise drew him back with her upon the chaise. He came willingly, slipping an arm behind her and pulling her astride him as he took the place she had left. He freed the fastening at the waist of her petticoat and rose up to draw it over her head, leaving her clothed in nothing more substantial than a camisole and a pair of silk stockings fastened with frilly garters. The petticoat was thrown to the floor, forgotten in his haste. Lifting her slightly, he resettled her over the fiery shaft and pressed fully home. Cerynise gasped as his warmth filled her, making her tremble with the pure, shimmering ecstasy of it.

  Beau enfolded her within his arms for a moment, enjoying the feel of her bosom against his chest and her womanly softness sheathing him as he kissed her eyes, her cheek and her softly yielding mouth. His lips slid down the graceful column of her throat as he breathed, “It seems like forever since I held you this way.”

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed, arching her back to allow him free access. A soft gasp was snatched from her as his mouth enveloped the pinnacle of her breast. It seemed to pulse in eagerness beneath the wet, fiery torch, and she almost mewled in disappointment when he lay back upon the chaise. Yet when his fingertips moved to where they were joined and began to work their magic, she became a fascinated prisoner and, in quiescent repose, drank in each delicious stroke.

  Her sultry eyes delved into his, conveying her deepening arousal as she began to move against him, deliberately drawing out their pleasure in long, leisured strides. Beau’s own breathing grew harsh and ragged as she made love to him with an inventiveness that matched the studied art of a sultry temptress in her shuttered den. She touched him provocatively, brushing her fingers over his male nipples, his hardened ribs and between his steely thighs as her tongue passed languidly over her upper lip. Holding his gaze captive, she moved her hands over herself, inviting his hands to follow wherever she led, and they did, making her catch her breath as he answered with his own creativity. She sucked her breath in through her teeth at the scintillating sensations flooding through her and then leaned forward, bracing her hands on the uppermost part of the rolled end of the chaise to offer the swelling mounds to the warmth of his mouth. They hung temptingly above him, like golden ripe fruit bejeweled with pink crests. His hands eagerly clasped their fullness, and he nigh devoured them as her rhythm became more intense. He seized her buttocks, urging her onward until both of them were driven by the rapture that burst upon them, sweeping them to dizzying, soaring heights. Caught in the midst of this lofty flight, Beau strained upward against her, feeling totally regenerated by the pulsing heat of her. He had never experienced such a thing before, and yet it was utterly thrilling to go on and on and on.…

  When reason finally drifted back to them and he pulled his wife down upon his chest, Beau was still
struck by the wonder of it all. He pressed another kiss upon her lips as her fingers lightly stroked his arm.

  “That was extremely nice.” Cerynise sighed contentedly.

  “The best I’ve ever experienced,” he admitted. “I’m so relaxed now, I can hardly lift my arms.”

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. “I like them around me.”

  He clasped her close, moving his chest beneath her in a slow, undulating caress of her breasts, and was amazed to feel himself tightening within her.

  “Oooh,” she crooned, “that’s even nicer.”

  “You do strange things to me, woman,” he murmured huskily.

  “I’m glad. It assures me that you won’t go searching beneath other skirts.”

  “Nay, never that. I’m quite content getting under your skirts.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “For what?”

  A giggle escaped her as she raised her head to search his smiling face. “Real food.”

  “Then I suppose we’d better get dressed again.”

  “Still, I hate to leave such delights,” she replied, moving her hips against him.

  “Make up your mind, woman,” he urged with a chuckle, clasping her buttock. “Me or real food.”

  “I’ll have you later.” Laughing at his feigned growl of disappointment, she pushed herself upright until she sat astride him once again. “As for now, a nursing mother must be nourished.”

  He stroked a forefinger beneath a white droplet trembling on the tip of her nipple and brought it to his mouth to taste. “No wonder Marcus likes you so well,” he commented, making a show of licking his finger. “You taste nice.”

  Cerynise wiped away a tiny pool that had collected on his chest. “I’m not very tidy.”

  The blue eyes glowed back at her. “Marcus and I don’t mind.”

  “Come, husband,” she urged, dismounting him. “I’m really, really hungry.”

  She turned away to pick up her garments, drawing him off the chaise in a bounding leap. He lightly slapped her buttocks, making her straighten and look at him with a querying smile.