Secret Promise

by Marin McGinnis

  Chapter Fifteen

  Edward halted the horse and climbed down. He moved around to the other side of the gig and held out a hand for Anna. She took it with a certain reluctance, assaulted by a range of emotions she didn’t know what to do with. She walked to the cliffside, leaving Edward behind her to see to the horse. At the bottom of the cliff, the North Sea waved calmly under a cloudless sky, so different from the last time she was here. She looked to her right. The little shed in which they had taken shelter was gone, replaced by a patch of dirt, tufts of seagrass peeking through it.

  She felt Edward beside her, and he took her hand once more.

  “Why did you bring me here, Edward? What could you hope to accomplish with this reminder of what we left behind?”

  Edward held up her hand, the Fede ring still on her finger. He placed his palm against hers, his own ring sparking in the light of the morning sun.

  “We didn’t leave it behind, Anna. You never took off your ring, nor I mine. No matter what you may have thought of me while I was gone, we have remained bound. That is what I wanted you to remember. And I would like to take those vows again, and this time follow them with the visit to the vicar we didn’t get a chance to make before.”

  Anna blinked back tears. “Oh, Edward.”

  “Please, Anna. You said earlier that we were together again. Did you truly mean it?” Edward’s tone was imploring.

  Anna’s response was to pull him toward her, fingers interlaced like the hands on the rings they wore. She kissed him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “Oh, yes. Promise me, Edward. Promise you’ll never leave me again.”

  “Never. You are mine, and I am yours.”

  They stood together on the cliffside as Edward pulled a ribbon from his pocket and wound it around their clasped hands. Together, they said the ancient words once again. Together, they were bound.

  Anna’s heart thumped in her chest. Even though they had made these vows seven years before, it all seemed too soon. Too rushed. But it was too late to take them back, and she didn’t truly want to. Edward had always belonged to her, and she to him. This was right. It had to be.

  Afterward, Edward pulled her close, kissed her gently, held her for a moment. He sighed in obvious contentment as they strolled to the basket Edward had left by a copse of trees, well away from the road. Edward removed a large blanket; Anna unpacked their feast.

  After they sat, Edward poured wine into two glasses, held one out to Anna.

  “A toast,” he said. “To my beautiful bride. You have made me so very happy, Anna.”

  “Did we do the right thing, Edward?”

  His brow furrowed, and he put down both glasses and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her fingers, then held her hand tightly against his chest. “Yes.”

  Her heart softened. “I have been holding onto anger at you for a very long time, Edward. It’s hard to let it go.”

  “It’s easy, actually.” He smiled and pulled her over to lay her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, gently massaged her temples. “Close your eyes, Anna.”

  Anna frowned, and he laughed. “I’m serious. Close your eyes, and take a deep breath in, then let it out, slowly.”

  It felt silly, but she complied. The sun was warm on her face, and his fingers were little miracles as they moved across her face and the back of her head, rubbing the tension away.

  She was nearly asleep when Edward leaned over her and kissed her lips. He placed her head softly on the blanket, and she felt him move alongside her, his fingers never leaving her body. His hands moved along her arms, stroking, fingers kneading her flesh. Then his hands moved to her hips, and she felt a stirring deep in her groin and couldn’t suppress—didn’t even try—a moan. He didn’t tarry but kept moving downward, along her thighs, her knees, her calves. He removed her shoes, massaged the soles of her feet, her toes. She felt boneless, weightless, as if she were floating above the earth and his touch was her only tether. Then his hands moved back up, under her skirts, but still she couldn’t move. He placed his warm, strong hands on her hips, her buttocks, and continued to gently squeeze her muscles. She nearly writhed with the pleasure of it. She had never in her life felt so detached and yet at the same time so in tune with her body. She could feel the air move through her lungs, her heart beat faster, the very blood moving through her veins. His hands moved between her legs, to her core, the nub of her sex responding eagerly to his touch. It took only a moment for his fingers to bring her to climax, and she cried out, hips arching as her body trembled in release.

  After a moment her eyes fluttered open. She looked at Edward lying prone beside her, his hand on her belly, grounding her. She pulled him toward her, her lips to his, her tongue plunging into his mouth. She grabbed at his shirt, he at her gown, and in moments they were free of their clothing.

  Edward’s lips left her own to travel down her body to her breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn, bringing them to attention with his teeth. She was still, reveling in the sensation for a moment, then her hands began to rove over his chest. His body was harder, more muscular than it had been seven years before, the hair that had been just a few youthful strands now thickly covered his torso, leading to a vee at his waist.

  Her own body had more curves, no longer the thin, almost boyish, figure it had been. Now as he pulled her atop him and settled her on his penis, she marveled at how they came together, as if no time had passed. She tightened herself around him, moving slowly, bending forward to kiss him again, to gently take the skin of his shoulder, his neck, with her teeth.

  “Anna. God, how I have missed you,” he murmured against her mouth. With no warning he flipped her over to lie beneath him, never breaking the connection. He covered her neck with kisses, little bites of his own, and she arched her back to take him deeper. She matched his rhythm, thrust for thrust, until they both came together in perfect harmony.

  ****

  Anna collapsed against him, clearly spent. He stroked her vibrant hair, his breathing matching hers, gradually slowing.

  “Are you all right, Anna?”

  He could feel her smile where her cheek rested on his chest. “I’m wonderful. You?”

  She rose from the waist to look at him, the muscles of her face relaxed. Her milky skin was clear, flushed from her neck to her breasts. She looked a bit like the girl she had been, yet so much more beautiful. He stroked her cheek with the knuckles of one hand. “I could stay here with you for the rest of my life.”

  She smiled and leaned over to kiss him, then laid her head on his chest again. “It might get a bit cold after a while. Now, for example.” She shivered and rolled off him to curl at his side, one arm draped across his waist. “And I’m starting to get hungry.”

  He reached around behind him, careful not to dislodge her, and pulled the neglected picnic basket closer. He reached in, pulling out a loaf of bread and a wrapped parcel of cheese.

  “Your wish is my command.” He opened the parcel and broke off a piece of cheese. “Open.”

  She obediently opened her mouth and took the cheese from his fingers with dainty, pearly white teeth. Remembering what those teeth had been doing to him just a short while before, his penis rose to attention. He almost groaned—after all these years of wanting her, once clearly was not enough.

  Deciding he didn’t want to scare her away—she had made love to him readily enough, it was true, but he didn’t know how willing she was to repeat the experience just yet—he turned away from her and pulled another blanket out of the basket. He took a deep breath, willing his member to deflate. He draped the blanket around himself, then sat beside Anna, covering her with the rest. She sat up and snuggled against him. He handed her the neglected glass of wine, sipped from his own.

  “Anna. Are you happy?”

  She smiled over the rim of her glass. “Yes, Edward, I am happy.”

  “You no longer think this was wrong?”

  “Oh, Edward. I never rea
lly thought this was wrong. It’s just…my feelings have been in a jumble for a very long time. I suppose I never really let myself hope that a life with you was possible, after you left.”

  How did this woman make him feel brave and strong, protective, yet insecure and meek at the same time? He had to ask, had to know. “Anna. Do you—can you—forgive me?”

  Anna set down her glass, took his hand in hers, an exact mirror of how they had started this picnic. “My darling Edward, there’s nothing to forgive. But if you need me to say it, I will: I forgive you. I love you.”

  He put down his own glass, heedless of whether it spilled, and pulled her into his lap. His erection was back, but he chose not to ignore it any longer. This time, their lovemaking was languid as they took time to discover each other. Afterward, Edward pulled her against him, and they slept.

  ****

  The boat bounced like a toy on the choppy waters of the lake—Erie, he thought he’d heard it called—toward a tiny island in the distance. Along the shoreline he could just make out a row of boxy, white buildings. He glanced over at his companions on the boat. To a man they were unnaturally thin, filthy, their eyes downcast. Some of them were seasick, hurling the contents of their stomachs over the side of the boat. Edward could almost smell their despondence.

  After what seemed an interminable voyage but was likely no more than an hour or two, the boat docked, and the Union soldiers prodded the prisoners with their rifles. Those that were green with mal de mer fell upon the ground, practically kissing it in relief. Edward stood, stoic, observant, waiting to see what this latest episode in his adventure would reveal. Since he set out for America nearly two years before, he had spent months on a ship so tossed by storms he woke every day grateful he was still alive. He had been captured, accused of being a Confederate spy, and imprisoned for a year in a prison in Washington, enduring stifling heat, crippling cold, bedbugs in his bunk, and weevils in his food. Men around him swore their allegiance to the Union and were conscripted into the army, others were traded for Union prisoners, and still more simply gave up and died. No one wanted Edward in exchange for anyone, and he refused to swear allegiance to the United States. He was, and always would be, a British subject. Now he was one of the first prisoners in a place called Johnson’s Island.

  It was spring—Edward had lost track of the day, but knew it was sometime in April or May. The trees had just begun to bud, and the wind whipping across the lake was still cold. He shivered as he followed a guard from the dock to one of the buildings he had seen from the water. It was newly constructed and painted, glistening white against the dark gray sky. Inside there was blessed shelter from the wind. Along each wall was a row of bunks, three beds high. Edward claimed an upper bunk against the far wall. He removed the small portrait of Anna from his pocket, ran a grimy finger across her cheek, then tucked it away again.

  Later that night, after a much better meal than he had eaten in months, Edward lay in his bunk, listening to the snores of his fellow prisoners. Even at age twenty, Edward felt old—many of the other men were still just boys, captured after their commander surrendered a Confederate fort in Tennessee. Edward’s knowledge of American geography was sorely limited. He vaguely remembered the names of the states, thanks to a tutor, but exactly where they were located and which side of the war they were on now remained elusive. In Washington he had successfully begged newspapers from one of the guards, but he was now painfully unaware of what was happening in the world. His fellow prisoners were pleasant enough—when he could understand their speech—but they were just as ignorant as he was of what was transpiring in the war, beyond their own limited experience. He resolved to learn more, and to figure out a way to get off the island and back to England. And home to Anna.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Edward’s eyes flew open as a large raindrop splashed onto his face. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. He was not in his bunk on Johnson’s Island, contemplating escape. He was in Scotland with Anna, who was curled against him, sound asleep. Her hair was dotted with droplets of water, making it shimmer in the fading light. He sighed in contentment, settling back into their nest of blankets, willing the rain to stop. As usual, however, the heavens failed to do his bidding and signaled their dramatic disagreement with his plan by pelting them with hail. Anna awoke with a start and blinked, rather like a strange red-headed mouse emerging from its hole in the wall.

  “It’s raining,” she said, a touch of wonder in her tone.

  “Actually, I think it’s hailing.”

  She glared at him, but he laughed and kissed her, then pulled her to her feet. They dressed quickly and ran hand in hand to the carriage. Edward untied the horse and pulled the top of the carriage up as Anna stashed the picnic basket, then clambered into the vehicle behind Edward. The hail had turned back to rain, and it was falling steadily. Anna looked at Edward, a grin on her face.

  “What?” Edward said, amused. “You look surprisingly happy.”

  “I am. I haven’t been caught in the rain like that, well, since the last time we were here.”

  He pulled her close, his lips brushing her forehead. “Neither have I. But I suppose we ought to get back, before we drown the poor horse.”

  Anna leaned against him, and he regretted again all the time they had lost. But today had been nearly as perfect a day as he could have wished for when lying in his prison bunk. It was more than enough.

  ****

  They returned to Wallsend well after dark, rumpled and slightly damp, but content. Anna had never imagined such a day when she woke up that morning—to handfast with Edward again, to make love to him, twice, at the top of a cliff in the open air. It was wild and reckless. The best day she’d ever had.

  But now it was nearly over, and as they walked back to the pub, she felt an awkwardness settle around her like an ill-fitting dress. She and Edward had handfasted, but it wasn’t legal in England—she rather doubted it was legal in Scotland either. They needed to be wed in the parish church, in which she had not set foot since before Zachary was born. Glancing at Edward, she wondered if he was ready to take that step. Or if she was.

  Edward waited patiently while she unlocked the door to the pub. It was dark and quiet downstairs, and as they walked through the bar, Anna stopped so suddenly that Edward ran into her and nearly knocked her down.

  “What’s wrong?” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to steady her.

  Anna turned and practically leapt into his arms, capturing his mouth with her own. He carried her to a table, settling her atop it as she fumbled with his trousers. His hands were on her backside, his lips traveling up and down her neck. His fully erect penis free of his trousers, he pulled her skirts up over her hips. She gasped as he entered her, filling her, hard and fast. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she climaxed, and he stopped her cry with his mouth. His climax was explosive, the muscles on his neck taut, then relaxed as he spent himself inside her. He pulled her toward him and held her as she began to cry, softly, her emotions so intense she felt as if she would break apart.

  “Oh, Anna. That was a surprise.”

  “A welcome one?”

  “God, yes. I never saw it coming.” He smiled and stroked her cheek. “Not that I’m complaining, but what possessed you?”

  “I…I suppose I wasn’t ready for the day to end. I suddenly wanted you so badly I thought I would die if we didn’t…Well, I just needed to be connected to you.” She laughed, without humor. “I suppose that makes me the harlot my father always thought I was.”

  He grasped her chin gently in one hand, forced her head up to look at him. “Never say that. We are bound, you and I. Betrothed. Enjoying the act of love with me doesn’t make you wanton, Anna, no matter what anyone says.”

  She wanted to believe him; it was certainly preferable to believing her father. The words he had called her when he learned she was pregnant. She shuddered.

  “Cold?”

  “No. Just shaking off an old memory
.”

  “We’ve spent the day making new, better ones. And we’ll have many more.” Edward smiled and kissed her, then pulled her off the table. They rearranged their respective clothing, and headed upstairs.

  The Grahams were waiting, he in a chair by the fire, softly snoring, and she on the settee with her knitting in her lap, spectacles perched at the end of her nose.

  Mrs. Graham looked up when the entered the room and beamed at them. “Did you have a pleasant day, my dears?”

  Anna was sorely tempted to blush. Mrs. Graham had to know what they’d been up to. Edward draped his arm over her shoulder. “We had a delightful day, Mrs. Graham. Anna and I are again betrothed.”

  Mrs. Graham dropped her knitting and jumped up to hug them both. “I am so pleased. Zachary will be delighted, I’m sure.”

  Anna frowned, annoyed with herself for failing to mention Zachary first thing. “I hope he was well behaved for you, Mrs. Graham. He can be a bit…energetic.”

  “He’s a lovely boy, Anna, not to worry. His father gave me much worse.” She winked at Edward, who placed his hand on his heart and assumed a hurt expression. Anna laughed, and somehow the tension was broken. Edward was the same boy she’d fallen in love with, with just a few extra scars.

  Anna pressed her hand against Edward’s arm. “I’ll just go check on him, shall I?”

  “May I come?” Edward’s eyes were slightly pleading, as if after all that transpired today she might still deny him.

  She smiled, offering reassurance. “Of course.”

  They walked down the corridor to Zachary’s room, where he lay sound asleep, tangled, as usual, in the bedclothes.

  “Does he always do that?”

  “Every night. I don’t know how he sleeps like that. I hate having the blankets in disarray.”

  “I used to do that too, when I was young.” Edward whispered, a certain wonder entering his tone. “It’s kind of a miracle, isn’t it? A child.”

  Anna bestowed a kiss on Zachary’s forehead, resisting the urge to straighten his covers, since it would only wake him. She smoothed his hair, sweeping it off his face. “Yes, he is. He is most definitely a miracle.” She looked at Edward. “Our miracle.”