A Merchant's Daughter

by Arabella Sheen

  “It’s just that Mr. Trent and I are on our way back to Bath, and I felt a little light-headed.”

  “If that be the case, I’ll make you something to eat straight away. We can’t have you fainting, now can we?”

  Making himself at home, Aaron walked over to a table. Setting his hat, gloves, and cane down, he was in the process of shrugging off his greatcoat when Mrs. Griffin let out a gasp of alarm.

  “Blood…all that blood… Oh, dear lordy,” said Mrs. Griffin. “Are you wounded, Mr. Trent? Shall I send for Doctor Jacobs? He’s not too far away. One of our ostlers can―”

  “No, please do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Griffin. It is a mere scratch. But if I might wash and freshen up…”

  “I’ll show you to a bedchamber, sir. It’ll be the one you stayed in when you were here last. Will that suit?”

  “An excellent idea, Mrs. Griffin. Thank you.”

  “And I’ll fetch something for that wound. If you’ll kindly come this way, I’ll take you upstairs.”

  Mrs. Griffin made to leave but Emma stopped her.

  “We can manage to find our way, Mrs. Griffin. However, if you could bring hot water and towels to the room as soon as possible, that would be most welcome. And there will be no need to send for Doctor Jacobs as I can tend to Mr. Trent’s wound myself. I’m certain you are too busy elsewhere in the inn to be bothered with us, for I think I saw the stagecoach outside. I expect you will want to serve the travelers.”

  “You ain’t no bother, miss. But if you’re sure. We are awful busy. And an extra pair of hands can’t rightly be missed. I’ll send Milly to you with the water and towels. She’s not quite old enough to be seen in the tavern with all those hefty louts about, but she’s good for running and fetching.”

  With Mrs. Griffin gone, Emma and Aaron looked at one another and burst into laughter.

  “We seem to be back where we started, Mr. Trent. Only this time it appears it’s my turn to offer you assistance.” She smiled. “Can I be of service, sir?”

  “You certainly can, Miss Brentry.”

  “Then please allow me to show you to your bedchamber.”

  As Emma climbed the now familiar stairwell to the upper floor, Aaron followed behind, and she felt a recognizable tingle of excitement for what she hoped was about to come.

  Once inside the room, memories came flooding back of their lovemaking. Here, she had found true happiness as they had explored their passion and need for one another. She longed to have him touch and caress her again.

  Emma removed her bonnet and pelisse. Placing them, along with her reticule and gloves, on a nearby chair, she turned to Aaron and asked, “Shall I help remove your shirt? It will be easier to clean your wound if I do.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Perhaps it ought to be left on. I wouldn’t want to scare the serving girl when she appears.”

  There came a knock on the door, and when Aaron called out “enter”, a young girl appeared.

  Milly was short in stature and full-figured. With difficulty, the young girl carried the large washbasin and a jug of hot water over to the dresser where she set them down along with a bundle of rags that had been wedged between her arm and body.

  “Mrs. Griffin sent along some towels and Mr. Griffin’s best Sunday shirt. She thought you might be wanting something clean to wear, sir.”

  Emma went to the bundle, and placing the towels aside, she shook out the shirt and measured it against Aaron.

  “That was very thoughtful of her,” Emma said. “The shirt ought to fit. Please tell Mrs. Griffin that Mr. Trent says thank you and that when he reaches Bath, he will send Mr. Griffin a new one.”

  Looking in wonder at Aaron, the servant girl bobbed a curtsy. Hurriedly, she stammered, “Oh, I wouldn’t be too worried about getting a new shirt, miss. There’s no real hurry. Mr. Griffin ain’t really a church goer, and the shirt’s never been worn. It was bought about a year ago when he was right poorly. Mr. Griffin was supposed to have died, and he was going to be put in his best clothes when they placed him in his coffin. Only he got better.”

  Aaron threw back his head and laughed. “How very fortunate for me that Mr. Griffin’s health improved.”

  Young Milly looked confused. “I’ve got to go fetch the tray of tea and cake for miss. Mrs. Griffin said we can’t have her fainting, but that if she does, it will be all right as there ’appens to be a good bed in the room. Begging y’r pardon, miss.”

  “Don’t worry, Milly,” said Emma, who was having great difficulty in maintaining her composure. “And there’s no need to bring refreshments. We will take tea downstairs when Mr. Trent’s wound has been dressed.”

  But the problem of taking tea in the bedchamber―or not―was solved when Mrs. Griffin appeared in the doorway with a laden tray.

  “I was beginning to wonder where Milly had got to,” she said. “She were taking such a long time coming back to the kitchen that I thought I’d bring the makings of your tea myself.”

  “That was very kind of you, Mrs. Griffin. And such a grand spread. Sandwiches and cake. Delicious.”

  “It were no trouble, miss. Is there anything else I might get for you before you tend to Mr. Trent’s wound?”

  “Well, I was wondering…” Emma said with a slight hesitation in her voice. “Do you think Mr. Griffin will allow us to stable our horses and carriage for the night? You see, night is drawing in and…”

  “Say no more, miss. I’ll get it sorted. And I suppose you’ll be wanting to have your old bedchamber―the one that’s next to Mr. Trent’s.” Mrs. Griffin winked and looked across the room at Aaron. He raised a brow but remained silent.

  “You are so understanding, Mrs. Griffin.” Emma gave a wide smile. “That is exactly what I was hoping for.”

  “Then I’ll wish you a pleasant stay, miss. Supper will be served in the parlor around nine o’clock. But if you ain’t hungry, not to worry. I’ll leave your food covered, and you can both help yourselves whenever you’re feeling peckish. It’ll be nothing fancy. Just a bit of cold pork and some cheeses.”

  “That will suit us fine, Mrs. Griffin. And as before, we will see you in the morning…to settle up and pay our separate reckonings.”

  Once Mrs. Griffin and Milly had gone, Emma was at last alone with Aaron, and there was nothing to stop them from being together.

  Aaron stood framed in the window, and with the rolling hills and the fading light of the afternoon’s sun behind him, he held open his arms. It was all the encouragement she needed. Emma went to him. Cradled against the solid wall of his chest, she felt cared for and loved.

  “Are you trying to compromise me?” he asked.

  Reaching up, she caressed his cheek and smiled. “And if I were?”

  His hands framed her face, and when his lips found hers, she didn’t resist. She couldn’t.

  “Tell me, what did you mean about spending the night here?” Aaron brushed a few stray locks of hair from her face. “You know we can’t. I have promised your father to return you safe and sound to his door.”

  “And you can do that―but not tonight. We can travel to Bath tomorrow.”

  “He will worry,” Aaron said.

  “I sent a message. When you were arranging tea to be served in the parlor, I spoke to the postilion that was traveling with the Bath stage. He promised he would get word to my father that I am with you.”

  Aaron chuckled. “I doubt that message will reassure him.”

  “But he knows you will protect me.”

  “That might be so. But what I would like to know is who will protect me from you, my love?”

  Emma laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The thought of Aaron needing protection was delightful. It stirred her senses and was giving her improper ideas which she longed to put into practice.

  But when Aaron began to kiss her, she resisted.

  “No, we cannot,” she protested. “At least not until I have dressed your wound.”

  “Then hurry, my love, because I fear I
will not be able to wait much longer.”

  “Much longer for what?” she asked.

  “To kiss you properly.”

  Aaron’s wound had stopped bleeding long ago, but it still needed to be cleaned and dressed. Having poured hot water from the jug into the washbasin, Emma helped him remove his blood-stained shirt, and she set to work.

  Bathing his injury, she could see the laceration on his arm wasn’t too deep, and she felt a sense of relief. There was no sign of an embedded bullet. And with the gash eventually covered and a bandage securely in place, she was confident there would be no infection to follow.

  “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.” Aaron pulled her into his arms.

  “Repay me for what? For tending your wound?” she asked.

  “No, my sweetest darling. Not for looking after me―although I must say you’ve done an amazing job. Any wounded soldier on the battlefield would be proud of such a dressing. It’s just that…I feel I can never repay you for agreeing to marry me. It’s such a big commitment.”

  “But why would I not wish to marry you?” She laughed. “You’re handsome, you’re considerate, and…dare I say it…you know exactly how to pleasure me.”

  Emma smiled, trying to lighten the worry she saw in Aaron’s eyes, but he continued to look troubled.

  “This whole thing is a mess,” he said. “There’s Stratton and his demands, and now your father―”

  “My father? Is there something wrong? What has Papa said? Is he objecting to our marriage?”

  Aaron shook his head. “It’s not about you, and it’s not about us. It’s about Windhurst Hall.”

  “What’s the matter with Windhurst Hall?”

  “Your father has offered to pay the promissory note, only there’s a condition attached. He would like us to look upon his payment as an investment…for his grandchildren. Our children.”

  “An investment? And you object to that idea?”

  “Emma, I like to pay my way in life. I would hate to owe money to anyone, even to you, and especially to your father.”

  “Then, my darling, if we are to accept my father’s help, for I fear we must, I will tell him the money is to be a temporary solution to our problem, and that come what may, he must be repaid in full.”

  “If only we were married. We could use your dowry and our problems would be solved.”

  “We will be…and soon, my love. I am sure my trustees will allow my dowry to be handed over as soon as we are wed, but if not, we must rely upon my father’s generosity until then. And after everything is sorted and normality has returned, should Papa feel the need to gift our children something, he may do so with my blessing. Only I will not have him involved with financing our home.”

  “I like the idea of us having children. Don’t you?”

  Held securely in his arms, she asked, “Are you sure you are willing to marry me? I am after all but a merchant’s daughter.”

  “I will have no other. You are mine and always will be,” he told her. “And now I think you need some tea, for I believe you mentioned you could faint from hunger.”

  “Yes, I did,” she said. “Thank you for reminding me. In fact, I feel so faint that I think you must carry me to the bed and revive me.”

  Emma reached up, and locking her arms around Aaron’s neck, she pulled him down toward her. As his mouth found hers and their kisses deepened, he lifted her high in his arms and walked toward the bed.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Emma was more than sure. She was certain. When she agreed to marry Aaron, she knew she was making the right decision. He needed her, and she needed him. And they could be happy together.

  Materialistically, there would be no problems to concern them. She had enough money to tie them over until Aaron could get back on his feet and face the challenges of getting Windhurst Hall in order. Physically, the chemistry was already there between them. They had proved they could satisfy one another’s desires―night and day. Her only concern was in not knowing if they would grow together emotionally. But then surely every marriage had to face that hurdle. They had the foundations upon which to build a good marriage, and she was certain that over time, a deeper more meaningful love would grow.

  Trust, respect, and a friendship of sorts was already in place, and those were more than enough upon which to shape a future together. She had a lot to give, and she knew Aaron had the integrity to always be there to support her throughout life’s trials and tribulations.

  “Lock the door,” she whispered.

  Aaron made sure the door was securely closed and then, turning the key very decisively, he joined her on the bed where she lay eagerly waiting for his caresses.

  “Damn this gown,” he mumbled as his fingers hurriedly fumbled with fastenings and ties. He kissed her, exploring the exposed skin of her arched neck, and then, pushing aside her bodice, he revealed her breasts in all their glory. His lips found her swollen nipples, and he sucked.

  It was torture. Pure, exquisite torture. Delicious ripples of desire ran through her body, and she longed to submit to him completely.

  Aaron ran his hands through her disheveled hair, and cupping her head in his hands, he groaned. “I can’t wait, Emma. I’m sorry. I have to have you…now.”

  Rolling her beneath him, he parted her legs, and releasing his erect rod from his pantaloons, he entered in one swift, hard thrust.

  Emma gave a low moan of pure pleasure and clung to Aaron as he sheathed himself.

  He was taking her body to dizzying heights, and as they climaxed, he spent his load deep inside and her juices flowed to meet his.

  In the aftermath of their lovemaking, Aaron rolled onto his side and held her close. He caressed her cheeks, and tenderly kissing her lips, he whispered, “I love you, Emma. I love who you are and how you make me feel.”

  “But I am only a merchant’s daughter.”

  “And there is absolutely nothing wrong with being a merchant’s daughter, as long as you consent to become a farmer’s wife. My wife.”

  “A gentleman’s wife?”

  “Is that how you think of me? As a gentleman?”

  She nodded and smiled.

  “Then I will have to show you just how ungentlemanly I can be,” he said.

  And he did.

  Over and over, again and again, he took her. And as afternoon lengthened into evening and evening turned into night, they surfaced only briefly for nourishment.

  Eventually, dressed in their rumpled clothes, they went below stairs to the parlor where they feasted on the supper Mrs. Griffin had left for them.

  “Would you mind if we slept elsewhere tonight?” Emma asked.

  “What? Leave this inn? Now? After you went to so much trouble to organize a room and supper for us.”

  “Well, it is sort of leaving the inn, but not quite.”

  Emma placed her empty wine glass on the table, and taking hold of Aaron’s hand, she pulled him toward the door. They left the inn, and with only the moon to guide them, they crossed the cobblestone courtyard and entered the stable block where they spent the remainder of the night hidden in the hay loft amid bales of straw, making passionate love.

  Cradled in Aaron’s arms, Emma knew she had found the place she most wanted to be—next to Aaron’s heart, where she was willing to stay forever.

  About Arabella Sheen

  Arabella Sheen is a contemporary and regency romance author of sensual, passionate love stories. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and was shortlisted for the RNA — Joan Hessayon Award.

  Having worked for nearly twenty years as a theatre nurse in the amazing city of Amsterdam in the Netherlands, she now lives in the southwest of England with her family.

  One of the many things Arabella loves to do is read. And when she’s not reading or writing romance novels, she is either on her allotment sowing and planting with the seasons or she’s sitting on the sofa pandering to the demands of her attention-seeking feline.
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  Arabella’s Website:

  www.arabellasheen.co.uk

  Reader eMail:

  arabellasheen@talktalk.net

  More Beachwalk Press Titles by Arabella Sheen

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  A Bride for Lord Redfield

  A risqué regency romp enjoyed by both servants and masters as love and passion is discovered―above and below stairs―in his lordship’s household.

  At Redfield House, everyone is busy with preparations for a ball, and rumor is rife in the servants’ quarters that the master is about to propose.

  Lord Thomas Redfield realizes the time has come for him to take a wife and that this duty can no longer be delayed. The only trouble is…he isn’t sure the desire he once felt for Catherine, the woman he was previously betrothed to, is over and a new life with Rosalinda can begin.

  Can Lord Redfield take Miss Rosalinda Mills for his wife, and will she agree to an engagement knowing he could still be in love with Catherine?

  As the weekend unfolds and the fun begins, a bevy of illicit encounters are enjoyed between maids, footmen, grooms, and guests, while his lordship inwardly struggles with the problem of finding a wife.

  Content Warning: contains passionate, sensual love scenes

  Castell’s Passion

  A night in his arms, but it comes at a price. Will her heart survive?

  Billionaire Marc Castell, owner of the Castell Hotel Group, isn’t looking for love. His jet-set lifestyle means he’s a ‘love them and leave them’ type of guy…that is, until Kate McKenna walks into his life.

  Kate is on the warpath. Her underage sister is planning to spend a weekend in Paris with Marc’s nephew, and she’s determined to put a stop to the affair before it begins.

  Marc has a plan of his own. He promises to save Kate’s sister from his nephew, but there’s a condition attached. Kate has to travel to Cannes with him and play the part of his girlfriend―including spending the night in his bed. Marc hopes this will solve the problem of the unwanted advances he’s been receiving from his friend’s wife. But whenever Marc takes Kate in his arms his world is turned upside down, and he discovers he wants more from her than a casual weekend fling.