As soon as James sat down with Selina at the raised reception table, he pointed out the intricate mural that ran the length of the ceiling.
The hanging chandeliers were already lit, partly obscuring the exquisitely painted mythical Greek scene, but Selina could still see the frolicking nymphs and dryads playing by the waters’ edge while human dancers with festoons of grapes between them entertained another crowd as they stamped out a new vintage.
In another corner of the room, Pegasus grazed in a peaceful lea away from the gathering.
“See just over there?” James asked, pointing to a third of the way along the hall.
He indicated a shirtless bearded man in a cloak that covered his hair and swirled to shield his lower body from view. He played a reed flute for an enraptured young woman who reclined on a white fleece. She wore only a crescent moon crown, but most of her nudity was obscured by well positioned foliage.
“Is that Pan?” Selina asked.
“Do you know the story of the seduction of Selene?”
Selina shook her head.
“Pan, as you probably know, was a great seducer of women,” he began.
“I’m beginning to see similarities already,” she mused.
“Ah,” James held up a finger to silence her. “But Selene was in love with a humble shepherd by the name of Endymion.”
“Oh dear, that’s very inconvenient,” Selina responded giving James her full, if somewhat amused, attention.
“So, disguising himself as Endymion, Pan tempted Selene from the sky with a beautiful white fleece, soft white and silky, beautiful to lie on. Remind me to show you one day how soft a sheepskin can be...”
Selina smiled sweetly. “You were saying?”
“Still believing that he is Endymion, Selene allowed herself to be seduced only to discover too late that her lover was the notorious Pan.”
“What happened to Selene and Endymion?”
“Oh they still remained lovers,” James added dismissively. “But when Zeus offered Endymion the choice of either living a mortal life or being forever young, he made the wrong choice and decided to remain forever young.”
“Why was that a mistake?”
“Well,” James smiled, clearly warming to his story, “because, to remain forever young he had to go into that eternal sleep—death. Selene was heartbroken.”
“These Greek legends never end well do they?”
They laughed and returned their attention to the evening’s activities.
* * *
Finally, accompanied by a retinue of servants, the couple were able to take their leave to the applause of all and a dash of ribald commentary from some of especially ebullient guests.
James reached for Selina’s hand as the sounds of the merrymaking faded and they entered the living quarters of Penventen Hall, and finally the bedroom. Although Selina had spent three nights sleeping and recuperating in this room only two weeks before, she now saw it anew.
It was typical of predominantly male quarters. The walls were cream in colour, but on them hung original paintings of pastoral scenes. The room was simply but expensively furnished. The furniture was in dark oak without the inlay popular in more fashionable French-inspired pieces, but was still, nonetheless, superbly carved.
But this was no longer only James’ suite. It was hers also.
Selina glanced at her new husband; she couldn’t see his face as he sat and leaned over to remove his boots.
As for herself, she was uncharacteristically impatient and growing annoyed by what appeared to be the inordinate length of time it took for the house maids to fuss over the evening preparations.
Slipping off her peach coloured shoes and undoing the garter at her knee, Selina absently noted a maid taking slippers through an adjoining door. Apparently her wardrobe had been moved into the Lady’s bedroom. Apart from dressing, she couldn’t imagine that room getting much use. Perhaps she could suggest to James that they turn it into a nursery.
She blushed as she imagined the result of their lovemaking. From the corner of her eye she saw the play of muscles beneath James’ shirt as he removed his jacket and waist coat and could understand why lust was considered a sin for the unmarried.
James was an incredibly handsome man, but also so kind, witty, intelligent. She thought it a wonder the whole world wasn’t in love with him.
Selina kissed him eagerly the moment the door was closed behind the last servant, but he stopped her with his hands on her shoulders. She looked at him puzzled.
“We have all the time in the world now, and I want to take it slow,” he said.
His eyes were dark and his expression revealed the depth of his desire for her.
Selina met his gaze and spoke the words he had asked to hear from her that first night. “I trust you.”
He groaned and fell on her lips, lavishing them with kisses before turning her around so her back was to him.
A small fire burned in the grate and its heat warmed her front while the heat of James’ body heated her back.
One by one, he released the small silk covered buttons on her dress as he pressed warm, tender kisses along her neck.
With the last of the buttons undone, James pushed her dress slowly and deliberately from her shoulders, down over her arms where the fabric hung formless over her waist. His hands swept up her arms, across her shoulders, up the nape where he removed the dozen or so pins that held her coiffeur in place.
Selina’s hair tumbled free and, as it did, James’ hands began to loosen the stays of her corset. With her assistance, he pulled the garment over her head and tossed it on the floor where it would soon be joined by her other clothing.
The rose pink underskirt was fastened with a set of four buttons at the back; they too were released and the weight of the skirt without the support of the female form, fell from her hips in the form of rustling satin and silk, whispering its seductive encouragement.
James turned his attention to Selina’s ears; his breath eddied in its shells and Selina shivered with pleasure, restlessly rubbing herself against him as one hand explored her breasts while the other drifted lower, teasing her hips with light, gentle caresses and moving again below her belly where, through the fabric of her chemise, he softly stroked her with teasing touches of his fingertips, enough to arouse but not yet satisfy.
Selina moaned softly, enjoying the feel of him so close, but she wanted more. She stilled his hands with her own and turned to him.
James swept her into his arms and laid her gently on the large expanse of his bed.
Although fully clothed, he joined her on the bed, claiming her lips again with his. Selina wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily for a time.
“You’re still dressed,” she complained.
With a hand pressed firmly to his chest, she pushed him up and off the bed, arose herself, and beckoned him near to the fire where her dress lay.
Obeying her unspoken instruction to stand at ease, James obviously revelled in the pleasure of his wife undressing him.
Although she had seen him fully unclothed only the once, Selina paused to study the man now standing nude before her, evidence of his desire for her unashamedly present.
She tore her eyes away from his manhood only after considering whether her lips on his sex would bring him same the ecstasy that his lips on hers had done. Selina looked forward to finding out—perhaps tonight, perhaps some other night. James was right. They had a lifetime to learn one another.
So for tonight she set about learning his neck and his chest with her lips, noting in delight that his smaller nut brown nipples puckered and gave him pleasure. While her nails lightly grazed his back, raising goose bumps, his hands were on the ribbons on the stays around her shoulders and under her breasts.
Then they were loose and bunched at her chest.
With deliberate, slow provocation, James snaked one arm around her back and with the other touched one creamy white breast then the other, before deci
sively yanking the fabric down, letting it float to the floor.
Now his bride was as naked as he was and the feel of her standing completely flesh-to-flesh was more intoxicating than any of the champagne he sipped at the reception.
Once more without speaking, he scooped her into his arms and returned to the bed.
Against the crisp linen sheets, his eyes drank in her form. Although he wasn’t touching her, Selina’s eyes were dark with passion, her lips full, red and slightly parted. Her rosy pink nipples on firm, high breasts were already standing erect for him.
He lowered his head for a taste, rolling first one and then the other, between his tongue and his lips.
Selina encouraged his attentions, both with her lips and her body. He stretched up to kiss her gently on the lips.
“I love you, my darling,” he whispered.
“And I you.”
His hands moved lower and grazed the soft curls between her legs which parted to inspire him further. His fingers explored her and would find her moist and ready for him.
He watched her closely as he seduced her with his mouth and fingers. She called his name at the peak of her pleasure.
James moved himself over her and brushed her face lovingly to bring her back to herself.
“Sweetheart, look at me,” he asked.
She looked up and he was in awe again at the longing in her eyes. James was sure it mirrored his.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” she told him huskily. “I want you.”
As he kissed her face passionately his manhood nudged her entrance. Instinctively Selina’ legs wrapped around his hips encouraging him on.
Leaning heavily on one arm, he stroked her with his fingers, coaxing a new responsiveness as he entered slowly and then deeper with every stroke. He broke through the delicate barrier before she reached the zenith.
Selina cried out in surprise, but the slight pain evaporated quickly as her body accommodated James whose firm, even strokes were stoking a new fire.
She gave in to the pleasure that began at her centre and radiated out in sparking awareness in every nerve of her body.
As her orgasm receded, she squeezed to prolong her pleasure and with delight watched her husband moving over her and in her, cataloguing his changing expression as he came to his own fulfilment with a guttural cry.
She kissed him back into awareness of her which he then returned with a rain of kisses on her lips, throat, and breasts.
He rolled her with him so they both lay on their sides facing one another. James watched her closely as pinpricks of tears edged at the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, I’ve hurt you sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he soothed, stroking her hair gently.
Selina vigorously shook her head.
“No! Not at all, my love, it’s just that was…” she paused, struggling for the words to describe the intensity of her experience. Instead she looked directly into his eyes, understanding that he needed reassurance.
“the most incredible feeling.”
Furrows in his brow smoothed and a grin appeared like the sun on a new morning.
“Really?” he asked.
“Mind you, I have little experience to compare,” she told him with a mock seriousness.
James laughed.
“I think it is incumbent upon me to help you with some field research, Mrs Mitchell.” He kissed her thoroughly and ran his hands along her body until he found a fist full of bedding that he pulled up to ward them both against the evening coolness.
“Field research?” she asked, snuggling herself back up against his chest.
“Mmmm, field research,” he whispered in her ear as he stroked her again, “in front of the fire research, in the garden research, in the bath research, in the carriage research…”
Low grade arousal was tempered with fatigue from a long day and the warm cocoon of their bed.
“That sounds like a lot of research,” she replied.
“A lifetime’s worth,” he assured her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
October 1790
The month after the wedding, chill winds from the North Atlantic heralded the beginning of autumn.
The rich mantle of green that had shrouded the mature trees around Penventen Hall compensated for the falling temperatures by mimicking the sun—turning gold and ruby in colour. As their leaves were shed and the canopy receded, shimmering glimpses of the sea beyond lit up afternoon walks and rides along the peninsula above Padstow.
One by one, the summer-time guests took their leave.
Lady Christina was gone the morning after the wedding and bade farewell in a letter delivered by a local solicitor one week later. James hadn’t revealed the contents of it to Selina but, judging by his sour expression upon reading it, Selina suspected that the missive was not a happy one.
He chose not to speak of it and Selina decided not to press. She knew he would tell her in his own time.
Next to depart was Edgar whose geological despatches had resulted in a commission to write a book on the Cornish coastline for Cambridge University. They also offered apartments and a teaching position for the new academic year.
Selina savoured the three weeks of late summer in the company of her husband and her family knowing that it would be at least six months before she would see William, Sarah, and the children again.
By the time Selina and James ended their honeymoon in Pennsylvania, she would be an aunt over again.
While Sarah and the children would winter in Bristol, William and Jackson would travel with the Diamond to establish its new role as a coal transporter along the Allegheny River, supplying the newly opened areas in the United States.
William promised, all being well, that his family would soon join them in America to try life for a couple of years in the New World.
On their departure, James clasped Jackson’s shoulder, wished him Godspeed for the voyage and thanked him once again. Selina hugged him as she had done William, telling him that as far as she was concerned she now had two brothers.
Edith, her grandmother, and Lady Margaret were to return to Cheshire escorted by Lieutenant Walsh, who had obtained a leave of absence. Selina was surprised when James’ grandmother hugged her fiercely as the coach was being loaded with luggage.
“You’ve made me happier than I have been in decades, Selina, thank you,” she told the younger woman. “My grandson has married a woman worthy of him in every way. Make sure you remind him of that often.”
Selina laughed and returned the embrace before kissing the woman on the cheek.
“Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself or James,” Selina told her sincerely.
* * *
It was mid-morning on the road to London. The sun struggled valiantly to make its warmth felt through a blanket of cloud which had brought with it a brief but heavy fall of rain.
The party from Padstow was on the fifth day of the seven day journey to the capital. Selina edged a travel blanket over her skirt and raised her eyes from her book to watch the passing scenery.
She glanced at James beside her. His interest at that moment was immersed in a thick packet of letters. Judging by the frequent appearance of the Prime Minister’s crest, much of it appeared to be from Mr Pitt himself.
Lady Catherine and Colonel Pickering sat opposite. They had announced their intention to hold a small wedding in the city ahead of his accepting a commission to India.
Comte Alexandre was the fifth member of their group and on this stage of the journey he joined the two coachmen on the roof seat, as much for the fresh air as the change in company, Selina suspected.
Alexandre had been somewhat introspective since the receipt of letters from his homeland, and had spent the previous two weeks writing a series of missives, often going to the post office twice a day.
His avid correspondence had not gone unnoticed by his hosts, and one night over supper James had asked if something was amiss.
“M
y cousin has written to inform me that the Revolutionary Government finally nationalised the churches last month,” Alexandre told them.
“Why should they do that?” asked Selina.
“Ah, for two very good reasons, Madame. The first, which will be no surprise to you, is that France is bankrupt. The second is that the church, this foreign power in her midst, owns nearly a quarter of her land and takes a tenth of all in tithe.
“If the people of France own the land and the properties instead of the Pope, then there will be a few sous in the coffers at least.”
“Doesn’t the church use the tithe to operate the hospitals, orphanages and schools?” Selina enquired.
“Some do, but the rest goes to useless second sons who live off the income without any pretence of being interested in matters of the church or the welfare of the people.”
“And what of those who do the right thing?”
“The government will let them keep doing it,” the Comte had replied.
Now on the post road heading for Swindon, the Comte remained aloof from the party, while the Colonel took the opportunity to produce his travel chess set and made effort to improve Catherine’s skills.
Selina was content to watch for a while as the first two games went the Colonel’s way decisively, but Catherine fought back to at least an honourable loss in the third, when just three pieces remained in play.
Catherine, encouraged, began resetting the board for a fourth game, pegging the small wooden pieces into the holes in the centres of their respective squares.
Selina turned to James who had also looked up at the break in play.
“Was that the correspondence that arrived on the day of our wedding?”
“It is. It’s a report from Pitt’s office about the man we arrested. It’s always bothered me that we never identified the man Morcombe said met with Henry Reynold.”
“These things aren’t always neatly tied in a bow,” said Pickering. “We might never know his identity, or if we do, it may be more a matter of coincidence or sheer good luck.”
Moonstone Obsession Page 24
