The Sins of a Few (Entangled Scandalous)

by Sarah Ballance

“You are really here.” She stretched, her toes walking the length of his leg.

  He responded with a quiet growl, closing his arms around her until she pressed fully against him. “I am most assuredly here,” he said, “though if you think I should go before your mother finds me, I suppose I can try to remedy that.”

  Faith had not given second thought to her mother. Had she heard them? The house sat so silently now, Faith imagined any noise would echo…and she and Nathanial had not been silent. “She approved our union,” she murmured weakly.

  “But would she approve of what we did last night?” A crooked grin punctuated the question.

  Faith’s face heated. “She will know—or at least carrying expectations—soon enough. She only wants for my happiness.”

  He reached over and brushed back a strand of her hair. “Dare I hope you achieved a certain level of happiness last night?”

  She grinned. “I did.”

  “Are you sore?”

  She wriggled against him, stretching the tightness out of her muscles. “In the very best way.”

  He made a quick adjustment, protecting himself from an intimate touch. “Careful, little one. I need to be able to don my breeches, and it would not do for me to appear before your mother while straining their confines.”

  “You no longer have intentions of exiting through the window?”

  He glanced at the small casing. “I am not sure I would fit.”

  “Not in that state, you would not,” she said, closing her hand around his thickening erection. “Perhaps you should relieve yourself of your affliction.”

  He looked from her to the window and back. “You just said you were sore.”

  “That is perhaps the weakest form of protest I have ever heard,” she said. “And if you will recall, I also said it was the best kind of sore.”

  His brow lifted. “What other kinds do you know?”

  She swatted at his shoulder. “I believe we have well established I know nothing of the sort. Just be gentle.”

  He rolled over to his side and eased over her, bracing on his arms to keep his weight off of her. “Are you sure?”

  She reached with both hands, pulling him down to meet her mouth. In a whisper, she asked, “Are you not?”

  His response was feral, a quiet growl, but still he hesitated.

  Tired of the wait, she lifted her hips to meet him. Her muscles screamed, but there was such fulfillment in the ache that she craved every delectable pull as he sank inside, stretching and filling her until she gasped from the sheer pleasure of it.

  “Ssssh,” he murmured against her lips.

  She expected more of the breathless coupling she had experienced the night before, but what she got instead was so incredibly gentle she could do nothing but sigh and melt against him. He rocked against her, filling and soothing her. It was not as frantic as the night before. Now it was a slow burn that just as quickly threatened to overtake her.

  His mouth closed on hers, his sweet explorations touching everywhere. She knew not whether she felt lost or found, but she would be content to stay there for however long he allowed…at least until he reached between them, touching her as he had the night before. At once the warmth burst into pinpricks of light, then exploded. She was vaguely aware of his pace intensifying, and then he gave a final push and fell on top of her, his manhood pulsing deeply between them.

  Morning light sifted in a haze throughout the room, and it might have been the world’s most beautiful sight—at least after that of the man sprawled over her. She marveled at the chiseled muscles of his shoulder, tracing one lightly with a fingertip until her eyes uncrossed and the world began to right itself. “I like gentle,” she said.

  He snorted against her shoulder, then lifted his head. “Like? Is that all?”

  She smiled sweetly. “I refuse to pick a favorite until I have endured them all.”

  “Endured?”

  “Shh,” she whispered with a quiet laugh. “And get off of me, you oaf. I need to see to the morning meal. Perhaps the eggs will be in one spot.”

  He rolled to his back, a lazy grin upon his handsome face, and she could not help but stare. Everything about him was large. The breadth of his chest, the bulk of his arms, the large, powerful muscles of his thighs…and the thick length of his sex. Her gaze lingered there until he leaned over and nipped at her breast, sending her squealing to her feet.

  He made no attempt to disguise the lazy trail of his eyes over her as she dressed, and she found she rather enjoyed the attention. Days ago she had been lost in sorrow, and now she faced a new beginning, one in which she believed she could find happiness.

  One in which she already had.

  “Will you stay here?” she asked.

  “Only if you stay with me.”

  “I meant…if we are joined in marriage…”

  “There is no if, for we have already exchanged our promises. As for staying with you, there is no question. If not here, then in that house I fashioned for your chickens. I have given you my oath. Wherever we find a home, my place is with you.”

  “Then your place is in Salem,” she said firmly.

  “Perhaps in our travels you will find you prefer the city. You will want for nothing and experience things you cannot imagine. The people, the theater, the food…Faith, I could touch you on the street and not find myself in the stocks.”

  “Do not get used to such a notion. You may find yourself imprisoned upon your return if you fail to remember your place. And we will return, but I cannot…I will not go to your family’s home.”

  “You will not have to.” He paused, a troubled look momentarily darkening his face. “It sounds as if your mother is awake. We will talk again later…in private.”

  She nodded. It was just as well, though his tone troubled her. They dressed in silence, though before he moved the table from against the door he kissed her, nearly landing them back in bed. Her hands shook as she straightened her newly mussed clothing and hair.

  The prospect of facing her mother required a deep breath.

  When she finally eased open her bedroom door, she found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, her attention square on her. Her expression hinted at humor, but not so much that Faith took an easy breath. Then she realized it would not matter how much Felicity celebrated Faith’s union with Nathanial, for she would remain bashful for at least as long as thoughts of him made her skin turn hot and her insides quiver.

  And for however long her mother continued to look at her as she did.

  “Good morrow,” Faith said, her voice taking on an unnatural tone. She bit her lip and cringed inwardly.

  “Good morrow”—Felicity raised her voice—“and to you as well, Nathanial.”

  Only a moment passed before Nathanial appeared in the chamber doorway, a boyish smile lending a sheepish air to his uncharacteristically rumpled look. “Good morrow.”

  “I assume by the noise I heard last night that you have consummated your union?”

  Had they truly been so apparent? “Indeed we have,” Faith mumbled. “We are handfasted.”

  “And I trust young Nathanial made his vow to you with his breeches fastened?”

  “Mother!”

  “It is both a pleasure and an honor to join this family, Goodwife. It is my sorrow the same cannot be said for Faith and my relations, but with your permission she and I will remain here in your home.”

  “What does your father have to say about that?” Felicity asked.

  “His opinions are none of my concern,” Nathanial said. “He has long dismissed me as his son, and I assure you I am in no need of his assets.”

  Felicity gave him a long, pensive look. “How long will you be content to remain here in a home that belongs to another man?”

  “Faith wants to stay, and I have agreed to do so.”

  “You have not answered my question.”

  “I bear no commitment to Salem. I hope Faith finds within herself a willingness to move forward, b
ut I respect her wishes. If she wishes to stay, we will stay.”

  “You are a strong man, and you must know my daughter has her own strengths. Hold fast, for the path is not always an easy one. Remember your dedication to one another. Enjoy each moment, and always seek to move forward from the bad. Your business is your own, but do not forsake your father. Each of us is due our mistakes.”

  “Thank you,” Nathanial said, walking over to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. “You have honored me with your blessing.”

  “I must see to the eggs,” Faith said, giving her mother a hug. “But thank you.”

  “Of course, dear. But there is one more thing.”

  Faith and Nathanial exchanged looks. “Yes, Mother?”

  “I am an old woman, but my ears are sharp.”

  “What do you mean?” But Faith had a feeling she need not ask, for her cheeks were already hot.

  “The walls, dear child. They are thin, and I need my sleep. While I am pleased young Nathanial can tend to your needs, I do hope you can enjoy one another a bit more quietly this night than last.”

  “And with that noted, I have business to which I must attend.” Nathanial kissed Faith’s forehead and smiled widely as he donned his outer coat, then left the house.

  The cool air beyond the door did nothing to cool Faith’s embarrassment. “Mother! You should not speak of such things.”

  “You are not a child, and neither am I. Speak of it or not, I certainly have not forgotten the sound it makes through the wall.”

  If Faith did not learn to contain the flush that had taken near permanent residence on her cheeks, she had little doubt she would cook from the inside out. “Mother, you are losing your faculties. Who resorts to such talk?”

  “Who does not? Do you think because a person gets old they forget the ways of pleasure?”

  Faith did not answer, just stared at her mother.

  “Close your mouth, dear.”

  She snapped shut her mouth.

  “Miles and I will be spending more time together.”

  Faith’s jaw dropped. “You cannot travel, and he has not been to meetings, so I do not imagine he will travel here.”

  “It is hardly traveling to walk across the village. And you and Nathanial certainly need your privacy if I am to have grandchildren. Or perhaps not, if last night and this morning are any indication.”

  “Mother!” Heavens above, how did she end up with a mother who spoke so openly of private matters?

  Felicity cast a knowing smile. “Forgive me, child, but it does my heart good to see your happiness. I thought I had lost such a big piece of my being, but now Nathanial will join the family, and soon enough we may have a babe.”

  Faith swallowed. She had not considered the thought, though she knew of course what acts were the way to expectancy. She pictured Nathanial—big and powerful—cradling new life in his arms and her heart threatened to burst. A child. Her child.

  …

  After just a few moments in the village, Faith’s good mood began to wane. Though her arms were loaded with her mother’s mending, one well-meaning neighbor after another stopped her to offer their good wishes for her and Nathanial. After a number of exchanged greetings, one stopped her in her tracks.

  “I hear you have sent for word of a residence in Cambridge,” an elder said.

  Faith stood utterly still while the words washed over her. When she spoke, she could only stammer. “I—perhaps Nathanial has, but not I.”

  “Ah, yes, that is what I heard. A nice row house along the waterfront. It seems you are leaving behind the simple life. After what happened here, I cannot find fault in that decision, but we will miss you, young Faith.”

  She stood silently, devoid of response, until the elder patted her arm and moved on.

  Nathanial, you did not.

  Had he?

  She looked around, unsure of which direction to go. She should deliver the linens, but then what? Going from neighbor to neighbor to seek information on her husband would portray him in a damaging light, but she could not sit idly. Nathanial had gone to Salem Town to purchase supplies and would not return for hours. If he ended the day in a tavern, he might not return at all.

  No. He had gone for supplies, and he would come back. But the reassurance accomplished little. Salem Town was full of merchants, and travel between Salem and Cambridge was easily accomplished by sea. Could Nathanial have gone there to negotiate the purchase of property? Her worry could not be tempered, so two hours later she stood in front of William Burton, determined to find the answers herself. Jeremiah was thankfully nowhere to be seen, though the elder Burton was not of good spirits.

  “My decision will not be swayed,” he said as soon as she greeted him.

  Faith’s stomach hit the floorboards. “Forgive me, sir, but I know not of what you speak. What decision?”

  “If it is true you are to marry, then this matter is no longer between you and I. If you seek answers, start with your intended.”

  The Goodman had not yet heard of her marriage, but she did not think it prudent to correct him. “With all due respect, I ask that you tell me directly.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Very well then. Nathanial Abbot came into my home and crudely asserted his domain over you, your mother, and my property. All of you are to vacate by the end of the week.”

  Despair dulled her shock. Jeremiah had told the truth? “You are not considering a sale?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Did you tell Nathanial? It is possible he misunderstood?”

  “Young lady, I assure you I was frank. Abbot was well aware when he left here that you all are to get out.”

  “But, Goodman—”

  “Save your words, for as I have already said, I will not be swayed.” For a long moment Faith did not move, but the time did little to ease the brunt of his message. He simply stared at her until she turned and walked away. When she stepped on the road and realized that in time she would have no direction—a husband who had lied to her and no home of her own—the first tear fell.

  But she would not break. Not for a man she could not trust.

  She wiped away the lone tear and vowed it would be her last.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nathanial did not have the good sense to feel shame for deflowering Faith within earshot of her mother—perhaps because there had been something permissive in the elder’s knowing smile—but he would need to do something to remedy the thin walls. He planned a repeat performance and though he doubtlessly would be otherwise occupied in his thoughts at the time, he preferred her mother not be privy to the timing of his thrusts.

  He set his shoulders and tried to eradicate from his face what could only be a foolish grin. He had worn one all day, and people were beginning to talk. He had spent the day deep in thought, his recollections of the night with Faith deeply addled by questions. He needed to convince William Burton to sell. Securing a home for her mother was the only chance Nathanial had of getting Faith to agree to leave Salem.

  The thought of showing her the world coaxed yet another smile to his face—one that fell flat when he saw Faith stalking toward him, arms stiff, expression troubled. It was midafternoon. He had returned from Salem Town much sooner than expected, which meant she had no reason to look for him.

  “What is wrong?” he asked when she neared.

  “Have you talked with the elder Burton about buying our home?”

  He hesitated. “I did talk to him.”

  “And what was his answer?”

  “The answer is not final.”

  “Indeed it is,” she said evenly. “I have just come from a meeting with him, in which he stated you were told in no uncertain terms that you were to vacate the house.”

  “Faith—”

  “Did you know?”

  He swallowed. “Those were his words, yes. But—”

  “You took me as your wife. You promised me we could stay in that house, in Salem, and all the whil
e you knew we had to leave?”

  “You knew I had no control over the elder Burton.”

  Her eyes snapped fury. “And the row home in Cambridge on the water?”

  How had she heard of that? Damned village gossip. “I merely inquired about the home. I have not purchased anything.”

  “But you will. You cannot breathe without extolling the wonderment of the great city. And all this time I have listened to you and was still foolish enough to believe you would keep your word to me.”

  Nathanial straightened. “It is my task as your husband to ensure you have a home. If Burton has made it clear you are to vacate, then it is not my task to whimper to you over the misfortune. It is my task to procure shelter.”

  “And it was your word to do so in Salem. Not Cambridge.”

  “I merely sought information, Faith. I have not committed.”

  “That does seem to be a growing trend with you. First you left your family, then your life in London, and now me.”

  Her words sparked his ire, but he pushed it back. Anger would get him nowhere, but it was rapidly becoming apparent neither would truth. “I have not left you.”

  “When you make your home somewhere else, Nathanial Abbot, you will do so alone. I am not leaving Salem.”

  “Dammit, Faith—”

  “No. Do not speak damnation to me. I allowed you into my life and I take responsibility for that, but I will not take a husband who so callously disregards my feelings. We came to an understanding, and you cared not for your end of it. You are relieved of your obligations, Nathanial. Go home to your family.”

  She spun to go, moving so quickly he nearly missed when he grabbed for her arm.

  “Wait.”

  She glared. “I will not. Now relieve yourself of my arm, and consider yourself relieved of any obligations toward me. I must go.”

  “I only wanted to give you more. To share with you the world, or at least a greater part of it than you will find here. There is so much more out there.”

  She jerked free of him. “Save your breath, Nathanial.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find Jeremiah. Mother and I need a place to live.”

  “You are wasting your time. He is not to be convinced.”