by Sahara Kelly
The lie slipped out so naturally that the woman thought nothing of it, but focused instead on her last words.
“Sick, is he? Caught in that rain yesterday, I’ll warrant.” She frowned. “Yer husband. I’ll be guessing there’s a good reason for all this…this…” She gestured with one floury hand at Freddie’s clothing. “But that can wait. Best we get him well first. Running a fever, is he?”
Freddie nodded, knowing that her eyes reflected her worry.
“Never fear, lass. Got just the thing here.”
She walked to her cupboard and rummaged inside, bringing out a small vial of liquid. “Willow bark. We’ll make up some tea with it, keep him drinking it, along with a lot of water, and he’ll be back on his feet and in yer bed in next to no time.”
Freddie sighed with relief. “You think so?”
“Never failed me yet. Unless he’s sick with summat other than a simple fever. He got any coughs or ailments ye haven’t told me about?”
“Um…no. He’s very strong usually.”
A little smile flickered around the older woman’s lips. “I’ll bet he is too. With a pretty young wife like yerself.”
Freddie blushed. She couldn’t help the heat she felt spreading over her skin from forehead to knees.
“Here ye are, love. Now just get him to drink this. If ye need help, pop down and holler for Betsy.” The woman passed her a teapot and a cup. “That’d be me, of course. My husband is already out caring for the stock, but I’ll let him know what’s happening.”
“Thank you so much, Betsy,” said Freddie gratefully. “I suppose we’ll be here a little longer than we originally told your husband. I hope it’s not going to be a problem…”
“No, lovey. Don’t worry yer little head about that. ‘T’is mostly quiet in these parts. Not as if we’ve got quality lined up to reserve rooms.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing then,” grinned Freddie. “Thank you again. I’ll take this up to Peter.”
Taking it up to Peter was one thing. Getting him to drink it was another.
With the typical fretfulness of someone who was sick, hated being sick, and wanted simply to be left alone to die in peace, Peter was turning into the proverbial pain in the arse.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Freddie.” He grumped at her after she’d managed to rouse him a little.
“I know. Drink this.”
“What is it? I don’t want anything to drink. It’s too hot in here. Open a window or something, will you? Get these damn blankets off me.”
She ignored his complaints, tucked the blankets around his chest and poured the willow bark tea. “You’re sick, Peter. You have a fever, and we’ve got to get it down and get you well.”
“I’m not sick. I never get sick.”
That statement was in direct contrast to his over-bright eyes, flushed face, and the occasional shiver that wracked him.
“Well, if you’re not sick, then you won’t mind having a sip or two of this tea, will you?” Freddie’s voice oozed patience and sympathy, but beneath it was a will of steel.
“Don’t want it.”
She sighed. Something about men and illness just didn’t go well together. They suddenly reverted to the age of twelve.
“Please, Peter,” she crooned. “For me?”
She raised the cup to his lips, holding his dark eyes with her gaze and putting every ounce of pleading she could manage into her tone.
“Freddie, when did you turn into such a beauty?”
The hand holding the cup shook a little, but she continued to press the hot tea towards him, breathing easier as he finally took a sip.
“Urgh. That’s awful stuff.”
“I know. But it will make you well.”
Another shiver rattled his teeth against the china. “Damn. It’s cold, Freddie. Why don’t you come and keep me warm?”
His eyes were brilliant, but a flush of red tinged them, and Freddie knew his fever was truly on him. “I will, darling. As soon as you drink your tea.”
Obediently, Peter swallowed some more, his gaze never leaving her face. “That’s a promise, Freddie.”
She nodded, feeling a little smile cross her lips. He wanted her. He might be delirious, sick, and stuck in bed, but he wanted her. “I always keep my promises, Peter.”
“Yes, you do. Always did. Not like some people…”
He had finished the tea without realizing it, and Freddie heaved a sigh of relief as she put the cup back down beside the bed.
His eyes were closed now, and his teeth clenched against the chills shaking his body. “Fuck…it’s so damn cold…” His eyes opened a little and he focused blearily on Freddie. “You didn’t hear me say that.”
She grinned and brushed the hair away from his face. “I’ve heard the word before. Even used it a time or two myself. Just rest, now, Peter.”
“You said you’d keep me warm,” he shivered.
“And I will.” She stoked up the low fire, putting a couple more logs on and feeling the heat steal into the room. Grabbing the blankets off her bed she added them to the ones already covering Peter and cocooned him from head to toe.
“Not enough…” he hissed.
Freddie bit her lip. He was really shaking now, in the grip of the fever. How long would it take that willow bark tea to work?
Quietly, she crossed the room and snapped the bolt home, locking them into their own little world. She knew he needed as much warmth as she could give him. And she wanted to give him all she had.
Slipping out of her clothes, she eased herself beneath the blankets and closed the distance between their bodies, suppressing a hiss of pleasure as their flesh met. “Rest, Peter,” she soothed.
Surprisingly, he did.
He nestled against her, pulling her tight to him and throwing one heavy thigh across her legs. “So warm, Freddie. So soft,” he murmured tiredly.
His head was a heavy weight on her breast, and his hot skin burned hers as they touched…naked and together in a lump underneath the blankets.
She cuddled him close, for once letting her heart dictate her actions as he fell asleep. It had been too long since she’d held someone, or been heldbody to body, skin to skin.
And it had never been quite like this.
It had never been Peter.
Chapter Four
Peter surfaced into consciousness like a man swimming through soup.
He was lightheaded, disoriented, rather sweaty, and had no clue where he was. The room surrounding him was dark, lit only by the flickering flames of a crackling fire, he was buried under a mound of blankets, and a plate of half-eaten food lay next to the bed.
A sound from beneath the covers beside him shocked him into full awareness.
Short red curls tumbled over the pillow, and he suddenly realized a soft body was pressed tight against his.
He bit back a groan.
Oh God. Freddie. What had he done?
The memories came flooding back. He’d been so cold, she’d made him drink something disgusting several times, and he’d slept. Through the whole day by the looks of it. Bloody hell. He’d been sick and he was never sick. Years of scouting the European countryside in all kinds of weather and nary a sneeze.
A day with Freddie had put him flat on his back.
At least she was still here. She hadn’t run from him to make her own way once more. Just the thought of that happening sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with any sickness.
Another pressing need made itself known. His bladder was bursting.
Cautiously he eased himself from the bed, tucking the blankets back around the sleeping woman. The air was cool against his skin but not uncomfortably so, and he quickly slipped into his clothes. He had to find the privy. He’d not take the risk of waking her by using the chamber pot, and he’d probably flood the damn thing anyway.
Silently he made his way from the room.
“Ah, good to see yer up and around, lad.” A mot
herly woman was smiling at him. “Feeling a mite more like yerself then, are ye?”
“Uh…do I know you?”
“Well, ye should, since I helped that little wife of yers get that fever down…right nasty it was too. But my good old willow bark tea helped, and those cooling sponge baths just about did the trick by the looks of ye.”
Peter blinked.
“Ye’ll be after the privy, I’m guessing.” She nodded over her shoulder. “‘T’is right down yon path. Ye can’t miss it.”
For the first time in a long time, Peter was speechless. He’d apparently acquired a wife, and a nurse, and was being told to use the privy. He gave up.
“Thank you. Er…don’t go away. I’ll be right back and I want to talk to you.”
Oh God, do I want to talk to you. About my wife!
The woman grinned and returned to her chores, welcoming him back with the same sunny smile when he returned feeling a little more clearheaded, a lot more comfortable, and with some very pressing questions that needed answers.
“That’s better, lad. Ye look more yerself.”
Hah. He’d never felt less like himself in his life.
“About my wife…”
“Sweet thing she is, too. Ye’re lucky to have a lass like that one. Stayed by yer side and did everything needful, she did.”
“She did?”
“Aye. For the last three days she’s been tending to ye. With my help of course.”
“Three days?”
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “Ye’ve been bloody sick, lad, if ye’ll pardon my plain speaking. Whatever ye and yon wife have been up to is none of my business, fer sure, but if ye’ll take a motherly word of advice, ye’ll get that girl home where she belongs and get some babies on her. Settle her down. She’s tuckered to the bone, what with nursing ye and worrying about ye.” She put a few scones on a plate and added them to the tray she’d been busy preparing.
“Now, if ye’ve the strength, take this back up and get her to eat summat.”
Peter found the tray thrust into his hands. “Er…yes. Yes of course.”
“Good lad.”
He supposed he was dismissed.
Carefully balancing the tray, Peter climbed the stairs to his room, struggling with the developments that had apparently taken place over the three days he’d lost. Viktor would probably be in London by now, and the others on their way.
They wouldn’t worry about him overmuch, since they’d always allowed plenty of flexibility when it came to schedules. He still had time to deal with the issue of Freddie.
His wife.
His hand shook a little as he tried to put the tray down quietly next to where she still slept. Those two words had rocked him, but what had been even more stunning had been the heat that had swept him at the thought of Freddie in his bed. Permanently.
He stared down at her as the first rays of the morning sun lightened the room.
So small, so fragile, and yet possessed of such a strong will that she’d have made Bonaparte’s forces quake. She’d been a young society miss, a governess, a man’s mistress and a field hand. And she wasn’t even…what…twenty-two?
She’d lived several lifetimes in so few years. And she was so lovely.
She stirred in her sleep and reached out towards the emptiness where he’d lain, sighing as her hand met only cool sheets.
Her shoulder peeked from the covers, its milky whiteness luring his body and her warm and loving soul luring his heart.
What a wife she’d make. A partner. A friend. A woman whose strength was unmatched by any Peter had run across in his whole life. She knew his secrets and didn’t care. He knew hers and cared more than he wanted to admit. Even to himself.
Without a second thought, Peter shucked his clothing and lifted the blankets, sliding in beside her and pulling her heat against him.
He knew what he wanted now. He knew what would make his life complete.
He wanted Freddie.
She stirred again and hugged him close, half asleep but still checking up on him.
He grinned and dropped a light kiss on her nose. “Hello sleepyhead.”
Her green eyes flickered wide. “Peter. You’re awake…”
“Most definitely.”
Her hand automatically reached up to his forehead, checking his fever.
“I’m fine, Freddie. The fever’s gone. Thanks to you and a very nice lady whose name I completely forgot to ask.”
She giggled. “That would be Betsy.”
He reached for the hand as she would have pulled away from his face, cradling it in his palm. “Such a small hand.” He dropped moist kisses on her fingers. “And yet such a caring one.”
“Peter?”
He let his mouth wander down to her wrist, licking a little and tasting her. “So sweet.”
“Peter, I…what…what are you doing?”
“Saying ‘thank you’.” He paused and met her puzzled gaze. “…To my wife.”
A red blush spread over her face and down her neck. “I…you…we…”
Peter grinned again and continued his progress, managing to free her from the covers and find a very nice spot on her shoulder. “Mmmm?”
“I…oh…”
He nipped and licked the small bite.
“Peter…”
The word was more of a sigh, and Peter took it as implicit permission to continue doing what he was doing. Not that he could have stopped. One taste of her skin and he was on fire.
He traced his way up her neck to her lips, pausing before he lowered his head. “It’s time to claim my husbandly rights, Freddie…”
She opened her eyes and stared at him, and he saw desire banked within their green depths.
She sighed and slid her arms around his neck. “Long past time, Peter.”
*~~*~~*
For Freddie, it was like waking from a dream and finding herself in a fantasy. Peter’s dark eyes were blazing down at her and his hard length was pressed against her as he raised himself over her body.
She wanted him so much she ached with it.
For three days she’d cared for him, made him drink, bathed the sweat of his fever from his skin and tried to ignore the magnificent masculinity beneath her hands. All that time she’d suppressed the feelings inside her, refusing to allow her touch to linger where it shouldn’t, even though his hard muscles beckoned and his eyes had followed her every move.
She knew he was ill. And she wouldn’t take advantage of that fact. It was likely he’d not remember any of it.
But now he was lucid. Awake and, to judge by the solid length pressing her thigh, aroused.
How could she turn him down?
She’d quickly grown accustomed to sleeping next to him, warming him, guarding him, and finding her own pleasure in the body curled around hers. The comfort of sharing a bed with Peter was one thing. The heat that flared in her belly when she stared at him was another.
And that heat was mirrored in his eyes as he lowered his lips to hers.
“Are you sure, Freddie?”
The question was a breath against her lips. Her voice was frozen in her throat, blocked by a lump that refused to move. So she let her body answer for her.
Her back arched, her breasts thrust against him, and her legs parted, opening wide to make a space between them for him. If he didn’t understand what she was telling him, he wasn’t half the man she thought he was.
He didn’t disappoint her.
His mouth descended on hers, and although she could sense his wish to be gentle, it took only one touch for a fire to explode between them.
His hands were everywhere at once, caressing her, finding her nipples and teasing them into screaming hardness, and then slipping lower to find the secrets of her pleasure.
His tongue fought hers, plunging in and out of her mouth as his hips pressed against her, thrusting his cock against her mound.
She moaned, opening her legs even further, needing to be filled with that
hardness.
“Now, Peter, please now…don’t wait…”
His fingers sought her clit, bringing her to the edge of her orgasm with just a light flicker. She gasped and bowed beneath him, rubbing as much of herself as she could against him.
“Jesus, Freddie…” choked Peter.
She reached around him and found his buttocks, digging her fingernails into the firm flesh and trying to get him where she needed him.
She was hot, wet, and so ready that if he didn’t fuck her right this minute she was going to explode in his arms.
He eased a hand between them, grasped his cock and slid it around her pussy, through the moisture that welled from her body.
“Peter…”
He thrust into her.
Heaven. It was sheer heaven.
He was big, stretching her, making her feel full and complete and mad for him to move.
She locked her ankles behind his waist and pulled him deeper still, wanting every single thing he had and more.
He was pounding her soul.
She came with a scream, letting her body have its way and release all the pent-up pleasure it possessed. Clamping down on his cock, she shook with the ferocity of its spasms. Peter never stopped moving, riding with her as she erupted into her peak and tumbled into insanity.
She sank down into the bed and opened her eyes to see Peter pulling his cock from her. He was still hard, reddened and swollen, and glistening from the juices that were dripping from her in a sensual flood.
“You didn’t…”
He glanced at her tightly. “I won’t risk getting you with child, Freddie…”
He reached for himself, but she stayed his hand. “Wait. There’s another way.”
Heedless of what he would think of her, and focused solely on bringing him the release he’d given her, Freddie rolled over and raised herself onto her hands and knees.
“I…Freddie?” Peter’s voice was a croak as she spread herself for him, letting her hands pull her buttocks apart.
“Take me here, Peter. Go ahead. I…I don’t mind. In fact, I find it…pleasurable.”
Peter swallowed as he stared at the beautiful arse waiting for him.
Her swollen folds glistened with moisture and he couldn’t resist the urge to run his fingers over the hot flesh and smear her juices around the tight little ring of her anal muscles.
