Sarah turned her head, looking up at him. “Yes, I remember.”
“What now, does thee think, m’lady?” He caressed her soft skin, absorbed in her eyes. “What now…” He murmured softly.
“That you knew me more, than I knew myself.”
“Tis strange - when you see your reflection, you see color, first. When I look – I see you.”
Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose, and saw the glistening of a silent tear rolling sideways into her hairline. He picked it up with his middle finger, and rubbed it dry against his thumb, “What is this?” He asked.
“Tired, so tired.” She turned her face into his chest, inhaling his clean scent. His hand caressed her neck, across her shoulder, down her arm, and over her body, willing her to relax and sleep. But she kept snuggling up to him, rubbing her body against his – seeking a much more needed attention, than sleep. Turning her to her back, Quinton’s mouth covered hers, his tongue gently entering, as his hand went down her body to the hem of her gown, working it upward while he caressed her skin. She turned more towards him, spreading her thighs, half in and out of a much needed rest. To assure a sound night’s sleep, nothing made her drop off more than a gentle session of his love making. She moaned letting him know, that his fingers in her moist heat, felt good – to add to it, his warm mouth was suddenly sucking in a tender nipple.
She gasped his name, “Quinton – emmm…” moving against his fingers, her lips began kissing down his throat, over his Adam’s apple and lower; one hand caressing his chest, tweaking his nipples, pinching them until they too pebbled hard – the other stroked up and down his back; at time pressing him tighter against her. Finally the hand at the front of his body went lower, searching for his hard length and encountered it just as she knew it would be, jutting up between them, throbbing and thick, his dull head was already seeping – ready for penetration.
She spread for him, “Quinton…” she called out his name as she tugged at his extended length, guiding him to where she wanted him most. Climbing on, Quinton attacked her mouth as he pushed deep within her moist tight heat – his tongue penetrated and played about in her mouth as his penis began thrusting.
Sarah lay beneath him, rolling and moving to meet his rhythm, every stroke of his length drove her need to an even greater intensity. Knees as far apart as they could go, both hands clamped onto his pumping derriere, she took more and more of him, gasping and mewing from the intoxicating marriage ritual. His powerful thrusts kept hitting the spot she needed rubbing until her body exploded with a climax so powerful it made her cry out loud, and soon, he too followed.
He lay face down beside her, his arm over her mid-section, a leg, wrapped around her leg, in complete peace and tranquility.
Neither had a clue, that at that very moment, Lady Lilith was screaming from the top of her lungs as she was tossed high to fall down the side of a cliff from the moors not far from WhistHirst. Only the striking against one of the outcrops that snapped her neck, and then her back, silenced her for the rest of the way down.
Only when she landed against the rocks along the sand dunes, and lay broken, motionless, dead – did Heathcote turn away – making his way back to the mansion. His conscience not in the least bit pricked with his deed – her fate had been long overdue.
Heathcote entered the secret back entrance she’d tried to use, to sneak in – he walked the hidden corridors and turned into the one that would lead to his Lord and Lady’s chambers. There he stood, listening as they completed a night of love making, his smile was slight as he glanced down at his feet, the satchel of poison she’d dropped lay there. Bending, he picked it up, sniffed it and turned – carrying it with him as he made his exit near the servant’s chambers to meet Cora, who stood waiting.
The two had grown close since her arrival, so much so that Heathcote would not only do anything for her daughter, but for her as well.
Lady Lilith’s plan was foiled by the two of them out walking together, growing even closer when they chanced to see a dark figure disappear into the side of mansion. Wasting not a moment, Heathcote knew upon following her, what was going on.
He caught up with Lady Lilith right outside his Lord and Lady’s bedchamber, covering her mouth he dragged her back through the secret passage way. His startling her made her drop her precious satchel of poison.
In the dark of the night, he half dragged, half carried her to the edge of the cliff, and without a word – lifted her high and tossed her off – her screams piercing the night.
Her plot had been to sneak in – poison the dog, and then – Lady Caine. However, in the Karma of life, Lady Lilith finally met with her fate.
The older couple stood in each other’s arms, holding one another close, both relieved that it was over. “Th’lass is safe, my Lord Quinton’s mother will not come back from where I’ve sent her.”
“I owe you much…”
“You owe me nothing.” He rebuked gently.
“I love my daughter – and yet, we must wonder, what will be said of Lady Lilith?”
“Mayhap, Evan will report her disappearance; there will be a search, if by chance they find her, she will be long dead – how that came to be, is only known by us two.”
“Know this, it shall die with me – you saved me from a deed I knew I must do.”
“Say no more, we are all better off for it.”
Cora nodded her head, eyes closing to the feeling of his lips at her brow. Never had she imagined that she would have such feelings from the touch of a white man. So much of her life had been spent hating them, and yet this one – was so tender, compassionate and devoted to her and her daughter, – already she knew that with him, she would never experience the things of her past again. As one from the tribe of the Powhatan, the days of her fighting were now past, she was too old – with what was left of her years, she wanted peace and tranquility and yes, the tenderness of a loving man, even a white one.
Chapter XIX
A week later, Evan showed up at WhistHirst wishing to see Quinton, they met in his study. Before either took a seat, “Not sure if tha cares, mother is missing.” Evan started right out.
Quinton eyes met his brother’s as he took the adjacent seat. “What do you mean, missing?”
“Not seen in days; servants say, she left in a huff, telling no one, where to. Horse and carriage she uses, gone. No word, no message.”
“That – is not missing, that is taking off.”
“And go where? Where would sh’go?”
Quinton sat back, thinking about what he was saying, and suddenly, he remembered Cora’s threat – yet, Cora lived here, she’d never been to Willbourne House. It was out of the question to think she would have gone there, and as his brother stated, she left for whatever reasons and now, had not returned.
“Well?” Evan pushed.
“Without knowing, where she was going, how are we to know, where to look for her?”
“We do nothing?!” Evan asked.
“Suggest something that is within reason, logical, and we will do it.”
Evan sat back, exhaling, thinking, but nothing was coming to mind.
“Does she perhaps have a friend she would have visited?”
“Mother? A friend? Don’be daft!” Evan answered.
“A lover?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Where does that leave us Evan?”
He had no answers and so, it left the brothers with their hands tied.
“We will give her more time, see if she finally returns.”
“If she doesn’t?”
“We shall hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.”
Evan didn’t like it, but he had no idea of where to start looking if indeed she were missing.
“Stay for tea?” Quinton asked, “I never understood your leaving to begin with.”
Evan stared at his brother and knew he could never tell him the reason he left was to put as much distance between himself and his wi
fe as he could. Lady Sarah Caine had done something to him. He had spent too many days slipping off into daydreams of her; daydreams of what it would be like to kiss her lips, caress her skin, lie with her as his brother did. His brother – she was his brother’s wife. His brother the Earl. What was he compared to him? What could he offer her that she didn’t already have and then some? No, he knew that it was best that he leave his brother’s home.
“Well?” Quinton urged.
“Aye, then I must get back.”
“Why?”
“Mother?”
Quinton nodded, stood and led the way from the study; as they progressed through the massive rooms of expensive art and French furnishings, they encountered various servants gathered here and there all a twitter. Joining up with his wife in the day room, his brother at his side, he leaned over kissing her brow.
She was sitting across from Ellen, both women basking in the sun coming through the tall glass windows with her small son, Gerard playing at their feet and of course lying at Sarah’s feet was Moose.
“And what are you two laughing about?” he asked his wife, looking to Ellen as well.
“Have you read, there is to be a ball; a grand affair, given by the Duke of Birchley-Keep. I was just reading it to Lady Caine, telling her she needed to start thinking of a gown…”
“And I told her, not to be ridiculous! I would not even consider entertaining the notion of an invite, or attending should such a miracle occur.”
Quinton stood giving his wife that look that she was very familiar with. She cut him off saying, “Don’t look at me that way! If your mother was not acceptable to the aristocracy, what chance do I have, no… leave it alone.”
“I will not leave it alone! Should an invite arrive, I would certainly hope that you would attend, that we – Lord and Lady Caine, would attend together. And incase ‘said’ miracle takes place, we will resume our dance lessons!” Quinton ordered.
“Have you forgotten, I am with child?” She placed her hand upon her small, expanding mid-section. He turned to Ellen, “When is it?”
She read the article once more, a bright smile spread upon her face, “She will be in her fifth month, barely showing, not so much that I cannot make a fitting gown for her to look her best. I will start on it immediately! It will have to be gorgeous, why – I could end up sewing for others this way! Oh Lady Caine, you simply must go!”
Sarah sighed, looking from Ellen to her husband, and tilted her head to include Evan, who remained quiet, once more however she found his eyes plastered to her every word, turning from him she ignored the things his eyes said to her; shaking her head, “No invitation has yet, been sent.” She reminded them.
“However, in the event that one arrives, we will attend, is that clear?” Quinton stated.
With little choice, Sarah nodded, “Hmmm, since I am to expect another miracle, should one occur, yes – Milord, we will attend.”
He bent, tipped her head back by her chin and kissed her lips, “Our mock ball shall take place tonight, Ellen, dress yourself, and tell that spouse of yours, the Lord has spoken, we are having a ball, all servants are invited – we must prepare.” Sarah sighed, but a smile spread across her face. The servants of WhistHirst were becoming accustomed to the impromptu bonfires, parties and now, a ball. The affair ended up being a laughing matter; literally - more than anything. A night of wonderful fun, where the Lord put on grand airs, teaching his Lady proper steps and etiquette should something as miraculous as an invitation show up for the Duke’s ball.
The season had begun for such things, with all the other Marquis’, Earls, Countesses, Viscounts and Barons following the lead of their Duke – who was one step below their Queen and King.
To receive an invitation from the Duchess of Birchley-Keep was as much a stamp to say, you were now not only welcome within the clique of the elite but considered one of them. In the days that followed, Quinton and Sarah had a fun time dancing about their mansion. No matter what they were doing, if they by chance ended up in the same room together, one rushed to the other and as one, they began dancing, from one room to another, down long and broad hallways.
Most of the servants viewed it with laughter, smiles, and sighs as if watching the play of a romantic fairytale. While it wasn’t intentional on Sarah’s part, it happened anyway, she learned the steps so fluidly that their movements began to flow and glide as one. Often forgetting exactly what they had been doing previously to the welcomed encounter of being drawn as magnets, to dance.
It was enchanting and surprising, that they were once more, falling even deeper in love.
Quinton’s reward for the enchantment he showered upon his wife was the arrival of, one miraculous invite.
The house was in an uproar when the lone rider came trotting up the drive, dressed in his smart riding suit, clearly the messenger for the Duke. Dismounting from his horse, he was immediately shown thru the massive manor, holding onto the precious invite, every room that he passed, the servants scattered to inform those who had not seen. Reaching the opulent sun room where Lord and Lady Caine sat in the company of Ellen in discussion – they were both taken aback by Heathcote’s announcement, “Milord, Milady, a messenger has arrived from the Duchess of Birchley-Keep.” He stepped back so that the messenger could step forward to pass the invitation to Quinton, whose smile could have easily lit up the deepest darkest cave, turning to Ellen, who just remembered to close her mouth, he passed the invite, “Will you please – do the honors?” He asked ever such a gentlemanly manner.
Sarah sat with her hands covering her mouth as Ellen stood shaking, trying not to hop up and down as she read it out.
“The Duke and Duchess of Birchley-Keep – hereby request the pleasure of your presence, Lord and Lady Quinton Thaddeus Caine’s company at our formal, annual summer ball… at Birchley-Keep… Saturday, 13th of July, 1831. We request that your acceptance of this invitation be returned with our messenger.”
Ellen looked up at Sarah, who sighed and looked up at her husband, who turned to the messenger stating, “We would be delighted – yes, we accept.”
The invitation was passed to him, and he passed it to his wife, “The honor is all yours.”
With the precision of a well-oiled machine, Heathcote was there, holding a tray with an ink well and quiver, “Milady.” He offered it to her. Sighing, Sarah took out the empty square parchment included, and penned their acceptance.
And just in case, she passed it to Quinton to look over, making sure she’d done it correctly. With a nod and a smile he passed it to the messenger, who nodded to all as well; turning – he was shown to the servant’s kitchen where he would be fed, given refreshment and then sent on his way.
Outside, his horse was given the same treatment – while in the parlor, Quinton stood with a satisfied expression, arms crossed over his chest as if he were king and of course, with head tilted, he peered down at his wife as if he’d acquired a most grand victory.
Ellen could only clap gleefully, her mind occupied with the gown she’d made for Sarah, she must look it over to be sure – all was done to perfection.
The Ball
With her hair twisted, twirled, curled and teased, and delicate tendrils hanging at her temples, little kiss curls here and there and accents of silk thread throughout, she was lovely beyond words; her gown of julep green silk, with its cream lace and delicate orange flowers, green leaves and yellow edges, added to her beauty. The low v neckline showed her gleaming, lustrous skin with a healthy cleavage, – which Quinton had a hard time keeping his eyes from, wondering how many other men would enjoy the same, as an intense surge of possessiveness reared its head. Standing next to her, waiting in line to be introduced at the grand ball, was the first he’d seen of the gown, and certainly his first seeing the very low décolletage that showed how beautiful her breasts were.
He should have insisted to see her before leaving home, but she’d worn a stunning shawl about her shoulders, hiding what was no longer
hidden, her ample bosom.
He didn’t know what to say, or what to do. His eyes would try to leave them, but he found them drawn to stare once more. This was his wife, granted, she was with child, however, that small detail seemed to enhance them all the more.
He had to remind himself to move forward, there were only three couples in the cue, who introduced themselves to them and each other, and he was not mistaken that both men, fought not to look at his wife’s cleavage – Quinton found himself in a quandary. After all he was the one who insisted they attend the ball.
He was the one who insisted that she should be her amazing best so that all could see her shine. Well, looking at her, too much was shining and because of where they stood, there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, but smile, greet and bear it. She was smiling ever so lovely, like the perfect little lady, and those eyes of hers, cut to him just enough to let him know, she was well aware of her charms and how desirable they were.
“Grrrrrgh.” He growled under his breath.
She simpered and carried on.
It was their turn.
The groom took their card, reading it out in a booming voice to the large audience attending, “Earl of WhistHirst, Lord Quinton and Lady Sarah Caine”.
Sarah looked out upon a vast attendance, the magnificence of it all almost took her breath away. To be where she was then, knowing where she’d come from, made her fight to keep her emotions in check.
“Are you ready?” Her husband whispered in her ear and taking her arm, they gracefully descended the stairs to find that many in the room, were wishing to see them, greet them; some out of curiosity, others out of admiration over their hard work with the Cholera epidemic. Some women rushed up to be the first to know Sarah in hopes of being her friend, other’s stood back and observed her from a distance. The Duke and Duchess made their way to them and stood speaking with her and Quinton for longer than they had done with most other guests.
The Fancy Page 23
