by Selena Kitt
She nodded, trusting him without question. He groped beneath her cloak, finding her breast. His warm hand was as adept at drawing her thoughts from the hurt as his lips were pulling her deep within the heat of his mouth.
Lillian’s thighs began to relax and her hips tilted into him. Slow and easy, he began to move, swallowing her moans as renewed fire flamed between their loins. She found her body matching his as he hovered on his hands. Her heart melted and fell the rest of the way in love with the man she felt connected to from that first look a fortnight ago.
“Oh,” she panted when a current, much like the rolling creek after a hard rain, snaked through her midsection.
“Hold onto me, Annie,” he mumbled.
She grabbed his shoulders, feeling him tremble while he rocked into her with quickness and force.
“Mmm, oh, mmm,” he moaned.
The energy, his pleasure, carried her into uncontrollable convulsions of spiraling euphoria she’d never dreamed possible. He followed her with his own shudders, jerking before collapsing on her, their bodies quaking with tremors. There were no words known to her to describe the happiness her body yielded. Holding him to her, she breathed deep to catch her wind and kissed his head.
“I’ve never known a woman to lose herself so,” he spoke into her neck. “Never have I…so fast. I want more of you.” His lips trailed along her neck.
“Samuel,” she moaned.
“You know who I am?” He rose, looking down into her face.
“I do.”
“Where do I find you on my return from town?”
Panic filled her. For the moment, she’d forgotten. She had no place. He could not look for her. With her hands, she pushed at him. “You must be on your way.”
“I am late,” he admitted as he pushed himself up. “Where do I find you?”
“You mustn’t think of me. It would not do for you.”
“I beg to differ. I want to see you again.”
Flattered, she watched him pull his britches up and realized she needed to put herself back together. Scrambling to put her clothing right, she sucked in her breath at the soreness she felt.
“The Hammond’s are over the hill. Go beg to work for the stolen fruit.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, feeling as if she’d been put in her place beneath him. Will he now boast to his friends how he bedded a servant on the side of the road? She didn’t want to think that of him, but she’d heard how men would talk—even of untruths to be truths.
He returned to his carriage and settled in with the reins in hand. Before he flicked to move the horse along, he looked back at her. “If they don’t have work, or have you jailed, I’ll pay and you can work it off for me.” His face lit up with a smile aimed at herm much like the one he’d beamed at her sisters on that heart-felled day.
She stared after him, long after he’d gone from her sight, then sighed. “Not exactly how I wanted us to be, Samuel Wadkins.” She wiped her face, put her hood back in place and turned away, determined not to let her heart turn at what truth she didn’t know. There were other matters to be concerned with. Turning away, she walked on, hating the moisture dampening her undergarment. She much wanted fresh clothing as well as to bathe.
Once over the hill, Lillian saw a grand white house with shutters of polished coal. Walking up the lane, she prayed those tending the grounds wouldn’t turn her about. She rounded the house and knocked on the kitchen door. An elderly woman answered.
“Are you in need of a maid?”
“No!”
The woman started to shut the door. “Please, I need to repay for fruit I staved my hunger with.”
Old, bluish eyes looked her over. “Your age?”
“Barely eighteen, ma’am.”
“You can stay the morning and scrub pots.”
Without a word, Lillian followed her into the small, darkened room. Only lanterns gave off light for the tasks tended. Near the sink, pots and other dishes were stacked high. She filled the washbasin from the pump and, for the duration of the meal, preparation and serving of, she scraped, scrubbed and washed until there were none left.
She looked around and found herself alone. Not daring to be so forward to wander the house to gain permission, she slipped out the door with no destination on the horizon.
Trudging along the road, her head lowered, she fought the desperate need to return to her home to plead her father’s forgiveness.
“Hey! Wait! Girl! Cap ‘o Rushes, wait!”
Lillian turned around when she realized the girl called for. “Yes?”
“The misses want to see you.”
“Why?”
“No question the misses, just do as asked.”
“All right.” She returned with the girl and followed her to the parlor.
A red-haired woman set her embroidery aside, casting her eyes on her. “What is your name? Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been wandering with no place to go.” It was not a lie, but she could not reveal where she hailed out of respect for her father. “Lil is my name.”
The woman nodded. “I’ve been informed of your honesty and you work hard. Our staff is full, but you have work until I place you elsewhere.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Remove that horrid cover-up and let me see you.”
“I mustn’t. My dress is not presentable.”
“Have Mable find you something.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Lillian retraced her steps back to the kitchen where she’d been given the task of readying beans for the pot. It wasn’t unknown to her, since her father’s cook had allowed her time and taught her to keep her busy.
The young girl came into the room, giggling. Mable quickly shushed her and pointed to the basket of potatoes waiting for peeling.
“Yes, grandmother,” she said as she sat. “Master Wadkins came by asking for Ann. Misses told him no one by that name here. He wanted to see all staff and she wouldn’t disrupt her household for she knows all the names.”
Lillian squelched the pleasure of Samuel remembering her. Although, it’d do him no good to take up with the servant she’d now become. Again, since she’d seen the woman called Callie rubbing her protruding belly, she prayed his seed didn’t do its intended.
“Would you be the Ann, he’s looking for?” asked the granddaughter.
“I’m called Lil,” she answered. Concentrating on the task, she forced Samuel from her mind.
“I’m Emma. I’m learning to fill Callie’s place for when she has her baby.”
Lillian nodded, realizing how, in the short hours she’d been there, she felt at home. No one talked over her as her sisters had done. No one sent her from the room because she was deemed too young or in the way.
Weeks, two months worth, passed, and Lillian heard no further word of Samuel’s search for his Ann. She figured he moved on to another girl—maybe three or more by now. It saddened her to think him such a womanizer. She worked hard and slept soundly, except when dreams of Samuel woke her with fire of longing and wetness between her thighs. The creek cooled her on these nights, but it hadn’t removed the ache of knowing her prayers hadn’t been answered. Samuel need not be troubled with knowing, nor would she tell who fathered her child.
Lillian sighed as she dried and dressed to start her day. In the kitchen, she set to work amongst the excited chatter of the kitchen. The annual harvest celebration the Wadkins held seemed to be all they could talk of. This would have been her first year to attend the three-day event.
Now, if she went, she’d stand as a servant and watch the festivities. It didn’t sit well, knowing her sisters would be in attendance and vying for Samuel’s attention. Worse, would Samuel take them as he had her? Lillian shook the horrid thought aside. It wasn’t right to put bad traits on him without cause. Nor did it help lessen what her heart knew. She set to cooking the pork for the morning meal.
Another worry felled her when she realized the servan
ts of her father’s house might recognize her. The talk of her place away from her father might not fare well. It could further anger him. Mrs. Hammond could put her out. She shuddered at the thought of wandering until she found another house to take her on.
“This is the first year for the Master Wadkins to be in attendance. He’s looking fine, too. Think he’ll choose a wife, grandmother?” she heard Emma go on.
“You remember your place,” Mable told her.
Feeling her heart swell with sadness at missing out, she buried herself in more work. Her life had gone a half-turn and she had to focus on how to go from here and leave all she knew behind.
“Daydreaming, are we?” Callie asked her.
“Fancy a dance with the handsome young man?” Emma asked, teasing her.
Lillian felt her face warm at the mere joke of her once-cherished fancy. “Don’t talk nonsense.”
Emma’s excitement carried her on. “You will go, right? We all go every year. And this year, it’s a masquerade.”
“I’m sure I’ll be too tired.” Even if she wanted to go, a dance such as this required a decent dress. She had but the one she came in, and the loaned servant dress she wore. She could not attend in her own with raising questions.
“Emma, go fetch the milk.” Mable told her.
The chore would give them a reprieve from her incessant chatter, Lillian imagined. Still, there were days to go before the date of the event and she imagined the excited and curious chatter of the girl would grow.
The day came upon them and Lillian could handle the elevated talk no longer. She went about gathering the eggs, bringing in the milk, even doing the laundry to avoid being amongst it. However, it didn’t take near enough time. She set her mind to steel off her heartache and help with the noon meal.
“Cappa, you have to go with us,” Emma told her.
“The day is young. There is much to do. I’ll be too tired, I should think.” She dumped scraps into a bucket for the hogs and busied her hands with scrubbing pots.
As the hours passed, she found the desire to attend the dance growing. Her mind toyed with ways to hide herself from others and since a face cover was expected, she held a bit of hope of pulling it off.
Chapter Three
Once the evening meal ended, Lillian hung back as the other servants left, excited talk fading away with them. She pulled her laundered clothing from beneath her cot and took it from the cloth she’d found to wrap it in.
Determined to pull this off, she let her hair down from the bun twist she’d begun to wear. Looking through the box of spare items she’d been given by others, she managed to brush a bit of a shine into the blond strands, coil and pin it up into a fashion of sorts, much as she used to do with the trusses of her sisters.
Lillian’s mind spun with ideas and rushed from the servants’ quarters to pick a handful of wildflowers. Sitting on her bed, she braided them around bits of wire she’d found inside the barn. She mirrored a flowered hair barrette she knew lay on her dressing table in her old room.
From under her pillow, she pulled the mask she’d weaved with practiced ease from various plants outside the barn, while she’d taken a rest. It was the one thing she’d learned from her mother and continued to do, hoping one day to sell wares as she’d done. She looked at the mask piece and thought the sprigs of flowers would do well with the hair ornament so she ran out for more flowers.
Satisfied it looked as well as any that could be bought for a reasonable price, she wound the wire she’d used to frame it around her head. When Lillian was ready, she walked into the barn for a horse to pull a small buggy. She’d done it many times at home when she wanted to go off alone.
On the ride, she listened for any carriages that might come along. She’d not lit a lantern so as not to draw attention to herself, a woman alone.
Not long, she saw the lights and many carriages around a home larger than the Hammond’s. Everyone for miles must be there, she decided.
Despite the lateness of the hour and the possibility of being recognized, excitement roiled in her belly. At last, she was going to see what should have been the highlight of her life to this point.
She stopped in front of the house where a hand helped her from the buggy. After a mere nod of acknowledgement, too afraid her voice might squeak, she went up the steps to the house. Music floated out through the windows. A man opened the door and motioned for her to enter. She followed him into a hall, letting the music guide her to a room to the right. Stopping into the doorway, her breath caught. The great room was more than she could have believed with its high ceiling and candlelit chandeliers.
She scanned the room, taking in the gowns of red, green, blue, even gold, silver and purple. They made her pastel pink dress feel drab. Stepping back to take her leave, her eyes landed on his. He came toward her and she froze. How was she going to escape?
He stopped before her and bowed. “May I make your acquaintance?” he asked. “My name is Samuel Wadkins.”
Manners led her to curtsy. “Excuse me. I cannot stay.”
He held his hand out to her. “I’d be pleased if you danced with me.”
His eyes held hers when they met. Lillian could not deny him. With her hand in his, he led her to the dance floor and lay a hand on her waist. She followed his lead easily enough, having danced with her father many times around the house.
“I’ve not seen you before, have I?” he asked.
“Would it matter?” she asked, her eyes lowered, voice quiet.
“Who’s your family?”
“Many questions. Am I to believe you’re in training for service?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at him.
“Forgive me.”
Samuel’s hand tightened on her waist as he whirled her around the floor, stopping to spin and dip her. He held her bent over his arm longer than necessary, his eyes penetrating hers. She worried he might see familiarity in her depths. Part of her wished not, part of her was glad to be near him even if she must suffer another cold dip in the water to cool her wanting of his body. His eyes began to darken with desire and she shivered. If he laid her out now on the floor and loved her, the onlookers would be forgotten.
He drew her up, saying, “I feel I’ve seen into your eyes before. They’re such a unique blue, between the sky and the night.”
“It’s the lighting, maybe the event,” she murmured. Her heart pounded from both the dance and the desire steadily rising from being near him and remembering what it had felt like to have her body with his.
“I shall like to dance with you all night.”
She didn’t know what to say, but the change in the music tempo set them off on a waltz. They glided around the floor as if they were alone. For her it seemed so. When the music ended, he drew her close to him. She felt his breathlessness equal hers, from activity she would have believed had she not seen the growing need spread over his face. Was he so easily taken he couldn’t control himself? This thought pricked her heart, but she wanted to believe somewhere deep within him, a particle of him knew she to be the Annie he was searching for. Wishful thinking or a way to save her heart for the moment, maybe?
The music ended and he led her toward a table and handed her a glass of punch before guiding her through the nearest open door. She found herself in the night air, welcoming the breeze.
“I used to wonder about these affairs, but then I was sent off to school before I could attend.”
“Is it everything you imagined?”
“Yes, and no,” he said, closing the respectable distance between them. With a finger, he tipped her chin up. “There’s something about you, something…familiar.” His head bent near her ear and he whispered, “My body claims to know you in ways it desires.”
She swallowed and took a step backward. “Did your school teach you to be so forward?”
“Pardon my bluntness. I’m not normally brash.” He took her glass and set it down on the nearby table. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm.
Relieved to return to the dance floor, she wished for the normalcy the night should have had—one where she would have been open to talk freely, and maybe know Samuel in an accepted sense.
The chimes of a clock reached her. She listened and knew it to be the hour of ten. She must hurry home. Before the music began once more, she reached up on her toes and whispered in his ear. “Blessings to you, Samuel.” Then she turned to leave, but he pulled her back, holding her to his body.
His mouth claimed hers, releasing a hunger she should have kept back. Instead, she drank, and gave as she’d done that morning many days ago. The quiet of the room disturbed her and she pushed at him to let her go. “I have to go.” She ran from the room.
“Annie, wait!”
She heard him, but went for the buggy sitting beside the nearest carriage rather than wait for it brought up.
“Annie!” he called after her again.
She flicked the reins to hurry her horse along out to the road and headed back to the Hammond house as fast her horse would take her. Once there, she took time to care for the horse before rushing in to change for bed.
Breathless, she climbed under the covers on her cot and worked to calm herself. She must appear to be sleeping when the others came.
However, excitement over Samuel calling her Annie kept her heart racing and eyes unable to close. He hadn’t fancied her because she was a woman, but knew it’d been her. Why hadn’t he been forthright rather than suspicious? She’d like to ask, but did she dare attempt another appearance? A second look might ring the mind of those looking on, raising gossip about her father.
She flopped onto her belly and tried to settle in as the fact she had no other dress to wear sunk in, even if she changed her mind.
The clop-clop of horse hooves coming near told her the others were returning. At least those who must rise early as she did, she believed. Lillian turned to the wall and shut her eyes.
The door opened and instead of the quiet steps of the women who needed to be up in a few hours, Emma came over and bounced on her cot. “Wake up, Cappa!”
