Stand and Deliver Your Love

by Sheffield, Killarney

  Silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks which she didn't bother to wipe away. Didn't she have the right to feel sorry for her lot in life if only for one fleeting closeted moment? What if she did get caught one day? What would happen to all the children who depended on her? What would happen to all those who helped her like Bert and his wife Ann who looked after the crowded warehouse they called home? She rolled over, watching the sleeping figure on the cot. How dare he fall into my life and make me question who I am and what I am doing. How dare he open my mind to dreams, forbidden kisses and love I can never have. Blast him!

  A shrill neigh and galloping hooves thundering through the clearing claimed her attention. She sat up in panic, clutching her blanket to her chest. Had the Pinkerton somehow found them?

  Bert leaped from his bedroll and peered out the small window by the door.

  Byron rolled over. “What is going on?”

  “Damn!” Bert bellowed. “The mare and that big black brute of yours have gotten loose and run off. Dickie, bring a lantern and come on.” He tugged on his boots and flung open the door.

  Sarah tossed aside her blanket and scrambled to her feet. “Wait for me. I am coming too!”

  Bert glanced at her and frowned. “Nay. You stay here. We’ve a long ride tomorrow and Ann will have my head if you arrive home worn out.” He and the boy disappeared into the inky darkness, slamming the door behind them.

  Byron swung his bare legs over the edge of the cot reaching for the clean trousers she laid out earlier that evening on top of the cottage’s only stool. She swung her gaze to him frowning. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “To find my horse.”

  “You are in no shape to be wandering around the woods in the dark.”

  “I am well enough to put on my trousers and well enough to walk,” he pointed out gruffly.

  “You do not know your way around.”

  He gave her a look meant to quell any further protest on her part. “I am not some silly school boy who cannot find his way in the woods.”

  She darted forward and snatched the pants from Byron’s hand. Holding them behind her back she grinned triumphantly at him. “You cannot possibly go traipsing about the woods with no trousers.”

  “Why you little minx!” Byron grumbled, with a grin proving he was anything but upset over the prospect of running naked through the forest. Before she could blink he launched himself off the cot and made a grab for his trousers. The sheet clutched in his hand snagged on a knot on the bed frame. There was a loud tearing sound and the bulk of the sheet fell to the floor leaving him holding a small square that barely covered his manhood.

  Sarah clapped her free hand over her mouth to smother her gasp of embarrassment. Her eyes wandered down his tight stomach muscles, past the sheet that concealed very little, to his well-muscled thighs. The man had the body any woman would like to worship. The scrap of cloth he held in front of himself twitched and her face burned as she was reminded of the way his member swelled before at her accidental touch.

  His voice, low and husky broke through her scrutiny. “Do I pass your inspection or would you like to see my backside as well?” Sarah blushed and dropped her gaze to the floor. Good Lord, he just caught me openly lusting after him like some common trollop! What must he think of me now?

  The silence stretch between them until his mocking tone interrupted the still. “May I please have my trousers, or do you intend to make me stand here naked, in the draft?”

  When she looked up he was holding out his hand. She bit her lip to keep her nervous giggle contained and handed the garment to him. Before she could turn around to give him some privacy he stepped closer. He grasped her wrist, pulling her up against his firm chest.

  “Have you never seen a naked man before?” he asked, holding her tighter when she moved to free herself from his embrace.

  The heat from his bare chest seemed to radiate into her like the heat from a roaring fire. Her heart began to pound so hard she was sure he could feel it. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak coherently. His fingers freed the scrap of sheet and it fluttered to the floor between their feet. She couldn't help but gasp as his member was exposed to her virginal eyes.

  He chuckled so soft the sound almost escaped her, then cupped her chin with that same hand. Fire spread along her jaw bone as he raised her head. His lips were so close she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. Her knees went weak, almost refusing to hold her up right when she looked into his deep blue eyes. They smoldered and burned.

  He spoke in an undertone, “The naked form is nothing to be ashamed of. Artists have painted and sculpted it for years. It is a thing of beauty, an instrument of love.”

  Sarah knew she should protest and push him away, but as hard as she tried she couldn't will her limbs to obey. Her gaze dropped to his full lips. How desperately she wanted to feel those lips on hers again. She watched them, entranced when he spoke again. “Kiss me. You know you want to.”

  The command although no more than a whisper, played with her fragile emotions. Her heart leaped. She looked at him uncertain of her own thoughts. Was he jesting, or playing some sort of game to humiliate her further? The darkening of his eyes and the almost pleading look he gave her convinced her otherwise. He released her jaw, dropping his hand to rest light on her collarbone where his fingers began to idly stroke. The loud thumping of her heart turning to a dull roar in her ears, as she closed her eyes and stood on her toes to press her lips against his. They tingled as she brushed a light kiss upon his mouth. He held still for a moment and then, when she would have pulled her head away, slid his hand around the back of her neck. He leaned forward, taking her bottom lip between his. Sarah shuddered at the sensation of his tongue slidding along the edge, stroking and teasing. With a whimper she pressed herself to him wanting something more but not knowing what.

  “Open for me,” he murmured against her lips.

  Sarah opened her lips to ask what he meant and his tongue slipped into her mouth. His tongue touched hers and a jolt of something akin to liquid fire shot through her every limb. She trembled and moaned. He answered with a low groan of his own.

  When she pulled away he whispered, “No, let me show you.”

  Sarah relented, letting her tongue touch his. His kiss turned urgent, his lips demanding she open wider for him. When she gave into his urging he groaned and wound his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck holding her to him. His lips became frantic as he sought and explored every nook and cranny of her lips and mouth. She slid her arms up around his neck, holding on as her head swam and her body went limp. He released her lips and pulled her forward, his breathing ragged and quick. “I want….” she opened her eyes, staring into his, not knowing what she needed. They seemed to blaze with a blue fire matching the flames coursing through out her body.

  “Shhh.” He backed up and pulled her with him to the edge of the rumpled cot. “I know what you want, what you desire, for it is the same craving I have had since I laid eyes upon you.”

  “I cannot,” Sarah protested half-heartedly, “Bert—”

  “Bert, will be gone for hours.”

  “But—”

  “Do not deny what we both feel, what we both want.” He lowered his lips to hers again.

  This time Sarah knew what he wanted and opened for him, boldly taking her tongue and intertwining it with his. Feeling something twitch against her belly she slid her hand down instinctively, but he stayed her hand.

  “Wait.” He brought her hand back up to clasp the other around his neck and encircled her waist with his good arm. His lips returned to hers. With a small grunt he lowered her to the mattress without stopping his exploration of her mouth, only ceasing when he lay beside her, propping himself up with his good arm.

  She peeked at him through lowered lids suddenly shy and unsure. “I want to feel you.”

  He smiled at her. “I am yours. Touch as you please.”

  Her heart skipped a beat
. He was hers. If only it were true she thought as she ran her fingers across his cheek bones. If only he could be hers to keep, she fancied, running them down to trace his jaw and the small cleft in his chin. When he swallowed, she traced his Adam’s apple then carried on down his neck to his chest. Carefully skirting his injured collarbone she let her fingers drift over his nipples and across his washboard stomach, stopping to play a minute in the indentation of his navel. When she looked back up he smiled and slid his free hand down the curve of her hip to her knees and slipped it under the hem of her cotton nightdress. She shivered at the feel of his rough warm hands against her cool bare skin.

  When he recaptured her lips in his, she grew bolder and slid the tips of her fingers lower still until they brushed the hair in which nestled his manhood. He tensed for a moment and she stopped thinking she had done something wrong.

  “Go on,” he encouraged, in a husky voice. He began to caress his way up her inner thigh with his hand. A tension started to build in Sarah she couldn't explain. She moaned and moved her hips toward him. What is he doing to me? I should tell him to stop, but I know deep down I do not want him to. When his fingertips brushed the soft furry mound between her legs she gasped, squeezing her legs tight together. She shouldn't let him touch her this way, she tried to reason with herself. His hand stilled, his lips slipping from hers to kiss and nibble his way down her neck. The sensation was so pleasurable Sarah relaxed and forgot about his hand.

  He resumed stroking his way back to her mound. At the same time he kissed a path to her right breast, tracing lazy circles closer and closer to it, until the tip of his tongue touched her swollen nipple through the thin material of her night dress. She felt, rather than heard, his smothered chuckle when she gasped and arched up off the bed. When his fingers touched the soft hair of her mound again, she tensed, but this time allowed him access. The tingling of her body lulled Sarah into a slumber-like state as Byron’s fingers slid further. She cried out when he finally found the swollen bud nestled in the now damp folds of her womanhood. He moved up and took her lips in his to muffle her cries as he stroked and teased the sensitive nub.

  The tension built at an alarming rate and Sarah almost sobbed in frustration at her need for the unknown. Her hips began to move in a primal dance of their own accord, against his hand to bring about a release to the unfamiliar but intoxicating pressure building inside her. Her hands roved his chest frantically seeking what her body craved.

  It was then her inner dam burst. Her head seemed to be filled with the sound of rushing water. Tearing her lips from his she screamed her release until she was sated. Her body was limp and exhausted when she drifted back into the present. Clutching him, she began to sob into his chest with a mixture of awe, completion, and shame.

  “Shhh, love,” Byron soothed. “Just rest here in my arms until you are yourself again.”

  The warmth and the low rumbling vibration of his chest as he spoke comforted Sarah and she snuggled closer to him with a soft whimper. After a few moments her sobs subsided into a soft sigh. “What have I done?” she lamented.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, cradling her against his chest. The enormity of the situation hit her. “How can you say that? I was horrible and wanton!” She scrambled from the bed. Giving him a horrified look, she snatched up her robe and fled out the door.

  “Sarah!” he called, “Sarah, wait!”

  Not wanting to face him with her shame, she ducked into the lean-to and hid in the straw behind Dickie’s pony. It was quiet for a few minutes before she heard him exit the cottage.

  “Sarah?”

  Crouching lower in the straw, she silently willed him to go away.

  “Sarah, I am the one who should be ashamed. I knew you were an innocent. I should have realized I would frighten you with my experienced caress. I am sorry.”

  His experienced caress? He is a rake! He probably deflowers innocents like me all the time and I fell for his beguiling tricks. I am such a cake.

  His footfalls stopped at the door to the shed, his voice was soft and cajoling. “Sarah? I had no right to touch you. I have not been with a woman for so long I forgot myself. Please forgive me.”

  “Oh please! Just go away!”

  “Please, let me explain. When Clarissa died I—”

  She clapped her hands over her ears to block out his excuses. “Go away and leave me be. I do not care to hear anything you have to say.” Her voice cracked, tears threatening to undo her.

  “Go, find your horse and leave.”

  “I am sorry.”

  After a couple minutes of silence she removed her hands from her ears. All was quiet except for the crickets chirping to each other in the dark. The pony shifted and made a snuffling sound. Sarah stood and brushed the straw from her robe. Listening for any sign of the marquis, she crept to the lean-to door and peered out. The man was nowhere to be seen. She hurried across the yard and peeked in the cottage window. The room was empty. He was gone. Even though she had told him to go she could not help feeling forlorn and used. He touched me as no man but my husband should and left without a care. He did not even offer me marriage. She bit her lip. Of course he didn’t offer for me. I am a nobody, just a loose woman from the gutter, a thief. Nothing more. Anger replaced her self-pity. I am somebody to the children. I will not use and abandon them. They need me. He does not.

  She slipped inside and climbed into bed. Tossing and turning she lamented her rash behavior, until finally she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Sarah snuggled deeper into the soft mattress and sighed. It is so warm and cozy. It is nice to sleep in a bed again instead of the hard floor. Her eyes snapped open. Oh God! What have I done? Her face burned with shame as she recalled the events of the previous evening. I gave myself to a man I hardly even know like some dockside doxy! How could I have done such a thing? I am truly immoral!

  A chair creaked and Bert cleared his throat, alerting her to the fact she was not

  alone. She scrambled upright, hugging the bed clothes to her chest.

  Byron sat, fully dressed, in a chair nearest the fire staring into the flickering flames while Bert bent over one of Dickie’s shoes sewing up a hole in them.

  The old fellow gave her a disapproving look. “'Bout time you awoke. Sun’s been up for near on an hour now.”

  Sarah climbed out of bed and drew her wrapper on over her nightdress. Oh Lord! Did he know what she had done with the marquis? “I am sorry Bert,” she stammered, “I guess I was just tired.”

  Bert grinned, “Aye, don’t blame you lass, getting a chance to have the bed all to yourself must be a real treat.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Bert apparently had no idea what had gone on between her and the marquis the evening before. She glanced over at Byron. He gave her a sharp look and stood. She glared at him then dropped her gaze and hurried to her trunk to find some clean clothes.

  Bert finished the shoe he was repairing and picked up the mate. “We’ll go check to see the boy has the horses saddled while you get dressed,” he offered and headed for the door. The marquis clutched his injured shoulder with his good arm and made to follow. Sarah sighed and reached for a long woolen scarf at the bottom of the trunk. “Wait. Here, I can make a sling out of this for your shoulder. It should help keep it stable.”

  Byron stopped where he was and waited for her to come to him. Crossing the few feet between them seemed like trekking up a steep mountain side. Looking at her feet, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until she finally stood toe to toe with him.

  Her hands shook as she raised the material and slid it around the back of his neck. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm rise and his breath brushed across her forehead. As she pulled the fabric across his chest their eyes met and locked. He stared at her with such raw, unveiled desire she blushed. She should be furious with him. He had taken advantage of her. Swallowing, she looked down at her hands and willed her sud
denly clumsy fingers to twist the ends of material together into a knot. What is wrong with me? She cautioned her voice trying to sound matter of fact, “There. Put your arm in this sling and it will help stabilize your shoulder.” Taking his elbow she slid the sling under his forearm. When he was quiet she lifted her gaze back to his.

  His eyes searched hers for a brief moment. “Thank you.”

  With a curt nod she turned away. Hurrying back to her trunk she proceeded to busy herself, pulling out various articles of clothing. Once the men left, closing the door behind them, she stopped and sat down on the cot to ponder the situation. No decent man would want a woman so wanton as she, not that there had been any suitors beating down her door so far. If Bert found out he would lose all respect for her. A horrifying thought struck her. What if a man could tell what I have done? How will I explain it? Dare I ask Byron if an astute man could tell just by looking? After all he had known I was … how had he put it? Inexperienced? How should I ask him if one could tell without looking as if I am not trying to extort a marriage proposal out of him … not to mention Bert finding out?

  The knock on the door startled her. “We are ready and waiting, mistress,” Bert called. Sarah hurried to change. She pulled on her bottle-green riding habit and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Ann had found the habit in a bunch of discarded outfits some lady of fashion deemed out of style and kindly taken in the seams to fit her. Looking at her reflection she noted a rosy glow about her that did nothing to betray her worried state. Did giving herself to a man in such a shameful fashion have outward effects? She certainly couldn't tell. Perhaps she was just being paranoid. She twisted her hair up into a knot on top of her head securing it with her hat pin. Inwardly the effects of the previous