Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh

by Ann Jacobs

  Anne nodded. “Yes. That it would. Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse us? Sir Robert and I have private matters to discuss. Solway, pray, entertain our guests. Sir Robert, if you will come with me?”

  “Certainly, my lady,” Rob said quietly.

  Rob followed her into a small room tucked away in the corner of the house. This was her private sitting room. He closed the door behind them. Even on cloudy and miserable days like today, the room was full of light.

  A fire was burning, giving warmth to the small room.

  “Take a seat before the fire,” Anne told him as she turned to face him. This interview made her feel nervous. “There’s no sense in being less than warm.”

  “Solway’s university education concerns you,” Rob said, not moving to the offered chair.

  “It does indeed.”

  “You are aware that my country home, Garrick Hall, was burned to the ground a little over a year ago,” Rob said.

  Anne nodded. “I am aware of this.” This was how her cousin Jane—and Jane’s children—had died, in the fire that had razed Garrick Hall.

  “I have no home to take you to once we are wed, aside from a London house. We could easily remain here until Solway completes his degree. It will take at least two years to build a new house at Garrick Park, possibly three years, once plans are finalized. We’ll think about what we require in a home, then engage an architect. Drawing plans for a house can take a year or more, if one takes time to actually discern what is needful. By the time Solway is done with his degree and ready to return to Hepburn Hall, I will be able to furnish a house worthy of you,” Rob said his voice gentle.

  Anne looked at him. “Is there the money for rebuilding Garrick Hall?”

  Rob smiled. “Money is the least of my problems.”

  “What are among your more serious problems?” Anne demanded, her voice gentle.

  “You needn’t trouble yourself with my problems,” Rob dismissed.

  Anne’s eyes flashed with barely controlled anger, but when she spoke, her voice was level. “Then this discussion is over. I see little sense in marrying any man who cannot or will not speak his mind with me. Like Brutus’ Portia, I am stronger than my sex.”

  “There is no doubt in my mind as to your strength. You are the strongest woman of my acquaintance. I respect greatly the way you’ve managed Hepburn in the years since the late Lord Solway’s passing. And not many women these days can quote from the plays of Master Shakespeare.”

  “Not many gentlemen these days would admit to recognition of the quote, not with the government’s view of plays,” Anne offered with a small smile.

  “We are of like mind, my lady,” Rob said with feeling in his voice.

  Personally, Anne doubted that, rather seriously. “And yet, you will not answer a simple question for me. What are among your more serious problems?” Anne demanded once again.

  “The fear that the lady I love will not have me to husband ranks first among them at this moment,” Rob replied with utter honesty in his voice.

  Anne sighed. “Rob,” she began. “Sir Robert…”

  “Rob will do between us, Nan,” he told her, his voice soft with affection. “I see no need for formality.”

  “Between us, in private, no. In public, you will always be Sir Robert. And you must never call me ‘Nan’ before the servants. Such familiarity is unsuitable for good order and discipline in the house. You know this.”

  Rob nodded. “Always wise.”

  Anne sighed. If I were wise, I wouldn’t be entering this marriage, she thought.

  Rob reached out and took her gloved hand in his. “Forgive me, Nan. I must know.”

  She looked at him. What he must know was obvious. She hadn’t seen that level of sexual intensity in a man’s eyes when looking at her for a long time, but she easily recognized it for what it was. Awareness sizzled between them.

  Anne nervously licked her lips.

  Rob found that flash of her pink tongue against her lips to be incredibly arousing. He moaned slightly.

  She knew that he was going to take her into his arms, unless she protested. She could, she should, turn away from him and defuse this sensual powder keg. That would be the right thing to do. Yet, all she wanted was to be in his arms, although that scared her. So, not letting her fears win, she stepped towards him.

  “Rob,” she said on a sigh.

  His arms closed around her and he pulled her tightly up against himself. In that moment, he fit his lips to hers with exquisite care. The caress was sweet for about a half-second until he felt her lips open on a soft gasp.

  She was vulnerable to him in a way that she hadn’t been vulnerable to any man in years. She didn’t let herself ask questions. She simply enjoyed the taste of him, the subtle textures of his mouth, the play of his mustache against her lip. He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. She had no defense against him. Nor did she want to have.

  The sweet caress that began only a moment before became one of consuming heat. Even Anthony, on their wedding night, had never kissed her with even a tithe of this sensuality. Her bones were melting.

  She couldn’t help but respond to Rob. Anne gave herself wholeheartedly into the embrace, moving her tongue over his in a duel almost as old as mankind, tasting him more deeply each moment until neither of them were certain who was kissing whom. And neither of them cared.

  Anne was glad that he was holding her. She wasn’t certain that her now weakened legs would hold her. She couldn’t deny the fact she wanted him with an intensity that stunned her. Her body was screaming for more. He tempted her in ways that only one man ever had. He tempted her in ways that Anthony had never even begun to entice her.

  She was trembling in his arms. Trembling. Her fingers twined themselves in the queue of his long dark hair, holding his head to hers as she sought more of the firestorm of need his mouth was creating within her. Desire was quickly giving way to ravening hunger.

  He cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her closer to him. Even through the cloth of his breeches and her skirt and petticoats, the strength of his arousal was apparent. He was obviously as hungry for her as she was for him.

  The small sane corner of her mind was screaming that she should stop this while it was still stoppable. But she ignored that. This was simply too delicious. She didn’t want to stop, even though she knew where they were going.

  She released him and threw her head back. He took advantage of that to begin nibbling on her ear and kissing and licking her neck and throat.

  The feel of his breath on her neck, the soft flicks of his tongue, drove her mad.

  His mouth moved down to lavish attention on the swell of her breasts above the square neckline of her bodice and stomacher. His hands were still on her ass, holding her close to him.

  Tension built rapidly, sweeping her along with them, as he continued to use his mouth to arouse her. Suddenly, that wave of sensation crested.

  She gasped. Her whole body stiffened.

  Rob lifted his head and looked at her, his expression a mixture of desire and masculine pride. He couldn’t believe that she had achieved this much pleasure with so little work on his part. Then, not giving her time to calm from this release, his hands went beneath her skirt and numerous petticoats, wadding them up. With a couple of steps, and without asking permission, he urged her against the wall.

  “Wrap your legs around me and hang on,” he instructed, his voice gruff with need as he unbuttoned his breeches and lowered them and his drawers only as much as necessary.

  As badly as he wanted to explore her lovely and responsive form, his body was screaming for release.

  Anne held tightly onto him, trusting him to hold her, and wrapped her legs around his hips.

  She was so hot and tight he had to find some measure of control when he had barely inched his quimstake inside her. His instincts screamed at him to possess her with one hard thrust. Yet, he held back. He didn’t ever want to hurt her. This was their first
time together. It was obviously her first time to be with anyone for many years. This encounter was already far from perfect. He didn’t want her having additional regrets.

  Sighing his name, she tightened her legs around him even more, taking him fully into the warm silken sheath of her quiff. She looked at him as he thrust into her. His expression was as hungry as any she had ever seen on a man.

  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the light show playing on her eyelids and the quivering of her flesh as his hard quimstake alternately filled and retreated from her. His lips and tongue were teasing her neck. Tension built until she thought that she would die if she didn’t find release, and die if she did. A few moments later, when the tension in her lower body exploded once more, she felt her consciousness dim.

  His hold on her tightened and he whispered to her. She didn’t catch the words. But his tone was soft and loving. She could feel him deep within her as her treacherous body rewarded him with contraction after contraction.

  It was a matter of a few more hard and deep strokes until she felt him shudder with the warm pulsing of his climax.

  Rob buried his face in her shoulder. Gradually, both of their breathing slowed and settled back into some semblance of normalcy. He raised his head and planted a light kiss just behind her ear. The shudder that ran through her pleased him, tremendously. He knew that he could never have enough of this woman. He also knew that anyone could come in here at any time. It would be a cause of great embarrassment and public humiliation were they to be discovered like this.

  Rob put Anne back on her feet and steadied her before he stepped back from her and refastened his breeches as she smoothed her skirts.

  “Nan, I…”

  Anne placed her fingers to his lips. “No apology, Rob. I could have stopped this, should have stopped this. The responsibility is mine as well as yours. We are both adults and knew what the risks were of being alone together. Now, pray, excuse me for a few moments. I shall return shortly.”

  Rob watched her back as she hurried from the room.

  * * * * *

  Walking away from him was the hardest thing she had ever done. But she had to have a few minutes to herself. The enormity of what had just happened overwhelmed her. How could she had behaved like a wanton? This wasn’t like her. She’d never done anything like this.

  Entertained the thought, yes. Actually done it, no. There was a wide chasm between thought and action. Or at least, there had always been a wide chasm, until now.

  Anne needed to think. Why had she allowed, participated in, this? Was it because she had been ordered to marry him? No. She didn’t think she was devious enough to seduce him into marrying her because of guilt. Besides, where was the advantage in that? He had already proposed. That proposal was already on the table. He couldn’t honorably retract it. And if there were one word that described Rob, it was “honorable.” So, why had she done this?

  She forced herself to walk slower with dignity when all she wanted to do was to lift her skirts slightly and run up the stairs before locking herself in her bedchamber.

  Yes, Rob was a good man. How could she even contemplate betraying him? Yet, how could she do otherwise? All of this made her head and stomach ache.

  All she could do, she knew, was to focus on the reality of the situation. She needed to think about the practical, moment-to-moment, tasks before her. If she could just stop thinking about the ethics of the situation then everything would be better. No one could see that she was less than pleased with the situation. That would be dangerous.

  Speaking of practical, Anne knew she couldn’t go through the rest of the day wearing the musky odor of sex. Her monthly flux had just completed. The phase of the moon was wrong for her to have conceived. But she made a mental note to begin taking the herbal mixture to prevent conception. Since she had placed Rob in the adjoining bedchamber and given what had just passed between them, she couldn’t imagine that she would fail to share his bed between now and their wedding.

  Now there was an exciting thought. She had already well earned the public punishment the Puritans would impose on her for fornication. Nothing else would make her more guilty. So why not? Besides, the Puritans tended to wink at sex between betrothed. Well, as much as they winked at any sin.

  She refused to feel badly about this. Yes, it was a lapse in judgment. Rob touched her and she lost her head.

  Lost hers and gained his, she thought wryly with a small smile and a sigh. She decided that she was just plain wicked and that she rather liked it.

  Anne entered her bedchamber and went to the wash-stand. There was still water in the pitcher. But, she would need to do more than simply wash. This called for a heavier scent to be worn. She went to her dressing table. The only scent she had compounded that could cover the musky scent of sex was the frankincense. She lifted the glass vial. It was nearly empty. Frankincense was hard to come by, these days. She had used her last bits of the amber-colored resin to make this vial of perfume. And now, it was nearly gone. The excisemen looked suspiciously on anything that, to their minds, had Popish overtones. Incense items were definitely among that list of objects causing suspicion. She dabbed some of the precious scent on her pulse points. The fragrance was rich and heavy. She appreciated the richness of the scent.

  * * * * *

  Rob sat down before the fire. He rubbed his neck. How in the world could he have taken those liberties with any lady, let alone with Nan? He had used her with less finesse than he would have shown to a common taproom whore.

  The single kiss he had thought to win from her had taken on a life of its own. He had the answer to his question as to the level of attraction between them. There was passion. Oh, aye, there was passion! He had thought there might well be. But he had no inkling until a few moments ago just how responsive his lady was. He had suspected things between them would be good. Yet, this came as an agreeable discovery.

  He knew that he would have to make amends for being so rough with her. But all he could think of was how good it was going to be to share a bed with her, to have her beside him every night, all night. Oh, the pleasures they would share. His mind was full of all the things he wanted to do with her, of pleasures he wanted to share with her. If she was this responsive to a quick tumble, what would she be in bed when they had all the dark hours to explore one another?

  The woman is dangerous to my self-control, he thought. Then he chuckled. Marriage to Nan was going to be anything except dull.

  There would be babies, of course. The idea of seeing Nan big with his baby filled him with both joy and dread. Two of his babies with Jane had died in infancy. The other children had died in the fire with her. What he wanted more than anything else was to have a family of his own again. A family of little girls who looked like their mother would be nice. Yet, he needed an heir.

  Garrick Hall would be rebuilt. And they would all live quietly, happily, in the country. Rob had his fill of Parliament, of London, of the politics of government. All he wanted was a quiet life. But that was the one thing denied him. It was the one thing likely to be continually denied him for the foreseeable future. The nation would be in a truly sorry shape if no one in Parliament opposed the demagogues, autocrats, and bureaucrats in the government. Yet, Rob was tired of the constant bickering, backstabbing, and general bullshit involved in this Parliament.

  Besides, he saw very little use for Parliament under the current government. Oliver Cromwell would do precisely what he desired, with or without the support of Parliament. And Cromwell had certainly shown himself willing to levy and collect unjust and illegal taxes without the authorization of Parliament, in his use of the decimation tax. Parliament had managed to negotiate away both the decimation tax and the division of England into military districts under Major-Generals by giving Cromwell what he wanted most, the kingship in everything except name.

  Rob was in no doubt that if the Army would have stood still for it, Oliver Cromwell would be the King in name. But Oliver was entirely too canny
to cut off his substantial nose to spite his face. The Army had brought him to power. A revolt from that quarter could remove Cromwell from power. And at least Oliver Cromwell was predictable. That was more than he could say about any of those in the current government who might replace him, were he to be overthrown. Those were the realities of the situation.

  Already there were rumblings from among the Army. Rob had heard those. Rumblings that Cromwell was trying to placate by reconstituting for the second session of this Parliament the equivalent of a House of Lords, only with the leaders of the Army sitting there. Rob didn’t think it would work. But, time would tell. Cromwell had made many false friends and even more true enemies.

  There was no way of telling how long the current government would survive. Rob only hoped the next chapter in history would be calmer. Already, some were quietly talking of inviting Charles Stewart, son of the previous King, to take the throne. Those discussions had to be quiet. If Cromwell and his inner circle learned of the discussions heads would roll, including Rob’s own.

  At the moment, politics was not his main concern. All he wanted to think about were his own domestic arrangements, especially as they related to the lovely woman whom he hoped would soon be returning to this cozy parlor.

  Politics and matters of state could take a holiday. A Christmas holiday for government. Now, wouldn’t that set many of Cromwell’s closest cronies on their ears? Rob thought with a smile.

  * * * * *

  It was more than a few minutes later when Anne arrived.

  Rob turned to look at her when she returned. She didn’t speak to him until she was seated in the second of the chairs near the fire.

  Anne picked up lucet she had left in the workbasket beside her chair. Making this useful flat cord was something she could to do keep her hands busy while talking to Rob. This was one thing that she could do with her elbow-length kid gloves on, as fashion dictated ladies to wear nearly all the time. And if her hands were busy, she would be less likely to reach for him. Besides, there was always work to be done. It wasn’t going to get done unless she did it.