Arden's Act

by Elizabeth Thomas

  “Come upstairs with me, my dear,” Courtenay said smoothly, rising and offering his hand to her. She trembled as she took it, for she needed his help to stand. Not because of the wine. A sip remained in her glass. When Arden rose, he slipped his arm around her waist and guided her through the dining room into the hall. At the end of the hall stood an elegant spiral staircase of mahogany wood. Though Arden had, in reality, enough room even at the narrow end of each step to place her foot if she took care, climbing even ordinary stairs always made her feel slightly ill at ease. Thus she stuck as closely as she could to Courtenay, to put as much step as possible under her foot. She felt grateful when his arm tightened around her in response, but grateful made only a beginning. Arden could not believe the sensations that shot through her, merely from their closeness, merely from the touch of his hand and arm as they encircled her. What had she gotten into, and how would she survive it if this feeling intensified, as Madame Davenant had assured her it would?

  At the top of the stairs stretched another hallway, paneled in the same mahogany, with rooms on either side. By now the evening had worn on, and the light from the sconces on the walls had grown increasingly necessary. The large room where Courtenay led Arden, however, had windows that let her see the stars appearing. A glowing candelabra also stood on a table against one wall. Against the other wall was an expansive bed. The bed’s four posters were open, without a canopy. The servants had turned down the elegant bed-clothes invitingly. The color matched the wall fabric―a vibrant blue.

  Courtenay sat on the bed and pulled Arden down beside him. He looked long into her face until Arden thought she would lose herself in those dark eyes. He reached up and removed the combs holding her hair, and the scent of lilac wafted gently anew as her mahogany tresses tumbled down around the two of them. “My dear, you are so beautiful!” he told her in his soft, rich tones, cupping her face in his hands.

  And you are the handsomest man my eyes have ever seen, thought Arden, but she could not find the voice to tell him so. He had stopped her mouth with his own. His kisses reveled in paradox; at once languid, leisurely, and patient with her novice’s response, but also urgent and demanding. By the time she had opened to his probing tongue, Arden had forgotten all but one of the reasons she agreed to their arrangement, forgotten everything but the promptings of her own body and spirit.

  He began easing her dress from her shoulders, his lips moving first upon her neck and then traveling downward. Her gown’s fastenings offered him little resistance, and soon Arden gasped with surprise and pleasure as his fingers found the nipples of her breasts.

  But then it happened. The image of Treadwell’s leering face swam before her, and the hot shame of that humid summer afternoon flooded her soul. He had trapped her at the end of the hallway and grabbed and pinched her there hard. She choked at the memory, pulling away and clutching her loose bodice to her heart. She looked, and to her vast relief she saw Courtenay’s countenance again before her, puzzled and troubled. Arden burst into tears.

  Courtenay’s arms surrounded her again, but they were no longer predatory, only protective. “You poor dear,” he said soothingly. “You poor, poor darling.” The kindness in his tone made Arden sob even harder.

  “I know, Arden,” he crooned tenderly. “I know. Malley told me.” He kissed her hair as she buried her face in his chest. “It’s all right,” he continued. “You don’t have to fulfill our little bargain. I understand. And I won’t let anyone harm you, ever again.”

  Arden looked up at him. “But I must,” she told him, her voice steadying as she spoke. “It’s the only way I will ever be safe. Truly,” she added, seeing his hesitation. “If these thoughts, these horrors can be taken from me―I would have you be the one to deliver me.”

  “Are you sure, Arden?” One of his brows arched with his query, but his dark eyes were still clear with kindness.

  “I am certain.” She reached up, and traced the line of the arched brow with her fingertips, then caressed the rest of his face as though engraving its every line upon her senses.

  “Then you begin,” he replied.

  She closed her eyes to kiss him, and he stopped her.

  “No,” he said. “Look at me.”

  She obeyed him, grasping his logic at once. She kissed him slowly, again and again with those dark eyes smoldering into her own, anchoring her in the present day, in his present place. Yet gradually, as she began to warm to him again, he gently reclaimed the lead in their mutual exploration. After he gently tugged the sleeves of her gown back down, revealing more of her, he kept his hands behind her, stroking her back, massaging her shoulders softly with his fingers. First asking her leave with his eyes, he bowed his head to her breasts, spreading small kisses along their curves.

  The sensations he caused kept Arden from regretting no longer looking into his eyes. Even so, she reached for his hair, still held back by the ribbon that matched his brown velvet suit. She pulled the ribbon, and allowed her hands to caress the rich blackness, surprisingly soft and clean. She gasped again when his mouth reached and surrounded first one nipple, and then the other, but this time, she found herself completely immersed in the sight, sound, scent and sensation of him. Heat traveled in waves through her, radiating outward from the points at which his mouth touched her flesh. And somehow his actions had given rise to another fire as well ―with every gentle tug of his lips upon her, an answering quiver reverberated in Arden’s loins. Something down there was becoming as soft, moist, and open as a pink satin parasol in a fine spring rain.

  She could not stifle a low moan when Courtenay lifted his head from her breasts, but he took her hands and guided them to the fastenings of his shirt. She obeyed his silent command and removed the garments from the top half of his body. When this mystery had been unveiled to her, she could not stop herself from stroking his strong arms and shoulders and pushing her fingers through the short hairs that covered his chest. Nor did she stop until she had pressed her lips many times to his neck and the line of his collarbone.

  “Arden, you do want me,” Courtenay whispered in her ear, sending even more heat into her. His breath became heavier with each of her caresses.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I want you, Robert.”

  “To hear you say my name that way almost undoes me, love,” he said, crushing her against his chest while she felt his hands behind her, finishing the work already begun on her clothing. They both rose to facilitate her disrobing, and soon both her dress and her undergarments pooled at her feet. Arden stood before him in no more than her silk stockings. Courtenay released her just long enough to look upon her entire nakedness, and his deep dark eyes upon her flesh affected Arden much the way his lips had. She felt ready, if still somewhat timid, when he brought her hands down to the drawstrings of his breeches and the firm bulge she touched beneath them.

  Arden released, and gazed upon, her ruination. Her effect upon Lord Robert evident, a returning shiver of fear shook her as his manhood stood huge, ruddy, and rampant before her. Yet she instinctively reached her hand out to it. Then she stopped, turning the question upon her face up to his. He nodded confirmation, and again took her hand and guided it. What she felt beneath her palm and fingers was at once rigid and alive, and though she would not have thought it possible, it grew larger in her hand.

  Courtenay moaned low in his throat and eased her gently down upon the bed. Covering her, his lips found her breasts again, and Arden could feel his urgent member hard against her thigh. His hand, however, had traveled downward, and lightly rubbed her mons. She instinctively moved against his skilled fingers, and as he slipped one into her, he whispered hoarsely, “You are wet, love. You are almost ready.”

  He intensified his efforts, caressing both her inner walls and the pleasure button at their entrance. Her breath began coming in short, sharp pants when he eased another finger into her. “You must be ready, my Arden,” he whispered. “I do not wish to hurt you any more than is inevitable.”

 
Despite his reminder, Arden had now moved beyond fear. She strained against his body, yearning for some kind of release that she had not yet experienced and did not yet understand. Then, suddenly, his hand left her, and something much larger than two fingers nudged at her inner portal. She saw Courtenay’s face above hers now, dark eyes burning into her with even more desire than she had seen before. His voice echoed her intuition. “Arden, I do not know when I have wanted a woman so much.”

  His steady gaze held hers as he abruptly thrust into her. Arden stiffened at the brief, popping pain as her virginity ceased to be, but the small hurt mingled with the immense pleasure of being filled, and with the joy of hearing Courtenay’s own gasp of bliss as he buried himself in her.

  “There, darling, the worst is over now,” he said softly. He began moving upon her, thrusting gently at first, covering her mouth with his and entering her with his tongue as well. Then he paid court to her breasts again, sucking, nibbling. All the while, he kept up the marvelous rhythm―pushing in deep, then drawing himself almost out, then sliding in up to the hilt. “Come to meet me, Arden,” he pleaded, as he came back up to devour her lips, and Arden intuitively understood. She began thrusting her hips upward to meet his strokes, and she could not believe the sensations, the urgent heat that tore through her body, the sound of her own voice as she moaned her desires. “Oh, Robert, Robert, please!” she sighed, though she did not know exactly what she begged for. By now, Courtenay’s own sense of urgency was upon him and his strokes came faster and harder. Arden cried out her pleasure, which flooded her entire body. Then release burst upon her, and she went rigid with the explosions that racked her. The vortex which had her in its grip drew Courtenay in as well: “Arden, my love!” he cried breathlessly as he, too, first stiffened and then relaxed, spending inside her.

  Arden lay gathered in Courtenay’s arms, suffused with the greatest peace she had ever known. Soon, surrounded by strength and safety, she slept.

  Chapter Nine

  Arden hovered in the realm between sleep and waking, luxuriating in the touch of large, warm hands upon her naked body. As those hands moved upon her breasts, upon her inner thighs, warmth pervaded her, though she did not yet open her eyes. Then, sensing a sudden chill of solitude rather than physically feeling Courtenay leave the bed, she sighed and turned over, seeking a deeper stage of sleep. The spicy scent of gillyflowers, however, entered her nostrils and held her at the previous level.

  Those strong hands gently rolled Arden back over, so that her face and breasts pointed upwards again. By now, Courtenay’s weight had returned to the other side of his bed. The gillyflower smell intensified. Arden, still only half-conscious, realized it came from scented soap. She felt a warm, wet cloth being placed tenderly against her nether-regions, easing the soreness she shared with many former virgins before her.

  “Is that better, darling?” Courtenay whispered. He finished with the cloth, and Arden’s eyes finally flew open when he replaced it with his lips and tongue. The sensations seared her, yet were delicate and wickedly intense. Courtenay’s skill with his tongue matched his finesse in other methods, and he caressed Arden’s sensitive nub until her breathing came more and more quickly.

  “T-t-too much!” Arden gasped, as she shuddered in the grip of the second climax of her life. “No, stop! Please!” she cried, as Courtenay continued pleasuring her with his mouth.

  He obeyed, however, and hoisted himself up on his arms to look down into her face. “Would you prefer a more filling pleasure, my dear?” He waited a moment for Arden to catch her breath, then rolled over onto his back, pulling her atop him. “Did you ride much as a girl, Arden?” he asked, grinning broadly.

  Arden laughed. “I started to learn, but my father discouraged me after I took a few nasty spills.”

  “I have something to keep you from falling off this time, love,” Courtenay replied, chuckling. Arden had already felt the pressure of his hardened member on her inner thigh. She had not heard of this particular method, but she caught on rapidly, raising herself up to take him inside her. Despite her soreness, despite Courtenay's having just brought her to satisfaction, Arden began to fill with warmth and new desire. With Courtenay’s encouragement, she started moving upon him, amazed that her body could still hunger for him, and reveling in her sense of control. Though she could see the heat of his passion in his shining black eyes, he held on for her, waiting until Arden had collapsed upon his chest in another release before holding her tightly to himself and crying out his own completion.

  When Arden recovered, she looked again into her lover’s eyes, and thought she saw sadness there. He doesn’t want to leave me, she realized, and then suffered a few pangs of her own. He will take a chancy sea voyage before I may have him again. And perhaps by then he will have found other occupations.

  Her thoughts must have been visible, for Courtenay smiled at her. “Yes, it will be a long time,” he acknowledged. “But I know I will come back to you. Besides, there will be plenty to occupy you while I am at sea. You have your new apartments to furnish, and I am sure you will be a brilliant star of the stage by the time I return.”

  “But in the meantime, Arden sweet, I believe I promised you a hearty breakfast. We’ve earned it,” Courtenay chuckled, drawing Arden back into his arms. He pulled the bell-rope that hung at his side of the bed. “Now cover up, dear, Sam is very prompt.”

  Arden obeyed, pulling the bedclothes up to her neck. My, how brazen, having his man deliver breakfast to us in the very bed where we—. Yet though she took care for proper modesty, making sure she covered her nakedness, she did not feel particularly shamed by what she had just shared with Courtenay. When Sam brought them trays heaped with hot ham, eggs, toast, and cheese, Arden settled in to eat with little difficulty. She felt ravenous!

  As they consumed breakfast, Courtenay told her the location of her new apartments. “I hope you’ll like them. I’m sorry I can’t be here to help you settle in, but I’ll give you the address of my solicitor. He’ll see you get whatever furnishings you like, or if you want to change the draperies, or the color of the wall silks. Don’t hesitate to ask him for whatever you need or want. Do you have your servants picked out yet?”

  “Brian has a cousin who needs a job as a lady’s maid, but otherwise, I hadn’t thought,” Arden told him.

  “Well, I shan’t need my entire household here while I’m away; I’ll send some over to provide you decent service until you find your own.”

  Breakfast passed agreeably, almost domestically, but eventually it ended. “I’ll help you dress, and then I’ll see you down to my coach,” Courtenay told her. “I’ll send you for a quick view of your new home, then back to Davenant’s. It’s not quite ready for your habitation yet. I wish I could accompany you, but I really must ready myself for this journey. My ship leaves this afternoon.”

  This afternoon, thought Arden. I will be a mute royal attendant upon King Lear on stage this afternoon, when he sails away.

  Before he put Arden into his coach, Courtenay kissed her, long and lingering. “I would have you again,” he whispered, “but there is no time to do it properly.” Arden managed a chuckle at that, despite her odd sense of loss. Then he drew something out of one of his pockets. Moving more quickly than Arden could follow, he fastened the clasp of something around her wrist. When Courtenay withdrew his hands, Arden stared down at her diamond bracelet. “How did you—?” she demanded, but surprise robbed her of the rest of the question.

  “Never mind how, Arden dear. A beauty should never have to part with beautiful things.”

  Arden watched him through the window as the coach drove away, watched his tall, manly form recede from her vision. He did not turn back to his door while she could still see him.

  Chapter Ten

  The newly-kept woman found herself well satisfied with her new abode. She felt shy and ungrateful about changing anything, but Courtenay had assured her that she must follow her own pleasure. So Arden resolved to see his solicitor
the next day about having her bedchamber redone in various shades of lilac―something she had wanted ever since she could remember wanting. She arrived back at Davenant’s in time to walk with Brian to the theater.

  As she walked the London streets with her friend, Arden felt as if the globe had recently tilted on its axis. Of course the world now appeared safer, for she no longer feared Treadwell. The world had also, despite her recent introduction to one of its deeper mysteries, become stranger. Lovemaking had made Arden feel set apart. She looked at passers-by and wondered if they had ever experienced what she and Robert had. With some of the more grim countenances she met on the street, she sincerely doubted it. Oh, perhaps he or she had performed the act, but surely one who looked so sour could never, as Madame Davenant would say, have done it correctly! Thoughts such as these caused Arden to wonder. Surely a virtuous woman would not have them. Yet she began to think virtue might be relative, and that God might well forgive her human frailty. True, she no longer possessed her maidenhood. And she had not traded it for honorable marriage. Still, virtue might be practiced within her station―she would be true to the man who kept her, as long as he desired her. That, Arden already knew, would be easy enough. Robert Courtenay had, with his eyes, his voice, and his body, claimed her flesh for his own, and she could want no other.

  Fortunately, Brian still treated her well. They greeted each other somewhat awkwardly, but their mutual shyness wore off as they walked. Except for a concerned inquiry as to her well-being, Brian never asked her about the crux of the event. He did ask how she liked her new apartments, and he offered to talk to his cousin after the play.

  When they got to the theater, they began rehearsing. As she had predicted, Davenant assigned Arden to be one of the attendants―there being only three major female roles in King Lear. Her part proved better than she’d hoped. She played a servant within the household of the Duke of Cornwall, one who actually speaks a line after the Duke receives his mortal wound. Besides, Davenant also told her to learn the lines for Cordelia, in case Kitty Brinks could not make all three performances.