The fiery redhead gave Joshua a brisk smile before she moved toward the kitchen.
“Fi, don’t be rude to our guest. I’m sure he’d like to meet you. This is Charles Dabenow, an old friend of mine from London.”
Fiona curtsied as the man turned around to eye her. “Sorry to cause you such trouble last night, miss, ‘friad I was a bit overdone.”
He had a charming smile that Fiona readily dismissed as insincere. She could think of nothing to say. “Shall I make you breakfast?” she addressed both men.
Joshua looked strangely befuddled by her attitude. “Please,” he said, and Fiona scooted out the door.
Some minutes later, Joshua joined her in the kitchen.
“Don’t sneak up on me,” she said, whipping around to face his exuberant grin.
“You’re still angry,” he acknowledged, amused by her mood, as if observing a young child in the midst of a temper.
“As well I should be, Joshua Kane!” She said no more, busying herself with breakfast.
“Do I owe you some report?” he asked, kindly.
“Oh, you gave me yours last night,” she reminded him. She wasn’t often a haughty woman, though now she was.
“But you’re not satisfied?” Joshua asked.
“I have no right to be otherwise,” she said. She was putting biscuits into the hot oven.
“But still, I’ve upset you, let’s be out with it,” he insisted.
Fiona turned and stared him down, not knowing exactly where to begin with her fury—and fury it was welling up inside her again.
“I was worried sick over you, when you weren’t home. It was three o’clock, sir, when you told me you’d be home at sunset. And then, you take your pleasure with me, give me no comfort at all, treat me as a servant, ready to do your friend’s bidding, while he’s destroyed my room, mud everywhere. I’ll take all of that, but I don’t like it!” She turned back to her work.
“Is that all?” he asked.
She whipped around again.
“NO! I don’t like the foul way your breath smelled! Now, I thank you to leave me to my work.” She pushed by him, to fetch more eggs.
The blacksmith had never seen her quite like this. She was rather arousing when she was in a stew. Her cheeks flashed as brightly as her red hair. He supposed that she was likely right. He’d treated her shabbily, though he was not one to tussle with an angry women. Let her be angry and cool down, then perhaps they’d talk.
Walking back into the sitting room, he joined his friend.
Mr. Charles Dabenow stayed two days. For two days Fiona remained aloof to Joshua’s kind overtures, and yet he was so engrossed in conversation with his guest, that he often forgot Fiona altogether. He was certainly not attuned to her moods.
Both nights when he came to bed very late, she pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t lay a hand on her, expecting something she didn’t want to give. The first night he tried to rouse her, but she wouldn’t respond. The second night he didn’t even try. It was annoying, but Joshua would not press her, assuming her upset would die away when Charles was gone.
However, when Mr. Dabenow finally left, Fiona was still fuming, hardly speaking a word to her blacksmith lover. She remained efficient keeping house, but she had no desire to warm to him in the chill of the night. Her emotions were at a fragile edge.
“Fiona!” Joshua bellowed at her, when he saw her trying to slip off upstairs just after dinner, the first night they were alone again.
“Sir.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m tired, I thought I might clean my room, and then go to bed.”
“You’ll talk to me first,” he informed her. “Come here.” He was having to make much more effort than he wanted to gain her attention. For the moment, he’d be patient, but his patience was wearing thin. She padded silently to his side and stood beside him, her expression as vacant as she could make it.
“Good God! Sit down, will you!”
She took her seat across from him, though she sat at the edge of the chair, as if this would be a brief and formal interview.
“Would you like to explain yourself,” Joshua asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said in clipped careful words.
“Excuse me,” he roared much too loudly considering how close they were to each other. “You’ve been arrogant, sassy and rude. You put me off in bed twice with no explanation, and I sense you will again, if you have your way. But that will not happen without some reason.”
Fiona thought for some time while she averted his constant gaze.
“Look at me,” he demanded. Joshua, for all his brusque manner, had never treated her so sternly.
Perhaps she owed him an explanation, but there was nothing on her lips to speak. Instead, tears were welling in her eyes.
“Out with it,” he insisted, though seeing her tears he softened his command with a little tenderness. He didn’t like women crying, not at all.
“You brought me to this place, I am your lover, but what more?” she said.
He looked as if he didn’t understand.
“I felt compromised while your friend was here. I know you’ve taken me in when I was very much in need. I’ve become your lover willingly, and I serve your needs in this home as I can; but I felt you flaunted our indecent relationship in front of Mr. Dabenow. I beg for your respect, and all it seems I get is your demands. How do I know you regard me as anything but a common whore?”
Joshua would never strike a woman; even as much as he was tempted this time. Her speech made him cringe with instantaneous anger.
“You should know how high my regard is for you. I’m furious to think you find me disrespectful.” His eyes flared.
She shrunk back, as the tears flowed liberally.
“But … “ he calmed. “I’d rather you make your feelings known to me, than hide them away for them to smolder like the fire in my forge.
“I can’t help how I feel, though it’s difficult for me to admit it. After everything kind that you’ve done for me.”
“I do those things because I care for you deeply, Fiona, like I’ve never cared for any woman. Do not doubt my faithfulness to you.”
His speech was sincere, and Fiona smiled.
“But … “ he looked straight into her lovely green eyes, “no more talk of returning to your room. You have a room. My room. You’ll move all your things there tonight. And if we go to bed early, we go together.”
He was adamant, and Fiona was responding. She wanted to be cared for like this, and the blacksmith’s compelling message made her feel safe again.
The raging wilds of carnal need were abruptly stripped of all restraint. Her body rushed as her desire was set free, so much so, she might have attacked him herself. She missed him so! Pulling herself off the chair, she moved toward him, ending up on the floor at his feet, her head in his lap, her hands on his thighs. Just to relish this fine feeling of return was enough for a few moments, but it would not be enough for either one of them that night.
Joshua’s pulled her to his lap with a gentle grace, and she sat on his firm thighs, feeling the warmth she knew so well encompass them both, as if there was nothing in the whole wide world but the two of them.
Starting with the high necked bodice of her dress, he took one button at a time, each one slipped away uncovering more pink white skin beneath. She was still crying, a lot of tears in the full well to be dispensed with, though her body need was soon supplanting her need to weep. When his hand reached in to find her breasts, he withdrew it bringing a soft pink nipple to his mouth.
Such tenderness! Fiona thought to herself.
Such soft flesh! Joshua mused.
How he’d come to rely on her fragrant body to please him! Had he been so self-absorbed? Less than attentive to her? Likely, he answered himself. He admired her wit, not her methods, but at least her temper had shown that Fiona was strong-willed enough a woman to match his passionate brand of life, and his penchant for good sex.
Making a spur of the moment decision, he pushed her from his lap. “Put some water on to boil,” he said.
“Sir?”
“Don’t ask, just do it,” he demanded. “And then bring some drying towels, and some of that perfumed oil I brought back from my trip.
Fiona had almost forgotten his gift. The vial of scented oil came to her so unceremoniously, it was like all the other half-hearted gestures of the past few days. She scurried to boil water, then raced to their room and found the small blue bottle he wanted. Pulling off the cork, she took a whiff of the perfumed ethers.
By the warmth of the fire, Joshua made a bath for her. Pulling from the kitchen the large wash tub, he filled it with cold and hot water, until they blended into a perfect temperature for soothing her skin. A few drops of oil made the water feel like silk.
After undressing her, she sat like a princess in the tub while Joshua bathed her, running a sponge over her breasts and shoulders and down her back. She rose to her knees when he wanted to wash the sweat and grime of her life from her thighs and rear. His hands cupped the water to wash away the soap, and then he toyed with the finer part of her womanhood, his fingers slipping inside her slippery hole.
Joshua cast away his breeches and his long white shirt, and brought his body to her naked backside, flesh to flesh; the soft pouch between his thighs reacted to Fiona’s body, especially her rear mounds as they pressed into him.
“Ah, my love,” she whimpered, when his hands went around her, dropping to her cunt, then rising to her breasts. The eagerness in them both mounted.
He pushed the tub away and pulled a rug and a soft blanket to a space before the fire, where they dropped down to the cushioned floor, locking front to front. Joshua grabbed her ass end, now so mellow to his hand’s touch. Pulling himself deep inside her opening body, he thought if he went any further, they would both melt away into just one writhing creature.
The fire sparked like the heat of their bodies, as they made love before the blazing flames. The heat dried away the dampness, and then raised a sensuous burn on their skin to match the heat that surfaced in their groping bodies. They were side by side, rocking in a smooth unison. Fiona had never felt so filled. It seemed Joshua’s cock was expanding even as it moved briskly inside her. When he grabbed her ass, she screamed joyously at the sharp jolts. Another squeeze, another jolt, and they rolled over so she was straddling his body, suddenly teasing him with a playful cunt.
“Don’t torment me!” Joshua bellowed.
“Like you tormented me? You bloody ass!” A wicked gleam shined from her eyes.
“You naughty wench,” he snickered back, and they rolled over again, his stronger body taking charge. Now he was on top staring down at her.
“You won’t deny me ever!” he announced.
She shot back with a taunting grin. “Only if you act like a bastard!”
He rode her to a peak of pleasure, both hers and his. She felt his climax crescendo, and then the release, and then her own. It was a welcome heaven being with him again.
“You’ve calmed me, sir,” she said.
“Damn well better,” he answered. “And you don’t need tears again,” he assured her, even as they were forming in her eyes. This time they were tears of gratitude.
“I’m thankful to you, Joshua Kane.”
“I know that,” he replied. “And so am I to you.”
Chapter Seven
“Put on your bonnet and your best dress!” Joshua announced one morning some weeks later.
Fiona looked up from her early kitchen chores, shocked by the announcement.
“We’re going to town,” he explained.
“We are?”
“I think you need to get away from here for a day,” he explained further.
For months, the quiet seclusion of their lives had cast a spell about Fiona. She felt as if she lived in world apart, seeing so little of anything but her brawny blacksmith, his well-polished kitchen, and his grand and pleasant bed. She wasn’t sure whether to be glad or fearful. But, she was indeed excited about the unexpected excursion.
Joshua pulled a small carriage from the barn, and it surprised Fiona, who was used to seeing her lover on horseback. He took on a much more landed aspect, something more respectable about him than when he rode the tall back stallion that was such a match for his own fierce nature.
Fiona was as skittish as a new kitten, riding at his side into public places where she’d never been before, places beyond the valley and the village where she’d lived her whole life. She’d seen so little of the world, it was strange now making this trip, though she was comforted having Joshua at her side.
The two stopped at a tavern near noon time for a meal, and they talked and laughed together over a thick fish chowder. They even had a draft of some brew that made Fiona’s nose tickle and her head swim a little dizzily. It felt like a holiday, though Fiona had never had one, and didn’t know how she should feel. The excitement made her giddy, and her mind ran free, as she gazed on wider horizons and more lush pastures than she’d ever known.
In the small busy town, Fiona found shops the likes of which she’d never seen before. In one, a skilled tailor fitted her for a lovely new and fancy dress.
“Why this?” she asked Joshua, as a dozen pins and ten fingers poked at her side during the tailor’s careful measurement.
“Stand still, Fi,” Joshua ordered her when she got too jumpy for the tailor to work.
She wasn’t much calmer afterwards but the fitting was soon over.
“You never answered my question,” she said, as they were leaving the small shop.
“What’s that?” he asked, forgetting.
“Why such a fine dress? I have no place to wear one.”
“But perhaps you will have,” he suggested vaguely. “I was thinking that you’re too sheltered, and need to get out more.”
Fiona thought about this, unsure exactly what he meant; but by that time, they’d reached a dry goods store, and the conversation died away until she could press him later.
Once inside the shop, Joshua left her with a list of things they needed, while he went on to do business down the street.
“Fifteen minutes, Fiona. That should be enough time,” he told her.
She felt awkward in this place, much bigger than any store she’d ever seen. Thrusting the list at the clerk, she asked for some assistance and the man was kind to find the goods for her. “Mr. Kane hasn’t been in here for months,” he told her.
“No, he hasn’t,” she agreed with a smile, unaccustomed to light conversation.
Two women at the back of the store were whispering to one another, which Fiona ignored until one hushed but shrill voice interrupted her perusal of the fascinating shop.
“Yes, she’s Mr. Kane’s whore, been living under that roof with him months now. Mr. Dabenow says they share the same bed…”
The rest of the statement was drowned by Fiona’s head pounding feverishly. “Whore,” the judgment stuck in her heart, erasing all the excitement she’d been feeling all day long. Without waiting for the purchases, she raced from the store, dashing down the street in the direction of Joshua’s carriage, finding herself bumping into the blacksmith as she did.
“You’ve seen a ghost!” he exclaimed, seeing her ashen face.
“No.” She had no words to explain.
“Where’s the purchases?”
“I forgot them.”
“Then let’s go back.
“No!” She was adamant.
“What’s gotten into you?” His hands were at both shoulders, his eyes inspecting her face that had gone from pale as a white sheet, to flushed and anxious.
She didn’t want to tell him. The word would stick in her throat even if she tried to say it. It was certainly not spoken as the term of endearment Joshua sometimes used affectionately when they were in bed. This was a stinging judgment.
Joshua pulled her around in his arms, trying to lead her back to
the store. She refused to go. Wriggling away from him, she climbed aboard the carriage to wait.
“Fiona!” His voice was sharp. He was standing next to her beside the carriage, fixing an eye on her sullen face.
“They called me a whore,” she whispered.
“Who?” His eyes narrowed
“I don’t know who they were, but I’ll not be called that. They knew your Mr. Dabenow, he must have told them how we were living together. I will not go back into that shop. Don’t try to make me.”
Joshua could see he would not change her mind, so he left her side, returning to the dry goods store to get their things.
On the way home, Fiona would not say a word. Joshua tried making conversation, but she was happier to rest her head back against the seat and close her eyes, closing him out of her thoughts, and the distress he could feel churning inside her.
They stopped again for dinner, at the same tavern where they’d been before, where Joshua could finally go eye to eye with the young woman, across a table and two plates of lamb stew.
“You can’t keep mum forever,” he began.
“No,” she conceded. She toyed with her food as she looked up at him through an unruly mass of red curls. “I often think I’m living in a dream,” she said sadly. “I live with you as your wife, but I am not. Those women in the store were right. I am an indecent woman. And now, you’d take me into a wide social world? Buying that dress! What do you want to do, show me off as the harlot I’ve become!”
She didn’t want to cry, though the tears were still there.
“I should have considered this before,” Joshua said. “And I apologize for it Fiona McTavish. There is only one apt solution to resolve it.” Joshua had already made up his mind on the ride from town.
Fiona’s heart was sinking fast, knowing it was over, all the rapture of these months, all the fine bliss. It was never meant to last. She’d be sent to the vicarage, or some worse fate.
“Look at me, my love, and don’t cry,” the blacksmith said to her kindly. His eyes warmed her, thought she was afraid of the message he’d deliver. “What’s past is past. I cannot change that, but we’ll be married within a fortnight, and all this talk will cease.”
In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith Page 16
