by Claire Cray
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, William.”
“I’m not uncomfortable, sir,” I whispered, trembling as his thumb circled my navel through the linen. Then I gasped as he suddenly laid his hand between my legs. “Oh, God forgive me…” I whispered in a rush as my erection jumped in his hand.
“You’re right, William,” he murmured. “It’s only natural.” He gently squeezed me through the linen. “But this constant tension is a drain on your constitution.”
I let out a breath when he released me, then stiffened when his hand slipped beneath the hem of my night shirt. He dragged his knuckles softly up my inner thigh, over my balls and up the length of my shaft, and I swore beneath my breath when he rubbed a finger over the swollen tip, smearing the moisture there. “Christ, please, I…” I could hardly think, much less form words. “Oh, stop, sir, before you think me…” My body shuddered as he stroked me up and down, and I turned my head, pressing my knuckles to my mouth as my other hand fumbled for his wrist to stop him.
“Before I think what?” Merrick whispered close to my ear, his hand moving along my shaft and over the damp, sensitive tip with calm efficiency.
I meant to stop him, but grasping his strong wrist in my hand somehow only increased my feverish state; and then, to my horror, a greedy moan broke from my lips. Tension was gathering between my hips, pulling at every extremity of my body, thrumming in my bones. I was shifting, my legs moving restlessly on the bed. I had no protests left. My hand moved from his wrist, groping for a more secure hold, and found his muscular shoulder.
“It’s all right, William,” he whispered.
The agonizing, needful tension that had been building within my body finally broke, and I felt like water spilling over the edge of a cliff. My body arched, my head thrown back as the pleasure poured through me in a rush of unfathomable relief.
I only became conscious of my own breathless cries as they faded into moans, and silenced myself as best I could. As I struggled to catch my breath, my hand slipped from Merrick’s shoulder and fell to lie on the mattress against his knee.
My body felt as limp as a pool of silk. My thoughts were obliterated. Even in the wake of my release I felt I was drifting through the darkness on slow waves of pleasure…
Chapter 8
When I woke up, Merrick was gone. It was dawn.
I sat up with a jolt, remembering the night before almost immediately. Had I really gone to sleep the moment after? I tossed the blankets back and lifted my nightshirt.
I was clean.
My head was filled with my own heartbeat for a few moments.
I had dreamed it. That was it. Blessed God, I had dreamed it.
Or had I? A streak of doubt twisted my stomach and I looked around for some sign. Unsurprisingly, there was no clue to help me. Why would there be?
Of course I had dreamed it. Merrick would not have done such a thing. It wouldn’t make sense – so easily, so suddenly! And if it had happened, there was no way I would have simply drifted off to sleep as soon as it was over. No! In real life, I would have lain awake in sheer agony, my thoughts racing until dawn.
And besides, there was no sign of it on my body. No stain on my skin or night shirt.
I exhaled softly, cautiously letting in a sense of relief.
But…
What if he had cleaned me up himself?
My stomach turned. Oh, God. Wouldn’t that make just as much sense? For Merrick was unfailingly courteous, and in fact, hadn’t I found release, in any case, whether waking or sleeping? Wouldn’t there be some sign, either way, if no one had got rid of the evidence?
I felt a cold knot of dread forming in my stomach.
Right. I closed my eyes, grim. Hypothetically, if it had happened, how bad was it?
A chorus of my own hungry moans echoed through my ears and the incident came back to me in a rush that doubled me over, my face in flames. I hissed a string of vulgar oaths under my breath.
What could have driven him to do it? Could he not have foreseen how his act of pity would have left me humiliated?
I clutched my hair, willfully calming myself by the steady pound of my pulse.
Reason. Stick to reason.
No. Merrick would not have done something like that.
It was absurd to even think of it. No man touched another man like that so casually.
The more obvious likelihood, by far, was that my frustrated body – strung impossibly tight by these two weeks without any stimulation – had found its own release in a dream. And by some random fluke, there had been no real emission. All the better.
That was it.
Surely.
A commotion from the front of the cottage dragged me suddenly from my fretting. I rose quickly and dressed even faster, tripping and hitting the floor in the process.
When I finally made it to the front of the house, Merrick was standing outside in his robe seeing off a horse that galloped quickly down the road. He turned to me.
“Hope Smith is delivering early in Mayriver,” he said. “I’ll need your help.”
I blinked as he went past me into the house, then hurried after him, ready for instruction. “Don’t they have midwives in the village?” I asked.
“They have one, and she is busy. Watch what I gather.” He said the name of each thing he picked up for his satchel, as though there were any chance I would remember it all in this state. I nodded dutifully and followed him outside.
Weather was suddenly there, of course, waiting for him. I watched Merrick mount the horse and almost didn’t register it when he held his hand out to me.
“Behind me,” he said. “Hold on tightly.”
I ducked my head, remembering the feeling of his muscled shoulder in my grip the night before, and clumsily got onto the horse behind him. When I put my hands to his waist, he impatiently reached down to pull my arms completely around him. Flush against his back, I closed my eyes for half the ride and tried not to think of what had happened the night before – whether I’d dreamed it or not.
Chapter 9
Mayriver was a gloomy little village to my eye, though to its credit it was neat and well-populated. I saw a couple of charming young women, but no more than a couple, and people for the most part looked solemn and surly. Perhaps it was the foggy weather. But even with twice the fog, I imagined Merrick’s odd little cottage in the woods would be more welcoming than this lonely settlement any day.
Hope Smith was a lovely young woman in a great deal of pain. I understood nothing that went on in that horrible room other than the screams and convulsions of the poor girl as she strained to eject her miserable-looking little miracle. The whole way through I thought how glad I was to be a man, and of how wretched we were for taking this terrifying act for granted. I could hardly believe it when young Hope, damp and exhausted on the bed, had the peace and poise to speak to the women in the room, and to Merrick. She clasped his leather glove and thanked him tearfully before he bid her goodbye.
A crowd of young women were waiting to speak to him in the main room. Some were ready with inquiries and entreaties. A few whispered and passed him notes. He patiently bowed his head to each as he moved in his feeble shuffle towards the door, speaking quietly to a few. I wondered if any of them would be showing up late one night for a special dose of tea.
Staying behind for awhile to speak with Hope’s mother, Merrick sent me into the general store for a few groceries. I approached the counter in a daze and made my requests.
“Just come from Hope Smith’s, have ye?”
I looked at the old grocer and nodded numbly.
“All’s well?”
I nodded.
The grocer chuckled. “First time?” He smiled at my nod and let me be.
I still hadn’t spoken when we got back to the cottage at nightfall. I made tea at Merrick’s bidding and sat at the table with my cup, staring blankly into the steam.
“Might I gather that the birth made an impression on you?�
� Merrick asked at last, sipping his tea in the corner. He had removed his cloak on returning to the house.
I shook my head slightly. At last I remarked, my voice still full of astonishment, “The things expected of women!”
“Yes,” Merrick said slowly, and I found a rueful look in his eye. “Indeed.”
I couldn’t help recalling the many boastful stories I’d heard from men who found their joy in seducing servant girls. How cruel it seemed now. “Have you lost any of them?”
“No.”
“Why, you must be in great demand, then.”
“It depends on the family. Most prefer women for the tasks involved, and some girls find my appearance frightful.”
“It is a bit Death-like,” I admitted, then looked at him with wide eyes. “Pardon my saying so…”
He laughed softly. “I know,” he agreed. “But it encourages people to leave me alone, and my options are limited anyway.” After a moment he added, “I am rather sensitive to the sunlight.”
I raised my eyebrows, then remembered not to look too interested. That made sense, I supposed.
I had considered the possibility that he was some sort of vampire. I’d heard tales of them. Yet, he was awake in the day, wasn’t he? And whose blood would he be drinking, here in the middle of nowhere? I supposed there were other types of immortals who could not bear the sunlight.
Besides, most importantly, vampires were said to be hideously ugly, with razor-sharp teeth and fetid breath. Merrick was…well, he wasn’t hard to look at, and I had a feeling his breath smelled of mint tea.
“Are you not frightened by me?” Merrick asked after a peaceful silence.
“No, sir.”
“You seem remarkably at peace with the idea that I am not human.”
That was a fair point. “Well,” I said slowly. “I must accept facts. There’s no denying something is out of the ordinary with you. You’ve been in this area and practicing for forty years. You ought to look old, but you don’t. And there was the cut on my hand. No getting around that one.”
He seemed vaguely amused. “Anything else?”
“Well, there was that resin you burned to make me speak honestly. I could dismiss that on its own as the natural magic of botany, I suppose, but along with the rest, it’s a little suspicious.” I paused. “And then there’s that horse. How does she always come around when you need her?”
Merrick tilted his head as though surprised, and then a smile spread over his features. “I whistle for her, William.”
I blinked, and then felt a little stupid. “Oh.” I thought it over for a moment with a frown. “Aren’t horses kept tied up?”
“Many are. But she stays near her food and her comfortable stable.”
“Oh. Then it’s not the work of some charm.”
“I didn’t say that, exactly,” he admitted.
Hmm. “You said you’re not a human anymore,” I said. “What does that mean? Did you give up your soul?”
“I don’t believe so.”
I wished he’d tell me just what he was, but I supposed I was lucky he seemed willing to let me try and figure it out. He was truly a teacher by nature. Or maybe he simply thought that if I wasn’t clever enough to solve his riddles, I didn’t deserve the answers. That was fair enough.
Anyway, it wasn’t like there was much else to do out in this isolated cave-cottage but put my mind to a puzzle.
“Two hundred and eighty-two,” I pondered. “That means you were born in…1517?” I watched him nod. “In England? Under Henry VIII?”
“That’s right.”
What a thought that was. “And is this the body you had when you became what you are now?”
“Yes. I was twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three,” I mused. “Are you a ghost?” I asked curiously. “Have you died?”
Merrick set his book aside and folded his hands, looking at me. “Do you take me in jest?”
I straightened, surprised. “No, sir! Have I offended you?”
“No, William. But I cannot comprehend your demeanor. Are you not disturbed by the thought of speaking with a walking corpse?”
I frowned, thinking about it. “No,” I said at last, puzzled myself. “No, I suppose I’m not.”
“And if I were a witch, that would not disturb you?”
“No, sir. As I’ve told you, my own mother does things that could be called witchcraft. Like all the Indians. I’ve carried plenty of charms in my life,” I added, though I couldn’t remember having admitted that to anyone.
“And if I had no soul?”
“Master Merrick,” I said helplessly. “If you intended to frighten me, you should not have been so kind. You’ve made a fine impression on me already, so I don’t mind if you’re a witch, wizard, or ghoul. I have no particular prejudices against any of them.”
Merrick studied me, then shook his head in defeat and opened his book. “You are an interesting young man, William Lacy.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that, but the way he said it warmed my heart a little. I hoped he did find me interesting. “Did you like England, sir?”
He looked up again, raising his eyebrow. “No,” he said. “I was poor, and it was a cruel place then. I left as soon as I could.”
“Why did you come to the New World?”
“Because I had always wanted to.” Merrick closed his book and rose from his chair. As I watched, worried that I had annoyed him, he came and sat on the bench beside me. “What’s this you’re reading?”
“It fascinates me so,” I remarked. The book was a directory of local herbs and their Indian uses, with intricate drawings of each plant as well as some delightful illustrations of Indian scenes. Interspersed throughout were sections on beliefs and magical practices. “And it is a lovely book, finely made…”
“There is still much to learn from the Indians,” Merrick said quietly, looking over my shoulder at the page. “It’s a shame what knowledge will be lost as the nation moves westward.”
He smelled like cedar and soap, a familiar scent by now and one I had grown very fond of. I couldn’t help remembering then how we’d bathed the day before in the lean-to. Ah, I remembered. I ought to reply. “Yes,” I agreed, and propped my chin on my hand thoughtfully as I looked down at a drawing of a woman in a leather dress holding a feathered wand aloft. “I’d like to see an Indian. On their land, I mean. That is…”
“I’m sure you will meet them.” He turned the page.
“Do you ever treat the Indians?”
“Not here. But we trade. They are fond of a certain tea of mine.”
“Which one?”
“An aid to marital passion.”
“I always wondered what was in those,” I mused. “And if they worked.”
He turned the page. After a moment he rose and moved behind me in the kitchen, pouring another cup of tea. “I will be in the cavern.”
I turned to look at him. “Is there anything I ought to do, sir?”
He stopped in the bedroom doorway. The straight line of his collarbone caught the lamplight, and his black hair gleamed. “No, William. Retire when you’d like. And thank you for your help today.”
“No thanks needed, sir,” I replied. “Goodnight.”
Before I got into bed, I padded to the covered doorway at the rear of the room. The hide covering the opening was soft and heavy, but a faint, cool draft escaped the seams. I curiously lifted the edge to peek inside.
The leather covered a narrow crevice in the rock that began a dark passageway sloping gently down and then disappearing around a corner. No light was inside except what came from my own candlestick.
I dropped the leather with a shiver. How far away was Merrick? What was there with him?
Returning to the bed, I felt completely spooked. I looked around the quiet room with sheepish anxiety, hoping Merrick wasn’t too far, and that there were no ghouls between us. I didn’t mind if he was one, but at that moment I wasn’t interested in meeting an
y others.
I snuffed the candle and lay back, sighing.
I was back in the bed.
It felt like my brain tried to pick up right where I’d left off, thinking about the night before. But I’d all but concluded it was just a dream. I pushed it all out of mind as best I could, though it was hard to ignore the memory of how powerful the dream had been – how I’d never felt something like that before.
Enough!
I put my hand over the source of my trouble, as if that would prevent anything. This was getting exhausting. It certainly couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, I’d get used to Merrick, and to the fact that there were no girls around. My body would settle down, and I’d forget all about these strange little urges.
Sooner or later.
Chapter 10
I woke up to the sounds of crows and the sensation of smooth, cool skin beneath my cheek.
Oh, no.
Merrick was gently extricating himself from my arms.
Oh, no.
Blinking in bewilderment as the man slipped out of my embrace and left me with one arm reaching across his side of the bed where it seemed his chest had been, I was too stunned to move a muscle before he left the room.
Oh, God. How long had I had my arms around him?
My eyes felt funny, and I shut them tightly. True, embarrassment on this level was worth a tear or two, but I didn’t need to feel any worse about my manliness.
For God’s sake, how much humiliation was I going to put myself through?
Merrick was in his chair when I slowly came out of the room, and greeted me as normal.
“Good morning,” I mumbled, and cleared my throat. I served myself my breakfast and sat across from him.
“We’ll be journeying on foot today.” He leaned back in his chair and took a drink of tea. “There may be mushrooms to gather near the creek.”
I nodded, finding it still a bit hard to speak through my embarrassment.
We set out on a different path from the one I usually took, one that led us through the damp savannah and into denser forest.
