by P. N. Elrod
“It’s different from home in ways that I had never imagined,” I said truthfully.
The coach lurched forward. The noise of the wheels made quiet talk impossible so Mrs. Poole found it necessary to raise her voice to continue her conversation with me. Nora contributed little herself, content to simply watch with her bright eyes. This, of course, made it difficult for me to hold up my end, as my thoughts were constantly wandering back to her. By the time the coach rocked to a final stop, my mind was in a particularly unsettled state.
A footman opened the door and assisted the ladies out. He was a young, handsome fellow with a cool demeanor, a trait he shared with the driver and the other footmen. All were in matched livery and carried themselves with quiet pride. For the first time since the practice was forced upon me, my offered vail was politely refused.
At a word from Nora, I followed her up the steps to the wide doors of her house. Within, all was clean and orderly and in careful good taste. I glimpsed a dozen paintings and sculptures decorating the front hall, booty from her tour of the continent, perhaps. I had no time to ask, for Mrs. Poole took my hand.
“The party has quite worn me out. You’ll please excuse me, Mr. Barrett, if I retire now?”
I did so with mild surprise, but the lady favored me with another sweet smile and went upstairs accompanied by a maid. All the footmen magically disappeared. Nora and I were happily alone.
“I’m sorry about the interruption,” she said. “I could hardly leave my aunt behind at the Bolyns’.”
“It’s all right, but I confess I am puzzled by her attitude. All of this puzzles me.”
“What, that a lady should bring a man home as I’ve done with you?”
“Well, yes.”
“And yet if a man brings home a lady, no one thinks much on it.”
She certainly had a point.
“Now, if a lady is so inclined, should she not be allowed the same freedom as a man?”
“I suppose. . .” I glanced toward the wide stairs where Mrs. Poole had taken herself.
Nora took my hand in two of hers. “Put your mind at rest, dear Jonathan. My aunt and I have a perfect understanding of one another on such matters, as do my servants. My only demand of you is your discretion. May I rely on it?”
I could not blurt my answer to that one out fast enough.
“Very well, then. Now . . . would you like to see my bedroom?”
Strangely, it was on the ground floor, but by the time we reached it I was out of breath, as though we’d run up several flights of stairs. The air seemed scarce once more. My chest was tight and my knees trembled with an intriguing mixture of fear, anticipation and lust. Nora was aware of this and enjoyed her effect on me, but in a sympathetic manner. She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before pushing open her door.
She drew me into a room decorated for delight. Candles were everywhere, burning away with a supreme lack of thrift to turn night into day. Each added its small warmth to what was being produced by the fireplace, comfortably dispelling any chill that might have lingered from our drive over.
The walls were papered halfway up with Oriental-looking flowers on a dark pink background. The ample bed was draped with embroidered tapestries to match, and the sheets—when I got close enough to touch them—were of ivory-colored silk and scented with rose. A special recess in one wall opposite the bed held a lovely and striking portrait of Nora, wearing antique clothes.
“It is very like you,” I said. “What was the purpose of the costume?”
“A whim of the artist. He was very talented, but eccentric.”
“Did he love you?”
“How did you guess?”
“Anyone seeing this work would know.”
Her lips curled in a smile that any man might die for, and I found my arms going around her, drawing her tightly to me. We resumed the kisses begun an age ago in the maze.
“Slowly, Jonathan, slowly,” she cautioned. “This is a special time for you. Don’t let it go by so fast that you’ll not remember what was done.”
I laughed at that impossibility. With her help and encouragement—for I won’t deny that I was nervous and shy—we began the lengthy and fascinating necessity of removing one another’s clothes. As things progressed, I discovered a hundred places other than her mouth where a kiss might be joyfully applied. As for my first sight of a naked woman, I admitted some surprise at the silky fluff between her legs. I’d been misled by the lines in the Song of Solomon where the bride’s own charms were compared to jewels. The reality Nora possessed was hardly a disappointment, though, and certainly worthy of careful exploration.
“Heavens,” she said in turn when the last of my things dropped away “I have chosen an eager stallion. Gently now, we’ll find a place to stable him in good time.”
This did not take long, fortunately, for I was almost to the point where I had to have release or go mad from the waiting. But Nora had grown warm enough under my hands and mouth to be in a similar state of near-bliss. She gave a soft, happy cry as I went in and held the small of my back so hard as to nearly break it as we traveled from near-bliss to its totality in a few swift moments.
When I finally caught my breath, when the sweat on my temples cooled and dried, when my heart stopped thundering between my ears, when my eyes rolled down to their proper place and I could see Nora beneath me, her head thrown back on the pillows, I knew that I was helplessly and hopelessly and forever in love with her.
Unable and unwilling to stop, I began kissing her again.
* * *
“You are so very beautiful,” she said, repeating her earlier judgment. She teased my hair with gentle fingers.
I pulled them down to my lips and nibbled at them. It seemed the thing to do.
“And vigorous, too. Midnight’s just gone by; are you not yet tired?”
“Never,” I mumbled. “I shall always be ready and waiting for you.”
Something like a shadow flowed over her face, but vanished before it could take hold. “Of course you will, but wouldn’t you like something to strengthen you first?”
Since she’d awakened the idea, I realized I’d worked up a tremendous appetite in the last few hours of activity. Disengaging from my grasp, she slid from the bed and crossed to a table holding several covered plates.
“Some cold meats and cheese?” she asked. “Some wine?”
Trailing after her, I wouldn’t have cared if it were stale water and weevil-infested ship’s biscuits. She saw to it that everything was within easy reach and watched while I ate.
“You must have something for yourself,” I said.
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
As the food took the edge off the worst of my hunger and the wine made its way to my head, a dark thought began to curl unpleasantly through my mind.
“You’ve done this often before,” I pronounced.
“What do you mean?”
“The servants being so well rehearsed, your aunt’s cooperation, this all ready and waiting. . ..” I gestured at the table.
“Yes. That is true, Jonathan.”
“Who were they?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? You’re the one here now. I only rarely ask anyone to come home with me as I’ve done with you.”
“And who will be here the next time?”
“Please listen and understand, Jonathan.” Her mouth hardened slightly and her eyes snapped. “Listen.”
I felt myself instantly sinking into their darkness.
“Please listen to me. . . .”
And I did. And I tried to understand.
She loved me, but she loved others, too, and would continue to seek them out. That was her nature and she wasn’t going to change for my sake or for anyone else’s. However, she could not abide jealousy in any form, and told me that I should not g
ive in to it. Above all, I should never be jealous of her other lovers; otherwise I would never see her again. I knew she meant it and, nearly choking, I swore to do as she asked. The impossibility of her request knotted my throat with tears. How could I not resent those unnamed interlopers?
But she talked to me, sweetly, soothingly.
Her voice filled my whole world.
Her voice became my world.
Then, like the sun breaking through a black cloud, it became entirely possible.
The best and easiest task I could ever take upon myself was to please her. And what she wanted of me was certainly within my abilities. I would love her and willingly share her and enjoy the privilege and honor of it with others. We would be like courtiers of old, gladly waiting upon the pleasure of our lady.
I listened. I now understood.
My head and heart were at peace.
I finished my meal, content to simply look at her and marvel at the perfection of her face and figure. Nora was not as quiescently minded, though, and came around the table to sit on my lap. Since neither of us had bothered to dress, I found this to be inspiring and began to express my feelings to her in a such a way as to leave no doubt over how I intended to conclude things.
I started to rise up to carry her back to bed, but she told me to remain in the chair. With a quick shift, she straddled my lap. I gulped, a little shocked at this new presentation of her boldness. I would never look at horseback riding in the same way again.
The chair creaked under our combined weight and exertions, but even if the damned thing had collapsed, we wouldn’t have noticed or paused. She wrapped her legs around my waist and its back and pressed close upon me. Her lips dipped down along the column of my neck, her teeth and tongue dragging against my now very sensitive skin. With a sigh, she fastened her mouth on the very pulse point of my throat and began sucking there.
At first it felt no different from the other kisses she’d given that I’d received with such joy, but it continued much longer and with no sign that she planned to stop. Not that I wanted her to; it was utterly wonderful. And the wonder of it only increased when she opened her mouth wide and her teeth dug deep and hard into my skin, finally breaking it. A full-blown cry of ecstasy burst from me then, along with the climax that overtook us both.
My loins were spent soon enough, but instead of the all-too-brief moment of glory I’d known before, the sensation there continued to increase. It spread to flow throughout whole of my body and went on and on and on, building upon itself like a great storm cloud rising to touch the moon. Each breath I took was a long gasp of gratification; each exhalation a pleading sigh for more.
My brain was afire; my body shuddered as though from fever as she held to my throat and drank the blood flowing from the wound she’d made. The triumphant couplings we’d shared before were nothing compared to this. I moaned and writhed and could have wept from the ecstasy that blazed like lightning over and throughout my flesh. One of my hands snaked up, the fingers pressing upon the back of her head, a silent invitation to dig deeper, to take more, to take as much as she liked, to empty me completely
But she had more control of herself than I. An hour might have passed for us locked together like this or a week. I was too overwhelmed to know or care until she began a gradual and slow drawing away from me; something I sensed at once and tried to hinder. She licked and kissed me in a most tender way, but remained firm, and eventually and most reluctantly I came back to myself again.
I don’t remember getting there, but we’d returned to her bed, for it was only then that I really woke up, soaked to the bones with a vast and heavy weariness. She’d donned a dressing gown and was kneeling on the floor to put her face at a level with mine. She’d put out many of the candles, and those that remained seemed to have a strange effect on her eyes. The whites were gone, darkened . . . flushed with crimson through and through.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her brows drawn together with light worry.
“Cold,” I croaked.
She tucked the coverlet around me and crossed to the fireplace to add more wood. Despite my listlessness, I noticed that the firelight shone right through the thin fabric of her gown, revealing every graceful line of her figure. In my head, I wanted to take action about it, but my body inarguably insisted upon rest.
“Better?” She leaned over me, stroking my forehead with one finger.
“Tired.” And dizzy. Warburton had been dizzy . . . .
“Have some of this.” She held a cup of wine to my lips, but I could only manage a small swallow. “It will pass. I fear I’ve asked too much of you tonight.”
Warburton . . . white around the eyes . . . and dizzy.
“What did you say?”
I dredged more air into my lungs. “Warburton. You did this to him earlier.” I touched my neck where she had kissed . . . bitten . . . ?
“It’s all right, Jonathan. Please trust me. Everything will be all right.”
“What have you done?” Limited as my experience had been before this night, not once had I ever heard of women biting and taking blood from their men. My once-solid feeling of well-being was slipping away like a ragged dream.
“Exactly what you know I have done,” she calmly replied. “There’s no need to be alarmed.”
“What do you mean? Of course I should be alarmed.”
“You’re not hurt, are you? Does it hurt now? Did it hurt then?”
No . . . I thought. Far from it.
“Only the idea of it is strange to you but, my darling, let me assure you that it is entirely natural and necessary to me.”
“Necessary?”
“For how I live, how I’m best able to love.”
“But the way we did it earlier . . .”
“Was the way of most men and women, yes. Mine is a divergence that gives me the greatest form of pleasure, not just for myself, but for my lover. Did you not find it so? You didn’t want me to stop.”
“I must have been mad. Damnation, Nora, you were drinking my blood!”
Her features dissolved from concern to amused chagrin. “Yes, I was. But be honest, was it so terrible?”
That took the wind out of me.
Wry amusement surpassed her chagrin. “Oh, my dear, if you could only see your face.”
“But . . . well, I mean . . . well, it’s damnably strange.”
“Only because it’s new to you.”
“This isn’t, well, harmful, is it?” I asked.
“Hardly. You may wobble a bit tomorrow, but sleep and good food will restore you.”
“You’re sure?”
She kissed my fingers. “Yes, my darling. I would never, ever harm you. If it were within my power I would protect you from all the world’s evils.”
I settled back, overtaken by another bout of dizziness and the oddity of dealing with her . . . preferences. It was hardly without struggle, but I found myself curiously able to accept them. The sincerity of feeling behind her last words was so sharp that it was almost painful to hear, but at the same time a thrill went through me. I’d hardly dared to hope that she would love me as I was loving her.
She was absolutely right about her needs not being so terrible, quite the contrary, in fact. And if she’d started kissing me again in the same spot and in the same way I would not have stopped her. The mere thought of her lips light touch on my throat revived me greatly in mind and in spirit. My body, sad to say, was not yet sufficiently recovered for me to put forth the invitation just now, but soon.
Gingerly, I explored the place on my throat with my fingers. It felt slightly bruised, nothing more, and the only evidence of her bite were two small, raised blemishes.
“They’re not very noticeable,” she said. “Your neckcloth will cover everything.”
“Have you a mirror?”
“Not handy, and
I don’t like to trouble the servants this late.”
“Good God, what time is it?”
“Close on to three, I should think. Time to sleep. My people will see that you get home in the morning.”
“Not too early,” I said, echoing Warburton’s instruction. Instead of resentment toward him, I now felt an almost brotherly compassion and camaraderie. “Poor Tony. He’s so terribly in love with you.”
“Yes.” She rose and lay down next to me, but on top of the coverlet. “Perhaps too much in love.”
“Don’t you love him?”
“Not in the way he wants. He wants marriage and children, and that is not my path.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too long a story and I don’t wish to tell it.”
“But I know nothing about you.” The whites of her eyes were not so flushed now. The darker pupils were slowly emerging from their scarlet background.
“You know enough, I think.” She stroked the hair away from my brow and kissed me. “You’ll learn more in the nights ahead.”
The dreamlike comfort that had begun to envelop my thoughts abruptly whipped away once more. “No I won’t. I’m going up to Cambridge tomorrow, God help me. I’ll never see you again!”
“Yes, you will. Do you think I’d let anyone as dear to me as you get away? “
“You mean you’d come with me?”
“Not with you, but I can take a house in Cambridge as easily as in London. The place is a dull and windy fen, but if you’re there. . .”
Her mouth closed over mine, warm and soft and tasting of salt. Not salt. Tasting of blood. My own blood.
But I didn’t care. She could do what she liked as long as I had a place in her heart. She wholly filled mine.
We talked and planned for a little while, but I was exhausted and soon fell asleep in her arms.
* * *
I awoke slowly, lazily, my eyelids reluctant to lift. I had no idea of the time. The room’s one window, though large, was heavily curtained. I was alone in the big bed. Nora must have risen earlier and gone down to breakfast.
