Aphrodite's Necklace

by Anh Leod

  She gasped as he pulled the corset tight.

  “Don’t be cruel,” he said. “You always have to have your way, don’t you?”

  “I almost never get my way. Do you think I want to marry where my father chooses?”

  “The way you tease and mock,” he said, almost as if to himself. “You lead your suitors around by the nose. I see how you act at balls, as if you are too good for anyone.”

  She felt a hot flush in her cheeks. “I’m certainly too good to be your wife!”

  He pushed her toward the mirror and she saw the sneer on his face. “That’s what you think. I must go.”

  “I can’t put on my dress alone,” she protested.

  “Why not?”

  She hunched her shoulders. “The corset makes it impossible.”

  With a sigh and not speaking again, he helped her with the rest of her costume.

  “What did you mean?” she asked curiously. “It’s not what I think, it’s what I know. People of wealth are far higher than servants.”

  “So you say,” he said, but in a tone that made her wonder.

  “What—”

  He lifted a finger, stopping her. “I must return to my duties, Miss Rogers.”

  “Miss Rogers?” she said crossly.

  His gaze darkened further. “You know where to find me if you want me.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the way he said want. How she longed for him to touch her again and ease the ache between her legs. But they couldn’t continue this madness and she shouldn’t lower herself to his touch. She must forget William Coxe and hope no consequences resulted from her foolishness. Tears welled in her eyes and she gripped her handkerchief, trying hard to hold back the emotion that would only make her faint if she breathed too hard in her corset.

  * * * * *

  Emily slept only restlessly that night. She hadn’t so much as glanced at William as he assisted with dinner and it made her chest ache to be so distant. How had everything become so muddled? Such feelings had been awakened in her. She hardly felt like the same person.

  Her bed curtains were open, but the room was still dark when she heard a light scratching on the door. Clad only in her nightgown, she shivered in the cool night air and reached for a shawl before she opened her door.

  William stood there, holding a single candle in his hand. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Emily grabbed his arm and pulled him in before he could make any more noise.

  Her heart pounded. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” He did look miserable, she noted, far from the proper and correct butler he always was, except last year when he was ill with a fever. Then his color had been high, his eyes wide and his clothing oddly mussed, as if whenever he wasn’t summoned he was lying on a bed. Perhaps he had been, she realized. Ill people did need rest and he was as much people as she was. She only had her position in life due to an accident of birth, just like him. He couldn’t be blamed for it and for the kind of upbringing she imagined one of his class to have, he’d done very well for himself.

  More in charity with him than before, she seated him on the bed and knelt next to him, taking deep breaths to steady her nerves.

  “What is it?”

  “I crave you so fiercely that I cannot sleep,” he confessed.

  Her stomach fluttered at his words, as if a hundred butterflies had taken wing. “I could not sleep overmuch either.”

  “What are we to do?” he asked, spreading his hands on his legs.

  “You’ve always had the answers before,” she pointed out.

  “I don’t have them now.” His deep voice was forlorn.

  She simply couldn’t be angry with him for risking her by coming here. Who else could he confide in? “Then what?”

  “I want to be in your bed,” he told her, in a tone that did not demonstrate arrogance, but desperation.

  “Surely you speak of lust.”

  “No. Emily,” he took her hand. “If it was merely lust I could slake it on any available Unfortunate. Hell, I could probably find a willing member of your father’s household. I am popular enough with the maids.”

  She gasped and tried to pull away her hand.

  He didn’t let her and patted her hand. “Many do not necessarily share your fine sense of propriety.”

  “You speak of persons I know,” she said.

  “Do they know of us?” he asked. “Do they see our wantonness on our faces? No. Emily, there is much that can be hidden. Your father for instance.”

  “What about him?”

  “He has a mistress.”

  “What?” She contained her shock from reaching her voice by pressing her free hand very hard on her stomach.

  “Your parents do not have the easiest of unions,” he said. “Your father has found his comfort elsewhere for some time. I believe your brother’s death changed things for them.”

  He was rarely mentioned in the house. Her mother’s headaches could be triggered by the mere mention of her son’s name. “That was six years ago. I was but fifteen and Alasdhair was twelve.”

  “Yes, I was brought in as footman during your family’s mourning for him. I’ve seen how your parents fell away from each other in their grief.”

  She nodded, wondering what it did to the servants to work in a household of mourning. Before that it had been a pleasant home and there were no financial worries either. Her father had never made a bad decision before her brother’s death. “It is true I suppose. You have watched me grow up.”

  “Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “Into a beauty.”

  “Have you always wanted me in this way?” She gestured to her body.

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Perhaps I never let myself have these thoughts until you approached me at the ball.”

  She smiled. “I was shocking.”

  His free hand caressed her hair, then stroked down her long carroty braid. “You were amazing.”

  “I could do it again, would you like that?” She placed her hand boldly on his trousers.

  “I’d rather make love to you, very slowly, face to face.”

  “Then blow out the candle.” She stood and crawled up on the bed next to him.

  “I’d like to be able to see your eyes when you thrill to me.”

  A shiver ran through her with his words. Yesterday it hadn’t seemed to matter if he could see her, or even that the lady in red was present. Now though, she felt exposed, a fragile creature. But, she wanted him. Damn the consequences this one night. Bravely, she placed the candlestick on the table beside her bed and pushed the curtains to the wall so that light shone in her private space.

  He held out his hand to her. “Come.”

  She tossed her shawl onto her chair and stood between his legs. He bent and caught the folds of her white nightdress in his hands then started to gather it up slowly, so that she felt his fingertips on her tender limbs.

  She trembled, juices staining the insides of her thighs as he lifted his hands steadily upward. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily and a spark of pleasure ignited in her cunny.

  “Faster,” she urged him.

  She saw his teeth flash in the candlelight. “No.”

  A step took her closer to his body’s heat. “But I need you.”

  He bent his head forward so it rested on her belly. His breath heated her naked flesh. She put her hands in his hair and stroked it as he continued to raise the fabric of her gown. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back, she lost all sense of time.

  He reached the spot where her legs flared to her hips, but kept gently, inexorably raising the fabric until it reached where his head lay. He moved it only for the moment it took to rest on her naked flesh. His lips began to trace a smooth line up her torso as the fabric moved.

  Emily found herself forgetting to breathe as the fabric left her breasts. His lips reached her left nipple. She gasped, then pressed her lips tightly together. The house was so silent at this hour, there was no telling who m
ight be wakened by it.

  Soon, she lifted her arms to let him tug her clothing over her head, leaving her exposed in the flickering candlelight.

  “Beautiful,” he approved. “Your skin is like milk, with rose petals here and here.” He traced her areolas with a fingertip.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. He outlined her tender breast tips until she thought she might go mad with the light pressure, but then, in a sudden movement, he stood and standing in front of her, pushed her back onto the bed.

  She felt gravity’s pull until her body embraced the soft sheets and feather mattress. Soon though, there was a heavy weight leaning on her and a blunt, heated shaft pressed into her yearning cunny.

  “I couldn’t wait any longer,” he panted in explanation.

  Smiling at his boyish enthusiasm, she pulled in her feet so his legs were bracketed by her knees, holding him tightly with all her limbs. He rocked inside her, his breath coming in short pants.

  “Will it always be like this?” she asked. “The wanting?”

  He buried his face in her hair and continued thrusting. She laced her fingers through his hair and pulled his head up, demanding her answer.

  “Will it?”

  His eyes, reflecting the candlelight, danced flames into hers and she wondered if she saw a liquid sheen there. It was difficult to tell in the uncertain light.

  “Only if we’re always together.”

  “We have this, as long as I’m unwed.”

  His voice was thick. “That’s not enough.”

  “It has to be.” Her words ended as a gasp, as he thrust harder, faster. She held onto his hips as they pistoned, robbing her of speech and within minutes, her faculties. The insistent friction on her sensitive flesh winged her higher and higher, until she could stand it no more and fell, trembling, back to Earth.

  Distantly, she felt his answering explosion in response to her intimate clenching, his cock sending into her a river of cum, warmly lulling her senses to calm.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was daylight. The candle had guttered out and she smelled a whiff of its smoke in the air. William was gone. She sat up, quickly glancing around to make sure no trace of him remained. All that was left was a sticky sheen between her legs and on the linen. She leapt for the towel and her washbasin, first scrubbing herself and then the sheets. The maid would never remain quiet if she found evidence of lovemaking in the virgin daughter of the household’s bed and Emily could only hope the sheet would dry somewhat before the woman entered to make her bed. She was too close to Emily’s mother and would not keep a daughter’s secret.

  * * * * *

  Somehow, William had managed to avoid any room Emily was in all that day. It gave her an odd sense of connection to him, knowing he had to be aware of where she was at all times to miss her.

  By late afternoon, she had taken up her embroidery in the dining room and was seated quietly next to the housekeeper, Mrs. Jonas, at the table. The housekeeper had a basket of stockings to mend.

  “You are quiet today, miss,” the woman remarked.

  Emily knew she hadn’t kept up her usual chatter regarding neighborhood events. “I suppose I am not quite myself.”

  “I always tire quickly during these in-between times of year,” the housekeeper comforted. “You’ll feel right as rain when spring is finally here.”

  “I like brisk air,” Emily said. “But you are right. The wind and rain and up-down temperatures are troublesome.”

  “Especially for those who have the rheumatism.” Mrs. Jonas shook her head. “Cook has it something awful.”

  Emily embraced this subject as a way to find out more about William. She cheerfully involved herself in news about the servants in the house and their families.

  Her mother’s maid had experienced a death in the family, her eldest brother. It reminded Emily of her discussion with William about her parents’ marriage.

  “What of Coxe’s family?” she asked. “We never talk about him.”

  “It’s an embarrassment to him,” the older woman responded. “Him being fallen gentry and all.”

  Emily felt like she’d swallowed a rock. Never had she imagined this. Her voice squeaked. “What?”

  “His grandfather’s a baronet, you know.”

  Emily bent her head to her embroidery, until she realized she’d sewn orange silk where she was meant to be adding robin’s egg blue. She worked her tongue between her teeth until it was raw. Why had he not told her this? “Oh?”

  “Not that Coxe is an heir of course,” Mrs. Jonas confided, after taking a quick peek at the doors to make sure they were closed. “Too many sons in between. Still, I’m sure he was raised for a life of leisure and serving is quite a comedown.”

  “To become a servant,” Emily protested. “Surely his family could have found something else for him, law for instance, or the clergy.”

  “I believe his father left his family quite destitute. Workhouse poor, you know.”

  “My goodness,” Emily stammered. “He has such beautiful manners, one can hardly see him in a place as rough as that.”

  “A beautiful face too,” Mrs. Jonas said with a grin. “He grew well despite knowing hunger in his youth.”

  Emily blushed. “He must have great fortitude to have climbed this far after knowing such suffering.”

  “He is a worthy sort,” the housekeeper said. “And will make some girl a fine responsible husband.”

  Emily wondered if this was an allusion to her father’s faults. Now that William had told her of her father’s mistress, she had a better understanding of certain veiled allusions made in her presence. “I cannot understand what you mean. Coxe is a servant after all.”

  “Even high-born as he is,” the housekeeper agreed. “A pity though. You’d look a right peach next to him.”

  “Really, Jonas.” She started to pick out her stitches. Had Jonas seen them together? “He hasn’t any money.”

  “There is that.” The housekeeper bit off her stitch. “I’d best help Cook with the vegetables. Chopping is such a nuisance when your hands hurt.”

  “Of course,” Emily said. “I’m sure Mother will be down soon. She won’t want dinner to be late. She says it makes her headaches worse.”

  * * * * *

  Emily found herself unable to sleep that night. Her father had announced at dinner he must attend a meeting at his club that very evening and had left shortly after dinner was concluded. She was certain he had gone to meet his mistress and this thought made her long to see William, who had managed to sweet-talk Jonas into doing most of the serving. He hadn’t entered the dining room, which was highly unusual.

  She had raised her eyebrows to Jonas while she was handing around a haunch of beef, but all Jonas had done was shrug slightly.

  The drawing room mantelpiece clock gonged midnight as she passed by in the corridor outside the room. She had spent an hour with her candle and a book in the dining room, despite being clad in her dressing gown. Her father had yet to come home so no one was there to scold her.

  She went up the steps to the first floor, where her bedroom was, but sleep would not find her there. The handrail was cool under her hand as she debated what to do. Would another of the household servants catch her if she sneaked into William’s room upstairs? What if he woke badly and cried out an alarm?

  A creak on a step above her made her shrink back. She blew out her candle. While footsteps continued to sound on treads, she took quiet steps back around the corner in her slipper-clad feet. The faint glow of a candle was soon visible, though she couldn’t see the face behind it.

  The tread was too heavy to be any of the women, even Cook who was substantial. There was only one male servant in the house. It was much less expensive to have women servants, since they weren’t taxed.

  She stepped forward. “William?” she whispered. Then she clutched her dressing gown. What if her father’s mistress was one of the servants? It could be him! No, she’d have caught
on by now, even in her formerly innocent state. And he hadn’t come home yet. She would have heard him at the door.

  At the base of the stairs he spoke in a low tone. “Emily, what are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

  She relaxed at the sound of her lover’s voice, but was made irritable by the fear that had her heart still pounding.

  “I could ask you the same,” she said tartly.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Neither could I.”

  He took her hand and drew her back down the hall to her room, his candle held aloft.

  “Were you coming to see me again?” she asked when her door was closed and bolted.

  “Perhaps. Were you coming to see me?” He set the holder down on the little table by her bed.

  “Perhaps,” she echoed. “I wasn’t sure if it was safe, if I could go upstairs without being caught.”

  “It’s a bit problematic,” he agreed. “Jonas doesn’t sleep well.”

  With sudden, unspoken agreement, they fumbled desperately with each other’s clothing. She bit at his shoulder, greedy for any part of his flesh to be inside her. No one would see the marks under his clothes tomorrow.

  He seated her on the bed then knelt down, the single candle the only illumination as he thrust his cock within her. Already moistly ready, she welcomed him, falling back on the bed as his hands reached to fondle her breasts.

  “I missed you,” she whispered. “You mustn’t hide from me all day long.”

  “Why?” He thrust harder and she clutched at him as his cock touched her very womb.

  “Because I want to see you and you mustn’t shirk your duties.”

  “I’m not shirking anything.” His cock impaled her again.

  He had never been so aggressive before, but her awakened body welcomed every penetration. “Jonas knows something is going on.”

  He stilled.

  “I think,” she said quickly. “Or perhaps she only considers you irresistibly handsome to any unattached female.”

  He put his arms around her, rising from his kneeling position, then crawled onto the bed and laid her back down so they were face to face.

  “That’s not good,” he told her.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked. He didn’t answer, but the quickening pace of his cock inside her made it clear he was focused on his pleasure. She gave herself to it. “Oh William, I can’t lose you, no matter what the circumstances are.”