He teased her until she felt as if she would come apart then leave her there, on the edge of something, and return to her breast or her legs. Emily thought it pure torment even as it brought her great pleasure. Then he slid a finger inside her even as he tortured her with kisses and she knew this time she would break.
It came over her in a wave, a blinding surge of pleasure, and she cried out, arching off the bed. Even as she still rode that powerful wave, he joined their bodies and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Clinging to him like a person afraid of drowning, Emily felt him pound into her, not minding the ferocity of his movements, and then he clutched at her and held her still as he groaned and shook. When he slipped away from her, he pulled her close and held her tight as they both struggled to catch their breath.
Once they were both calmer she reached down and took hold of the part she was determined to get a name for. “What do you call this?”
“Right now? Happy. If you would just move your hand up and—”
“I am serious. It must have a name. I know the doctors have given everything names.”
“It is called Lancelot.”
Emily just stared at him and then she started to giggle. “No, it is not. I am serious. What is it called?”
He lifted his head and frowned at her. “Ye really dinnae ken?”
“No, I really dinnae ken. Who would tell me? I was just about marriageable age and being prepared for my season during which I would hopefully find a husband. There were very few girls my age about and the adults did not teach us anything. So no, I do not know what this part is called or what my part is called.”
“Your sister told you nothing? She was married and the two of ye shared a house.”
“I asked her and she, well, got hysterical. Also gave me a scold on how I should never ask such things even of a married woman.” Emily shrugged. “So no. I am totally ignorant of these things.”
Iain bit back a groan as she moved her hand over him. “Doctors call it a penis.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes, sorry it isn’t more grand. The various euphemisms are much grander.”
“I was just thinking it was such a sorry word for something most men consider very important.” She smiled when he laughed. “I ought to at least know what parts I am, well, dealing with.”
“I have the penis and ye have the vagina.”
“A what? Honestly, that is better than the name they give your part but still not what one would think it should be. Suppose that has to do with all the Latin the doctors love.” She frowned a little. “What do they call what we just did?”
“Fornicating. All the other words I know are really not for your use.”
“That is so like physicians. Take something special and slap a boring name on it.” She frowned when he started laughing. “’Tis true. Well, now I know, but I doubt I will ever use any of those.”
“Ye thought it would be something exciting or poetic?” he asked, and grinned.
“And why not? It is responsible for the whole human race. If we did not use the parts, there would not be any of us.”
Iain laughed and Emily decided he had a nice laugh, infectious. He pulled her over as he rolled onto his back and let her body sprawl on top of his. His penis was nicely nestled between her legs and she could feel it slowly grow harder and bigger. She lay there petting his chest and began to think about what he had done to her and wondered if she could do the same to him.
She began to slowly kiss her way down his body. As she teased his stomach with kisses, licks, and little nips then soothed by her mouth or tongue, he began to make some low, rough noises which let her know he was pleased with it all. Then she slid down a little farther and ran her tongue up the length of him. His whole body jerked and grew tense and she feared she had just found one of those things men could do but women could not. Iain slid his hands in her hair and held her in place, however, and she decided she must be doing something right.
Iain watched her as she loved him with her mouth. Her blond hair was drying and was in a wild tangle around her face. It brushed against his legs and drove him crazy. Then she took him into her mouth and he lost all ability to think straight. For someone with no skill or experience she was doing very well. It was not long before he knew he was teetering on the edge of release so he caught her under the arms and pulled her up his body. As he kissed her, tasting himself on her mouth and adding to his growing frenzy, he joined their bodies and moved her as he wanted her to move until she caught on. To his delight she rode him to the end and they both cried out softly as they found their release.
* * *
Iain slowly woke up and looked for Emily, who had fallen asleep in his arms. She sat on the edge of the bed brushing her hair and dressed in her shift and stockings. Glancing out the window he cursed softly, drawing her attention. He sat up and looked for a clock.
“It is two in the morning. I think I heard some of your brothers stagger home.”
“Damn. Falling asleep was not in the plans.”
She smiled as he moved to drag on his drawers. “You make plans for these, um, evenings, do you?”
“With so many people in this house one rather has to. Oh, damn, I was going to help you empty the tub.”
“Not to worry. Plan to use the watering can and pour it out the window into the garden.” She smiled as he walked around to her side of the bed and kissed her.
“And that might be a mistake. Too many of those and I willnae leave.” He buttoned up his shirt and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Try to get some more sleep. Night, love.”
She watched him leave and sighed. He kept calling her love but she did not dare take it to mean anything more than an easy word to use for an affectionate pet name. And she had let another night together slide right by without pressing him to tell her anything about how he felt about her. Emily braided her hair, tied it off, and slid into bed. One good thing—at least she was too tired, and satisfied, to stay awake long fretting over things she could not change.
Chapter Fifteen
Emily kept a close watch out as she and Mrs. O’Neal drove the buggy into town. Neither of them actually had a dire need for anything but the MacEnroys had taken all the children fishing and Mrs. O’Neal had been eager to go to the shop, to look over the goods in the store at her leisure. Emily had not had the heart to say no, so even though she did not really like being outside the walls of the MacEnroy home, she had come shopping with the woman.
She stiffened her spine and told herself to cease being a frightened little mouse. Now that she thought on it she did not even go riding anymore unless one of the men went with her. Iain insisted on it but she had not complained either. Emily knew it was because she was glad of the extra protection. It was time she ceased cowering behind the men. This was her trouble and she would face it. Like a man, she thought, and grinned.
Mrs. O’Neal called out a greeting to a Mrs. Potter who was outside her home beating her carpets. She then pulled up by the fence, introduced Emily, and began to talk with the woman about a lot of people Emily did not know. Emily was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she now had a big secret the women who loved their gossip would just love to sink their teeth into.
It was not until they were back on their way to the store that Emily realized something. “Your name is Mary?” she asked Mrs. O’Neal.
Mrs. O’Neal briefly frowned at her. “Yes. Didn’t you know that?”
“No. No one told me. They all call you Mrs. O’Neal and that was how you were introduced to me.”
“Well, of course the boys call me that. Need to. I have to hold on to some kind of proper place in that household. But you can call me Mary if you must. Don’t much like the name myself. Rather boring name, truth be told.”
“Mary is a good name. A lot of people use it.”
“Especially amongst the Irish, but, be truthful, it is a boring name. There is no lilt to it, no hint of liveliness or beauty. It just sits there.”
It was not easy but Emily quelled the urge to laugh. “Well, it goes well with O’Neal.”
“I know that but I am not Irish, am I? It is one thing about me Tommy’s folks liked.” Mrs. O’Neal frowned at the mention of her late husband’s parents. “It is the one real fault I had in their eyes. If I had been Mary Callahan or Mary O’Leary and had a crucifix round my neck I would have been completely welcome. Instead I was just plain, Mary Smith, that Protestant.”
“It was Mary Smith?” Emily thought she deserved a prize for not falling down laughing.
“It was. As plain a name as anyone could think of. Still think they just got weary of trying to find something clever or original. My siblings all had much better names. Instead I was just Mary Smith, the Protestant girl their son would go to hell for. Do you know they have never come to see his sons, never even written to ask after them?”
“That is sad. Your husband was their only son, you said?”
“He was and my Rory is the spitting image of him.”
“They may not know how to get here or cannot afford to. Were the children all baptized Catholic?” Emily could already see the answer to that question in Mary’s cross expression.
“No. I had them baptized into the Protestant church.”
Emily winced. “I suspect that did not help.”
“No. Tommy took great delight in telling them though.” Mrs. O’Neal smiled.
“Have you sent them a letter or two?”
“I can’t write, can I. Tommy got someone to send them a note with each child born. And, yes, I know you can teach me and you’re teaching all the others, but I have twenty years or more on most of them. Too damned old to be doing schooling. Once you get the children taught they can read anything I need read to me. Tommy’s folks can’t read, either, though I know they find someone to read to them if they have a want to know. Probably one of Tommy’s siblings.”
“I will write a letter for you. Maybe there is someone in this place who takes photographs and we can send one of them as well. That is, if you wish.”
Mrs. O’Neal frowned in thought for a few moments then nodded. “We’ll do that. If I get no answer I will be certain the split between my Tommy and his family was final.”
Emily just nodded and looked around carefully as they entered the small collection of buildings they called a town. Photography had gained popularity and she hoped that, even in this area, some person had what was needed to offer such a service. Either that or a traveling one would pass through at some time. When they halted in front of the Trading Post she noticed that Mrs. O’Neal was careful not to park anywhere near the door to the tavern.
Once inside the store Mabel and Mrs. O’Neal fell into a friendly argument over the prices of her material. Emily went to the front window and studied the area. She had seen such places in her travels to the cabin she had shared with her sister. There was nothing more than what was absolutely needed and she suspected it would never truly become a real town. It would disappear as soon as people were able to safely go to a town that actually warranted a name. Even the bank was no more than a small house that had bars on the windows and a room for a large safe. It was more a place to stop briefly in one’s journey than an actual town.
Then she caught sight of several men walking toward the bank. One of them was very well dressed and tall, with hair as blond as hers and she froze. A heartbeat later she ducked behind one of the curtains that framed the window. She peered out again and her heart raced with alarm. What was Albert doing here, so close to her and Neddy and so soon after his last failure?
“Mrs. O’Neal,” she called softly.
Turning to look at her, Mrs. O’Neal frowned. “What are you doing? Why are you hiding?”
“Yes,” she hissed, “I am hiding. Can you see the men about to go into the bank?”
“I see them. Five of them. One of them’s a tall fellow in fancy clothes. Why?”
“That is Albert.”
Mrs. O’Neal hurried closer to the window. “That Albert who is causing us such trouble?”
“Yes. No, don’t pay attention to me. Act like you are studying the items in the window.” Mrs. O’Neal started studying a tea set that Emily suspected had come from someone in need of money, either someone passing through or even someone in the area trading for goods. “I need to get out of here without being seen.”
“What is going on?” asked Mabel as she walked up.
“Some fellow that’s working hard to kill our Emily and her nephew is over at the bank so she’s trying to hide. Don’t want him seeing us leave.” Mrs. O’Neal put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Man shouldn’t look so good. Ought to look like the evil snake he is.”
“Want me to shoot him?” Mabel stared at the man. “Could hit him easy from here but you’d have to pay for a new window.”
Emily stared at the woman in shock. “You can’t just shoot him down in the streets of town.”
“Why not? Want him shot somewhere else?”
“No! I just want to get away from him without him seeing me.”
“Shooting the bastard would solve that,” said Mrs. O’Neal and then she frowned at Mabel and said, “even if it does cost us the price of a window. A cracked window, too,” she grumbled, pointing to the crack that ran down one side.
“Cracked not broken. I shoot that fellow and it’ll be broke then, won’t it.” Mabel frowned out at the men in front of the bank. “Bit of a shame to shoot him ’cause he sure is a pretty fellow.”
Emily stared at the two women and then shook her head. “You cannot just shoot him. He is doing nothing to us at the moment. What explanation would you give for shooting him?”
“That he planned on doing something illegal,” said Mabel. “You said he was after killing you and the boy. Reason enough for me.”
“But he is not after us right this moment, not shooting us, not even looking at us. You would simply be killing him on the street. No, just show us how to get out of here without being seen. I do not know how the laws work here but where I come from you cannot just shoot a person even if you know he is rotten to the core.”
Mabel shrugged her wide shoulders. “Seems fair to me. But I can get you out of here without him seeing though it looks like he will be going into the bank soon.”
“The bank has big windows,” said Mrs. O’Neal. “With our luck he will be looking out of one just as we try to slip away.”
“Go out the back. I will bring the buggy around and you can ride out of here without him seeing.” Mabel took one last look at Albert and shook her head. “Man that fine-looking shouldn’t be so dirty on the inside.” She looked at Emily. “Get going out the back. Only take me a few minutes to pull around with that buggy. Waste of a day so far,” she muttered as she started toward the door. “You bought nothing and I didn’t get to shoot that man.”
Emily shook her head and looked at Mrs. O’Neal. “Mabel is a bit of an odd stick.”
“I know.” Mrs. O’Neal started for the back of the store. “Wanting us to pay for the window just ’cause she’d break it doing a kindness for us. Just trying to get someone to pay for the window that is already cracked, if you ask me.”
It was not just Mabel who was odd, Emily thought as she hurried after Mrs. O’Neal. They stepped out the back of the store onto a narrow landing and waited for Mabel. The woman drove the buggy around a moment later and stopped it right by the stairs leading down from the landing.
They climbed into the buggy and Mrs. O’Neal thanked Mabel, promising to get back to shop as soon as she was able, then snapped the reins and set off for home. Emily kept a close watch behind them until they were a good distance from the little town but no one followed. Although she did not feel particularly safe, she relaxed a little.
“No one chasing us?”
“No,” Emily answered. “It appears we got away without him seeing us.” She frowned as she thought on what she would tell Iain. “I suspect the MacEnroys will think I should have let Mabel sh
oot him.”
“Yup. She would have killed him too. Woman can shoot really well.”
“But it would have caused her trouble. He was just standing there and I suspect no one really knows what he has been up to. It would have looked as if she just picked some random fellow on the street and killed him.”
“Might have. Might not have. Never can tell with Mabel. She knows a lot of people and they’d listen to her. Don’t think anyone in the area would be willing to see her hang for shooting a man none of them know and who doesn’t live here. And the boys would’ve gone in and told everyone why he needed killing.”
Emily was beginning to think she should have let the woman kill Albert. It would have solved a lot of their troubles. It certainly would have ended the trouble she had brought to the MacEnroy house. She began to suspect she was about to get an earful from the MacEnroys when the story was told.
* * *
“Why the devil didnae ye let her shoot the fool?” demanded Iain as he filled his plate with food.
Emily sighed. They had waited until the evening meal to tell the brothers what had happened in town. She was surprised at how they had all stared at her as if she was mad or witless. Yet, she could not really say she would have acted differently.
“I rather thought that she could go to jail for it.”
“Nay.” Robbie shook his head. “We would have spoken up for her.”
Thinking of all seven brothers swearing to what a threat Albert was made her think that there had been little threat to Mabel. It all would have been cleared up quickly. She was not even certain there was any sheriff or constable in the town.
“Then I apologize. It appears I made an error in judgment.”
Iain almost winced. She was speaking in her very proper, very English tone, which meant she was upset. The more upset Emily got the more precise her accent, the more like gentry she sounded. He suddenly realized that the accent did not bother him as it once had, just the realization that she was upset.
The Scotsman Who Saved Me Page 18
