by Bryn Colvin
“No, no, it was ruined already, it was no fault of yours.”
“You’ve asked me for nothing and given me more care and comfort than I’ve ever had in all my life.”
Jasper could feel a lump swelling in his throat. His own actions, when presented to him in this way, seemed nobler than anything he might have thought himself capable of, and her gratitude for what had only seemed natural to him was breaking his heart.
“I did not know what it was to be loved,” she said softly, “love that goes beyond lust and desire, love that gives all and asks nothing in return.”
She was right, he realized. It was enough to be near her, to see her face and hear her voice. He had lain beside her to warm her through the long nights but had never once thought of taking advantage of her circumstances. He had abused too many other women in the past, but he would not do so again. Although it was her beautiful body and seductive voice that had captivated him, his feelings for her went beyond that now. His adoration had grown deeper, transforming into something mystical that he could no longer explain or quantify.
“How could I do less?” he asked, knowing he had no way of expressing what was in his heart.
“You do love me, don’t you?” she asked. Her tone was uncertain, almost disbelieving.
“I love you,” he said, and for the first time in his life, he meant it with every last ounce of his being. “I love you as I have never loved anyone else.”
Her slender fingers wrapped around his hand, her touch cool.
“As I love you. I wish with all my heart that I had seen it before and not left you. I was a fool. I wish I could live with you and grow old with you…”
Her voice quavered pitifully and a spasm of coughing wracked her exhausted frame. Jasper held her tightly, pressing his face into her hair and willing her to live on. The thought of her dying filled him with fear. He wanted to cling to her and make her live, to keep her with him, and to somehow defy death and sickness.
“Do not leave me, my beloved,” he whispered.
He felt her shake, but not with coughing this time. He knew that she was weeping against his chest.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she managed.
“You will not, I swear it.”
“But I must, I cannot live. I do not want to die.”
There was nothing he could say to this, and he fought valiantly to restrain his own tears.
“You will find someone else to love,” she said.
“Never!”
“You must.”
She raised her head, her expression determined.
“You cannot love a ghost, and I will be no more than that to you. Grieve for me if you must, but find another girl to love. Be happy, for me. Live for me. I want to know you will be happy. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He did not know if he could do it but, in these desperate hours, he could refuse her nothing.
Nestled against him, she seemed as fragile as a wisp of cloud. Hardly any light remained from the fire and he could ill afford to burn more candles or light up a gas lamp to ward off the night.
“I love you,” she said again, and she seemed peaceful in her assertion.
“I love you,” he replied, cherishing the bittersweet pang these words inspired in his heart.
Jenny was still, her breathing slow and faltering. The conversation had weakened her and she needed rest. Everything seemed to tax her battered constitution and he remembered sorrowfully the exuberant woman he had first seen treading the boards. She squeezed his hand lightly, just the faintest pressure, but enough to communicate her affection.
He listened to the rattle of her breathing, noticing how it slowed and thinking, at first, that she was drifting into sleep. How he knew, he could not have said but, breath-by-breath, he felt her slipping away from him. His own need to keep her made him want to cling more tightly, to rouse her out of her stupor and beg her to stay. Merely living had been agony for his sweet girl. She had suffered dreadfully, and as she rested against him, he found he could not will more of that tortured life upon her. Better, he realized, that she be free from it all. She had made her confession to him, and gifted him with a true understanding of what it meant to love someone. He stroked her hair softly, waiting for a breath that was never to come.
* * * *
Laudanum had its uses, but procuring it in the quantities they required had not been easy. Caroline lay in a drugged slumber, her red hair framing her pale face. In repose, she looked her former, innocent self once more. Sitting at her bedside and resting the weight of his head in his hands, Brendan O’Shea watched his former employer as though he could find her salvation in her sleeping face. It had been the hardest few days he could remember.
When the others took their turn in pacifying her he was wracked by jealousy, even though he knew he alone could not keep her happy. Her lusts were monstrous, insatiable and terrifying. She was not eating enough and her once rounded limbs had become worryingly slight. He gathered that the same had happened to Frederica’s older brother; his body burned away by the force of desire within him.
All their books and charms had done nothing. They had made circles round her bed, lit candles, chanted and smeared her body with peculiar-smelling ointments, but to little effect. Brendan could not see how this quack sorcery was supposed to bring her back, but then, he was forced to admit that he did not really understand how her soul had been stolen away in the first place.
Drugging her was no solution, but it gave them all some respite and, since Myles and Sophie had left, the remaining three needed every advantage they could make for themselves. In the last few days alone, Brendan had seen more impossible things than he had expected in one lifetime: Amelia making tea in the kitchen like any serving girl, Frederica dealing with tradespersons at the backdoor as though she was merely a housekeeper and both of them treating him like an equal.
He supposed their shared dilemma negated any social distinctions. Class and nationality did not seem so very important when someone you loved was in grave danger. The grudging mutual respect that had developed between himself, Amelia, and Frederica was starting to make him think that almost anything could be possible.
Caroline’s eyelids fluttered and he knew it would not be long before she shook off the drug and surfaced once more. He steeled himself for the coming assault upon his senses and desires. Quantities of sedative that should have kept an army slumbering for days were insufficient to dull Caroline for more than a few hours and Brendan did not need anyone to tell him there was something peculiar about that.
He stood over her, watching for signs of returning awareness and praying, as he always did, that this time she would wake up an be the woman he had known. He missed her gentleness and her shy demeanour. Sighing to himself, he sat down on the bed and waited, knowing that soon he would have to apply himself to her sexual needs once more.
Keeping her sated was difficult and had become a grim task. He had never imagined that he could grow weary of sexual acts, but the constant demand was taking its toll on his libido. He reached out, touching her face and allowing himself a brief moment of tender feeling. Her eyelids fluttered again and he bent over her to kiss her face and neck. She was still in the laudanum’s thrall and the overpowering, unnatural lusts she inspired in him had not yet taken hold. He did as he had never done before, kissing her cheeks and forehead, whispering to her all those words of affection he had dreamed of sharing. He was beyond hope now, trying to transform their hideous parody of love into something he could feel other than repugnance for.
Her shoulders were smooth and fine and he could see the veins in her skin. He pressed his lips to each of her breasts in turn, taking each in his hands and marvelling at the perfection of their form, and the dark majesty of her nipples. He had sucked those luscious mounds of flesh more times than he could number now and had become too prone to acting mechanically and without feeling. To continue in this way would destroy him in the end, of that he was incre
asingly certain.
“Oh, Caroline,” he murmured, “I would have loved you well. I might have made you happy even, but not like this. You aren’t yourself and I don’t know what you’ve become, or what happened to the woman I was falling in love with.”
He remembered then how she had been that afternoon in the hayloft; uncertain but filled with passion and need. He had longed then to roll her in the soft hay, to press himself down onto her and part her legs, to take her with all the skill he possessed and make her face radiant with delight and satisfaction. Looking down at her now, he could almost make himself believe he was back in that moment.
She was close to waking, her breathing was normal again and her eyes dangerously close to opening. Brendan lay down beside her and slipped his hand between her thighs, kissing her shoulders as he began to massage her clitoris. She moaned and pressed against him, wriggling her bottom so that it set his cock aflame. This was how he wanted her, tender and responsive, joyful and beautifully human. The thing she had become made him lust, but without touching his heart. He could not love her, not even when his tongue was deep in her slit and his manhood rock hard with desire.
“I’m lost,” Brendan thought, “I’m going to go mad here.”
He rose and stripped methodically. Until now, he had remained carefully clothed in her presence, feeling as though the layers of fabric gave him some degree of safety and protection. He returned to the bed, stretching out alongside her, feeling the softness of her skin against his.
“That day up in the loft, I should have pulled you down next to me and kissed you,” he said, pressing his lips to hers. “I should have taken you there and then, maybe none of this would have happened.”
He parted her legs gently. She was wet. She was always wet of late, always ready and demanding that he surrender his cock to her. He never had. He had seen her drive others mad with lust, but something had protected him from the way she wove her spell. This time he was giving up the fight, he was going to let her have what she asked for, come what may. He was too weary to defy her any longer; she had all but robbed him of his hope.
Sliding into her was deliciously easy, and he felt as though he had been making love to her for years. Her cunt was firm but yielding enough to let him enter her dark chamber. She opened her eyes then, and he pushed hard against her hips, seeing her expression take on a startled look.
“I’ve got you now,” he said, “you’re mine, and I’m yours and you can have me until I die of exhaustion.”
Her hands were on his face, her fingers twining into his hair and she pulled him down, drawing him into a long kiss as, gradually, she parted her lips for him and let his tongue sport and play with hers. Her mouth was exquisite, her lips firm and warm, her tongue eagerly responsive to his. She seemed almost hesitant at first but soon she was invading his own mouth in return and filling his guts with overflowing warmth. Only when she released him did he venture another thrust into her moist slit. Her eyes widened, and she breathed his name.
“Brendan?”
He stopped, his cock utterly submerged in her. She had never once called him by name in all the time that had passed since they found her in the brothel.
“Caroline?”
Her bright eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. He kissed her cheek and watched her closely, trying to understand what was happening.
“What are you doing?” she asked fearfully.
He realized then that her senses had truly returned, but that she had no recollection of what had happened to her. At this, all the lust melted away and he slid carefully from her body.
“Forgive me,” he said, and made to leave the bed, not knowing what else to do.
“Wait,” her tone was pleading.
He turned.
“You kissed me.”
“Yes.”
“You were… inside me.”
“Yes.”
He blushed.
“But I don’t remember anything.”
She looked around, clearly perplexed.
“We were staying with Frederica, but this is my bedroom.”
“It’s a long story, you haven’t been yourself,” he said.
She eyed him thoughtfully, taking in his muscular shoulders and lean torso. O’Shea was a fine looking man and the sight of him naked in her bed was one that pleased her immensely.
“I was wondering why we were both naked,” she said.
“That’s a long story too. Don’t you remember anything, anything at all?”
Caroline closed her eyes thoughtfully.
“I remember being with you in the barn, and you telling me you wanted to roll me in the hay and make love to me.”
She flushed slightly.
“But nothing else?”
“Nothing.”
“That was nearly a month ago.”
He did not mention that he had said nothing of the sort then, guessing that she had heard his more recent words and muddled them up with the older memory somehow. She started at him in disbelief.
“I don’t know how to tell you this. I don’t know that I understand it myself, but Freddy’s brother practiced some strange rite on you, and you went right out of your mind. We found you in a brothel, here in London. All you’ve wanted was pleasure.”
He looked away then, unable to meet her eye and tell her what sort of creature she had been.
“And were you here to please me, was that it?”
“Yes, but when you woke up just now, you were your old self again, and I don’t know why.”
“I don’t remember a thing. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
Brendan felt a hot flush creeping across the back of his neck, making his ears blaze with heated shame. She had the right to know, he supposed.
“I’d never tried to make love to you before, I’d just been using my hands and mouth on you.”
He thought, on the whole, that he would leave off telling her about the other four who had pleasured her. Someone else could break that news to her later and tell her how enthusiastic a whore she had been before they brought her home.
“And I don’t remember it at all. What a pity.”
He risked a look at her then. The expression on Caroline’s face was contemplative. Her hair had tumbled down around her shoulders and the way she was sitting with her knees bent hid her sex from view and largely obscured her breasts. She looked coquettish and innocent.
She smiled at him and he felt himself getting hard in response to her. He was glad then to be sat on the side of the bed and able to mask the evidence of his desire. He saw a blush steal across her face and wondered what on earth she could be thinking.
“I suppose now that I’m back to my senses you will be stopping that sort of thing.”
“Only if you want me to.”
She digested this information slowly.
“I do wish I could remember. No one other than me has ever used fingers, you know, between my legs, and I’ve never had a man give me his tongue, although I have read about it.”
Brendan refrained from telling her that numerous men had given her their tongues and more in the last month or so. Her words made his heart pound and his cock swell even further. To be invited to touch her was more than he had dreamed of. To be truly invited, by his Caroline. With the nervousness of a virgin, she slowly parted her legs, showing herself to him. He gazed hungrily down at her cunt, as though seeing it for the first time.
“Would you touch me?”
He fell upon her like a man in a frenzy. All of the weariness had gone from him, and he was possessed anew with desire for her. She squirmed and wriggled beneath him, uttering the sweetest little cries as he slid first one and then two fingers into her. When he began to lick at her clitoris she gripped his head with both hands and tilted her pelvis up to give him better access. Somewhere in the depths of Caroline’s unconscious mind was the recollection of what it meant to fuck like a whore and this mingled with her own sweet nature to dramatic effect.
“More?” he asked playfully.
“Please…or would you…?”
She left the question unvoiced and he smiled encouragingly. When she said nothing further, he pointed out, “How can I give you what you want if you won’t tell me what it is? You can ask me anything. My tongue is yours to command, so are my hands, my cock and any other bit of me you happen to want.”
“I want all of you.”
“And how do you want me?”
“Come here.”
She opened her arms and Brendan slid along the length of her body until his elbows were resting on either side of her shoulders, in very much the position he had been in when she awoke. She ran her fingers down his back, and over his firm buttocks, reaching up to plant small kisses on his mouth and chin.
“I can feel you against my stomach,” she said, giggling.
“That’s what you do to me,” he confessed.
“Can I see?”
He rolled sideways, revealing his considerable length to her hungry gaze. She touched him cautiously at first, running her finger tips up and down the length of his shaft and making him tremble with anticipation. With an expression of pure mischief on her face, she bent over him and teased his tip with her tongue.
“Are you sure you don’t remember what you’ve been getting up to?”
She stopped her licking and said, “I am just doing what I have long thought about doing.”
She lay back on the bed.
“Would you take me?”
He needed no further invitation. As he sank himself into her body once more, Caroline’s lips parted in the most glorious expression of delight. Brendan propped himself up on his arms so that he could watch how her expression changed with every slow, measured stroke he made. When she placed her hands on his bottom and began lifting her hips to meet his, he thought he must be dreaming. Her responses made him even more aroused and he increased his pace, sensing that she wanted more.
