ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories)

by Jane Prescott

  He saw Hargrove’s jawline clench, a warning of possible tension. However, he just as soon eased. “I would not wish to seem in agony over such a chance meeting, nor would I like such gossip to be passed about among the officers.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Woods agreed.

  “I fear you have come straight to the heart of the matter. In our limited time in town, I made a few inquiries. Had I but a little more time, I should have liked to have made a proper introduction to the girl’s father. But time and our orders would not permit it.”

  “She was a most winsome beauty, Captain.”

  He nodded. “It was impertinent to suggest she help teach the wretches manners. Impertinent and rude. You meant well, of course,” he said, seeing his friend’s face fall at the mention of his idea. “But I should never have countenanced the mention.”

  Woods fell silent and Hargrove paced, considering what he’d just said. “Proper introductions- that should be just the thing. I’ve been away from land so long, it’s only natural I should have forgotten the proper etiquette of such things. We’ll be back in Suffolk in a few short months and then… well, we’ll see the lay of things then.”

  Woods coughed. “What- what is it Woods?” Hargrove asked.

  “Well- you will excuse me for saying so, Captain, but have you considered the possibility she has another suitor?”

  Hargrove returned his gaze far out to sea. The light was just starting to break, creeping up far in the eastern horizon towards Australia and the Indies. “I have considered that. It pains me to think upon it, but it is always a thought. Yet, it seems to me that if God had intended I should have such strong feelings for this woman, he would surely have made it clearer to me that it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “You have always been the more spiritual of the two of us, sir.” Woods smiled.

  “I suppose that is so. But if God did not intend for me to marry her, I expect he will make it plain. Until we return to England, I can but pray and dream.”

  Chapter 5: The Experience

  Wycombe, Suffolk

  November 12, 1816

  At all times, whether in public or private, Sarah and Edgar were under the close scrutiny of relatives. Without a moment alone, this was precisely as etiquette demanded, but it could be trying.

  Though she enjoyed the company of her sisters, there was never a chance to really get to know Edgar so long as Louisa, Jane, or Beth were in tow. It wasn’t as though they enjoyed it any more than she did, apart from Beth. Beth was prone to boredom, but at least she was usually in good spirits simply because she had the opportunity to spend time with her favorite sister.

  All the same, she was tiring of the company. There were many thoughts troubling her, and it seemed she was forever being watched and wondering when she’d have a chance to ask her questions.

  On this particular dreary, wet semi-winter day, she and Edgar were planning to check up on the Dawsons. It had not been Edgar’s idea; he had agreed solely upon her urging.

  “If your neighbors are taking advantage of the town kitchen, they should be well enough,” Edgar grumbled. The institution had been created some time after the feeding plan at the mill, and it seemed to be pulling starving families back from the brink. Though it was fairly unpopular with most of the benefactors, there was little doubt that the free lunch was very welcomed by the people of Wyecombe. Despite the expense, the business owners had to agree it was providing their workforce with enough sustenance to report in each day.

  “I would sleep better if I could be certain of it,” Sarah suggested. They were in the parlor and had just finished reading a book of Coleridge’s poetry. Though Louisa was with them, she was clearly bored and was eager to do something, anything on her own.

  He set the book down and sighed heavily. “It is rather cold out for a visitation. But if you think it’s needful…”

  “I do.” She stood, crossed the room, and gently set her hand on his. Such an action would be too forward in most company, but with her sisters, she knew she had some allowance. After all, they were engaged.

  “Then it must be so. Let’s at least wrap up warmly. Louisa, are you coming?”

  Before her sister could answer, Sarah spoke up for her. “We’re simply going next door and we shan’t be all that long. I think it unnecessary, don’t you?”

  Louisa happily agreed, adjusting her glasses as she nodded. “I’m certain it’s of no consequence if I go with you or no. You’ll tell us how Jon fares? I suspect Jane would like to know.”

  “Of course.” Sarah replied, and took Edgar up by the hand. They went to the hall, wrapped up in coats and boots, and stepped into the windy, cold rain. Edgar had a hansom handy and urged the horses forward.

  “They aren’t far, are they?” he asked, forced to raise his voice. The wind whipped about them, making it hard to see and hear.

  “Not much beyond that ridge!” she assured him, yelling into her fiancé’s ear.

  The horses balked at the ride, but there was little choice but to press on. The worsening weather soon left them with little recourse but to go forward as the trip back was equally long. However, once they’d reached close to the bottom of the hill, they saw that the road ahead had been washed out.

  “What do we do now?” she called out, and had her answer before he could respond. “There! Cross the field that way!” Sarah could barely make out the outline of an outlying building belong to the Dawsons. Edgar nodded and encouraged the horses across the open field.

  Once at the building, Edgar unhitched the pair of horses and led them into the building with Sarah. Inside, it was much warmer. The building was filled with warm, dusty hay and straw.

  “Well,” Edgar groused as they fed and watered the beasts, “I suppose we shall have to make this arrangement as comfortable as is reasonable.”

  “It would seem so,” she agreed. Sarah looked about and found a large pile of loose straw. “I had a spare blanket in the carriage beneath the potatoes.”

  He looked confused, and then gave a small scowl. “The potatoes… oh. Of course. You must have had one of the girls sneak it on while we were reading.”

  “Yes, it was Beth, I’m afraid. A poor trick, I know. But we don’t really need them.”

  “That was very foolish, my dear, to give them away.” He scolded. Then he shrugged. “Well, best to bring them in or they’ll be ruined, the lot. I’ll fetch them away.”

  He returned shortly with the bag and blanket, shaking himself off like a wet dog. “Blanket is a touch wet about the edges, but should do. Better than sitting on sharp straw, regardless.”

  “I should think so,” she agreed.

  Once he’d spread it out, they both sat, keeping a modest distance from each other. “I suppose that if we are stuck here or very long, we could start a fire and cook the potatoes.” She suggested.

  “What? I say, that would certainly start a rather larger fire, wouldn’t it? As likely to destroy the...” He spotted the sly smile on her lips. “Oh. Have your fun then,” he snickered.

  “I might.” She caressed his cheek. “It is rather cold in here, isn’t it?”

  “A bit,” he agreed. It wasn’t terribly frigid, but he took her general meaning. “I suppose I could use with some warming up.”

  Sarah wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to kiss him, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. After all, if he was to be her husband, she thought she ought to try the idea once. They drew closer to one another and she almost drew back.

  “Come on, love. It’ll be fine, I promise,” he whispered. She almost stopped but found she wanted to try it. What harm was there in a kiss?

  She leaned forward and their lips met. She found her hand was resting his knee and as they kissed, she felt a rush of excitement. As quickly as that rose, she found their lips parting.

  “I’m sorry. Sorry. Mustn’t take advantage, you know.” Edgar backed off.

  “Quite all right.” She tried not to sound too disappointed. It had been awkwar
d, and she couldn’t place why it hadn’t felt right.

  “Don’t know what came over me,” he muttered. There was something in his voice that wavered slightly. He was nervous, she realized.

  The kiss hadn’t been good, but she felt like that might have had more to do with his fear than anything else. He didn’t want to harm her reputation. Yet- she wanted to try again.

  “Dear,” she said, quietly.

  “Yes?”

  “Once more.” She didn’t give him time to think about it. Instead, she pulled him to her by the lapel and immediately began to kiss him, hard. To her joy, he began to give back and matched her excitement.

  Sarah moved her hands over his chest, felt his broad shoulders, and fully embraced him. Edgar cupped her head and leaned her back, laying her down on the blanket. He started to draw back again, perhaps thinking better of it, but she gripped his arm. “It’s alright darling. We’re to be wed.”

  “You’re- quite sure?”

  Her response was to pull him close into and against her body and began unbuttoning his shirt. They were soon removing their clothes excitedly, rushing to feel one another’s skin against each other. She’d always wondered what it would be like and had imagined that surely this would wait until her wedding day. But fate had stepped in, giving her a chance to try out this pleasure as the storm raged about their shelter.

  She found his muscular frame exciting and began to explore it with her hands. When she reached his manhood, she found that her touch was what he wanted. She stroked him and he kissed her neck and ears. When he began kissing and tasting her breasts, Sarah arched her back to meet his mouth.

  Sarah let go of her hold on him, instead running her hands along his sides and back, feeling his build. Edgar’s own hand felt the hollow of her back.

  “Touch me too,” she whispered. He took a hold of himself and began to tease her with his tip, building the pressure between them until he shallowly entered her. A bit at a time, they began to merge and he took his time. Initially there was some discomfort and she bit her lip, worrying. However, as they continued and went about raising their pleasure slowly, it came about more easily.

  “It’s okay?” he asked her breathily. “I’m not going too fast, am I?”

  She nodded as her mouth parted. “A little, but it’s okay. Stay slow for a bit. Let me get used to it.”

  They adjusted and eventually he was in her as deeply as he could penetrate. The sensations became increasingly natural and enjoyable. She began to rise to meet his thrusts, closing her eyes and listening as he groaned.

  As they began losing themselves into it, he leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I’ll finish outside of you… can’t be pregnant… yes?”

  “Yes, yes,” she agreed.

  Their urgency rose and they gave in to instinct and desire, deep in their passion. As their sex crescendoed, Edgar cried out with joy and removed himself. They rubbed themselves, no longer caring about anything but reaching a climax. She watched as he came, fascinated and excited, then found her own orgasm.

  After a short breath as Edgar rested against her, she found herself wondering something and felt a bit afraid to ask. “Dear?”

  “That was incredible. Incredible. Yes, what’s that my love?”

  “I was wondering… I feel a desire to do that again. Can you do... that, the finishing part, again?”

  “You mean- oh, no, that’s not something I’m able to manage. Men can’t repeat the end, at least, not that quickly. You mean you still want to do more than that?” He seemed a bit concerned.

  “Well- no, I… I don’t have to.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I should think that would have been enough. I say, I am tired. We ought to try to sleep, don’t you think? Get a good rest and all that. When the rain lets up, we can carry on to the house.”

  “I suppose so.” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a terrible sinking feeling overcoming her. She had enjoyed the sex, though it was her first time. She’d been raised to think it something that was limited to marriage and that anything even close to resembling touch was sinful and shameful. She felt none of that. Something had been missing, though and she couldn’t put her finger on it. She never felt fully connected to the man who she was meant to wed.

  When they’d redressed and were lying next to each other, her thoughts began to spin relentlessly. He hadn’t wanted to talk, only to sleep. They had wanted each other, that much was clear. But was there love involved as well? She’d wanted to believe there was.

  Yet she couldn’t help but feel that she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. If she didn’t step back soon, she might fall.

  Chapter 5: The Barbary Pirates

  The Moroccan Coast

  November 12, 1816

  The winds and storms that forced Sarah and Edgar to seek shelter weren’t prevailing off the coast of Africa, as fortune would have it. The Duke of Norcastle would endure enough of that morning.

  Commander Harrison Hargrove was awakened by the smell of bacon and black coffee prepared by his steward, Reeves. He thanked the man tersely, as was his custom, and tucked in. He felt the ship move beneath him, noting the sway and movement. All seemed normal enough. It’d be another ordinary day at sea, he assumed.

  Hargrove anticipated a stop at Casablanca for water and supplies before the final leg around Portugal and Spain to England. He preferred life at sea, naturally enough. That was his everyday element. However, it would be a welcome relief to return home and put his mind at ease that the girl who’d caught his eye in Wyecombe had married. To no longer be tormented by thoughts of her would be finally give him some peace of mind, at the least. Time enough to put her out his mind.

  He was brooding over these dark thoughts when a sharp rap at the door grabbed his attention. “Enter and report!” he called out.

  “First Officer Woods’ compliments, Captain, your presence is requested on deck.” The man sounded breathless and excited. Something was definitely up.

  “Thank you, I shall be there in a moment,” he replied, taking a last drink of his coffee. As he had done so many times before in similar circumstances, he wondered if it would be his last. The long war with Napoleon was over, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t change. In their time at sea, it was always possible England was fighting some new enemy.

  When he’d gone topside, he immediately spied the issue. “How many are there total?” The first officer he noted was Mann, his Second Officer. The tall, dour man handed the spyglass over to the ship’s captain.

  “Three of them, sir. We outgun them, as far as I can say, but their lot are fast. They appear to be in pursuit of that merchant ship.”

  “Ours?” He suspected he knew the answer already.

  “Aye, sir, she’s British all right.”

  “Bloody Corsairs,” Hargrove muttered, but his officer shook his head. “No?”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, I should reckon them to be Berber Pirates.”

  “Aye, though they serve the same Ottoman masters. No matter. If they insist on testing their abilities against the British navy, we’ll cut them down to size.”

  “Aye, sir,” Mann agreed. He was a pessimistic fellow, but utterly reliable. All of his men were. Hargrove had requested his top officers and received nearly all of them without a problem. He felt certain they’d perform well.

  The ships came closer into range of the merchant. As the crew of The Duke of Norcastle watched helplessly, one of the pirates drew up alongside the merchant. A volley of cannon sounded and soon the merchant was forced to strike her colors.

  “Mr. Woods!” The first mate had found the Captain and was standing alongside him. “Take us alongside that vessel leeward.” Woods relayed the order, which was soon carried out by the crew.

  They soon closed the distance. As they neared, Hayward bellowed out, “Hard to port! Ready the cannon with grapeshot!”

  The ship slowly began to come about. The pirate was quicker, turning and raking the s
ide of The Duke with shot. Fortunately, the ship’s sides were too solid, the distance too far, and the cannonballs bounced off harmlessly.

  Hargrove laughed. “Bad luck for you, my lads. Mann, relay to the gunner that we’re to hold our fire. I want to come up right alongside.”

  They did as he bid, and soon they were close enough to the pirate that they could see the other men on deck. The pirates lifted rifles and took aim at the crew of The Duke.

  “Fire!” Hargrove ordered. The grapeshot blasted the deck, fairly sweeping the pirates clean off their feet. The carnage complete, the British ship passed her by. The pirate ship was largely undamaged, her vast majority of her crew lay dead, unable to sail her.

  That was enough for the third, more distant ship. As The Duke rounded towards her, they watched it come about, turning tail and fleeing. That only left the pirate ship trying to plunder the merchant.

  “Break off. Let her go,” Hargrove ordered, allowing the third ship to escape. “We need to rescue the merchant.”

  They turned to face the remaining ship. The enemy spotted them and fired a chaser, soaring high and tearing through The Duke’s sails. The ship was forced to slow. A glance and a nod from the Captain and Woods was giving the order to strike the most damage sail and replace it as fast as possible.

  Still they moved forward and eventually came within cannon’s reach of the pirate’s starboard side. The pirate was running out her guns as The Duke showed her own side.

  “Show her British resolve, Woods,” Hargrove demanded. The cannons fired. As they hit their mark, the pirate’s guns were largely obliterated, her exposed side battered by the shot.

  “Come alongside,” the captain ordered. They did so and brought out grappling hooks. The ship that had been the boarder was now becoming the boarded.

  Pirates from Tripoli and Algiers hurried to meet Hargrove’s men with pistols and blades drawn. They surged across the deck and Hargrove found himself forced to shoot a man in the chest. Another set upon him with his blade and very nearly killed him where he stood. A last minute instinct to duck saved his life, and he drew out his own sword to do battle.