Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master

by Vanessa Brooks

  Linnet stepped down from the last stair and stood in front of her father. He placed his hands upon her shoulders, holding held her at arm’s length, he studied her. Smiling down at her, he nodded, satisfied. Then he took her into his embrace, gently rocking her.

  “Papa?” Linnet queried softly.

  “My dearest child, a child no longer, you looked so like your dear mother coming down those stairs. You look beautiful, my green-eyed puss. Make John a good wife, this man is my own choice of husband for you and I am sure he will make you happy, my dearest. Be kind to him, and he will be kind to you. Now, come… t’wouldn’t do to be late for your own wedding!” He kissed her forehead then drew her arm through his own as he walked her to the entrance.

  Outside, an open-topped carriage awaited, festooned with cream and pale pink ribbons. The air was still damp from the earlier rain, and droplets of water sparkled in the weak sunlight. She climbed into the carriage in a daze. As she gazed about her, she was suddenly acutely aware of every detail, the way the hairs on her father’s wrist curled at the cuff of his sleeve as he placed his hand upon the carriage door, the rainbow of colours mirrored within each tiny droplet of moisture standing on the surface of the coach, the hairline criss-cross scratches upon the leather seats inside the carriage.

  In next to no time, they’d arrived at the chapel situated within the estate grounds. The little grey stone building seemed to be packed with people whereas, in actual fact, there were only around fifty or so guests gathered inside. The chapel was rarely as full as this; usually only the estate workers and household staff joined the family for services on a Sunday. Today, most of those people were there, plus other local folk such as the doctor, who had seen Linnet through all her childhood ailments, and her old governess, Miss Spires, now retired and living with her sister in Portsmouth. Of course Charles and his mother had come, together with Nancy, accompanied by her parents. A brace of Sir Edward’s business friends had also been invited. On John’s side, only the captain from one of his ships and his wife were there. John’s English lawyer stood as his best man.

  Linnet seemed to float down the aisle in her dream-like state. Dust motes hung suspended in the stream of refracted golden light that spilled inside from the chapel’s stained windows. Thick candles sputtered softly, adding an ethereal quality to the occasion. As she glided past the wedding guests, each person turned to watch her pass by and then sighed. It appeared to Linnet as though she walked through a sea of whispering, swaying corn.

  At last, she stood before the altar, and she turned to look at the man she was to marry, studying him frankly. He was a tall man with the healthy tanned complexion of one who spends much of his time out of doors. His dark brown hair was tied back with a black velvet ribbon. His lips were well defined, his chin square and firm—in all, his was a rather severe face. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his compelling gaze, thick dark lashes that surrounded pewter grey eyes unusual in their intensity. She found it hard to maintain eye contact and blushed. John nodded graciously to his bride, a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he witnessed the heat suffusing her face.

  She had not seen him since he’d spanked her inside the coach. There was no sign of the hoyden today as she stood demurely by his side. He was entranced by her fey beauty as he watched her study him from under her lashes. His bride looked like an angel; how could this ravishing creature be so stubbornly wilful? The service flowed smoothly, and finally, they emerged from the chapel into a watery sunlight as Mr. and Mistress John Foster.

  Suddenly, it seemed to Linnet that everyone around her was shouting. The noise burst in upon her inner world as she emerged from her dream, jolted. Voices seemed extraordinarily loud. Overwhelmed by people’s good wishes, Linnet was jostled and kissed, turned this way and that. Finally, she could cope with no more; she was close to tears. She felt her elbow grasped firmly as she was led forward to the waiting coach. John guided his new wife to the carriage step. “Are you unwell?” he inquired quietly.

  “Pardon?” Linnet asked faintly then realised what he’d asked. “No. I-I don’t know. I-I feel most peculiar.”

  She swayed as she spoke. John immediately swept his arm under her. Lifting her, he cradled her against his chest and studied her pale, upturned face with a frown of concern. Instinctively, Linnet slipped her arms around his neck. A slight smile softened his mouth as he whispered into her ear, “Mrs Foster, you are an extremely beautiful woman.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed her gently upon her mouth, moving his lips over hers in a soft caress. Shyly, Linnet yielded to him. John lifted his head and gazed into her intriguing green eyes, wondering if her thoughts were of the marriage bed. He had thought of little else these past few days.

  The crowd of guests witnessing this romantic kiss began to clap and cheer. John grinned at them and stepped up into the carriage, where he placed Linnet upon the seat before sitting opposite her.

  On their arrival at the Hall, they were met by a footman who handed them up a glass of mead each, an old tradition in this area of Devonshire. Linnet began to feel much better after the mead had warmed her stomach and lightened her spirits. The party feasted well on cold salmon, followed by roast meats of venison, duckling and beef. Followed by Jellies, sweet flummery, fruit pie and thick clotted cream. Linnet and John sat at opposite ends of the long table. They stole sly glances at one another, each when they thought the other wasn’t watching. John thought her the most desirable and beautiful bride ever, but as Linnet nervously observed John’s brooding dark looks, she feared his masculinity.

  After the meal, there was dancing outside in one of the barns, mainly for the servants and farm workers. But a few guests joined in, attracted by the jaunty music; a wedding was always a great leveller of people.

  As Linnet stood talking to Jackson, her father’s bailiff, Lord Charles and Nancy approached.

  “Dearest, you look breathtaking!” Charles exclaimed.

  “Why, thank you, Charles. Regretting letting me go now, are you?” Linnet teased as she bent forward, accepting his kiss before turning to Nancy and embracing her. Nancy, upon receiving her kiss, gave Linnet a little hug. “You shall be nearly the first to know, outside of the families, of course, that Charles and I are to be engaged next week!” Nancy beamed.

  “Yes, we are to become engaged, Linnet. We shall shortly be joining you and John in wedded bliss!”

  Charles sounded exuberant and Linnet could see he was relieved by the way things had resolved themselves.

  “I am very pleased for you both. When do you expect your wedding will take place?” she asked politely.

  “Not until sometime next summer, I should think.” Nancy answered for the both of them. “I have to prepare my trousseau; oh, there is so much to do!”

  Sir Edward walked over and stood behind them. Listening quietly, he placed his hands on each of their shoulders. “I couldn’t help overhearing; congratulations to you both. About time you two tied the knot, eh?”

  He clapped Charles on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner then turned to Linnet. “Can I have a quiet word, my child? Please excuse us.”

  He bowed graciously to Nancy and Charles and escorted Linnet out into the hall. “Lottie awaits you up in your chamber, my dear. She has had the rose guest room prepared for you both tonight.”

  Somewhat embarrassed, Sir Edward kissed his daughter’s forehead then pushed her gently towards the stairs. “I shall bid you good night, darling girl.” He turned, hurrying back to his guests, most of whom would shortly leave now that the bride had retired.

  Linnet reluctantly made her way up to the rose bedroom, so named for the rose-patterned wall paper and deep pink bed hangings. Lottie undid all the lacings she had carefully laced together only a few hours previous. A little while later, Linnet found herself lying beneath starched linen sheets, and her stomach lurched while her heart beat a fast tattoo. A fire burned merrily in the hearth, the flickering light sending out a cheery orange glow, banish
ing the strange shadows into the darkened corners of the room. Linnet, freshly washed and scented by Lottie, had reluctantly climbed into the enormous bed.

  She wore a diaphanous nightgown of white silk, which kept sliding from her shoulders. It was newly made by Lottie as a wedding gift for her. The material was of finest silk and, in the candlelight, quite revealingly transparent. Lottie had sewn lace ruffles at the cuffs and added a pull string at the open neck. She was a good needlewoman, and although she had not had very much time to make the nightgown, she had made an excellent job of it.

  Linnet lay abed, nervously awaiting the arrival of her new husband. She felt so nervous that she had to grit her teeth together to stop them from chattering. Yet there was an inner excitement, for at last she would share the secrets of the marriage bed. She attempted to relax, only to freeze a moment later at the sound of the door opening. More candlelight spilled into the room as John entered, softly closing the door behind him.

  “Linnet,” he whispered into the shadowy room.

  “Yes?” she queried softly.

  “Lordy but it is dark in here! I shall light some additional candles.”

  She could hear John as he rustled around looking for tapers.

  “No! No please don’t,” she cried, sitting up flustered.

  John moved over to the bed and sat beside her. Looking at her wan face, he reached out a finger and stroked her pale cheek before letting his hand drop to her lap, whereupon he took hold of her cold hand. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb while he watched her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You are afraid,” he stated. She nodded. He reached out and lifted her chin with his finger.

  “No, don’t pull away, let me look at you. You have no need to fear me, Linnet. I am your husband. As such, I promise that I shall love, cherish and protect you always, until the day I die.” Gently he gathered her against his chest, his arms encircling her.

  She started to speak, but he interrupted her. “Hush, hear me out. Your father wrote to me many months ago, asking me to consider taking you to wife. I only remembered you as a young child. I worried about how an English lady, gently bred, would cope living in the Americas. The Colonies are quite unlike England; much of the land is wild, untamed. Oh, it is beautiful, far more so, I think, than England, but it is not a safe and cosy country, no place for a delicate English rose. Eventually, under pressure from my mother and your father, I decided to travel here in order to assess the possibility—not expecting anything to come of my trip. Imagine my surprise when I found that I liked what I saw. You were beautiful, strong, healthy and feisty!”

  Linnet went rigid in his arms. She shook with the fury that filled her. “How dare you? Just as if I were some brood mare or… or prize cow!”

  She bounced off the bed, yanking out from his embrace. Her eyes blazed furiously at him, especially when he laughed. “Your reaction now is exactly why I did marry you! Your courage has the ring of true fighting pioneer spirit!”

  Linnet was completely nonplussed. He grinned. “I require that you grow out of your selfish and, if I may say so, somewhat childish behaviour, but you are now mine, my lovely, brave wife. I think you will cope admirably with the rigours of the Colonies.” He swiftly reached out and pulled her down upon his lap, keeping her arms pinned. She was annoyed that thus restrained she would be unable to slap him if she felt inclined. He lowered his head and kissed her with searing passion.

  Furiously, she struggled. How dare he kiss her after saying those unflattering things about her? She wanted to claw his eyes out! She had things she wished to say to the beast! His lips were distracting, persistent and demanding. She looked into those hooded grey eyes and, seeing his determination, she quickly closed her own. After a while, all she could think about were the delicious feelings he aroused within her treacherous body. She responded to him despite herself.

  Her limbs began to feel loose and languid, the pebbled tips of her breasts tingled. She was acutely aware of her thinly clad bosom pressed firm against his open shirt front. His hand roved; cupping her breast, he rolled her pert nipple through the gossamer thin material of her nightgown. “My own darling girl,” he murmured.

  She shivered, goose bumps lifting across her skin at the erotic sensation of masculine hands touching her flesh intimately for the very first time. He tipped her over onto her back, not once breaking their kiss. When his tongue flicked at the inside of her lips, she sighed. He pulled up her gown, one hand on the firm mound of her breast, rolling and squeezing the aching nub. She arched her back, moaning inarticulately, softly compliant, open and trusting. It was as if all that existed in the world were the wonderful carnal sensations he created deeply within her. She quivered under his questing fingers as his hands slowly explored the soft slopes of her body, stroking and knowing. She writhed beneath him as arousing shivers pulsed through her. Finally, he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers going to the heart of her newly awoken desires, that slippery cleft betwixt her legs. She called his name aloud as the thrumming pulse ignited at his touch.

  She noticed his dark hand lying between her smooth pale thighs and at the copper-haired mons of her sex. He moved away, leaving her feeling strangely bereft as he quickly stripped off his clothing. As he turned toward her she saw his shaft had stiffened, lengthening to its fullest extent.

  She did not know that it had been a long time since he had been with a woman, and never one as beautiful as his new bride.

  She hoped that he would be able to control the beast she appeared to wake in him and he would take her as gently as she deserved on her wedding night. His fingers caressed her sweet, wet divide, igniting an erotic rhythm within her. She was overwhelmed by her body’s powerful response to his caresses as the sensation of fluttering swirled deep in her belly.

  Raising himself up until he was poised over her, his hands either side of her face, his thumbs caressed her soft cheeks. “I will attempt to make this easy for you, my love; the first time is always bad for a woman, but next time, I promise that it shall be different.”

  The soaring sensation ended abruptly, leaving her feeling needy and confused. John’s weight pressed down upon her, replacing the sweet spiralling sensation with a forceful and intruding pain. “No!” she cried, attempting to push herself up the bed and out from under him. “Stop, no, please it hurts!” she cried.

  John held her shoulders firmly and penetrated her with a powerful thrust. She felt her virgin flesh tear and he pulled back. She breathed a sigh of relief that it was over but as he moved again, she realised that he’d only paused momentarily. At least the small lack of movement had allowed her breathing space to become accustomed to the feel of his shaft deeply embedded in her virgin flesh. He slid in and out again. She gasped, digging her nails deep into his shoulders, not quite sure if she was pushing him away or pulling him to her. Nothing else existed, only the sensation of being joined at the hip with the alien feel of his swollen member centred within her apex.

  He lowered his head to kiss her, she nipped his lip. With a quiet ferocity he snapped his hips, pushing deeply within her. He then began pounding into her as he moved toward his obvious need for release.

  For her, it was a burning, stinging ordeal which ended suddenly, with John stiffening as he gave a loud bellow. He slumped forward, lying still, the sudden dead weight a shock to her. He appeared relaxed as he lay with his full body weight pressed down heavily upon her. Linnet lay there feeling sore, sticky and slightly nauseous. How did women endure it? This was meant to be love? Those wonderful sensations that she had begun with, they led to this, this disappointment? She pushed at John’s inert body, wanting him away from her. She wanted to weep and to scold.

  He rolled off, murmuring her name sweetly but Linnet moved onto her side, shifting to the far edge of the bed. She pulled the covers high about her ears, curled in a ball.

  John sighed heavily. He turned upon his side so that he was spooned around her stiff back. Putting an arm about her, he lifted the cas
cade of her hair and kissed her shoulder. “I know that I have hurt you, my love. I am sorry but I assure you, it will be different for you next time. It is always difficult for the lady on her first time. Sleep now, my sweet. We have an early start on the morrow. Good night, Mistress Foster.” She tolerated his kiss on her unresponsive cheek. He yawned, then, settling himself, he promptly fell asleep.

  Linnet lay in her tight knot, wishing her mother were still alive so she might go to her with her many unanswered questions. Silently she wept as she listened to John’s deep, even breathing. At last she, too, fell into an exhausted sleep.

  When she awoke, she knew instinctively that she was alone. Rolling onto her back, she glanced around the room. Sure enough, there was no one there. It was early; dawn. Perhaps John had already left on his journey to America. She hoped so. At least, unlike many other women, she would not have to endure that more than once or twice a year. There was a light tap at her door and Lottie entered bearing a tray full of breakfast things.

  “Good morning, miss, I mean ma'am,” she sang brightly. “Your husband bade me fetch you a tray. Sir Edward is up and already dressed. He is going to travel to the port as well.”

  She set the tray down on a small table near the fire. “I’ll just give the fire a rattle and get it burning again. You sit here and get warm, it’s that chilly this morning!”

  Linnet sat up in bed and shivered. So, her father intended to see John off from the port. No doubt he thought that she would go to see her new husband on his way and wanted to keep her company. Well, it was the least she could do—after all, he was her husband. After Linnet had breakfasted, she made her way to her own chamber in order to dress. She looked around, frowning. Lottie had tided everything away; her room was very bare.

  “Lottie,” Linnet called. Lottie was in the little dressing room next door, fetching Linnet’s warm travel dress. “Yes, miss?” She came into the room carrying the heavy clothes.