Chapter Five
J ane piled logs into the basket, stacking them neatly so they’d be easier to carry. The first few days, she’d hated the cobwebs and mice in the wood store, but she was quickly becoming immune to the little creatures that lived behind The Traveler’s Rest.
The landlord, a portly gentleman named Gerald, had been happy to hire a young lad for general duties and she’d been set to work cleaning grates, chopping carrots and cabbages for cook, and sweeping up after the farrier. It was hard work but not particularly taxing on her mind, and she’d seen Emily do it often enough.
In return for her toil, she got a penny a day as well as food and board.
“Hey, Jimmy,” Gerald called over the fence. “When you’ve done the kitchen fire, the tables need clearing and wiping. A rush of hungry punters will be arriving soon. Always the way if they leave Chester at dawn.”
“Of course, sir,” Jane said, hoisting up the heavy basket. “I’ll get straight to it.” Her back ached and she had a blister on her right little toe, but she wouldn’t complain. It was likely Harry was having a much worse time than her.
But she had faith he’d come for her. He was her husband, after all. He loved her. They were meant to be. Soulmates.
She stacked the logs beside the kitchen fire and added a few to stoke it for Cook.
“When you’ve done the tables,” Cook said, “there are potatoes to peel, so get yerself back in here.”
“Before I change the bedding in Room Five?”
“Aye, that can wait. No punters staying tonight that we know of. Not in that room, anyway.”
Jane filled a bowl with hot water, grabbed a cloth, and went into the bar area. It had a low-beamed ceiling and was strewn with as many chairs and tables as Gerald could fit in. Terry, the beer puller, was changing barrels and cleaning glasses.
“Jimmy, you want an ale?”
“I, er, okay, thank you very much.”
Terry chuckled. “You do talk hoity-toity, you know, for a little whippersnapper of a thing.”
“Do I? Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Terry poured ale into a small glass and studied her. “Where did you say you were from again?”
“East of Chester, a small village. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“They all talk like you there?”
“The school mistress spoke that way. Perhaps that is the reason.”
“You went to school?” He placed the drink on the bar and raised his eyebrows.
“When I could.” She turned and wiped a long, ale-stained table beside the window. “When my family could release me from the fields.”
Terry said nothing, but Jane knew he wasn’t buying anything she was saying. She just hoped he didn’t realize she was lying about being a boy too.
“Ah, just the place.” A large man stepped inside the tavern, rubbing his hands. “My stomach thinks my throat has been cut.”
“What can I get you, sir?” Terry asked.
“Pint of your best and a pie. What pie you got here?”
“I believe Cook has cooked rabbit pie this morning.”
“That will do me, and my young chap, make it two of everything.”
He sat at one of the tables Jane had just cleaned and was quickly joined by a lanky, young man with a flop of blond hair. He stared at Jane, or at least she thought he did. He had a terribly pronounced squinting left eye and she couldn’t be sure.
As she carried on cleaning up the tables from the night before, the bar filled. Mainly men, but a few women too. Orders were placed, drinks consumed, someone lit a cigar, and the cat wandered in, hoping for scraps of meat.
When she’d finished her task, she went into the kitchen and peeled potatoes for Cook. She then changed the bedding in Room Five and opened the window to let in the fresh meadow air. The moment she’d finished, Terry shouted at her to gather plates and glasses, a wagon of travelers had arrived as well as several passers-by on their way west. They were all in need of refreshments.
Jane rushed to do all of her jobs. Her stomach rumbled, but she had no choice but to keep on going, keep on working. Likely, it would be hours before she could stop and eat.
When she lifted the plate from the table of the young man with blond hair, he grasped her wrist.
“Oh!” She tried to pull from his grip, but he kept a hold. “Get off me.” Her heart rate picked up. Fear nipped at her.
“Are you really a boy?”
“What? Yes.”
“You have the ass of a woman. And a nice ass, too.”
Again, she tried to escape, but to no avail.
Suddenly, there was a rush of movement at her side. Her wrist was released and the young man was lifted up, pushed back, and pinned against the wall.
“You dare to touch my wife?”
“Harry?” She stepped back, bumping into a chair.
“I said, you dare to touch my wife ?” he snarled, his shoulders bunched and his body tense. He had his hand around the boy’s neck.
“I…I…didn’t know… I mean…she looks like a…”
“Apologize.” Harry jerked his head at Jane.
The entire place had gone quiet. Watching. Waiting to see what happened.
“I… I am sorry.”
Harry released the boy as quickly as he’d grabbed him and turned to Jane. His eyes were dancing with triumph and his jawline was heavy with stubble. He had a bruise on his right cheek.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, emotion shaking her voice.
“Looking for you.” He stepped up to her, tossed her cap to the floor, and gathered her close. “What else do you think I would be doing?”
“Mason told you?”
“Yes, he is a good friend to us.”
Before she could say another word, he kissed her, a long, delicious kiss that reminded her she wasn’t dreaming, that her husband really was there. Holding her.
A cheer went up through the bar. The punters were enjoying the show.
“Jimmy? What the…?”
Gerald was at their side.
“It’s Jane.” Harry stroked his hand over her short hair. “And she is of too high breeding to be working as a scullery maid, I can tell you that for sure.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Gerald’s eyes widened.
“I knew it.” Terry pointed at her from over the bar. “I knew there was something off about him—er, her. It was the way she spoke, all lardy-da.”
“I am sorry to deceive you,” Jane said. “It was not my intention to lie and I cannot explain fully for fear of causing you trouble in the future.”
“We all have our reasons,” Gerald said. He turned to Harry. “I’m most embarrassed to have thought your lovely young wife a boy. Please, accept my apology along with a hearty meal and use of a room to recover from your journey.”
“Why, that is most kind of you.” Harry shook his hand. “And gratefully received. I am also grateful that you did mistake her for a boy. Hiring her kept her safe until I could get here.”
“Yes, thank you, Gerald.” Jane smiled at the landlord, who was firm but fair and for whom she would always be thankful. His inn had been a place of refuge and a place to reunite.
Soon, they were in Room Five, door locked, meals devoured.
Harry had explained, as they’d eaten, what had happened in London. He had money too, at least as much as the amount her jewels would be worth. He’d suggested they move onto Anglesey, an island just off North Wales, where land was cheap and the earth good for farming.
Jane would have followed him anywhere. She needed no persuading. “And Emily,” she said quietly. “May I send for her when we are settled? Secretly, of course.”
“I knew full well you would want that.” He smiled. “And I have no problem with her joining us as your maid.”
“Thank you.” Her heart filled with happiness. Everything was going to be all right.
He studied her. “Your hair is very short.”
“I know.” She tugged it self-consciously. “But it will grow.”
“I like it.” He used a bowl of water to wipe away the dust of the road from his body. “Now,” he said, “it is time for us to pick up where we left off as man and wife.”
“I would agree.” Her attention roamed his wide shoulders, his defined torso and the line of dark hair that led to his cock. She really was a lucky woman. “Where shall we start?”
“Right here.” He gripped his cock in his fist, his thumb sliding over the slit. “If that would please you, too?”
“Very much so.” Jane stood, undid her pants, and let them fall to the floor before removing her sweater. She wore nothing else; her chemise was drying after being washed out a few hours earlier.
“I will never let you far from my sight again,” Harry said. “No one will ever tear us apart.”
Jane didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped to her knees before him and set her hands on his hips.
“Ah, yes, that…” He touched the tip of his cock to her lips. “You do it so well.”
She opened her mouth, a wide circle, and sank onto him. His heat, his taste, his hardness slid over her tongue, filling her cheeks and touching the back of her throat.
He groaned, long and low, and his hand tightened on her head.
She closed her eyes. Giving Harry pleasure this way always filled her with a sense of power, of control, and she adored his moans of pleasure.
He pulled out then eased back in, swinging his hips a little.
Her nipples were tight and tingling and her pussy quivered with a need of its own. But they had all night. Gerald wasn’t expecting to see them again today and she had no more chores with which to concern herself.
“Oh, Jane, yes, like that.” He cupped her jaw and rode in and out, clearly savoring her mouth and the tightness of her lips.
She used her hand, cupping his balls, stroking the root of his cock.
“Ah, in the name of…”
A drip of salty liquid coated her tongue. He was close, really close.
She wanted his release. She wanted to take him to a moment where he could forget about being thrown out of a carriage onto a wet London street and kicked and punched. She only wanted Harry to feel happiness and pleasure for the rest of his life and would do her best to make sure that was the case.
“Oh, my love…I am…going to…
He came and she stayed with him, enjoying the shake of ecstasy that went through his body and his cock pulsing in her mouth.
When he’d finished, he pulled out, scooped her up, and held her close.
She breathed in his scent. It was like coming home. Her heart had belonged to Harry Cooper from the moment she’d seen him calming a lame, young stallion, her body had yearned for his since the day she’d seen him shirtless and stacking hay bales. And now he was hers.
She had escaped her demons—her father and Cohen—and thanked God that all her dreams had come true.
The End
Want to find out more about the Lyon’s Den and read the story of the mysterious gentleman wearing a devil’s mask? Of course you do. Dive into Lyon at the Altar , also by Lily Harlem.