Chapter Nineteen #3
She saw his eyes widen. He did not need to be invited twice.
With a roar he leaped from the bed, reaching for her, but Lucy was too quick for him.
She flung open the bedroom door and was away down the stair, her bare feet pattering on the wood.
She could feel him close behind her. She dashed into the dining room, ran around the table, making the china clatter, and out again, then into the parlor, where Robert caught her from behind.
His arm was across her bare stomach and his body was hot at her back.
He was panting. She could feel he had the most monstrous erection again.
She rubbed herself against it and felt him give a growl low in his throat.
“Damn it, woman,” he said. “You’re insatiable.”
Lucy giggled, feeling deliciously wanton. “Can you not deal with me, my lord?” she murmured provocatively. “Too old? Too tired?”
In response he pushed her forward so that she was leaning over the rickety old piano, her breasts pressed against the cold shiny wood, palms flat on the top. She felt his fingers at her slick opening, then his cock.
“I have always said that you are so talented with this instrument.” He slid into her and she gasped at the invasion.
He felt so big and this was so new and different, the sensations deeper and fiercer, the need in her all the wilder for it.
She pushed back against him, feeling the cold slide of the wood against her breasts, back and forth, and the push of him deeper still as he drove into her.
He held her hips and took her in hard thrusts that had her gasping.
The piano strings quivered and resonated to each jerk of her body, a cacophony of tumbling sound that built and built.
Robert’s thrusts were inexorable, pushing her deep into ecstasy.
She came in a blind spiral of rushing darkness, wanting to take him with her, but he drew back.
“I can wait,” he murmured.
She thought he would release her then, but he was relentless.
He took up the rhythm again, catching her around the waist, holding her body still for his plunder.
It was sublime, glorious. She clung to the smooth wood, bracing herself as he rocked deeply inside her, meeting each thrust as he drove her closer again, lifted her higher.
She loved the sheer carnality of it, the way her breasts jolted with each plunge of him inside her, the stretch and clench of her belly, the utter wanton physicality of it.
It was another revelation, pure lust, blazing and flagrant in its demand.
Her orgasm caught her sharply, raking through her, making her shake.
She heard Robert shout and felt him spill himself deep inside her, the final lunge of his body catching her again and sending her spinning into bliss beyond ecstasy.
She slumped into his arms, the echo of that same ecstasy still resonating through her.
She was shaking, her legs unsteady, and he picked her up and carried her across to one of the armchairs, where he sat down with her on his lap and started to kiss her again, sweet and gentle, the corner of her mouth, the line of her jaw, the hollow of her collarbone.
She snuggled close and breathed in the scent of his skin, the heat and the sweat and the faint sandalwood soap smell that made her head spin in slow circles.
“The Highland Ladies Bluestocking Society did not teach us to use a piano thus,” she said, pressing kisses against his chest. Her palm was splayed over his heart and she felt the rumble of his laugh deep in his chest.
“I’m exhausted,” she murmured.
“It serves you right.” Robert brushed the tangled hair away from her face and kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers now with tenderness.
“You’re cold.” His touch was warm on her chilled skin as he picked her up and carried her back up the stairs to their bedroom. “Let me warm you.”
He laid her on the bed and slid in beside her, drawing the covers over them both. Lucy could feel the aching tiredness in her body that was the aftermath of sheer pleasure.
“I love you.” She kissed him.
She did not awaken again until the room was bathed in high sunlight.
Robert was dragging on his shirt and cursing that he was going to be late for a meeting with the harbormaster.
As he came back to the bed to kiss Lucy with lingering passion, she saw Sheena slip into the room with her breakfast tray.
She felt almost too decadently exhausted to eat and drink.
Sheena was picking up her nightgown and indicating by silence and delicately raised eyebrows that she had noted the tumbled state of the bedclothes and Lucy’s air of dishevelment. The maid placed the tray on the nightstand and walked over to the Armada chest, rummaging around in its depths.
“You’ll be wanting this,” she said. “I noticed you hadn’t been taking it. That’s foolhardy and dangerous, if you’ll pardon me, madam. You must have known this would happen.”
Lucy looked up from her cup of hot chocolate. Sheena was holding in her hand a little pot. At first Lucy did not recognize it, but then she remembered with a queer jump of the heart the tincture of pennyroyal.
She remembered that frightened girl, haunted by the past, and felt a huge pang of compassion for her.
“Actually,” she said, “I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I’m not afraid anymore.” And she felt a surge of excitement and happiness wash through her.
Sheena’s eyes had opened very wide. “But, madam,” she said, “you can’t take such a risk!
You must have it!” There was a note of panic in her voice as she held the pot out to Lucy.
“I’ll get you another tincture,” she said rapidly.
“In case you are already enceinte. No one would know.” Then, pleadingly, “It wouldn’t be safe for you to have a child, madam.
Think of what happened to your sister! Please listen to me—”
“No,” Lucy said firmly. She got up and took Sheena by the arm, drawing her over to sit down on the bed.
The maid’s face was crumpled as though she was about to cry.
She was shaking. Lucy felt shocked; she had had no idea that Sheena too had been plagued by the fear that she might lose her mistress, but the maid had been nurse to both herself and Alice. It made perfect sense.
“Sheena,” Lucy said gently. “I understand that you want to protect me. You’ve done so since I was a baby. But there is nothing to fear. I promise you.”
It was clear to her that Sheena did not want to talk about it anymore. The maid’s expression was stony, her lips set in a tight line.
“Very well, madam,” she said. “We’ll speak of it no more.” She grabbed the tray and started to tidy away Lucy’s chocolate cup despite the fact that the drink was only half-finished. Lucy grabbed a piece of toast before Sheena whisked herself and the tray around the door.
Later, when she was dressed, Lucy picked up the little pot of pennyroyal and slipped it into the pocket of her cloak.
She walked down to the cliffs, feeling the tug of the breeze on her cloak and the first warmth of the sun.
She stood on the edge and threw the pot over.
She hurled it as far and with as much force as she could, and heard it bounce off the rocks below, before the wash of the sea swept in to take it away.
It felt good.
The sun was strengthening in a blaze of gold.
Lucy stood with her face upturned to it.
For a moment on the breeze she thought she could hear Alice’s voice and Alice’s laughter.
The sound no longer haunted her through the dark.
There were no more waking nightmares, only the memory of Alice dancing in the sunlight.
She could feel Alice’s presence beside her still but it was a gentle ghost now.
Lucy opened her heart and let her memories of her sister fly free.