The Barn
A Liberty's Kids fanfiction
By Isabelle Saucier
isauciervideotron.ca
Disclaimer: The Liberty's Kids characters belong to DiC Entertainment. This fanfiction was written for entertainment purposes only and was never meant to infringe on their copyright.
Warning: This fanfiction contains mature themes which does not suit every reader. It was not intended for people under the age of 18. This is pure James/Sarah indulgence from my part. ;)
James Hiller looked at the carriage with a frown. This really was a bad time for the axle to break. "Of course, it had to be on a deserted road," he mumbled, kicking at the carriage wheel.
He looked up when he heard the horse plod in his direction. Sarah Phillips had unhitched Caesar from the carriage and was walking him, both to calm him down and pass the time as James was examining the carriage. "So?" the young woman asked as she stopped next to him.
"I'm not able to repair this on my own. We'll have to find a farm and come back to get it."
Sarah sighed, patting Caesar's neck. "While we are here, do you want to eat?"
The young man wiped sweat from his brow. "Might as well," he agreed, before taking the gelding by the bridle and tying him to the carriage.
The horse had enough freedom to graze and did so happily almost right away. Sarah reached into the carriage and retrieved a blanket she set on the grass, then put some items she had brought along for provisions. She sat down on the blanket, then patted the space next to her so that James did the same. "Guess those people will get their mail a day or two later than they were supposed to," he commented.
She shrugged. "It's not your fault."
"We might have to sleep in someone's barn tonight," he added before biting into a piece of ham. "Hey, this is good!"
"Thank you."
They ate in silence, watching the road for anyone who could help them, but it was deserted. James finished the ham, then lay down on his side of the blanket to rest a little. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes before saying: "We'll have to ride bareback. I hope the next farm is not too far."
"You have ridden bareback before."
"I was thinking about you."
She gave a short laugh. "Don't worry about me."
He opened one eye, smiled at her, then closed his eye again. Sarah smiled back, feeling a burst of love warm her body. It had taken a while, but James and Sarah had finally admitted that something strong was uniting them. They were still shy about displaying it, and had shared only a few awkward kisses, stolen when no one was watching, but it was becoming obvious, even in the everyday gestures they had toward each other.
Sarah picked a piece of fruitcake she had brought as a treat for the road, and took a bite out of it. As she chewed, she looked at James; his lips were parted and a lock of blonde hair was resting on his forehead, giving him a boyish look. Not too long ago, he had still looked boyish most of the time, even after Moses had shown him how to use a shaving blade. Now, it was different. Aging a bit and the war had hardened his features somewhat into those of a handsome man. Time was rolling by fast, she thought.
She smiled even more, a strange feeling appearing in her belly as she considered doing something she thought quite naughty. She approached the piece of cake she was holding close to his face and said gently: "Open your mouth."
Surprised, he looked at her, then obeyed as he saw the cake in her hand. His lips grazed her fingers as he took the bite in and he could not help but smile when he heard her gasp, then saw her blush. "She's so beautiful," he thought as he ate, "Especially when she's all flustered like that. It goes all the way down in her dress neckline, probably all over her… gah! What am I thinking! This is so indecent! I'm gonna be in trouble if I keep thinking like that!"
He swallowed noisily, trying not to think of her soft fingers, of her long, red hair, of her beautiful green eyes, of the fact that she was leaning towards him again with another piece of cake in her hand. It did not work very well. He purposefully caught her fingers in his mouth, but had to let go when she moaned his name. "Sorry," he apologized, then ate the cake.
She shook her head. "It's my fault. I'm being bad."
"I didn't stop you."
"I'm not sure I wanted you to stop me."
He sat up, a flush on his cheeks, his blue eyes showing his surprise. Sarah leant towards him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "You have a very strong effect on me, mister Hiller," she stated, before standing up.
"Likewise," he murmured, hoping that she had not noticed his now quite obvious state of arousal when she stood up.
He picked up the blanket, then shook and folded it; they would probably need this if they spent the night in a barn. Sarah had already put a few things in a bag, and added the blanket, plus her cape, while James busied himself by removing Caesar's tack and only leaving his bridle on. "I don't know where we'll end up," he commented as he gave his friend a leg-up to sit her on the gelding.
She arranged her skirts around her legs, then backed up Caesar to the carriage, on which James had stepped to climb behind her. He held onto her waist with one arm and the bag with the other, and she clucked Caesar forward.
They rode for a while, Sarah happy in a way that the carriage's axle had broken because she still felt naughty and James' hand on her stomach felt warm and good—and she could also feel "him" against her hip. Although she was not entirely sure of what such a reaction on a man really implied, she knew that it was because the young man was "interested in her", but it was for married people since that was where babies came from.
James was happy to simply sit there and not have to worry about controlling Caesar. Sarah's left thigh and backside were pressing against him as the horse walked and it was quite disturbing. He should have only sat her on the horse and walk along, but he did not know how far they would have to go. "What if we cannot find a farm before nightfall?" the young woman asked, getting his attention away from her hip brushing against his tortured manhood.
James considered her question for a moment, and, not hearing him reply, Sarah pulled on the reins and stopped Caesar before turning herself to look at him. "I guess we'll have to find a comfortable spot on the side of the road and sleep under the stars," he commented, shrugging.
"What if brigands come along?"
He laughed. "There's no one now and it's still daytime. Don't worry."
She gave him a dubitative pout, and he could not help but laugh again, then lean forward to kiss her gently on her cheek. She smiled at his gesture. "Then you will tell me that you will protect me, am I right?"
"Actually, you can defend yourself quite well, if I remember correctly," he said, thinking of the first time they had met in Boston.
"I thought you were going to kidnap me and drag me off the ship and do horrible things to me!"
"Ahh… I did."
"I know," she sighed dramatically, before giggling.
"You enjoyed hitting me in the face with that pillow-covered book, didn't you?"
She giggled again. "Yes," she admitted, before turning her body as much as she could to kiss him on the lips.
Her aim was not very good considering their respective positions, and she ended up catching James' upper lip between hers. She backed up right away, surprised by the feeling it created in her loins. "Oh my," she said softly, before turning her head away.
He stopped her, taking her chin between his fingers to bring it back toward him. "That was neat," he commented, before leaning forward and kissing her back in the same way.
It felt somewhat awkward at first to feel him nibble at her lip, but it was quite pleasurable and she went along, her womanly instincts taking over. She even helped him by sliding her left arm under his right one, which turned her upper body toward him. He grunted appreciatively at her gesture, to which she replied with a whimper of her own, the feeling in her loins now almost unbearable. "This is most inappropriate… but at the same time, it feels so right!" she thought, then was suddenly pulled backwards as Caesar tugged on the reins to graze on the side of the road.
"I guess he had enough of that," James said, while Sarah sat back in a more normal position and moved the gelding forward again.
His arm around her waist was a little tighter, she noticed. That was probably indecent as well. In London, she would have slapped him for less, never mind that new, intimate way to kiss. Here, on this deserted Pennsylvania road, she felt warm and safe and, she had to admit, yearned for displays of affection such as he had been giving her since the carriage axle broke down. She took the reins in her left hand and put her right hand on her stomach over his hand, entwining her fingers with his.
They rode for a while longer, and despite James' assurance, Sarah began to worry when she saw that darkness was almost upon them and they still had not found a farm. The young man's hold on her had loosened a bit; from the way his head was leaning onto her shoulder, he was probably asleep, or close to it. She was still holding his hand on her waist, so she would be able to hold him up if he was about to fall off Caesar. Sarah smiled to herself. "We have not slept in a barn in years—Henri was still with us—this is going to feel strange. I hope there won't be too many mice, or that it won't be too cold either... We only have two blankets, we will have to share—Sarah Phillips! How can you think such things?"
A guilty blush crept up her cheeks and ears. Her own parents had their separate bedrooms and they had been married for years! Of course, she had never seen them ride on the same horse, or share an apple, or even less kiss—not on the lips anyway. "So if I understand this correctly, I'm already doing wrongful, unladylike things…And it is out of the question that I stop writing for any man's sake, so I'm condemned to remain an old spinster for the rest of my life… who will know about this one time where I will be next to him? Perhaps he will hug me, as he is doing now. I think I would like that." She nodded to herself. "Yes, I would like that very much!" she said aloud.
"What?" James asked, his voice sleepy.
"I'm sorry. I woke you up."
"That's all right. I can't leave you by yourself like that anyway. It's not gentlemanly."
"I think you are still sleeping," she chuckled.
They continued along the road, then, after a sharp bend, finally saw buildings in the far distance. Sarah hastened Caesar, and they reached the farm a little while after. The young woman stopped the gelding close to the house and James climbed down.
He walked up to the door of the house then knocked. Soon, a burly man opened the door. "Yes?"
"Excuse me to bother you at this hour. We are on our way to Massachusetts and our carriage broke down a while away down the road. I was wondering if we could sleep in your barn for tonight, and tomorrow, I could borrow some tools to repair our carriage."
"We do not have a lot of money, but we can give you a little something for your trouble," Sarah added, patting Caesar's neck absently.
The farmer looked at her, then at James. "Priscilla!" he suddenly barked, making the two journalists jump in surprise. "Heat up some more vittles—we have guests!"
A short, stout woman came into view, wiping her hands on her apron. She had a jolly expression on her face. "Well, well! What have we here!"
Both James and Sarah smiled at her. The woman patted James' cheek. "No worries, lad! Just bring your young, beautiful, bride in, and old Cilla will take care of you! Clemmie! Take their horse in and give him some food as well!"
James, as red as a tomato, was about to stutter a protest about Sarah and him being married, but the farmer was faster than him. "Come on, laddie. Go in where it's nice and warm. I'll take good care of your gelding."
James looked at Sarah, who offered him a somewhat apologetic smile, then extended her arms to him. He walked to Caesar and helped Sarah down, a strange mix of emotions going through him as he felt her slide against him. "This might actually help us. They'll ask less questions," she whispered to him as they stood close to each other.
He swallowed, then nodded. Clemmie took the horse away toward the barn and Priscilla motioned the two journalists inside. The house was small, but cozy. The farmer's wife took her guests to the table and had them sit down in front of plates she hurried to fill up with tasty-looking food. "Here kiddies," she said enthusiastically as she sat down in front of her plate. "Don't wait for Clem. He'll be in shortly."
"Thank you ever so much for your hospitality," Sarah commented with a smile, and James nodded in agreement.
"I'm happy to have you. Ever since my little Emily left the house to start a brood of her own, it's not as lively in here."
Clem stepped in, then came to sit down at the head of the table. "That's a nice gelding you have there. Well-behaved, too. I gave him an extra serving of oats."
"Thanks. He worked hard today," James said before biting into a piece of cheese.
"So, how long have you two been married?" the farmer asked between two bites.
"Clemmie! Don't be so indiscrete! It's obvious they're newlyweds, look at that poor girlie blush! Don't mind him, sweetheart, he's got no manners."
Sarah gave the woman an embarrassed smile; James thought it was the perfect moment to take a closer look at the contents of his plate. "Okay then, what were you doing on this deserted road?"
"Clemmie!"
"What? Trying to make conversation here!"
"It's okay," James replied. "We're on our way to Massachusetts to visit with friends and we're carrying some mail for Postmaster General Benjamin Franklin."
The farmer nodded. "It must be calmer now that the war is over. They can send the mail with younglings."
"We're tougher than we look," James assured him with a crooked grin.
"We are journalists. Traveling around allows us to gather stories as well," Sarah added.
As they continued eating, they told the farmers about the stories they were currently working on. They learned that Clem and Priscilla had lost a son to the war back in Valley Forge. "Many brave men died there," James agreed soberly.
"We're proud of him," Clem stated.
Priscilla treated her guests with a slice of pudding, and James actually succeeded in making her blush by saying honestly that it was the best pudding he had had in a long time.
As Sarah was helping Priscilla to put the dishes away, James and Clem were discussing on how they would repair the carriage and which tools they would need for the job. "Seems pretty simple, James." We should have it ready by tomorrow," the farmer said.
"In the meantime, you children just get some rest. I would offer you the dining area here, right in front of the fireplace, but your might want some privacy of your own…" Priscilla said to Sarah with a knowing wink. "I'll just lend you a good quilt and you'll just have to cuddle in a bed of hay," she continued, smiling to see both journalists blush slightly. "Not that I'm worried you'll be cold anyway, lassie," she concluded, laughing good-heartedly.
Sarah could not help but smile, although she felt her face was burning. James was happy not to be the direct target for the woman's words, as he knew he would not have been able to respond correctly.
The woman left the dining area and went into the bedroom, where she remained for a short while before coming out again with a large, warm, quilt. "There you go," she said as she handed it to James. "Why don't you go build a cozy nest for your little dove while we finish things here?"
"Ahm, I, ah, guess," he stuttered, and stood up, taking the blanket as he left.
Sarah felt like laughing because it was not exactly his type to call her "his little dove", but she chose not to add to his embarrassment and bit her lip. "Ah, to be young again," Priscilla sighed, then shooed her husband outside so he retrieved the cows, but the young journalist saw a look of honest, solid love pass between them, mixed with mischief on the woman's part.
She thought that if James and herself ever did get married, she would want to be like this twenty years from now, rather than like her own parents.
Sarah entered the barn and closed the heavy door behind herself. She was greeted by a few soft whinnies from Caesar and the three other horses there. She walked to the horses and patted them. She missed her Spanish mare Belladonna. Perhaps she could purchase a filly and raise her when she would be reunited with her parents in New York state. This would require a good part of her time and help her cope with being away from James. "To say I was waiting for this instant, and now I almost dread it!" she said to the large, black, draught horse in front of her.
The horse nudged her gently, hoping for a treat, but Sarah had none, so it moved away. The young woman looked around for her companion and finally spotted him up in the hayloft. He was spreading the quilt on some hay he had placed about to form something as comfortable as it could be. "A cozy nest for his little dove," Sarah thought with a smile, before walking to the hayloft ladder.
She considered the ladder for a moment, then unceremoniously tucked her skirts in her waistband to climb up unhindered. The horses would not be offended by seeing her calves, and James was higher than her, so he would not see anything. "Funny how I want to sleep next to him, but I still worry about him seeing my legs," she thought with a chuckle.
James turned around as she heard her come up, but went back to what he was doing almost right away. "I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life," he commented.
"What do you mean?"
"This newlywed business. That woman is convinced that we can't let go of each other or something."
Sarah stepped on the hayloft floor, then let her skirts fall back down. "I did not think it was so repulsive," she replied, saddened by his reaction.
He rolled his eyes and looked at her. "I didn't say 'repulsive' and you know it. I said 'embarrassing'."
"It's not much better."
"I just wish I had been prepared, that's all."
She shrugged, looking down. This was not exactly the setting she had hoped for a night alone with him. "Trust me. You're far from repulsive," he added, turning back to retrieve Sarah's cape and use it as a blanket.
"Am I now?" Her tone of voice was almost mischievous as a smile appeared on her lips.
He smiled back in a way that meant "you know you are", then walked to the hayloft door, which he opened to look outside. "We haven't done this in a long time," he said as she stepped in the hay to join him at the door. "Remember when you used to show Henri the stars and tell him about the legends behind them?" he asked, still looking out.
She nodded as she stopped so close their arms brushed against each other. He turned and leant on the hayloft door, opening his arms to her almost in a reflex. She accepted his unspoken invitation and settled in against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment. "Sometimes, I feel so old," she murmured, her fingers tracing random patterns on his waistcoat.
"Oh so now you're old," he said laughingly.
She nodded again. Then added: "I miss Henri."
"I miss the runt too," he admitted half-grudgingly.
"He is not a runt!" she protested, swatting at his chest.
He only laughed as a reply, but there were no bad feelings under it. "So why do you feel old now?" he then asked.
"I am not sure." She shrugged. "Perhaps it's the war. We've been through so much…"
"I think I see what you mean." He paused, kissing her head. "Just think it can only get better now that it's over."
She gave an approving grunt, then a yawn escaped her lips. "In the meantime, it appears that we should take this little dove to bed!" he stated, before suddenly picking her up in his arms.
She squealed and laughed at the same time, asking him what he was doing. He walked to the blankets, then put her down as gently as he could—which was not saying much because he was too high and she was heavier than he thought. Sarah was still laughing as she dragged him down with her; he protested half-heartedly for form's sake. The wild, unrealistic thought of staying by her for the night crossed his mind for a moment, but he sadly pushed it away. "You should try to get some rest," he said as he covered her with her cape and gave her a small goodnight kiss.
"What about you?" she asked as she watched him go close the hayloft door, her mind trying to come up with reasons to keep him with her.
"What about me?"
"Won't you get rest?"
"Sure. I'll find some spot down there in an empty stall. I'll just kick some hay down. It's already gonna be done for tomorrow," he explained as he walked to a pile of hay close to the edge of the hayloft.
"Won't you stay up here?" Sarah asked as she sat up straight.
"No." His tone of voice almost meant: "Where did you get such a silly idea?"
"But… but am I not your young, beautiful bride?" she smiled invitingly.
James paused, already partway down the ladder. His heart was soaring with joy at the thought of what her words implied. His head was telling him that this was a bad idea in big, red, capital letters. "No, you are not," he replied, thinking that the words felt wrong in his mouth, but that they were putting his sense of morale at ease at the same time.
Sarah felt a sharp pang of hurt as she watched him climb down the ladder, but said nothing. He was right, of course. And she was happy and proud of the gentleman he was. But at the same time, she felt rejected and lonely. "How can I feel rejected? I'm being unfair to him!"
She tossed her cape aside and moved to the edge of the hayloft, peering down. James was piling the hay as best as he could in a stall, but it looked as this bedding would be lumpy at best. She shook her head, then stood up and climbed down the ladder, her cape draped on her shoulder.
James heard her when she arrived next to the stall. He turned around, waiting to see what she wanted. "At least, come up and sleep at the other end of the hayloft," she said, her voice almost pleading.
"I'd like that, but I'd better not."
The young woman looked down, trying to fight the selfish little girl—and the woman who was very much in love—in her who thought this was most unfair. She took her cape and handed it to him. "Here. Take this. That large quilt is enough for me alone up there."
She turned around to reach the ladder but he stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Sarah, wait," he said gently, but did not let go of her arm. "What… why do you want me up there?"
Sarah felt horribly embarrassed at being asked such a personal question. However, she thought at the same time that if she could not tell him everything, perhaps she should not consider him as a… mate. She almost squirmed at the thought. "I… I just thought that for one night we could lay close to each other like husbands and wives do sometimes and… and that you would… hug me, and maybe kiss me and that we would wake up in… in each other's arms."
There. She had said it. It wasn't so bad after all. Her face was burning hot, but it was dark in the barn so he probably could not see it. He was looking at her with an expression she could not decipher. She had probably been too forward and he thought that she was some sort of perverted woman. "Do you know what husbands and wives actually do when they lay close to each other?" he asked in a strange voice.
"I have an idea." He did not have to know much—or how little—she knew.
"If you allow me up there, so close to you for a whole night…"
He stopped, embarrassed. Sarah blinked. This was not the reaction she had expected from him. "What…" she began, but James spoke again: "I'd hug you, then kiss you, and then some more. On your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your soft lips—just like this afternoon. Remember?"
She nodded wordlessly. How could she forget? He lifted her chin with his finger, then continued: "Then, I'd kiss your neck, your throat… I'd want to kiss every inch of you. Those I've seen, and those I haven't."
She gasped. This implied that she would be completely without clothes! How… how indecent! "That's what husbands and wives do when they lay together!" she wondered, feeling herself begin to tremble. Or was it James? Perhaps both of them were. Hers was a strange trembling of anticipation, she discovered. "And that wouldn't be enough. I'd want to touch you. Feel how soft and warm your skin is…"
James let go of her chin and signed. "I can't go up there, Sarah. I'll want to… to love you," he said in a strained voice, his heart beating madly in his chest from admitting such a thing to her.
A low, trembling "oh" escaped her lips as she lowered her head and closed her eyes.
"Considering we're not married, it's—" he began.
"Shh. I know," she cut him off, putting her hand on his mouth to silence him.
He planted small kisses on the inside of her hand, unable to stop himself until he heard her say "oh" again in a low voice that showed unexpected pleasure in the way it trembled. "Sorry," he apologized.
She shook her head. "Don't be, James. We are both enjoying this," she replied in a soft voice.
A guilty smile appeared on his lips but faded away when he saw her move aside and walk toward "his" pile of hay. "Sarah?" he asked.
He frowned when she picked up the blanket and cape, then walked to the ladder, saying: "There must be a way… for me not to become with… with child."
"What? But Sarah…"
"Well? Is there?"
"I don't… I suppose that if we don't actually…" he shook his head. "What am I saying! Sarah…"
The young woman chose to ignore his protestations and climbed the ladder, offering him a nice view of her stocking-clad legs. He hesitated for a while, during which Sarah went to open the hayloft door slightly to have some of the moon's soft light, and rearranged the blankets, feeling both nervous and strangely excited by her own gestures. She finally sat down on the quilt and removed her shoes, then, after a small hesitation, her stockings as well. She was pulling off her dark blue hair ribbon when she heard James climb up the ladder slowly; she addressed him a welcoming smile when she saw his head appear, and opened her arms to him. "Come here," she encouraged him, whispering.
He obeyed, half-mesmerized by the silky curtain of hair on her shoulders and back, and knelt down in front of her. "Are you sure about this?" he asked in the same manner, letting his hand run down her arm, then covering her hand.
"Yes," she answered, before moving her hand so that it was covering his and feeling her face grow hot as his fingers instinctively curved around her thigh. "I want you here with me for the night. Now, how did you say it goes? You first kiss my forehead, then my eyes?"
"I don't think the order matters," he mumbled before leaning forward and kissing her nose.
He moved to her cheek, her eye, leaving a soft trail of kisses as he went. Sarah kissed him back when he was close enough, but otherwise enjoyed his exploration of her face and neck. When their lips met, her hands went to his face and hair, as if to keep him where he was. James' hand, still on her thigh, began to slide up along her leg, then her hip—which made her whimper against his mouth—then her waist, where it nestled itself as if it had always belonged there. He let go of her lips and moved down her jaw and neck, to her shoulder until he reached the neckline of her bodice. He pushed it with his nose to move it away and kiss the newly-exposed skin. When he felt the fabric resist against his nose, he let out a small grunt of annoyance, and moved his hand from her waist to her back, where he began to undo the small buttons of the bodice. He stopped unbuttoning when he was able to fully uncover her shoulders, tugging at her shift at the same time. She moaned his name, incredible feelings going through her body as he kissed the top of her breasts, his trembling hands trying to pull the fabric down her arms. "Unbutton the rest of it, Love, it will be easier," she whispered in his ear, surprising herself by daring to give him advice on such things.
He looked up for a moment, a little short of breath, but with a smile on his face. Had she just called him "Love"? He leant forward to kiss her lips again, using the opportunity that he was closer to reach around her and finish unbuttoning her bodice, which he gently pulled off her. She seemed to hesitate, so he moved away from her slightly. "What is it?"
"I don't know," she began, running her fingers through his hair. "I did not think it felt like that to…" she searched for the right words while untying his cadogan. "… to be like a wife to you."
"Is that good or bad?" he asked, taking the ribbon from her.
He took her left hand and tied the ribbon on her ring finger, making a nice little bow to hold it there.
The feeling in her loins changed from frighteningly strong desire to overwhelming love and tenderness as she considered her adorned hand. "Wait! You need one as well!" she exclaimed, looking around for her own hair ribbon.
She tied it around his finger, then lifted his hand to her lips to kiss it. "Does this mean…?" he asked as she took both of his hands and put them on her hips.
"I don't know…" she replied, before timidly reaching for his waistcoat and starting to unfasten it.
Her stays did not cover her breasts entirely and he could see a little of her cleavage in the neckline of her shift. A delicious, albeit disturbing sight. He shrugged his waistcoat off, then rid himself of his shoes and stockings, which he carelessly tossed aside. "Probably not. We had no witnesses to this," she sighed.
He nodded, then began unfastening his shirt. It took too long for his liking, so he decided to simply pull it out of his breeches and over his head. As his face reappeared from under the garment, he saw that Sarah was standing and untying her skirts. When she noticed that he was looking at her, she gave him an embarrassed smile and blushed prettily. "How can you kiss the rest of me if it's hidden?" she asked, eyeing his naked chest with shy curiosity.
Her skirt and petticoats fell gracefully to her feet, and she stepped out of them and put them aside, unwillingly gracing James with a rather nice view of her breasts as she did so. He stood up nervously, uncertain of what to do, but wanting to be as close to her as he could. With a nearly fascinated look on his face, he moved his right index and middle fingers to her chest, running them along the top part of her stays, under the neckline of her shift. He smiled when he felt small goose bumps under his fingers, and kissed a particularly sensitive spot over her left breast. "Can you remove this too?" he asked, his voice low and shaking, his fingers pulling on the stays slightly.
She nodded, and her hands went to her back. Normally, she would have been deftly done in a few seconds, but her hands were trembling and she fumbled with the lacings. He helped her pull it down the curve of her hips, and she unceremoniously kicked it away when it fell to the floor. She was about to ask what would happen then, but he ran his fingers against her neckline again before moving them over her breast. He was shy about it, and only brushed the warm globe over the shift's fabric gently, but it was enough to send bolts of pleasure through her. She gasped and huddled closer instinctively, leaning on his chest for support. His hands went to her hips, drawing them to him, and she felt against her belly that he was very interested in her at this point. It felt strange and exciting at the same time to be the obvious cause of such a reaction. He mumbled something, then began kissing her neck and shoulder while his hand traveled back up to boldly cup her breast. She briefly thought that it was a perfect fit before realizing that his mouth was traveling down towards his hand. "Oh my…" she murmured, unable to look away from his progress, her eyes half-closed, her short breaths pressing her breast against his hand.
He moved slightly to make room for his exploring mouth and his fingers brushed against her nipple, erect and noticeable even through the fabric. This earned him a moan from her part and gave him an idea. He covered it with his mouth, through the shift, and his tongue instinctively came up against it as if to suckle on it. Sarah's reaction was so strong that her knees buckled under her and she had to brace herself against him for support. He groaned in sympathy, but did not let go of her right away, enjoying the torture he was imposing on her—and on himself at the same time. "What are you doing to me?" she asked plaintively.
He straightened up to look at her, "I'm loving you with all my heart," he replied.
"You are driving me mad… I did not even know that I could feel so much pleas—James!"
"Sorry," he said, moving his thumb away from the wet spot on the front of her shift.
"No, you are not."
"You're right," he admitted laughingly.
He moved his hands down to her hips, where he began gathering the fabric of her shift. She started when he brushed against the sides of her breasts, still pulling the shift along, but raised her arms to help him without him even asking for it. She was about to modestly cover herself, embarrassed by her stark nakedness in front of him, but she stopped when she saw the way James was looking at her. "God you're beautiful," he uttered in a tone that made her feel warm and mushy inside.
She lowered her eyes and blushed, but she was grinning. "Thank you," she whispered.
"This is incredible, I just can't stop touching you," he added, his hands running from her arms to her shoulders, then pulled her toward him.
"Good," she replied, welcoming the new sensations her breasts brought her by rubbing against his chest.
He said something but the sound was muffled by her shoulder. His hands went down her back, under her hair, feeling her ribs, her spine, the flare of her hips. He hesitated before proceeding downwards, but a sudden impulse made him reach for her buttocks and give them a strong squeeze, grinding his hips against her slowly. She let out a surprised "ah!" when she felt his breeches' fabric rub against her thighs. "Wait, Love," she began, but he cut her right off.
"Did I hurt you? I was too rough! I'm sorry!" he exclaimed before kissing her forehead.
Then her nose, her chin, her throat, the hollow between her breasts, repeating that he was sorry each time. Her stomach, her belly button… she started back, laughing. "That tickles!"
She ran her hand tenderly in his hair. He looked up at her from his kneeling position. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, hugging her legs loosely.
"It was a little rough, but you did not hurt me."
"Good, that's the last thing I want to do. Your skin is so soft, I wouldn't—hey, what's this?"
His thumb had brushed against what felt like a tear or a drop of sweat… on the inside of her leg! "What is what?" she asked back, trying to ignore the fact that his finger going up the inside of her thigh was both tickling her and sending waves of indescribable pleasure in her loins.
James did not answer, fascinated as he was with the whole situation. He traced the small drop's path back up to the soft patch of auburn hairs covering her womanhood. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this! I can't believe she's letting me do this!" he thought as he rubbed his finger against the damp hairs, making her moan his name.
Her knees betrayed her again and she nearly collapsed on top of him. He held her as he could, but ended up helping her down to the quilt. "Less dangerous that way," he commented with a smile.
"You're torturing me," she moaned, pushing her hair back over her head, almost making it look like a copper flame.
"Not just you, trust me," he replied, kneeling next to her with his arms holding himself over her.
She instinctively looked down when he spoke and saw the quite obvious bulge in his pants. Her fingers moved toward it, as she was curious. "You've been interested for a while now; I could feel it against me when… oh!" she stopped in mid-sentence, backing her hand away as his manhood moved when she brushed against the fabric of his breeches.
James' reaction was halfway between laughter and a strange hiccup of pleasure. He began kissing her again on her face, neck and shoulders and Sarah closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy it, but her mind wandered to him again. The way he was placed put her arm still under him and she only had to lift her hand to touch him again. She bit her lip and reached up for the buttons closing the front part of his garment. He must have felt it because he groaned against her skin, and his manhood nudged her gently. It seemed to increase his ardor as well; he traced a wet path down her chest with his tongue, finding her nipple again, and closed his mouth over the hardening tip.
Her whole body tensed as she emitted a throaty moan, and her hand clenched on the flap of his breeches, almost ripping off the button still holding it up. "Sorry," she whispered, before moaning again under his sweet torture.
"As long as it's just my breeches, it's not too bad," he said, looking up at her and gently rubbing her stomach.
He turned his hand so that his fingers were pointing downwards and inched his way towards her womanhood, still kissing her gently on her breasts. Not taking any chances, the young woman let go of his breeches to grab onto the quilt under her. James cupped his hand over her womanhood, feeling its warmth and the damp hairs under his fingers. Sarah cooed softly and moved her hips, seeking a closer contact. The area between her legs was so wet that his middle finger slid inside the folds as he moved his hand upwards, grazing against a small, rounded bump of flesh hidden there. Sarah literally cried out, her hips bucking against his hand, her head thrown back. The young man wondered vaguely if she was being too loud, but was fascinated at the same time by the effect a single finger had on her.
He looked up at her to see her reaction and moved his finger slightly. She instantly bucked her hips again, gasping loudly. The way she moaned his name that time almost sounded like a plea and his slowly moving finger had a different effect as it touched the small bump of flesh. Or rather an amplified effect. She ground her womanhood against his hand, letting out ragged moans. It almost felt as if she was throbbing under his hand. A most incredible feeling, he thought. He moved his hand away as she seemed to calm down and catch her breath. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her gaze a little hazy, a dreamy smile on her lips. "You seem to have enjoyed that," he commented, returning her smile.
She nodded. "It felt as if I was on fire and it kept increasing until I thought I couldn't stand it anymore."
James had sat back on his feet, trying to relieve some pressure on his now almost aching groin. The flap of his breeches, still holding by a single button, was stretched at an odd angle. Sarah noticed it and frowned slightly. "You are still interested," she said.
He was about to reply something but decided against it when he saw her hand reach over to undo the last button. The flap fell down and out came the freed manhood, painfully hard. James said nothing, waiting to see her reaction to it. "That goes into the woman when husbands and wives… ?" she half asked, half exclaimed.
He only nodded, but spoke when he saw she was about to touch him out of curiosity: "I don't think I'd touch it if I were you."
"Why not?"
"It's… it's going to be messy pretty quickly if you do."
She frowned again. "Messy? How?"
"Well… Sa-rah!"
"I know the feeling," she said with a crooked smile as she touched him anyway.
It was warmer than she expected, and the skin was very soft. She tentatively took it in her hand and was surprised to feel his heartbeat against her fingers. James was trying to hold himself back, but could not help to move his hips a little against her hand, as if to coax her into moving herself. "This is almost like…" she thought as she remembered what he had done to her and suddenly understood a lot about the "real" married-people things.
With a little smile, she decided to move her hand, messy or not. He shuddered, moaning something that sounded like "oh yeah", closing his eyes and tilting his head down. She caressed him a little awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but then her thumb grazed against the tiny slit at the tip and spread back a little liquid. She thought this would help her move her hand if she could get more of it, so concentrated her efforts on the head, with an obvious pleasuring effect since James seemed to become restless. He humped her hand two or three times, feeling her slippery fingers glide on him, then rocked his hips one last time, crying out in relief as his seed came out suddenly.
Sarah watched in surprise as it arched upwards and landed on her stomach in a few strong spurts. The warm and sticky sensation was not particularly pleasant, but she thought the rest of the experiment was interesting enough to go over that fact. James' manhood was now limp in her hand, although still nudging at her once in a while. "I think it's exhausted," she commented.
"I know I am," he replied, laughing.
He looked at her stomach. "Sorry about that. I told you it would be messy."
"It wipes off, doesn't it?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Then we just need to find something to wipe it off with."
He nodded, then stood up to look around. "Wow, I can barely stand," he commented. "That's the effect you have on me!"
She smiled quietly. "There's a handkerchief in my skirt pocket," she indicated, before looking around to catch the garment.
"Hold on. I'll get it."
He walked unsteadily around her and fetched the handkerchief, then went down the ladder. "Be careful, you don't look too solid," she commented.
"My legs are dead," she heard him reply.
He came back up a little while later with a wet handkerchief. The flap in front of his breeches was buttoned again, she noticed. "Sorry, it's gonna be cold. I tried to heat it up with my hands but it probably didn't do much," he said as he knelt next to her and wiped her stomach gently.
She started at his touch because it was indeed cold, but otherwise remained still. He kissed her stomach noisily once he was done, went back down the ladder to rinse the handkerchief and put it out to dry, then came back up to find out Sarah had put her shift back on and closed the hayloft door. "It feels strange," he commented as he sat down next to her. "To be laying down next to you like this."
"I hope it's a good strange."
"Of course," he assured her, drawing her close as she settled the blanket over them.
They lay in silence for a moment, James slowly falling asleep, Sarah pondering a few things as she felt his heart beat against the palm of her hand. "Do you honestly think that we should not have done this?" she asked.
"I know we shouldn't have."
She raised her head. "Why do you say that?" she asked, feeling a little hurt despite herself.
"It's like a curse."
She frowned and waited to see if he was done talking. He ran his hand through her hair for a moment, then whispered: "I'll want to do it again. And again. And again."
She rested her chin on his chest. "Oh. That curse," she commented.
His hand stilled in her hair and she could not help but chuckle, then became serious again, rubbing her cheek against his chest. "I'll welcome you again. And again. And again."
"Your parents are going to kill me. And if they don't, Dr. Franklin will."
"They will not if they don't find out about it. Besides, why would they kill you? I forced you into this."
It was his turn to laugh. "I resisted for form's sake. Do you have any idea of how it felt just to hear you try to keep me up here in the hayloft?"
"You probably thought that I was some kind of disturbed wanton…"
"What! No! Don't be stupid!"
He took her hand in his, caressing her with his thumb, and saw the blue ribbon still tied to his ring finger. "The only reason why I didn't ask for your hand yet is because I feel I can't offer you what you deserve. I have no money, no title, I don't even—"
She put her hand on his lips. "Shush. Let me be the judge of that. Please," she said.
Silence settled back between them. "Would a Mrs. Hiller still be able to write?" she asked.
"Why couldn't she? Does she lose her hands when she gets married? Ow!"
"I'm serious!" she protested, letting go of the poor two or three chest hairs she was pulling on.
"So am I! Unless you find another occupation that you want to do, yeah, you can write all you want. In fact, if I get my own print shop, I'll probably need your help to run it."
"What about children?"
"I don't know!" he sounded almost discouraged by her questions.
"Do you want any?"
"I guess… I didn't give this much thought."
He closed his eyes to enjoy her fingers on him. Her touch was soft and it was lulling him slowly to sleep. "We really should try to rest a little," he said.
"I know," she replied, before yawning as if on cue.
She stretched to kiss his chin and then settled down next to him, her legs touching his, her lips against his shoulder. They fell asleep almost at the same time, and did not wake up until the following morning when Priscilla came in the barn with her husband, being purposefully noisy all the way from the house to make sure James and Sarah had the time to become decent again if need be.
James and Clem left after a hearty breakfast, Caesar tied behind the farmer's carriage. Sarah decided to stay at the farm and help Priscilla around, feeling she would be more useful there. As she walked around, throwing food at the chicken, she became lost in thought. It had been awkward to wake up next to James—a shirtless James at that—and it had been even more awkward to see the way most of their clothes were strewn about in the hay around them. Her hair had been tangled a bit from spending the night untied, so she had decided to braid it after brushing it quickly. She realized where her hair ribbon was when she wanted to tie her braid and stopped, saddened. "Back to reality, I guess," James had said, before untying his makeshift "ring" and handing it back to her.
That had saddened her even more, but they both knew they could not go waltzing around disheveled with bows on their hands without exposing themselves to numerous questions. It was part of their secret, she decided with a rueful smile as she watched the hens peck at the food on the ground.
Repairing the carriage took the men a good part of the morning. They came back tired but successful, Caesar prancing around like a young colt as he pulled the freshly repaired carriage.
All four shared one last meal together and soon, James and Sarah were on their way to Massachusetts again, with a basket of food for the road, and new stories for the Gazette. It took them several more days to reach Boston, and they stopped each night at an inn or someone's house either they or Dr. Franklin knew. Neither of them spoke of the night they had spent in the farmers' barn, but the gestures and looks they had for each other betrayed the fact that they already missed it and the intimacy that had come with it.
When they arrived in Boston, they went directly to the postal station to take care of the official pat of their trip, then went to the Adams estate, where they were greeted by Abigail herself, who was standing on the side of the house with Nabby and Susanna, working in the garden. She noticed right away how James had to help Sarah down the carriage, and the way he looked at her and held her when he did. "It's about time," she thought with a smile, then walked to them to welcome them.
The End