Clearing the Air
Time marched on. The furore over the attack began to dwindle and only a day or so after Mr. Middleton's hanging, life in Charleston inevitably returned to normal. Patriots convened in their parlours to discuss their disgust over the hanging and what - if anything - could be done about it. They plotted and planned but most importantly, they spied. On their neighbours, on the Redcoats, they listened closely to every rumour and did their utmost to send word of British movements and information - out of Charleston to the right ears.
Clinton, with much fanfare and posturing, set sail from Charleston harbor with his fleet, leaving Cornwallis in charge of the Southern campaign. Cornwallis began planning his tour of the Southern garrisons and villages. He still intended to leave Tavington in Command as acting General until his return. For now, however, Tavington suddenly found he had some extra time on his hands, as Cornwallis was in Command until his departure.
Up until now, he had been able to lose himself in his duties, the attack and the trial had consumed every hour of every day, leaving him barely a moment to dwell over Margaret and their rift. Now however, with more hours suddenly to himself, he was finding it difficult not to dwell over her. She avoided him as though he had the plague, spending much of her time away from the house with Mrs. Simms and Mary Thompson, and even resorting to taking her meals in her sitting room or her Little Parlor downstairs. The only time she would permit him into her presence was if he needed to speak to her with regards to his billet or some other formal topic. And she always ensured Maisy and Jonah were with her.
When in his presence, she was cool, her face as carefully composed to resemble a marble statue. She had built her ramparts high about her and he didn't have a hope of breaching them. Filled with pride, he refused to pursue her further. He resisted the urge to visit her chamber at night, knowing damned well he would find her door locked.
It was only now, after recent events had begun to settle and he was not so busy, that he was unable to distance himself from the keen pain of her loss.
His friends noticed of course. They were sensitive to his increased affliction. One particularly trying evening, Tavington tried to engage Margaret into speaking to him in a more social manner. He was sitting in the parlor in an armchair across from Bordon, while Evans, Binnings, Harford and Robertson played cards at the small table. From his vantage in the armchair by the window, William saw Margaret gliding past the parlor from her room, no doubt heading toward the stairs. In a moment of weakness he hailed her, calling her in.
Margaret stopped short in the hallway, turning to face him across the distance. She had decided long since that she would not outright ignore him and she had thought he had come to understand that she would not engage in small talk. She would not give him the opportunity to chip away at her defences, to wear her down with his smiles and charm. Believing he had a valid request of one type or other, she glided slowly into the parlor to stand before him.
"Yes, General Tavington?" She asked coolly. "You need to speak to me?"
William sighed heavily as he stared up at her, her face marble once again, her arm looped behind her back - her stance stately. Quite similar to the militaristic one he assumed so often, he pinioned.
"No, Miss Putman," he replied formally. "I merely wish to greet you. To bid you a good day, perhaps enquire as to your health?" He stretched his long legs before him and placed his hands in his lap as he gazed up at her, appearing at his ease. His bearing was warm and inviting, he even inclined his head, indicating the empty seat between himself and Bordon. Anyone else would have taken that as their cue to sit with him.
Not so Margaret.
"I am quite well, Sir," she said coolly. "Good day to you, too."
Then she turned and, with a polite nod for the other occupants of the parlor, strode smoothly on her way.
"Damn and blast her!" Tavington muttered, filled with frustration. "Did you see, she rebuffed me!"
"I did see," Bordon murmured. "She will not be easily seduced back to you."
Stephen tried to take the matter in hand, in the only way the cheerful Lieutenant knew how.
"Come along Tavington, there is only one way to deal with this," Lieutenant Evans announced, throwing down his cards. "Cards, beer and… willing women!"
"Yes, great idea," Bordon's voice dripped sarcasm. "General Tavington can fix this by bedding more women. Don't listen to his advice, Sir."
"No," Tavington said slowly, rising to follow Evans. "I agree, I think that's an excellent idea. Are you coming, Bordon? Binnings?"
Bordon sighed, and nodded. "Someone has to keep you two out of trouble." He rose also - Maisy still had her mensies although she whispered to him earlier that her bleeding was almost gone, another day or so and she'd be able to start visiting his room again. While he was quite pleased she was bleeding for it meant she was not pregnant, he found it beyond frustrating. The timing could not have been worse, he had needed a woman in his arms these last few nights, for it had been a trying time indeed. He could have gone to her room, he supposed, and simply slept with her in his arms without coupling, but the very idea made him shudder. Men had a natural aversion to women during their bleeding. Unless they were French… The thought made him smirk.
Women, it seemed, felt the same way. Maisy had spent much of her time in a self imposed confinement, in her chamber or in Margaret's, disdaining the company of men. Bordon knew it was due to her mensies and that she would join them, and be back to her normal self, in a few more days.
They encountered Maisy on the stairs, coming up as they were going down. She paused when she saw them, they all greeted her and she was friendly in her reply, but Bordon could see the concern in her eyes and he suspected she had guessed they were going out for the evening and she was fearful that he would stray.
"Miss Harper," Tavington stopped in front of her and she bobbed her head in greeting. "I was wondering if Miss Putman has spoken to you at all? About..?" He trailed off and Maisy's breath caught. She understood exactly what she was asking and was uncomfortable at being placed on the spot.
"Yes, of course she has, Sir," she said softly and honestly. "But you don't expect me to break my friends confidence, do you?"
Tavington puffed an angry breath and tightened his lips.
"Get on with you, William," Stephen gave Tavington a nudge. "Christ, leave the poor girl be."
"You're right, of course," Tavington ground out, then to Maisy, "forgive me, Miss Harper."
"Nothing to forgive," she offered a small smile of commiseration. Bordon watched it all from turn in the landing. Bordon let Binnings over take him, in the hope that he could whisper a quick reassurance in Maisy's ear without the others seeing. As he moved aside to make room, Binnings shuffled further down the steps. The Private tipped his helmet to Maisy, who nodded in return, though she seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Bordon was aware that she did not like to string Binnings along and assumed that was the source of her discomfort.
The three Dragoons continued down the steps and Bordon waited another moment before making his move and following. When he reached Maisy, he touched her hand.
"I'm just having a few drinks, don't worry so much," he said and was rewarded when her face brightened with a broad smile.
"Good, because they're finished," she said cryptically, before trotting up the stairs on her way. He frowned but the other Dragoons were turning to him by now and he smoothed his expression and followed them. Her meaning suddenly came clear and it was all he could do not to whirl around and march back up the steps, all the way to her chamber, through her down on the bed and roger her immediately.
After an entire week of waiting - he was aching in his breeches! And she'd just told him she'd stopped her bleeding! Damn and blast it. He caught up with the others and they began to cross the foyer to the front door when Binnings suddenly stopped.
"I.. Ah… I think I'll stay after all," he said. He seemed furtive, as though searching for a reasonable excuse. "I… yes - I'll stay. I have.. Some correspondence to catch up on and we've no time during the days…"
"Oho!" Stephen teased, seeing right through Paul's excuse - just as Philip himself did. Bordon struggled not to scowl. "The boys in love!" Stephen quipped.
"What?" Paul's eyes widened and began to look hunted. "No - I've just got correspondence and -"
"You think I was born yesterday, boy?" Stephen laughed. "You want to stay for Miss Harper. Oh well, off with you then - make sure you get a nice big kiss from her at least, for if you don't come with us now, that's all you'll be getting tonight! Miss Harper is not the type to do more!"
He better not get even that much! Bordon, keeping his face blanked of all emotions, raged silently. He had been correct in his estimate that any excuse to stay would draw unwanted suspicion, that belief was confirmed now that Paul had drawn that same unwanted attention. Bordon knew he'd spend the rest of the evening festering over what Maisy and Paul were getting up to, while he himself was out carousing!
Paul turned a greenish colour and he seemed at a loss for words.
"Leave him be, Stephen," William said firmly. "Stop teasing - he is courting the girl, after all."
The Dragoons smirked and continued on out of the house, Bordon following reluctantly.
Bordon's mind began to play tricks on him, making him imagine Paul Binnings lifting Maisy's skirts and thrusting himself inside her. The Dragoons were striding toward the gate now and Bordon, feeling eyes on his back, glanced over his shoulder, over toward the house. He saw Margaret on her balcony watching them leave. When she saw him looking, she turned stately and strode into her chamber.
:::::::::::
Paul trotted up the stairs two at a time, striding as quickly as he could before his courage left him again. He had lost count of the times he'd attempted to speak to Maisy over the last week since his assault, but each time he worked up the nerve, it collapsed as soon as he saw her beautiful face.
His duties had kept him busy over the last week, he had spent an inordinate amount of time away from the house, dealing with the issues surrounding the attack on the ship in the harbor. But when he had been in the house, he had noticed that Maisy was doing her best to avoid him. She kept to her rooms when she never had before, she took her meals in her chamber, rather than dine with the Dragoons - or more specifically, with him.
You're worse than Major Brendon, he thought mournfully. The guilt had been consuming him, despite how busy he'd been with his duties. The memory would rise at the oddest time, of him gripping her waist and hauling her onto his lap, his hands on her back holding her in place as he pushed up into her. He would cringe then, shame and disgust washing through him.
For some time now, he'd been planning on asking her to marry him - and he'd planned on giving her the best life he could if she accepted him. But now - although he knew they must wed for he'd stolen her virtue - he despaired over how they could ever be happy, with her hating and fearing him.
Sometimes when the memory arose, it had a different feel. She was as eager as he in those moments, she'd opened his shirt after all, and begged to feel something different - something else, than that terrible horror, the grief over so many dead right before their eyes. They'd both been half crazed Paul knew, but he also knew that she had not meant that she wanted to be raped. When she'd begged him to give her something else to feel - she'd meant kisses only. Kisses and comforting arms around her. She'd hadn't wanted him to impale her, hadn't wanted him to grunt and groan beneath her like an animal while he thrashed toward his orgasm. He'd been frantic to feel something else as well - something other than the horror, but he's been wrong to force it from Maisy.
When he reached her door, his courage failed him. Again. Breathing heavily, he pushed past his cowardice and knocked gently on her door. A few moments later, it opened and Maisy stopped short, staring at him in shock.
"Private…" She whispered, then poked her head into the hall to glance this way then that.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Harper," he began in a shaky, thin voice. Jerking his helmet from his head, he continued in a contrite tone, "I need to speak to you, and was wondering if you'd take a walk with me?"
"Oh…" Maisy nodded slowly. "Of course, let me get my cape."
Thank you, Lord, Paul thought as Maisy stepped back to take her cape off the hook on the wall. Relief washed through him - at least she would allow him to speak to her! But he was not out of the woods yet, he knew it.
"Where shall we go?" She asked, sounding somewhat nervous in Paul's opinion.
She won't want to be alone with you, he thought quickly. Not after what you did. She'll be too fearful. But what I have to say needs to be said in private.
"Perhaps…" He paused, thinking of the least threatening location that would afford them a measure of privacy. "Miss Putman's seat - outside where she throws bread to the birds?"
That was perfect, he thought. Night had not quite fallen - it was evening but the sun was just slipping over the horizon into dusk - setting later as it was Summer. The seat was situated under some trees, near a small stream that ran through Margaret's property. But it was close enough to the house that anyone glancing out any of the front facing windows would see them. This, Paul hoped, would go a long way to helping Maisy feel safe despite being in his company.
"Alright, shall we?" Maisy pulled her cape around her shoulders and the two walked through the house, down the stairs to the front door, all in an uncomfortable silence. A few moments later, he was guiding her to the wood seat - it was still covered with cushions, the maids had yet to bring them inside. Maisy sat and as soon as she did, several ducks began to wander over, looking for the meal they usually received when people sat on that seat. "We should have bought bread…"
"Wait here," Paul said. He hadn't sat as yet and he needed a few more minutes to compose himself, to work out exactly what he would say. He trotted to the back of the house, into the kitchens.
"Can I have some bread, Lynnie?" He asked the cook. "For the ducks."
"There," the old widow pointed to a pile of crumbs and bread chunks in a basket. "That's what I keep aside for Miss Margaret's ducks. I'm sure they get fed better than any ducks in South Carolina!"
"No doubt," he replied, grabbing a few handfuls and putting them in a smaller basket. He nodded farewell and made his way around the house again, back to Maisy. He handed her the basket as he sat beside her.
"My thanks," she smiled and Paul's heart gave a small lurch, a twist of despair. He was silent for sometime as he watched her breaking up the stale bread. She tossed a few chunks, then shooed a particularly aggressive male who was flapping his wings and fluffing his feathers, trying to intimidate the other ducks so he could get more than his share. Paul continued to watch her until he felt so stretched, bursting with guilt and shame that he could hold it in no longer.
"Oh, Miss Harper, I'm so sorry!" He erupted and Maisy jerked her head up, her eyes wide with astonishment. She sat up straight, her face showing her alarm.
"What is wrong?" She said, instantly worried. Her first thoughts were that he had discovered her and Bordon but rational reason stepped in and she realised that he wouldn't be apologising to her for that. He'd be denouncing her for a harlot! A harlot who would roger Paul Binnings in the carriage as soon as her own lovers back was turned, and then spend the next week hoping like Hell that Bordon never found out!
"I… I can't tell you… How guilty I feel… I should never have…" Paul swallowed and he paled, his face as white as a sheet. The words began to tumble from him. "I'm a monster. I never would have hurt you like that but I was crazed - those men had all died and I kept imagining how painful it would have been. I'm hardened to battle by now - I've been serving a whole year now and I'll sabre a man and shoot him, I won't even stop to watch him die before facing the next man and killing him too. But it was different that night - the grief of all those poor souls gripped me. When you said you wanted to feel something else I… I became a monster! I know you didn't mean… that… And I'm so sorry!"
"Private -" Maisy began but Paul spoke right over her, barely drawing a breath and not letting her get a word in edgewise, no matter how hard she tried to speak into the brief gaps, when he drew quick breaths between words.
"I know, you must hate me. I don't blame you! But I swear you don't have to fear me - I'll never hurt you like that, not again. I know you don't trust me but I'll earn your trust, I swear I will. I stole your virtue and I'll do the right thing. When you're ready that is. I was going to propose, I'm certain you knew that. And I had such grand hopes for the happy life we'd have, if I was lucky enough that you'd accept me. But now I've taken your virtue and you have no choice but to accept me! But I'll do the right thing, Miss Harper. We'll marry - if you'll have me - and I swear we won't couple until you're ready." Paul stopped short, his face shifting from grief stricken to horrified, from pale to green as a terrible thought occurred to him that he had not considered before. He continued in a whisper. "That is… unless you want to lay a charge against me. I'll understand if you do. I'll tell the truth, I won't deny what I did. I'll accept the punishment. If you don't want to marry me I'll understand - once he knows what happened, Tavington will find you a decent husband -"
"While you are whipped raw for something you didn't do?" Maisy asked him, silencing his sorrowful tirade.
"Pardon?" He whispered, not quite certain he'd heard her correctly.
"Private," she said earnestly. "Why would you think you raped me?"
"Because I… I… I grabbed you!" He wailed, lamenting his actions. "I made you sit in my lap and then I held you there and I know I'm so much stronger than you - I'm stronger than Evans even! You didn't have a hope of getting free and -"
"You have forgotten I unbuckled your breeches?" Maisy asked, her face flaming with shame and embarrassment at the memory of her frantic fingers, pulling his belt apart then reaching inside… She shuddered and pushed the memory away. Private Binnings swallowed and stared at her with frank astonishment.
"I… I guess I do remember now…" He stammered.
"I felt the same as you," Maisy said softly, averting her gaze from his. "Probably worse because I don't have the experience you do, of the battlefield. All I could think about was how men were dead and dying while we watched, safe and sound on the Middleton's grounds, sipping wine in all our finery. Their lives ended so suddenly and painfully while we were making merry! I kept imagining that I could hear them screaming. And I couldn't stop imagining -" she choked off for a moment and breathed her anguish away. Tears stung her eyes but she forced herself to continue. "Their faces… burning… Melting like candle wax!"
That last was choked out and she held her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs. After a struggle, she composed herself and turned to face him, her face blotchy and red now, tears making her blue eyes shine.
"I needed to feel something different Private."
"You'd drunk so much wine," he whispered, not quite believing her, certain she was merely trying to make him feel better about what he did to her. "You didn't know what you were saying or doing. I shouldn't have taken advantage. Besides, you could not have known what you were asking for - you were a virgin! But I wasn't - I knew what would happen - knew your virtue would be gone and I did it anyway."
Maisy turned away again, feeling anguished and confused - and guilty also. She couldn't bring herself to admit she had not been a virgin, for then she would have to admit she'd bedded another man and what would he think of her then? But he was feeling so wretched over what happened and she wanted to reassure him, she wanted to tell him she'd known exactly what she was asking for. To her shame, Maisy held her tongue, unwilling to tell him the truth, unwilling to lose his regard.
"I know you're frightened of me but -" Paul began but Maisy cut him off.
"Why do you think that?" She frowned - he'd said it earlier too and it had confused her then as well.
"Because I behaved like a monster! Besides, you've kept to yourself all week," he pointed out gently. "You've barely left your chamber, you've kept yourself away, even dining in your chamber when you usually eat with us! And you haven't joined us in the parlor. I know you've been avoiding me and I can't say that I blame you."
Because I had my mensies! Oh, sweet Lord! She lamented.
"You are being kind," Paul said softly. "But I must take responsibility for my actions, I see that now. I'll speak with Tavington. I know he regards you. Now that your virtue is gone, he will find you a husband who will care for you. I'll admit my guilt -"
"You'll do no such thing!" Maisy gasped, fearing Paul's punishment. The lash on his back cutting into his flesh, drawing blood, striking over and over again. While she could not bring herself to tell him the truth - that she had been no virgin - she could not allow him to be flogged!
"Then what can I do?" Paul said intently. "Miss Harper, I know I was the one to do it - but the fact is, you're a virgin no longer. You need a husband now. Or you'll be ostracised -"
"Only if anyone learns of it," Maisy said carefully and Paul's eyes widened. "If you go to Tavington and tell him that we… That I… Private, even if you tell him you forced yourself on me, I'll be ruined. I've come so far, as have my family. If you reveal this now, I'll be destroyed! I will lose everything - and my father - he'll have to sell the shop. We'll have to move -"
"Wait, wait," Paul soothed and held his hands up placatingly as Maisy's voice grew more anguished and urgent. "Wait, I don't want any of that. I wouldn't do anything to destroy you!"
"Then you must think this through more clearly!" She whispered. "Because that is exactly what will happen if you march up to Tavington and declare your guilt! Especially when I don't believe you are guilty. I'll have to tell Tavington my side of it - that I urged you on, that I unbuckled your belt and -"
"No, no, no - you can't do that!" Paul gasped, instantly seeing how badly that would reflect on Maisy.
"I won't allow you to be whipped, Private," she continued, her voice stern now. "And if you go to Tavington and tell him you forced yourself on me, I'll have no choice but to tell him otherwise. I'll tell him that I returned your kisses. I'll tell him of unbuttoning your shirt and breeches. I'll tell him I asked you make me feel something else - I'll tell him all of it. I swear Private - I'll not allow you to be whipped."
"You'll be ruined, if you do that," he said gently.
"Then we mustn't tell anyone," she said. "It's the only way."
"Miss Harper," he shook his head and drew a deep breath. "Your virtue is gone."
Maisy nodded, agreeing with him for she knew it was quite true. She couldn't be anything else - not after bedding two different men out of wedlock!
"We've come full circle," he said finally.
"How so?" She asked.
"We've come to my purpose in seeking you out just now," he swallowed, becoming nervous. "If you won't let me go to Tavington, if you don't believe I forced myself on you, then there is only one alternative left to us. Marriage."
Oh, no no no no… Maisy stared at him with consternation. Oh, it's coming. He's going to propose. Oh, sweet Lord.
She felt herself swoon, her vision closing, it was a struggle to keep her eyes focused on his. She drew several deep breaths to keep from fainting and finally the urge faded, her vision returned to normal. Private Binnings was, in Maisy's opinion, a very likeable fellow. Under different circumstances, she would have encouraged his suit, especially when it was clear he was courting her for marriage, not for a brief affair, the likes of which she was currently engaged in with Bordon. But she had promised Bordon she would wait until he left before taking a husband.
And that was not her only concern. To make matters worse - she knew that if she married Binnings - who was in the same unit as Bordon, then chances were she would be travelling with the army, seeing her 'former' lover every day in camp. That was one thing she could not bear to think about - when she took a husband, it would be one who kept her firmly in South Carolina - in Charleston, so that she would not be forced to endure the heart ache of seeing her lover ever again.
"I need more time!" She blurted before he could ask the question. That was the simple truth - it was time that she needed just then. She needed time - months perhaps - before Bordon eventually left her.
"Oh…" Binnings frowned.
"Oh, Binnings, I don't know what I want! I just don't!" Maisy wailed, tears spilling over her cheeks.
"I'm not here to force you to anything," Paul said gently. "I know we don't know one another very well. I was courting you with the hope that you'd accept me as your husband, and after what we did… I just want to do the right thing, is all."
"You, Private Binnings, are the most honorable Officer I've met so far," Maisy said as she reached out to take hold of his hand. "And I know my parents would want us to marry -"
"I don't care what they want," Paul said earnestly. "It's what you want that I care about."
"Well," Maisy said slowly, speaking part of the truth. "What I don't want is to leave Charleston. This is my home. My family is here. My friends. And I've been given such a wonderful opportunity to advance myself! You won't be staying - you will move on with the army and if I married you, I'd be leaving Charleston to… Well…"
"To live in a tent?" Binnings guessed with a small smile.
"Well, yes…" Maisy blushed. It seemed like a very poor excuse to not accept his proposal. Particularly when she would accept Bordon's proposal without hesitation knowing it would mean living in a tent! She'd leave her family - as much as she loved them - behind for Bordon. She continued and her next words were quite truthful also, "Private, if you were to remain in Charleston, I'd marry you in a heartbeat."
"I understand," He smiled sadly. "But like you, I've been given the opportunity to advance myself - when Tavington took me into the Green Dragoons. If I stayed here, I'd be giving it all up…" He fell silent then, the both of them not quite certain what to say next. The ducks continued to flutter and flap, quacking and demanding chunks of bread. Binnings watched them for a long while before.
A silence stretched between them. Binnings broke it after a few long moments.
"Miss Harper - I understand your reasoning. I'll respect your decision - for I know you don't want to leave your family, and marrying me will mean exactly that. I'll keep my silence and not mention a word about what happened between us. However," he paused then, and Maisy met his gaze. "If you are pregnant - that will change everything. And you could be, after what we did. If you find yourself… With child… You must tell me at once - we will have to marry then, regardless of whether or not you want to stay and live your life in Charleston. Please - you must concede to that much."
There was no harm in making this promise, Maisy pinioned. For she was not pregnant, she'd just had her mensies. But that was a distasteful subject - one not discussed with a man - and so she decided to make the promise without explaining that they would not have to marry if she discovered she was with child, for she could not possibly be pregnant.
"I promise," she said now. "If I discover I am with child - I will tell you immediately and we will marry."
"Good," he nodded, relieved, then he asked, "can I still court you? I enjoy spending time with you, Miss Harper."
"And I enjoy spending time with you," she smiled, it was quite true after all. "Yes, I would like that if you did."
"You don't hate me then?" He asked, speaking of their encounter in the carriage. If she did hate him, if she did think he was a monster, then there was no hope for them. "You don't think I'm a cad?"
"A cad? Good Lord no! You're offering to marry me, aren't you? That proves what a Gentleman you are! Why would I think you're a cad!" Maisy shook her head in incredulity. "I'll never understand men…"
"I guess I just want to make certain that you aren't refusing me because I hurt you that night…" He said softly.
"Oh, I see…" Maisy - who was smiling at his folly - sobered instantly. "No. You did not hurt me. You did not rape me. I have nothing but the highest regard for you, I have done since the first moment we met. As I said, I'd marry you in a heart beat, if you were staying here. That is the only reason I have to refuse you."
"I'm glad to hear it," Paul smiled and squeezed her hand, feeling better than he'd felt in days. Maisy released his hand, handed him a chunk of bread, and then began chatting happily of the new pair of shoes her father was making for her. Paul was just as happy to let her chatter away. After the terrible week they'd had, for now, he just want to sit with her - and the ducks - and enjoy the moment.
:::::::::::
"Now, my sweetest darling," Bordon said as he took hold of the blanket covering Maisy, and threw it back to reveal her. "We shall wait no longer!"
Maisy had heard the Dragoons return, singing in the corridors as they always did when they came home soused. Which was every night, if the truth be told. She had been waiting for him in her chamber with the intention of slipping in to his after the Dragoons had retired but the noise in the hallway had barely died down when she heard the key turn in the lock and her door opened. Bordon - who reeked of whiskey, stumbled into the room, locked the door and then stood at the edge of her bed, to stare down at her in the candlelight. She giggled as the bed dipped, Bordon climbed onto the mattress and threw himself down on top of her. Bracing himself above her on his arms, he immediately began to rock his erection against her pelvis.
"Hmm, you have been left wanting, haven't you?" She smirked up at him and wound her arms around his neck.
"Little minx, I've been aching for you for days! Why are you wearing this still?" He said in a disgusted tone as he shifted his weight to one arm, to finger the collar of her shift.
"I was going to come to you, silly. That's why. Why are you still wearing all this?" She waved one arm to indicate his entire body, he was still fully clothed in his Redcoat uniform - he was even still wearing his boots! "Get undressed at once!"
"As you command, madam," he quipped. Bordon worked quickly - he lifted himself off her to perch on the side of the bed, and while she pulled her shift over her head, he shed his clothes and boots in record time. Finally, he turned to climb on top of her again, his heavy erection poised and ready like a weapon. She licked her lips as she gazed at it, wanting nothing more than to have it inside her - immediately. Bordon, however, insisted on dallying a little first. She didn't mind too much, especially when his lips made their way down her body, drifting over her stomach, until his face was between her legs. He inhaled deeply and sighed with satisfaction, before prising her folds apart and pleasuring her. Maisy balled the sheets into her tight fists and strained beneath him, gasping as he licked her.
"Oh, God," she panted, arching her back and pushing her pelvis up. She loved it when he did this to her, though it had been quite a shock the first time! Lifting her head from the pillows, she glanced down to watch him, for she loved seeing his handsome face become rapturous - worshipful - as he tasted and pleasured her. His eyes were shut and his face slack, as his tongue circled her hard little knub. Before long, she planted her feet to the mattress and lifted herself, her head back against the pillows, gasping and moaning, her fingers twisting the sheets ever tighter as the searing tension pulsed, then flooded through her. She wailed quietly and bucked beneath his tongue as her orgasm crashed through her. He licked her through her climax and continued until she whimpered, with discomfort now, and reached down to push him away from her over sensitive quim.
Bordon wasted no time. By now, the pleasurable ache had become pain and the tip of his erection was swollen and seeping. He needed her now - no more teasing. Moving up her body abruptly, his expression intent - crazed even, he took a hold of her wrists and pushed them down on either side of her head, holding them against the pillows. His lips crashed against hers and his lower half pushed against her insistently, demanding entrance. Maisy opened her mouth and his tongue met hers, circling, making moist, sloppy noises, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He nudged forward but became impatient when he didn't immediately find her entrance. Releasing one wrist, his hand lowered between their bodies and he took hold of his erection to guide himself in, then seized her wrist once more.
And then he was inside her, for the first time in nearly a week, and he ploughed into her again and again, pushing deeply and groaning against her mouth. His hips snapped back and forth as he filled her relentlessly and Maisy bucked beneath him, her fingers working into fists above his iron grip. Their bodies moved and surged together as they strained and strove toward climax.
Suddenly Bordon stiffened, his seed was just beginning to spill and although it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, he jerked his hips back, his member leaving her. He crashed his hips to her pelvis, mashing and rubbing his shaft down against her quim as his orgasm pulsed through him, coating her dark curls with his seed.
Spent now, he collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her neck. His fingers slacked on her wrists and a moment later he felt her arms move around his neck and then her fingers were stroking his long hair and over his broad shoulders, soothing him as he calmed.
"Agh, I needed that," he whispered into her neck.
"Me too," she said softly. He lifted his head to gaze down at her, leaning his weight on one arm, to stroke her face and lips with his fingertips. "You don't need to hold my wrists down, you know," she smiled up at him.
"Well, you never know, you might try to escape me," he smirked.
"Never," she smiled, then lifted her face to his for a kiss. His lips drifted over hers for sometime, until with a heavy groan, he rolled off of her and collapsed against the pillows. Maisy curled around him and lay her head on his chest, enjoying the feel of his strong arm curl around her back, his fingers still stroking her hair and face.
"So..?" He asked after a few moments of enjoying the silence.
"Hmm?"
"Are you going to tell me what Binnings wanted? I know he stayed back to speak to you," his voice was still thick and breathy, from spent arousal and his exertions.
"He wanted to discuss marriage," she said. Though much of her conversation with Binnings would not be repeated to Bordon now, she would be as honest as she could be, without divulging so much that Bordon discovered she'd been unfaithful. As it was, he stiffened beneath her, his fingers stopped their idle stroking of her hair.
"...and?" he asked sharply, an edge to his tone.
"I told him that I didn't want to leave Charleston. That my family are all here, as are my friends. But if I was married to him, then I'd have to leave, to live in camp."
Bordon relaxed somewhat and his fingers began their caress again.
"That was well done," he said after a few moments consideration. "How did he take it?"
"He understood," Maisy shrugged. "I explained that I've advanced myself and didn't want to leave it all behind. He understood that too, for he has advanced himself with the Green Dragoons and didn't want to remain behind here."
"Hmm," Bordon mused. "Evans and Harford were talking about it tonight, they were under the impression he'd fallen in love with you. Because of that, I had honestly thought he'd take the end of your courtship harder."
Maisy squirmed beside him, feeling nervous about admitting it was not over.
"He is still going to court me," she told him finally.
"What?" Bordon barked. He sat up so abruptly that Maisy slipped back to the pillows. He sat above her now, frowning down at her fiercely. "It's done between you now! He proposed, you refused. You told him you'd not leave Charleston for him - what's the point of continuing the courtship? Christ, Maisy!"
"Philip…" She frowned, puzzled by his reaction. "You wanted him to court me, so that no one would suspect us of being lovers!"
"Yes, I did," he snapped. "Until I saw the two of you together, so bloody often, giggling and laughing. And his little letters he sends you - describing your beauty and his affection. And the way you look at him -"
"How do you know what's in his letters?" Maisy asked. She sat up to confront him, heedless of her nudity. Though jealous and angry, Bordon flushed with embarrassment and Maisy gasped with realisation. "You've been spying on me! You've come into my room and read my letters when I'm not here!"
"So? What of it?!" He ground out. "Spying is part of my job -"
"It's not part of your job to spy on your lover!" She interrupted him and he pursed his lips, shooting her a baleful glance. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I was bloody jealous!" He growled at her. "I know it was all my idea, but it was harder than I thought it would be, seeing you two together! How would you feel if I was getting love letters from a woman who wanted to marry me?"
Maisy's face softened and she reached up to stroke her fingers across his bare chest.
"I wouldn't like that at all," she admitted. Then she leaned forward and kissed him gently, before laying down again. Bordon lay alongside her and pulled her against his chest again. "You don't need to spy on me, Philip. And I'm not going to marry Binnings."
"Well… Good…" Bordon's voice was sullen. "But I've changed my mind about letting him court you. I want you to end it, Maisy. I don't like it at all."
She lifted herself to one elbow to glare down at him.
"Why, are you going to marry me, after all?" She asked archly.
"You know I can't," he admitted.
"No. I know that you won't," she said irritably. "Not that you can't."
"They are one and the same, Maisy," he told her.
"So you say," she glared. "Be that as it may, Philip - I didn't want to hurt him. You knew that from the start. But you insisted I let him court me and here we are. Don't go changing the rules just because you're finding it difficult to deal with. Damned man - you want to have the cake and eat it too!"
"Of course I do!" He scoffed and she glared and began to move away from him. He tightened his hold on her and she glanced back down, meeting his gaze. "You won't tell him to stop courting you?"
"No, I will not. It was hard enough refusing his proposal, I told you - I don't want to hurt him! So if that makes you jealous and upset, you'll just have to deal with it, I'm afraid. You began this - you can reap what you sow."
With that, she collapsed back against the pillows and drew the sheet up, glaring fiercely now at the ceiling and refusing to look at him.
"Maisy?" He whispered, ready to charm her out of her anger.
"Unless you find the courage to defy your family and marry me yourself, I don't want to hear another word about Binnings courting me. Or any other man, for that matter. I mean it, Philip," she scowled at him as he shifted his weight, propping himself on his side above her. "I'm not going to marry him - it would be torture. I'd be living in camp with the Dragoons and I'd see you every day and never be with you! Though it will kill me when our affair finishes, I rather not see you again afterwards."
"You won't want to see me again?" He asked incredulously. "You'll just forget me?"
"No, I'll never forget you," she sighed. "But to see you every day - and with me married to another man? I couldn't survive that! It would make me miserable!"
Bordon studied her silently for a long moment as he. Maisy swallowed under his scrutiny and tried not to cry.
"So," she said sternly despite her tears. She clutched the sheet to her chest in tight fingers. "There is no reason for you to be jealous because it's not going to happen. I'm not going to marry him."
"Very well," he said softly, for want of anything better to say. She glared up at him and he reached out to caress her frown lines away with the tips of his fingers. Then, because the silence was stretching and becoming awkward - and because he would not give her the hope that she clearly wanted, he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. Instead of talking through their difficulties, they kissed for several minutes, both deciding it would be better to simply shy way from any talk of marriage and other courtiers.
When Bordon felt the awkwardness had past, he edged his arm beneath her head to pillow her and the lovers lay beside one another.
"What did you do this evening?" Maisy asked, trying for what she hoped would be a safe subject.
"Cards. Whiskey," Bordon smirked at her. "Women."
"Liar," she chuckled.
"I could've been with a woman tonight," he said loftily.
"You are with a woman tonight," she rolled her eyes.
"You know what I mean. There were several girls lurking about while we were playing cards. There always are."
"Oh, really now?" She arched an eyebrow. "Lets talk about that for a little while, shall we?"
"Ah, my jealous dove," he taunted. "Doxies, my sweet. They work the tables, and then target who ever happens to be winning at the time, hoping to take that man to their bed so he will spend his winnings on her. It's a good thing I was losing tonight, hmm?"
"Good for you," she said ominously. "So, who did win?"
"Tavington," he shrugged.
"Oh, no - don't tell me he took a doxy tonight!" Maisy was aghast.
"Nah, nah… That's not what I meant. We were playing and drinking, flirting with the women," he placed two fingers under her chin to lift her face to his. "Flirting only, darling. At least, that's all I did. Evans and Harford took a doxy, but I went to the jakes. When I came back, Tavington was gone. I thought he was with a woman, there was one particular pretty who had her eye on him. But he was in such a surly mood all evening, he didn't drink a single sip of whiskey and when we got more and more soused, he got frustrated and told us we'd forfeited the hand. He took the money from the middle of the table, he was pocketing it when Evans and Harford got up and disappeared out the back with their women."
"Poor Mary," Maisy lamented.
"Now Maisy," Philip said, his voice suddenly stern. "What I tell you stays between you and I, yes?"
It was not a request, Maisy knew it at once. She nodded with resignation and he relaxed to continue his story.
"They're just doxies anyway and he isn't even engaged to Miss Thompson yet," he shrugged. "Anyway, I went to the jakes as I said and when I got back, Tavington was gone. Evans and Harford returned but by then I'd managed to find out where Tavington was - he'd stalked out of the tavern and rode back here. I checked on him just now - he was already asleep on his bed. So no, he didn't take a doxy tonight."
"Good," relief flooded through her. Despite Philip's stern command, she knew damned well that if he told her Tavington had bedded another woman, she would tell Margaret immediately. She wouldn't disobey him and tell Mary about Evans - though it galled her and left her feeling guilty.
But she wouldn't betray Margaret for the world - not even for her lover.
"He's taking it really hard, this time."
"This time?" Maisy frowned.
"Again, this stays between you and I, understood?" Bordon said and Maisy nodded. "But Tavington has been infatuated with only two other women that I know of. More like obsession, if you ask me. The first was in Philadelphia and the second was two years later in New York. They wouldn't bed him, and I suspect that was the source of his passion for them. All the other women he'd come across lifted their skirts easily enough. But these two denied him and that made him crazed. He moped for weeks when we left Philadelphia and then again when we left New York. But this time… Perhaps it's merely because he has to see Miss Putman every day, but I'm certain he's far more surly this time around. It's either that, or he is in love with her."
"Do you think he might be?" Maisy asked hopefully. "If they could reconciliate - do you think he'd propose?"
Bordon snorted. "His Mamma would kill him. He has a woman of wealth waiting for him."
Maisy was crestfallen.
"He's engaged? I don't think Margaret knew -"
"No - not engaged," Bordon hurried to explain. "No, but he came to an agreement with her father before he left. Though he is thinking of breaking the agreement now that he can marry higher."
Maisy filed this little piece of information away, to tell Margaret later. And although she wanted to shy away from the subject because it skirted too closely to their own issues, Maisy asked tentatively, "so, is Tavington too high born to marry Margaret?"
"Yes," Bordon snorted softly and Maisy scowled at him. "Ah, you're so easily offended when it comes to Miss Putman, aren't you?" He guessed the source of her irritation. "I've explained this all to you before, Maisy, about the classes and ranks. Tavington's great grandmother was a Baroness and so his family is welcome among the Peerage, though his branch of the family can't claim the title anymore. And then there was some strife with his father, which bought the Tavington name low for a short time, but William has redeemed that. When William announced that he wouldn't marry Miss Tennant - the woman whose father he entered into an agreement with - I suggested that my own father wouldn't be ashamed to marry one of my sister's to Tavington, now that he's redeemed his families honor and is once more welcome among Nobility. He has the ability to marry a Baron's daughter - Maisy. What would you do if you were faced with such as choice as that?"
"I'd choose the one I was in love with," Maisy said softly. "Without a care which of them was Noble born."
"That's because you yourself are not noble born," Bordon scoffed.
"Oh, yes. Of course. I'm not Noble born. Worse yet - I'm a Colonial hick," Maisy curled her lip. "You people are welcome to your stupid classes, Philip. I've decided I don't think I'd marry you even if you did ask me."
"Oh?" He lifted his head slightly to stare at her incredulously. When he spied her smirk, he understood that she was not getting riled up all over again.
"No. They'd only stare down their noses at me and wouldn't want to speak to me. Well, I don't want to speak to them either," she said. "I'm too good for all of you high and might Englishmen."
"That you are, darling," he chuckled. "But I think you've conveniently forgotten that the Colonies work the same way. You have your own class structure - or have you forgotten the debut which was held in this very house, which allowed you to enter Miss Putman's class?"
"I haven't forgotten. And since becoming one of them, I've discovered they're no better than me no matter what they might think." She said loftily, thinking of Mrs. Lucy Simms and Lord Cornwallis, who were having a tumultuous love affair.
"Oh? What have you discovered then?" Bordon, who had become accustomed to digging out the slightest sliver of information when it presented itself, heard the deeper meaning in Maisy's words.
"I'm sworn to secrecy, so no - I'll not tell you," she turned over onto her side to face him, her arms folded in front of her.
"You can trust me," he cajoled, eyeing her and wondering if she would tell him eventually. Any and all information could be useful, especially when she was clearly speaking of the upper reaches of Colonial Society.
"No. A confidence is just that. A confidence. Tell me about General Tavington's family, instead."
He arched an eyebrow at her but he knew her well enough by now, to know that she would not break her sworn word. He shrugged and lifted his neck to fold his arms beneath his head.
"What is there to tell?" Bordon asked. He was distinctly uncomfortable, speaking about Tavington's family - he did not want to speak to Maisy about Eleanor. "His father is dead. His mother lives in a small house in the middle of London, with her daughter, her sister and her sister's daughter. There, you know all you need to now."
"I can't imagine him having a sister," she said and Philip almost groaned with frustration. "He's so stern and cold sometimes. Well, he most of the time to be sure. But I do like him. Most of the time. Is his sister all stern like him?"
"No," Bordon shook his head. "That, she isn't. His mother can be quite firm. A force to be reckoned with." Now he was on the subject of Rose Tavington, he decided to focus on her to divert Maisy from asking after Eleanor. "Mrs. Tavington is the strength in that family, for certain. Quite a fine Lady, both generous in her affections but stern and protective also."
"I don't care about Mrs. Tavington," Maisy curled her lip. "The woman who would, by your own words, kill Tavington if he dared to marry Margie. I don't care what nice things you say about her, I dislike her already. What is his sister's name?"
"Miss Eleanor Tavington," Bordon said reluctantly.
"Is she married?"
"No, not yet," Bordon smirked. "But I'm certain she will be in the near future."
"Oh, does she have a suitor?"
"Yes, though nothing is confirmed between them," Bordon said. "Tavington doesn't know about him."
"Oh - how do you know then? And why shouldn't Tavington know? Wouldn't he approve?"
"You are talkative tonight," he said and she smiled impishly.
"Just answer the question."
"Alright. I was an acquaintance of the man," he lied easily. "He had affection for Miss Tavington but did not believe his family would accept her, because of their standing. He's of the Nobility, you see."
"Eh - another of the Nobility to refuse a perfectly good woman," Maisy curled her lip. "It's truly starting to sicken me."
"Be that as it may," Bordon rushed on. "As I said before, Tavington is welcome among the Peerage again. If he can marry a Baron's daughter, surely his sister can marry a Baron's son? Or a Dukes, or… Any of the Nobility, if the truth be told. But not the first born - the heir… Anyway, I'm fairly certain that this fellow's family will accept Miss Tavington as his wife, now."
"Oh," Maisy sounded melancholy. "So, why wouldn't Tavington welcome the match?"
"Because Tavington is… extremely protective of his sister," Bordon muttered, suddenly irritable. "And of his cousin too, Miss Margaret Woodhouse. Being of the Peerage won't be enough for Tavington, he would still make the man jump through fire to marry his sister."
"Good," Maisy chuckled. "Oh, I'm so pleased to learn this. I can see it now, of course - that he would be protective of his family. Most in his position would marry their sister's off easily if it meant personal gain for themselves. Good on Tavington - the higher the flames this fellow has to jump through, the better I say."
Bordon scowled.
"And why is that?" He managed to say mildly though he wanted to growl the words.
"Because, sweet Philip, it will make this fellow appreciative of Miss Tavington all the more," Maisy said. She sat up and began to sidle across his body, her smooth skin rubbing his as she moved on top of him. She held herself propped above him, her hair falling around her face and her firm, full breasts only an inch or so from his lips. He sighed and reached up to knead one of her beautiful globes. "Rather than see her as some lower born, beautiful prize. I assume she's beautiful? Tavington is certainly handsome."
"She is beautiful," Philip whispered, then felt immediately guilty. Here Maisy was, identifying and commiserating with Eleanor Tavington, and Philip knew damned well how devastated she would be if she learned that he was the 'fellow' he had been speaking of. Maisy, Philip knew, had fallen in love with him and he realised now that he was behaving worse than a cad, speaking to her about Eleanor in such a cloaked manner.
"But then, my darling," Bordon said now, cupping Maisy's cheeks with his large, strong hands. "So are you. You're a vision, my sweet Maisy."
He was rewarded with a bright smile and, her eyes shining with giddy pleasure, she leaned down to kiss him. He pushed thoughts of Eleanor away, for while his heart was with the English born Lady, he did care deeply for Maisy and he would do nothing to disrespect her or, or to sully their precious moments together.
::::::::::::::::
Maggie sat on Sophia's berth stiffly, her knees together firmly and her hands stiff in her lap. Sophia, by contrast, was much more at ease. She sat on the far side of the berth, with Petty Officer Orwell between them. Maggie swallowed and stared blindly ahead, not even casting a slight peak to her right, where Orwell and Sophia sat, making moist noises while they kissed. She could see them out of the corner of her eyes and that was bad enough. Her face flushed crimson and her heart pounded, and she resisted the urge to up and run from the cabin.
Because, though she was as nervous as she'd ever been in her life, she was also extremely curious. Sophia spoke of kissing as the most euphoric, blissful pastime and she certainly spent an inordinate amount of time engaging in the activity! And Orwell was quite handsome.
Something brushed her arm and she jerked her gaze to the right to see what it was. She met Sophia's eyes, it was her hand, Maggie realised - Sophia had reached past Orwell to jab Maggie's arm, to gain the girl's attention. Sophia seemed to be smirking, though Maggie could not be certain, for Orwell's head blocked her view of Sophia's face. Maggie stared despite herself, and she watched now, fascinated, as Orwell's mouth moved on Sophia's. The boy held Sophia's arms, and with a soft groan, he pulled her closer, crushing her to his chest and Sophia's eyes seemed to roll in her head. She whimpered and closed her eyes, moving her hand from Maggie's arm to stroke her fingers along Orwell's neck.
Maggie drew a deep breath. She felt suddenly light headed and flushed, as something deep within her stirred in response to watching the kissing couple. A few more moments of this and Sophia drew away with a sigh.
"It's Maggie's turn," she whispered and Maggie's heart lurched. She swallowed again and when Orwell turned to her with a very warm smile, she almost lost her nerve and fled the cabin.
"Are you ready for your lesson, Maggie?" He asked her as he shifted on the berth to face her. Sophia, Maggie could see past Orwell, was smirking!
"I... ah... I don't think this was... Such a good idea after all," she whispered.
"Don't be so nervous," Orwell said softly, reaching up to stroke her face with his finger tips.
"But I don't know how!" Maggie wailed softly, suddenly fearful of being teased for her inexperience. "You'll laugh at me."
"I'd never," Orwell said firmly. His fingers caressing her jaw, he leaned in close to her neck to kiss her skin softly. He drifted higher and Maggie froze at the new, tickly sensation. When he reached her ear, he whispered, pitching his voice low for her alone, "I think you're even more beautiful than Sophia, Maggie. I've wanted to kiss you for ever so long."
The air rushed from Maggie's lungs and she stared at him wide eyed as he lifted his face and gazed down at her.
"For so long," he whispered again, his eyes on her lips. And then his finger was there, tracing her full lips and Maggie's stomach performed a wonderful, pleasurable flip. His words, his touch and those flips caused her to melt and when he leaned his lips to hers, her eyes became hooded and she rocked her head to one side, moving in to him invitingly.
It was a gentle brush at first and Maggie agreed instantly, kissing was the most euphoric, blissful of pastime's imaginable. She sighed and closed her eyes as Orwell deepened the kiss. She let herself be led by him, moving her lips tentatively beneath his.
"You're beautiful," he whispered again. His fingers stroke her cheek and his lips caught her top lip, and then her bottom, suckling, brushing, until Maggie melted against him, as complaint as a newborn lamb. When he took hold of her hands - which were still in her lap, and placed them on his shoulders, she allowed it. Orwell wound one hand around the small of her back and pulled her in closer to him, his other hand stroking her face, giving her the feeling of being surrounded by him.
"Oh, I'm getting jealous," Sophia pouted.
"This was your idea," Maggie whispered, half in a trance.
"And a most excellent idea it was, too," Orwell added. "Just be patient, Sophia."
A petulant sigh was sounded behind them but the kissing couple ignored it. Orwell was, quite simply, in Heaven. He wished Sophia was not with them for he had been quite truthful earlier, he had wanted to kiss Maggie for so long and he did think she was far more beautiful than Sophia. But if Sophia had not been in the cabin, then nor would Maggie have been. He doubted very much that Maggie would have allowed herself to be convinced to kiss him, if not for Sophia's prompting.
He sighed against Maggie's lips.
"Perfect," he whispered as he brushed his lips across hers. "You are doing perfectly."
Maggie smiled up at him shyly, grateful for his encouragement, grateful that he would not tease her.
"Part your lips a little," he instructed, then leaned in again to urge her lips apart. Maggie complied and, after having watched Sophia's and Orwell a few moments ago, thought she knew what was coming. When his tongue glided along her lips and then into her mouth, she gasped with delight and gripped his shoulders, pulling herself closer to him. He smiled against her mouth and began to stroke her tongue with his. Maggie's heart lurched and the wonderful flips in her stomach surged, spreading through her, tickling along her spine. She whimpered oh so softly and this stirred Orwell's pleasure to greater heights. It was one of the greatest pleasures he'd known in a long time, giving this young beauty her first kiss. His body responded as only a man's can, and he felt suddenly tight over the front of his breeches. He hoped Maggie didn't notice, he didn't want her to startle and run. And so he rocked his head to the other side, blocking the view of his lap from her line of sight. Not that she was looking, her eyes were only half open and she seemed hypnotised. Her arms were firmly around his shoulders, so when he felt a palm caress the front of his breeches, he knew it was Sophia's.
He swallowed as her palm began to work him, massaging gently at first, then with firmer motions. He rolled his pelvis against her hand, groaning lightly into Maggie's mouth. He kept his head tilted as he kissed her, still covering her line of sight of his lap. Maggie did not know it, but Sophia and Orwell had done far more than kiss. Sophia was still a virgin, Orwell had not taken their dallying beyond petting one another.
He had no expectation of urging more from Maggie - he was content to kiss her. But, although he knew he should push Sophia's hand away, he did not have the willpower. When he felt her palm move up to the top of his breeches, he sucked his stomach in, to give her room to slip her fingers inside. And then her hand was stroking him inside his breeches and he couldn't have been in more bliss. Holding the beautiful Maggie, kissing her deeply, as he'd wanted to do for so very long, with his erection being stoked, his aching need soothed, all the while. Maggie was oblivious as to what was happening in Orwell's lap, lost to the warm flush flooding through her.
Orwell was almost at his peak. Holding Maggie in place so she could not see, he lowered his hand from her face to his lap, and covered Sophia's hand with his, though his was over his breeches. He moved his hand in a quick motion over hers, silently indicating for her to go faster. He heard her quiet giggle and silently cursed - if she gave themselves away, if Maggie noticed what else was happening while he was kissing her, she'd bolt and would probably never let her kiss him again. Luckily, Maggie was too far gone, her arms slack on his shoulders, her fingers stroking his neck as he stroked her tongue with his.
Sophia complied and wrapped her fingers around his shaft as much as their awkward position would allow. And then she moved it up and down quickly, as quickly as he needed her too, and Orwell groaned low in his throat, crushing Maggie to him, panting into her mouth.
Maggie was startled but though he was holding her so tightly, she felt warm and secure. He was doing nothing to hurt her. Then he seemed to hold his breath, his lips going slack over hers and she opened her eyes to stare at him, confused to see his eyes completely glazed over. His breaths, when they came to him again, were short and sporadic, but then they eventually returned to normal and he seemed to relax in her embrace. He drew back and smiled at her, and Maggie smiled back tentatively, then drew away to collapse against the cabin wall. She reclined there with a silly smile on her face as Orwell stared at her. Sophia leaned forward and reached for a hanky, Maggie frowned to see that her friend was wiping something from the palm of her hand.
But then the hanky was tossed aside and Sophia glanced at Orwell expectantly. He kissed her for a few moments, though he reached back past himself, his fingers groping - Maggie finally realised - for her hand. She reached out and took hold of his hand and his fingers wound through hers.
"Maggie's turn again?" Sophia asked when Orwell pulled away.
"As much as I would like to," he said, glancing at Maggie. "I have to report on deck."
"Oh, you better go," Maggie said, covering her hurt and disappointment well, or so she thought. Orwell smiled knowingly and she watched him wide eyed as he cupped her chin and leaned in again. He kissed her for several long moments, causing her to sigh and smile against his lips.
"I'd like to do this again, Maggie," he said. "If you'll permit it."
She nodded shyly and blushed crimson. Then he was turning away again, giving Sophia one last kiss.
"My two beauties," he said thickly as he rose to his feet and glanced down at them both. "I shall take my leave of you only reluctantly, and my thoughts will be on you both for the rest of the day."
He bowed a courtly bow and then swept from the cabin. As soon as the door shut behind him, Sophia met Maggie's gaze and the girls fell against each other in fits of giggles.
"Oh, my Lord, you were right!" Maggie gasped. "My lips..." Her expression became wondering. "They are so warm, my body feels so light! Oh, I want to do that again!"
"And you shall, I am certain," Sophia said. "Though I was not joking before, I was getting jealous!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Sophia! If you don't want me to kiss Orwell again, I won't. I don't want to lose your friendship!"
"Come now - it's not as though anything can come of it, between Orwell and I. My father would have fits if he knew Orwell had done more than speak to me! He'd never permit me to marry so low. No, this is fun, playing only. I was jealous, but only because I was not centre of attention!"
Maggie giggled again. "Yes, you do like to be centre of attention. Oh, my word... That was wonderful."
"I think I've corrupted you, my friend," Sophia quipped. "Come, lets go up on deck and tease Orwell while he works. We'll sit by the ropes and play cards, he won't be able to do any more than look at us. It'll kill him!"
"You're so mean!" Maggie said, but she allowed herself to be pulled up and she followed her silk dressed friend out of the cabin. They encountered Eleanor in the passageway.
"Morning ladies..!" Eleanor greeted. She was herding little Gilbert along toward them.
"'Aggie!" Bertie squealed and threw his arms around Maggie's legs. "Arah!" He did the same to Sophia, and she leaned down to pat his back and give him a cuddle.
"Do you want to come up on deck with us, Eleanor?" Maggie asked. "We might play cards..."
"Perhaps a little later? I have to get Bertie back to the cabin - it's time for his nap," Eleanor replied. And then Bertie saw something else beyond the girls and he was away, squeezing past them and running as best as his little legs could on the gently heaving floor. That was the thing Eleanor had come to despise about ships, even on the stillest, calmest ocean, the ship still moved. It was unnatural, being on the open seas. "Bertie!" She bellowed, then, with an apologetic glance, she edged past the two girls and chased after her nephew. The cabins that had been allocated to her and her family were only just ahead, Bertie knew the way. He stopped at the cabin door - what ever had distracted him forgotten. Eleanor was just as grateful, she didn't like running on the ship, which sometimes fell away from her feet at the exact wrong moment, and her foot would connect with air when it expected to meet the wood of the floor.
Deck, Eleanor, she thought to herself. Even after weeks aboard ship, she still managed to get many of the nautical terms wrong.
Just then, the cabin door opened and Lydia appeared from within. The maid was looking much better now - her body finally adjusting to being aboard ship, though her stomach still roiled alarmingly if she ventured up to the top deck. The sight of so much water, as far as the eye could see, with not a spit of land in sight, distressed the young woman to the point where she still rarely ventured from her cabin, even if she was feeling much better now.
"Ah, there you are!" She greeted Eleanor with relief. "I was frightened I'd have to go up to search for you," she pointed her index finger upwards with a small shudder. Then she leaned down to speak to Bertie. "But no, she didn't! Your cousin is simply wonderful, isn't she?" She began in a sing song voice. Lydia, of course, knew the truth of Bertie's familial connection to Eleanor but even with no one else to hear, the family and their servants spoke very carefully. Besides, Bertie was able to speak quite clearly and he was just as likely to call Eleanor 'Aunt' out in public if they allowed him to call her that in private. Eleanor looked forward to the day when they could be honest - especially to Bertie himself - who had started to call Rose 'Aunt'. She would stifle a regretful cringe each time the boy did so, for she was, after all, his grandmother. But the time for such pretenses was drawing to a close for in a few more weeks - just over a month, perhaps - they would be with William and Rose had every intention of informing her son that he was the boy's sire. Rose also intended to browbeat her son into accepting Bertie as his natural child, and force him to raise him as such.
"Right then," Lydia lost her sing song voice as she picked Bertie up. "Sleepy time!"
"No sweepy time!" Bertie protested at once, to no avail. Lydia smiled at Eleanor, then shut the cabin door. A moment later, Eleanor could hear singing coming from within the cabin, though she could also still hear her nephew's protests, and his giggles. He was in good hands, and so Eleanor moved on to the next cabin to check on her mother and Aunt.
The cabin door was open, no doubt to let some air into the room from the passageway. For that reason, she could hear her Aunt speaking, sternly, to her mother.
"Oh for goodness sake! There is no certainly that Captain Bordon is going to ask Eleanor to marry him!" She was saying in a long suffering voice. "A handkerchief and a 'look' do not an engagement make!"
"Witty," Rose spat. "Be that as it may, he will ask Ellie to marry him, mark my words!"
Eleanor's jaw dropped and, her heart racing, she strode into the cabin.
"What did you say about Bordon?" She demanded of both women, who sat across from each other on their slim berths, both staring up at her in consternation.
"Nothing, my dear," Rose said after a tense silence. "We were merely discussing how enjoyable it will be to see them all again - Mr. Tarleton and Lord Rawdon also."
"Then, why, Mamma," Eleanor began, folding her arms across her chest, automatically adjusting her balance to stand still despite the movement of the ship, "did Aunt Jane speak of Philip asking me to marry him?"
"Agh, damn and blast it," Rose muttered and Eleanor's eyebrows climbed her forehead. Her mother never cursed! "I should never have bought it up! From the start Lady Bordon asked me not to speak of it, and after all this time I haven't. I don't know what possessed me to change that now! But seeing that no secrets can be bloody kept aboard this bloody ship, I guess I'll have to tell you."
"Yes, I think you'd better!" Eleanor snapped, infuriated. How dare she! Having secret discussions with Philip's mother and then not revealing them to her? And what of 'after all this time'? How long had her mother kept this secret? The last time they had seen Philip had been four years ago!
"Please be mindful of your tone with me, Eleanor," Rose said sharply. "Lord, you and Jane are as bad as each other. I feel like I'm stuck in a cloth sack with cats sometimes! Mr. Whimms is more fit company, and even he has been in a right mood lately!"
Eleanor drew a long, steadying breath. She met Jane's eyes and knew her incredulous expression mirrored that of her Aunt. Rose Tavington had been barely fit to live with, even Mr. Dawson agreed, and he was the most diplomatic amongst them! He kept himself away, more often than not, to avoid Rose's sharp tongue!
"Very well, if I must tell you, I must tell you," Rose snapped. "Shortly before the lads were due to ship out, Lady Bordon summoned me to her home. Her intentions that day were both to extend the hand of friendship, and to inform me that her son had an interest in marrying you."
Stunned, Eleanor collapsed heavily to the bunk - Jane moved her legs away just in time, before Eleanor could squash them.
"He did?" She breathed - so utterly shocked, she could barely take the words in. Jane sat up on the bunk beside her.
"You never told me this part," she accused her sister. "Of course I wouldn't believe he meant to propose based on a farewell exchange between the pair - but this? What happened? Why haven't you told us?"
"Because, as I said, Lady Bordon asked me not to," Rose frowned. "Lord Bordon made it clear from the beginning that William had to prove himself first, to earn back our standing in Society - which he has done quite admirably, thank you very much. There is still the issue of the rewards to come - but as His Majesty has posted the list of those Officers who will receive rewards - and as William's name is at the top of that list - Eleanor will soon have quite a considerable dowry. When last I spoke to Lady Bordon - which, if you recall, was the day before we set sail, Lord Bordon authorised me to begin the overtures that will see the pair engaged."
Rose and Jane both had to cover their ears, for Eleanor's piercing shriek of joy cut through them both like a knife. And then Rose was shunted back on her bunk as Eleanor threw herself at her mother, throwing her arms around Rose's shoulders. She wept and laughed, her body shaking from the force of the emotions roiling inside her. Rose returned the embrace and patted her daughter on the back. They remained this way for some time until Eleanor finally began to calm.
"Oh…" She sighed, reaching for a hanky as she drew away to sit beside her mother. "Oh - is it really true? Sweet Lord… He told me to wait for him - that he would return to me and that there was hope yet. I've been so uncertain, all this time though!"
"Did he now?" Rose frowned. "He was not supposed to say a word - in case William failed, for it would only break your heart."
"I don't think he could leave without giving me some small hope," Eleanor smiled and dabbed at her eyes, which were still moist with tears. "What if his feelings have changed, however? Will he still want to marry me?"
"Lady Bordon said that his feelings remain unchanged and he still wishes to marry you," Rose said gently. "He writes of you, she said, in every letter he sends her."
"Oh…" Eleanor laughed.
"And as I said, Lord Bordon has authorised me to see the two of you engaged," Rose continued. "He gave me a letter to give to Captain Bordon. They'd prefer us to wait until we are all back in England before you a married - Lady Bordon wants to be at her son's wedding. But we are sailing into the unknown and Lord Bordon said that if I feel the wedding needs to take place earlier - for any reason whatsoever - then the two of you can marry soon after we reach the Colonies."
Eleanor clapped her hands then. "Oh, I've waited so long - I don't think I want to wait until we return to England!"
"As I said - the Bordon's have left that up to me," she shrugged. "Lady Bordon will be there for all of her other children's weddings. I don't see why you should wait so long either," tears filled her eyes as she continued, "truth be told, I want this settled for once and for all. I've waited so long too, if you recall. Four years of having to keep this secret and all that time, I knew you were longing for him with barely a hope!" Those last words were choked out as Rose began to sob, which in turn caused Eleanor to begin weeping anew. Mother and daughter fell into one another's arms, with Jane looking on bleary eyed herself.
Captain Bordon would soon be engaged to Eleanor Tavington. Eleanor smiled warmly even as she wept, a wonderful glow spreading through her.
