Chapter Four
They went back to the farmhouse, grateful to find it still unoccupied, and Willow began to teach Perdita how to make an apple pie with food they'd got from the village and found on the farm. Xander found some tools in the shed and went around the house fixing up the shutters that had got broken by the storm, and by the time it got dark, they were all tired, quite full of apples, and eager to get to bed.
Perdita planned to make her escape as soon as the others were asleep, go down to the schoolmaster's house and ask who he'd known on that ship. Maybe it might jog her memory.
Willow knew Perdita had been on that ship, had gone down with it, had been spat back out onto the shore. She meant to go and tackle Perdita about it, but in the middle of the night, because if Xander knew, he'd want in as well and she could question Perdita better on her own.
Xander wanted to know what the schoolmaster knew about the shipwreck. If he could help Perdita, maybe reunite her with friends or family, find out where she was running from, stop the danger she seemed to think she was in, maybe her thoughts of him would be a little better. Maybe she'd admire him. Maybe she'd respect him.
They'd fixed up the two ruined beds, put clean sheets on them and sponged away the blood, and so Xander and Willow had rooms for the night. The three said goodnight on the landing, shut their doors, and each got into bed fully dressed.
And waited.
And waited.
Perdita nearly dropped off a few times, still exhausted from something she didn't remember doing. All right, so she'd woken up on a beach surrounded by driftwood and soaking wet, and there had been a shipwreck, so it was fair to assume she'd had something to do with that. She supposed nearly getting drowned must be fairly knackering.
Xander waited a good few hours, or as near as he could tell, then flipped back the covers and got out of bed, glad he'd nailed down all the creaky floorboards earlier in the day.
All the ones in his room, that was. What about the ones outside? Who was creaking them?
Suddenly afraid, though of what he didn't know - the ghosts of the murdered family? Their murderers coming back to collect the bodies? Which was scarier? - he grabbed the hammer and crowbar he'd been using earlier and, er, yes, forgot to take out of his room, and advanced towards the door.
He yanked it open and nearly attacked the person standing there, but it was Perdita, her hand raised to knock.
"Mr. Harris!"
"Perdita? What - I mean, what," he lowered his voice to its normal pitch, "are you doing out here?"
"I came to ask a favour," she whispered. "It's just, I'm afraid that the highwayman might come back to my room and try to, you know, do something... inappropriate..."
Xander knew. He'd been thinking about it all night.
"So I was wondering if, maybe, seeing as you're armed, you might swap rooms with me? Just so I can be warned if he comes."
Warned, Xander thought, by my bloody corpse when he kills me for not being you. Or worse, doesn't realise and starts to-
"Sure," he heard himself saying. "I'll protect you."
Perdita smiled prettily and edged past into his room.
"Wait, why are you still dressed?" he asked.
"Well, to, erm, obviously, Xander, I'm still dressed because, er, that way, I'd be better protected against the highwayman." She nodded decisively. "Why are you still dressed?"
"I was cold," Xander suggested.
"Ah. Yes. Cold. That too. Well, good night."
She shut the door hurriedly. She would love to see William's face if he got into bed with Xander - cruel though it was, but she was sure Xander could take care of himself. And William wouldn't hurt him - he'd had ample chances to before.
She settled back in the other bed and closed her eyes, just for a few seconds.
Xander let himself into Perdita's room, went over and breathed in her scent from the pillow. In just a few minutes he really ought to leave... Although, wasn't it cowardly, going and leaving her when she was so frightened?
But then Willow was here and Perdita could be a vicious little thing when she wanted...
He went to the door and nearly screamed when he saw it opening.
"Perdita?" someone whispered, and Xander only started breathing again when he realised it was Willow.
"Will?"
"Xander?"
"What are you doing here?" they asked at the same time.
"I came looking for Perdita."
"Why are you still dressed?" Xander asked for the second time in five minutes.
"I was cold," she said, as if it was obvious. "Why are you? And what's with the hammer?"
"I, er..." It was pointless trying to lie. She'd see right through him. "I was going to go and see the schoolteacher."
"Really? Why?"
"Because he knew someone on that ship and I thought..."
"He might be able to tell us about Perdita. Xander, you're a genius!"
"I am?" He was perplexed.
"Yes!" She threw her arms around him. "We should go now, while she's still asleep."
"We? But shouldn't you stay here and, uh, guard her?"
"Guard the woman who saved us from the most notorious highwayman Massachusetts has ever known?"
Xander opened his mouth, closed it, thought about going all the way down to the village in the dark, on his own, and said, "Good point. You can soften him up with talk of Plato. Let's go."
They crept downstairs, mounted the horses without saddles, and galloped away over the grassy paddock at the back of the house, so as to make the least possible noise.
William slowed his horse as he saw the farmhouse come into view, empty of any lights, dark and lonely. God, please don't say she'd moved on already. He couldn't bear having to chase her all over the state.
He just had to have her, just once, and then she'd be out of his system and he could get on with things. Go and find some other blonde bird to shag. Forget about her.
He tethered his horse and swung easily up onto the porch roof. And from there it wasn't hard to push up the sash window, which obviously wasn't locked, and step soundlessly into Perdita's bedroom. He crept over to the bed, the room so dark he couldn't see a thing, and reached out his hand, anticipating her warm, smooth skin under his fingers.
He got bedclothes.
He tried again.
More bedclothes.
"Perdita?"
His hand touched a lamp by the bed and he lit it.
The bed was empty. She'd gone.
"Oh, bloody hell!"
Perdita awoke sharply at the sound coming from the next room. Oh God, she thought, he's come back and he's going to hurt Xander! What have I done!
She grabbed the axe she'd hidden under her skirts and readied it as she crept along the hall and pushed open Xander's door.
"Leave him alone!" she cried, rushing in, wielding the axe, aiming straight for the dark figure leaning over the bed and very nearly hitting him. The axe buried itself in the mattress and Perdita grabbed hold of the handle at the same time she realised that Xander was nowhere to be seen.
"What have you done with him?" she began, whirling around to slam her fists against William's chest, but he caught her arms and crushed her against him.
"Perdita! God, I thought you'd gone."
"Where has he gone?"
"I'm right here, love."
"Not you," she wriggled out of his grip, "Xander."
"Who?" God, she looked incredible, hair loose, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes flashing... William was glad for his long overcoat that hid the bulge that was starting in his breeches.
"Xander. He was in here. Where is he now? What did you do with him?"
"I didn't do anything," William protested as she went for the axe and aimed it at him. "He wasn't here when I came in and anyway, isn't this your room? What was he doing in here?" A horrible thought occurred to him. "Were you sleeping with him?"
"First you attack me, then you try to kill me, and now you're insulting me?" Perdita glared at him and flounced out of the room to see where Willow was. But her bed was empty, too. Where had they gone? Left already?
She whirled around in the doorway, nearly whacking William with the axe. He grabbed the handle and threw it to the ground.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"I could say the same thing," Perdita put her hands on her hips. "What are you doing here?"
"I-" Bugger, he couldn't say he came to see her. That just sounded ridiculous. "I forgot to take something when I was here before."
"What? Your brain?"
"No, you," William said, and grabbed her round that tiny waist, and held her head to his so he could kiss her, as sweetly as he had that morning.
But Perdita fought. She pushed and kicked and bit on his lip and William reeled away. "Ow!"
"Damn right, 'ow!' What do you think you're doing?"
Dammit, her bosom was heaving again.
"Perdita," William said, "you can't tell me you didn't feel it. This morning. Last night. The heat between us. The way we fit together."
"Oh, God," Perdita said.
"I felt it when we kissed," he said. "Well, the first time, anyway, because let's face it, you just bloody bit me, but this morning. Didn't you feel it?"
"Get out of here before I kill you."
Well, maybe not.
"Perdita," he was almost begging now, "please, love, give me another try. Just a kiss. No more. Just one kiss. Then I'll go."
She reached for the axe, but he caught her wrist.
"One more kiss," he said, "and then if you still want me to go, I'll walk out." Awkwardly, because he now had a massive hard-on, but hopefully she didn't know that. Yet.
Perdita's nostrils flared. Damn him if he hadn't been good to kiss. He tasted of whisky and tobacco and his lips were soft and his tongue strong and-
Dammit, she hadn't even decided and here he was, kissing her again.
The trouble was, as William well knew, that once he'd started kissing her so gently, so passionately, so longingly, she wouldn't be able to tell him to go. Perdita leaned into him, not angry like she'd been the last time, not shocked and frightened, knowing she was in control. When she stopped kissing him, he'd go. And if he didn't, she'd just grab ahold of that stock around his neck and pull it a bit tighter...
Or maybe she could undo it first, because then the strangling would be easier.
My, didn't he have a beautiful neck.
I can stop at any time, Perdita told herself as she kissed him a little bit more. Any time I want to.
I just really don't want to.
William was delighted. Just so long as he didn't push her too much, she seemed pretty happy snogging the life out of him. God, she was good at this. The thought occurred to him that well-brought-up girls shouldn't know how to kiss like that, but then by this point he really didn't care if she'd been brought up in a mansion or a goddamn swamp.
Gently, testing her, he moved one hand to her breast and covered the exposed swell with his fingers. She sighed softly against his mouth, but didn't protest. Excellent, William thought. In more ways than one.
He knew what a lady wore under her petticoats - he knew exactly, in Perdita's case - and it wasn't much. Really, under that short chemise, she was naked. Totally, deliciously naked. He could just push her up against the door frame, reach under her skirts, and be inside her in seconds. He could shag her rotten without having to take any clothes off.
But he wanted to see her naked, wanted to touch and caress her all over. He hardened his resolve to get her clothes off.
His resolve not being the only thing hardening.
Perdita felt his hands move down her bodice, unhooking it from the stomacher, and a little voice in the back of her mind told her that he was taking her clothes off! And then the rest of her said, yes, but you're taking his off, too. It's only fair, when you think about it. And it'd be a shame to stop now, when you're just catching sight of that lovely smooth chest.
A sudden weight fell off her, and Perdita looked up, surprised, into William's hot blue eyes. He pushed her heavy dress to the floor and picked her up in his arms, took her back into the room they'd shared the night before, and kicked the door firmly shut.
He laid her down on the bed. Her heart was hammering.
"I thought you were going to go," she whispered, her mouth dry.
"Make me."
Perdita sat up to pull him to her: his mouth was too far from hers and she couldn't stand not kissing him. Was he a source of some new breathing material? Had she adapted from oxygen? She needed to be kissing him. She simply couldn't stop.
William happily obliged, his hands rapidly pulling the stomacher from where he'd pinned it that morning, then starting on the hooks and eyes of her corset, untying her petticoats - damn, there were so many stupid layers! He could hardly believe he was going to have her. Feel her hot skin against his, touch those perfect round breasts, roll those pretty nipples between his fingers.
He pushed the corset away, and Perdita sucked in a grateful breath.
"Feels good to breathe," he said to her with a smile, and she smiled back. Yep, that was it. The smile sealed it. He'd have her, or he'd die.
She was pushing at his shoulders, and William realised that the only item of clothing he'd shed was his stock. Stupid bit of clothing anyway. Obviously she didn't like it. He'd never wear it again.
He shoved away his coat, pulled his waistcoat off so fast he nearly popped the buttons, and yanked his shirt off over his head. The fabric stuck to his skin with sweat - both from riding so fast to get here and from wanting Perdita so much.
She put her head to his chest and licked it.
William's eyes rolled back in his head. "God, Perdita, don't, I can only stand so much..."
She looked up at him with those big green eyes, and he groaned and captured her mouth again, pressing her down on the bed, running his hands over those beautiful curves of hers.
"I hate that bloody corset too," he growled, making her laugh, and he smiled at her happiness and started kissing her neck. She arched back and as she did, her chemise slipped down over one nipple.
It was too much to resist. He dipped his head and licked it, and Perdita let out - there was no other word for it - a whimper. Encouraged, so turned on he thought he might burst, William took the little bud in his mouth and sucked gently, nipped it with his teeth, revelling in her whispers and moans as she clutched at his hair and held him there.
Eventually he lifted his head, lips wet, pupils huge, and rolled away from her. Perdita looked shocked and horribly hurt, until she realised he was just taking off his boots and breeches, and that underneath, he was naked.
Oh, wow.
She'd nearly swooned at the sight of his bare chest, his taut stomach, his moulded shoulders - but now her eyes went lower, and she blushed hotly. She'd felt that pressing up against her, but she hadn't realised it was quite so big.
"Now, love," William said as he gently pulled her chemise away from her and looked down at her naked body, her perfect curves, the curls between her legs, her rosy breasts, her strong legs, and he forgot what he was saying as he pulled her to him, fitting his body along the length of hers, feeling how small and soft she was against his hardness - God, all of him was so hard.
Perdita started kissing him again and William ran his hands over her stomach and hips, down to her thighs, lifting one of them above his hip. He could feel her, sweet Lord he could feel her, wet and slippery and hot for him, and it was all he could do to lift his head from hers and look at her with unfocused eyes and try to tell her, "Love, this might hurt a little, when I first-"
And then she rolled him over on his back, straddling him, her hair falling over her face as she bent back down to kiss him and lifted her hips to position above him-
And then she came down, and took him inside her, and William thought he might die from the pleasure of it.
"Oh God," he gasped, feeling her close tightly around him, gripping her hips with both hands and holding her still for a few seconds while he got his mind back. It wouldn't do to have it all over too soon.
"Didn't hurt," she panted, smiling a bit, and she arched her back, moving her pelvis, altering her grip on him. William pulled her down to him, caressed her breast, took her lower lip between his teeth, and looked into her eyes.
"Minx," he said.