Hello and welcome back to my story. As a heads up for those of you who don't want the smutty parts, you can probably skip this chapter. Next chapter will be back to more family centred plot, but for every person I get who tells me they want less sexy chat I have five asking for more so as I can't please everyone I'll just try my best to highlight at the beginning when a chapter is going to go in a certain direction and tell you where to skip down to or check out from if possible as I think that's the best compromise!
Chapter 122
She didn't say anything, didn't question him as they trotted past the last of the buildings. He pulled gently on the reins to slow Porridge's pace as they entered the wasteland that edged the town, the stone and dust Styx that needed crossing to get from green to Small Heath.
After he'd kissed her back at Charlie's, her imperious attitude had begun to ebb away, her body had started to relax against him and now she didn't resist as he put the reins back into her hands, freeing his own to squeeze her waist. He nuzzled at the skin beneath her ear, dragging the tip of his nose lightly up and down it, inhaling the smell of her - her own soap and slightly spicy skin scent mixed with campfire smoke and horse. It reminded him of feeling free, sleeping out, staying at camps with his grandad, sleeping at his Uncle Charlie's, being offered breakfast if he was woken up by Curly in the morning - and a thick ear if it was his Uncle or Mother who got to him first. He smiled against her skin at the memories and kissed the spot lightly before gently nipping with his teeth. She gave a little mew but didn't tell him to stop, didn't drop the reins and made no effort to block him from her neck, no movement to lift her body from its place pressed against his.
It was the combination of that body pressed against his so tightly, the defiant attitude she'd displayed back at his uncle's and the exposed skin he was so unaccustomed to seeing in daylight hours that meant he was solid - his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers, pushing into her arse. He had seen her breathing sharpen and her eyes dilate when he'd spoken roughly to her at the yard and he suspected he'd find her at the very least damp if he was to let his hand take the journey it itched to.
Instead he curved his left hand further around her waist and let his right casually drop to her pale knee, exposed by her skirt being hitched up and pooled around her, resting around around her mid thigh, her shortness meaning her legs were well spread on the horse - and the plain, ankle length skirt she was wearing not having enough material to allow it to fall very far down those spread legs.
And of course, she did insist on eschewing stockings in favour of what he could only presume to be men's socks, which were runkled around her ankles, spilling over the top of her black boots like the dandelion heads, puffy and soft, that sprouted determinedly from the tiny, tight cracks in the slabs out of the back of Watery Lane.
He traced his fingers in circles across the white skin, his touch as light as a dandelion's, marvelling at the clearness of it against his own sun freckled hand. He simultaneously enjoyed seeing it, yet had the urge to try and pull her skirt down, to protect its delicate clarity.
But the thought went from his mind as she lay her head heavily against his shoulder and let out a half sigh, half groan, and he returned his mouth to her neck, eliciting another, deeper sounding moan - music to his ears, stirring something carnal in him that, far from wanting to preserve her, wanted to rip the skirt off entirely and devour, spoil every inch of that flesh, ruin its clarity with his own markings.
He got a little noise of protest as he lifted the hand from her knee at the same time as he lifted his head, seemingly leaving both of them feeling bereft for a moment as he pointed at the line of trees and spoke into her ear, "You see those firs?"
She nodded.
"Think you can take us there?"
She nodded again, sitting up a little straighter as she focussed on them.
"Good girl," he growled, before dropping his hand more heavily to her knee and squeezing it, feeling her arch her back in response, watching her mouth drop slightly open, her lip darting out to wet her bottom lip.
"You like being told you're my good girl, don't you?" he enquired, his thumb stroking at the sensitive skin.
She took a deeper breath than normal, then nodded, not seeming to trust herself to speak.
"Makes it a strange thing then, why you can't just behave like a good little girl then, eh?" he murmured, trailing his hand upwards, his nails scratching lightly against the soft, warm bulk of her inner thighs, spread as they pressed flat against the horse.
She kept her eyes on the fir trees he had pointed her to, and her hands on the reins, but he could see a haze in the amber as they tried to focus, and she rolled her hips, seemingly subconsciously, as if trying to rock her cunt that little bit closer to his trailing hand.
"A haughty, headstrong little thing, aren't you, sweetheart?" he continued, teasing the flesh, caressing it, then pinching it between his fingers, "You need to be disciplined regularly to keep you in line, to keep you a good girl, hmm?"
He lifted his hand and landed it with a hard smack on her inner thigh. She yelped and jumped a little in response, her arse stroking his straining cock as she did so.
He let out a guttural grunt in response and curled his arm further across her waist, tightening his hold so he could press more solidly against her, thrusting a little into her, not able to restrain himself, her own movement teasing him too much. His right hand curled around her thigh, gripping it tightly, his fingers denting into her heft, the way he'd like to dent other parts of himself in.
"That beautiful, fat arse of yours might be the death of me," he rasped into her ear, getting the words out before biting down on that soft cartilage too, determined to claim every inch of her he could.
He grazed his teeth all the way down to her lobe, then pulled back, watched goosebumps raise in a line down the side of her neck.
"But I'm a determined man," he continued, "And every time you need to be brought back in line I'll bring you back in line, make you my good girl, I promise you that my darling. And you'll like it, won't you? Like knowing who you answer to? Eh?"
She turned her head, her fiery, lust filled eyes meeting his, but challenging him still, flashing at him as she told him, "I'll like it as much as you like having me be headstrong and haughty, sir."
God, he wanted nothing more than to capture her lips with his, but it was her new-to-riding hands that held the reins, not his. Esme certainly seemed to have done well with what knowledge and skill she'd imparted, but he wasn't convinced taking Rosie's attention completely was wise, and not in an act where his own eyes would also be diverted.
"Get your eyes on the fucking road," he scolded, in place of doing what he really wanted to be doing.
She tutted, and turned her face, "You take your eyes off the road when you're driving."
"I'm experienced," he reminded her, before kissing her neck and murmuring in her ear, "And don't answer me back, or there'll be consequences for you."
"Does you good to be answered back, Thomas Shelby, you absolute hypocrite," she snipped, straightening her back, not quite willing to let him pick up exactly where he'd left off.
"Does you good to be put over my knee like the naughty little girl you act like," he replied, smacking her thigh again.
She squirmed.
"You were so sweet over my knee last night you know," he told her, deciding to flatter her in his own perverse way, "That pretty little arse of yours wriggling about, promising me you'd behave yourself and be a good girl. I do love when you give me those soft little cries."
He caressed her thigh gently as he spoke, running his hand back and forth, edging his fingers just a little higher each time, knocking against the point where her skirt lay.
She didn't respond verbally, but she didn't push him off either, and gave a slight groan and that same hip rolling movement she had earlier as his fingers trailed higher on their next swoop, past the hem, to the sensitive flesh of her upper thigh.
"And afterwards, once I've reddened you like you've needed, I like spending time rubbing that reddened flesh, feeling how hot it is against my hand. And you like it too because you always push your pretty arse up, asking for more of that, don't you?"
Again, though she didn't give him any words, he watched her breathing become more shallow, her chest rising and falling, her chin lifting, as if to try and take in the air around her better, as if she was feeling quite short of it.
"Not speaking sweetheart?" he teased, kissing her neck, biting her ear again, swooping his hand to its highest peak yet, feeling the leg of her underwear brush his fingers, "Shall I tell you what else I like? I like you on this horse. I like how wild you looked back at Charlie's. Couldn't not get on it beside you, with you looking like a warrior queen about to ride in and command her troops in battle. Only redhead in Small Heath, eh?"
That earned him a quick sideways glance and a small quirking up of her lips - though her eyes went right back to the road, not lingering on him.
"Good girl," he said, squeezing her waist with his left hand, patting her thigh with his right, "Now, do you know what else I happen to like about you on this horse, hmm?" He paused, trailing his hand slowly, lightly, up her thigh, before answering his own question, "Your legs being spread wide open for me. You know how I like these pretty legs spread. I like you all opened out to me, offering me all the access I could wish for."
His hand reached the leg of her underwear again and she whimpered and squirmed as he started to drag it back down, as slowly as he had brought it up.
"Should I make use of that easy access sweetheart?" he murmured in her ear.
Her face flushed, the pink creeping down her neck too - and once again she didn't muster words to answer him - whether by choice or hindered by ability, he wasn't sure.
He repeated the journey of his hand up her leg, feeling her hips rocking with it, then went further - tracing one finger lightly right up the centre of her.
"Tell me, when you take that underwear that's been soaked and stained with all your wetness to the wash-house, do you think of me there, in amongst all the steam and the heat and find yourself ruining the next pair already?"
She groaned his name and rolled her hips against him, and he gave a low chuckle in her ear and dragged his finger slowly away.
"What is it sweetheart?"
"You know what it is," she whined, rolling her hips again, the movement brushing his cock - full, pulsing, poised and sensitive as it was.
"Use your words darling."
"Tommy!" she whined, petulant.
"I know you're capable of them," he told her, circling her kneecap, letting his fingernail drag lightly.
She squirmed.
"Capable of lots of words usually, aren't you?" he teased, drawing his finger up, letting it rest right at the top of her thigh, not touching where he had, then starting to drag it back down.
"Tommy!" she jerked her hips in the direction of his finger, down to the right.
"Ah - ah - ah," he told her, singing it to her like she was a child who was heading, hands outstretched, to a flame, "We don't go side to side on the horse, we stay balanced in the centre."
"Thomas!"
"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he crooned, pausing to kiss her neck before going on, "So desperately needy, so wet, but you can't find the way to ask me to touch you, eh?"
"Tom - touch me," she groaned.
"Where?"
"You know where!"
He gave another low, throaty chuckle in her ear, "I know exactly where you want me, my love."
"Then go," she whined.
"I wanted to hear you ask," he told her, "But I'll make you a deal - you admit to me that your arse is sore from last night and that that's why you didn't want to get on this horse back at Charlie's. Tell me that's why you were being a stroppy little madam, and then I'll reward your honesty, eh?"
He simply got another moan of his name.
In response, he slid his hand right up to the top of her legs then continued, but moved up, outlining the area he knew she wanted the pressure, making her wriggle, trying to move herself to meet him, his own movements deft enough to prevent her.
"Tommy - Tommy please."
"I offered you a deal," he said - giving a fake sigh and moving his finger away, "If you don't want it…"
"Tommy – I want it," she said, rolling her hips forward.
"Go on then," he goaded, pausing his finger's descent, circling just below the hem of her skirt.
"Tommy - I - I didn't want to ride - because - because I'm still sore from last night," she said, her voice desperate, pitching as he pinched her flesh, "And I'd already made it worse with riding this morning."
"Sore from being over my knee like the disobedient little girl you were last night," he murmured.
"Yes," she breathed, nodding, her head falling back a little as he began to bring his finger up.
"Say it," he demanded, a low growl in her ear.
"I'm sore from being over your knee, like, like-" she moaned and stopped as he brought his hand to where she wanted it.
"Like a disobedient - little - brat," he finished for her, landing a light smack right between her legs on every word.
She moaned and rocked her hips so wildly that Porridge gave a huff beneath them - as if he wanted to chide them for their lack of manners, remind them that he was there.
They were crossing the last of the open grass though, nearly at their destination.
"Say it," he told her.
She glanced over her shoulder with wide questioning eyes.
"Say you were a disobedient little brat," he said, keeping his hand over her spread cunt and squeezing, moving just a little side to side, knowing she'd feel even the tiniest changes in pressure.
She choked it out and gave a violent whine as he rewarded her with, "Good girl," and another few pats of his hand to her spread area.
"Not long to go, sweetheart, and I'll give you your release," he promised quietly, before sliding off the slow moving horse.
"Tommy," she protested.
He reached up, took her hand from the reigns and brought his lips to the back of it to quieten her.
"Can you stay upright for me if I lead?"
She paused, then swallowed and nodded, letting go of the reins and threading a hand through Porridge's mane.
"Only from here to there," he said, nodding at the trees, less than fifteen feet from them, before promising, "Then I'm going to make your knees tremble."
There didn't need to be anymore words then as he led the horse to the second line of trees and looped the reigns around a sturdy branch, before holding his hand up to Rosie, helping her down off the back of the beast and taking her to him as soon as she was on the ground, pressing a deep kiss to her mouth, his body flush against the curves of hers, her hands curling around his neck.
He broke off, took her hand in his and led her into the trees, staying silent, looking for a suitable spot.
Upon finding his target, he turned to her and - raising an eyebrow, keeping his face as stern as possible - said, "Now, you're going to be a good, obedient girl for me, aren't you?"
Her mouth was open and she licked her bottom lip, as if she meant to find a verbal response, then settled simply for nodding.
"Words, my love."
"Yes sir," she breathed, "I'll be good."
"Good," he said, ghosting his hand up her neck and across the side of her face, enjoying how her mouth followed his thumb as he stroked it across, as if she were trying to kiss it. He threaded his hand into her hair and used it to pull her face around to his and back, tilting it so she was looking up at him as he warned, "Because we're in the woods sweetheart and it'll be quite easy to make you cut and strip enough branches to make a fine birch for lighting you up with before we leave otherwise, understand?"
She swallowed and nodded.
He grasped her skirt, which was back at her ankles since they'd started walking, and pulled it up in handfuls before slipping his hand under it, his other remaining in her hair.
"Take these off," he ordered, tugging at the material of her underwear, "But keep the skirt in place."
He didn't trust himself still. Even the way he'd thrust into her arse on the ride over because of the way she'd brushed his cock - he knew he couldn't be relied upon to do the right thing in his current state if he was presented with the sight of her.
He released her, standing back as she obeyed him, her eyes staying on his as she ruched her skirt up at the back, but dropping, as if embarrassed, as she fiddled with her buttons and let her knickers drop.
Funny, that undressing herself, even as modestly as she was, with nothing showing, could cause embarrassment given where he'd been touching and teasing minutes before.
"Look at me," he ordered, waiting until she'd complied before, "Good girl. Now give me them."
She bent to retrieve them and placed them in his outstretched hand, her eyes widening a little as he buried his nose in them, inhaling her for a moment, his own eyes closing as he did so before he snapped them open and tucked her knickers into his pocket.
"And your cardigan," he said, nodding at it, "Take that off."
It was like a reverse strip tease - her taking off her underwear first, then removing her cardigan. But ironically, it was the cardigan that revealed more flesh - the short sleeved blouse she had on underneath it left her arms uncovered and, compared to the dark wool, the white flesh seemed stark and vulnerable.
She seemed to know instinctively just to drop the cardigan on the ground behind her, her eyes staying on his as she did so.
"Now, you see that tree there," he said, pointing at it.
She glanced, hesitated, then nodded, her eyes asking questions.
"Go stand with your back against it, facing me."
He followed mere steps behind her as she did as he ordered, so that by the time she turned, pressed against the tree, his mouth had only inches to move to find hers again, and he pressed against her, so firmly he wouldn't have been surprised to find an imprint of her body etched in the tree once they broke apart. But she didn't complain at all, she moaned into his mouth, her fingers creeping up the back of his head, pressing in behind his ears, as if she wanted to pull him even closer.
He closed her wrists in his own hands, ended the kiss and took a half step back. She didn't say anything as he lifted her hands to the branch above them and placed them on it, one by one, wrapping her fingers around it, pressing his over hers to keep them in place.
"Keep them there," he told her, and she breathed deeply, her chest moving in her blouse and nodded, tightening the hold.
"Good girl," he told her, sliding his hands slowly down from her wrists along her newly exposed arms, dragging his nails a little, bringing goosebumps and shallower breaths.
He closed the distance he had opened, his hands trailing over her shoulders, across her breasts and going to her waist, squeezing it, pushing his foot between hers to enforce the action as he told her, "Open your legs for me." She did so and he rewarded her with another purring, "Such a good girl for me today, eh?" in her ear, stepping even closer to kiss her neck, running his hands back up from her waist to her breasts, thumbing at her nipples, already erect in her aroused state.
"Good girls get rewards, don't they sweetheart?" he cooed, dropping his right hand to her hip, squeezing before trailing down to mid thigh and gathering up the handfuls of skirt like he had done before, bunching it up until the hem was in his grasp and he could slip under.
She was soaked, his fingers glided over her slippery wetness with ease, her cunt lubricated and ready to receive him. He slid two fingers along her slit, applying pressure and she gave the sweetest little gasp and moan, and he thought he might spill himself in his trousers at the sound.
He swallowed, put his face in her neck and bit gently, closing his eyes, letting himself be lost to the sounds and the feel of her. His thumb found her clit and her rubbed small circles on it as he tentatively slid his middle finger into her.
She cried out and he stilled his hand, letting her become accustomed to it - but she began moving before he did, pushing herself against him, letting him know she wanted more.
He obliged, moving the finger in and out, rubbing her clit at the same time. He had teased her for so long on the horse that it barely took a minute before she was moaning his name, her head lolling onto his, their necks entwined like swans.
It took some effort on his part to drag his face out of its buried place even to get to her ear, where he encouraged, "Come on sweetheart, you were such a good girl to admit the truth and tell me your pretty little arse was still sore from being over my knee last night. Good girls get to cum, so cum hard for me my darling."
She let out a high pitched, trembling whine, and when he pulled his face back to look at hers, it was twisted, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth open, but too slackly to produce words. She was on the edge, the very edge.
"Come on my love, show me how much you like being a good girl for me," he growled, then bit her neck again.
It was enough, she let out a strangled cry and he pushed himself against her, pinning her to the tree in case her legs decided to give way as her muscles milked his finger. He stayed still, letting her ride it out until she let out a last heaving sigh of relief and he felt her body fall back a little, relaxing against the tree.
Still, he stayed pressed against her as he removed his hand and let her skirt fall back down, licking it clean with his tongue before putting his hand to her waist.
She seemed too spent to react to it, watching him through heavy lidded eyes.
"One day," he told her, lifting his hand to cup her face, kissing her gently, "One day, in the future, you and I will come back here, and I'll cum inside you."
"Why not today, Tommy?"
He let out a quick huff through his nose and dropped his hand. She couldn't say things like that, not to him, in that moment, when he was on the verge of spilling himself in his trousers, like a fucking kid. God knew he was tempted.
"You know why not, Rosie," he insisted, through gritted teeth, "You want to work. You can't do that if you're pregnant. I won't risk it. And even -," he broke off to take a steadying breath, trying to focus himself to hear and believe his own bloody words, "Even if that wasn't the case, I wouldn't want to risk it with Campbell here. That man knows no bloody bounds. It's too dangerous."
"I know," she said softly, her hands going to his face.
He was too busy trying to tense his body, to keep control of it, to chide her for moving her hands before he'd given her permission to do so.
She pulled his face to hers and kissed him - and he was so on edge he stepped back when she pushed him, let her move him where she seemed to want to, reversing their positions so that he found himself against the tree, the branch she'd been stretched to hold just a little above his head.
"Rosie - what?" he asked, but she kissed the question away, her hands trailing like his had done on her body, down to his waist, then down, further down, her hand going between his legs, making him grunt.
"There are other ways for you to cum, Tommy," she told him, squeezing him through his trousers.
He was going to fucking cum right there if she didn't move her fucking hand - and he tried to construe a warning to her through his eyes, but it didn't seem to have any effect.
She kissed him again and, whilst she was doing so, her hands went to his waistband, unbuttoning his suspenders, then to the centre, undoing the buttons there too.
"Rosie - stop…" he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Tommy - please - let me," she murmured, kissing his tense jaw, her hands continuing until suddenly her hand was snaking down, finding his solid cock and curling around it, making him jerk his hips and suck in a breath through his teeth.
"Rosie!" he growled - but his knees were weak at feeling her skin on his, her holding him so tenderly but firmly, like she knew how and he didn't have it in him to put up any real resistance.
His eyes stayed screwed shut but he felt her movement, heard the small bump as she hit the ground and gave a strangled cry as he was pulled out of his trousers and into the warm, wet of her mouth.
He lasted less time than she had.
She gripped the base of him in her hand, moved her head back and forward a few times and he couldn't stop himself as his hand went to her hair, threaded through it and pushed her forwards, keeping her head still, his hips thrusting. She didn't make any noise to suggest she was uncomfortable, she set her tongue to work, flicking around him, and hollowed her cheeks and - God - he was gone.
Her mouth milked his cock like her cunt had milked his finger, except this time the spurting was very real - and she didn't jerk back, just stayed in position, holding him until he was flaccid against her tongue. Like she'd been expecting it, was prepared for it - knew what she was doing.
But the wide, questioning eyes she looked up at him with once she'd sat back on her heels seemed disconcertingly at odds with the act she'd just performed and he didn't know what to say to her, just held the eye contact for a moment before coming to himself, realising he was still fucking hanging out and busying himself with sorting that fucking situation. It was all very well for women, who could drop their skirts and make all seem fine - there was more to be considered for a man.
"Tommy," she said, her voice small, "Was that - Did you - Was that alright?"
He stopped fiddling with the refastening of his suspenders to his trousers and frowned down at her, "What kind of a question is that? I just - I just came down your throat, Rosie, for fuck's sake. I should be asking you if you're alright. Are you alright?"
She smiled, cocking her head, "I'm fine, Tommy. More than. But I mean - was it good, for you?"
He dropped down to his knees beside her on the ground, taking her face in his hands, "Rosie, my darling - it was… fucking sensational, alright? But I would never have expected you to do that. Not now, not yet, I mean-"
"But I wanted to, Tommy," she cut across him, "I liked it, I liked all of it." She dropped her eyes, her face going pink as she said, "I wouldn't mind doing it again, if you…?"
"Make it a regular stop on our way home, eh?" he said, dropping his face down to scoot it under hers, forcing her to look at him, kissing her and bringing her head up.
"I do want to work Tommy - and I do appreciate you respecting that enough to - to hold back," she went on, chewing her lip as he stood up and offered her his hand to help her to her feet. She slid her palm into his and continued "But there are other things we could do Tommy, things with no risk…"
"Sweetheart, I know - but I lasted about thirty seconds there… You might be able to control yourself but if I had you in front of me, open to me, even for other things… I don't think I could."
"I think you could."
"You think too much of me," he told her, giving a half laugh, bringing their entwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of hers and then letting it go so he could finish fastening himself before offering, his hand back to her, "C'mon, best be heading back before Pol and Lily come to blows."
"My cardigan's over there," she nodded ahead of them to where she'd dropped it, "And my underwear is in your bloody pocket."
"It can stay there," he smirked.
"Tommy!" she half squealed, turning and batting him on the chest, "Absolutely not! I'm not going home in the middle of the day not wearing any underwear - and especially not when that's because it's in your pocket, where it could fall out of!"
"It won't fall out!"
"Thomas!"
He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but went into his pocket and, slightly unwillingly, offered her her knickers back. She rolled her eyes back as she took the ball of material from him and stopped to set about pulling them back on. He took a few steps on, keeping his eyes ahead - as if to give her her privacy to redress, as if he hadn't made her strip them off under his gaze in the first place. It was strange, how quickly the mood could change, how he could feel ungentlemanly to watch her struggle to dress - and attempt to preserve her modesty in doing so - when they'd been doing… what they'd been doing… not ten minutes prior.
"Besides," she said, making her way by him, making for the place where her cardigan lay in a heap, "As much as I hate to give you the satisfaction of saying so - my arse is actually sore, so any extra layer of padding helps."
"We'll walk back to Charlie's eh? Give you some time off the horse."
"Do we have time?"
"Lily's not at school anyway to be needing picked up," he shrugged.
"What if her and Polly do come to blows though," Rosie said, worrying at her lip as she pulled the cardigan on.
"She'll learn not to cross Pol."
"Tommy!"
He laughed at her face, "For God's sake, woman - Pol's dealt with the rest of them in her time and never maimed them yet. Stop fussing and worrying."
He opened an arm to her and she sighed and came, letting him tuck her in to his side as they made their way back to Porridge before making their way on foot through the green they had ridden through on the way, him with Porridge's reigns in one hand, the other on her waist.
Before the war, before his mother had passed, before he'd become a man and faced up to the responsibilities that came with that, he'd wanted to work with horses. He supposed this was the kind of scene he'd imagined - a horse in one hand and a wife in the other. Maybe some kids running on ahead of them. It was still the sort of scene he imagined, if he was honest.
He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, grateful for her, pressing another one to her mouth when she turned her face up to him, giving him that sweet smile.
He felt sated, peaceful, content - happy. And John would feel that way too soon, he hoped. And in time, Arthur too maybe…
But the smile dropped off his face as he thought on John's situation - on the Lizzie situation he needed to deal with - on remembering about why, Lee alliances side, he needed to take care of that situation.
"Rosie," he asked, not sure he wanted the answer, "Was that - was that more of that research we'd talked about?"
She sighed, the memory of them realising she'd been questioning Lizzie - and why that was… awkward, to put it mildly - no doubt surfacing in her mind as it had done his, but she shook her head, "Not of that type, no."
His chest relaxed a little, "Well, where did you-?"
"Esme's family - the women - they've been giving her marriage lessons."
"Marriage lessons?" Tommy responded, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded, "I've not been there for all of them, obviously - but they've saved some of them for when I have been there, so I can fill in with what I know about John or - or about the family in general."
"Ri-ght," he nodded, slowly, "I presume that sort of lesson isn't pertaining to the family in general?"
She smiled, looking up to him, the moment of remembering about Lizzie past, "No. That's a special sort of lesson."
"And you were there for that one were you?"
"Not exactly," she shrugged, "But Esme and I go riding - and she shares things with me and I share with her and - and it's nice - to have someone to talk to. She asks about John and she asks about how things are likely to go between them and - and sometimes she asks about us and I tell her… tell her certain things." She sounded a little nervous and rushed, "Not explicit things, obviously, Tommy. I use my judgement and I've not mentioned anything about Grace or Campbell or the guns or anything. But I told her about my work when she asked why we weren't - weren't married and moving things on. Are you angry with me?"
He shook his head. He supposed he wasn't surprised really. Living as a group, the way the Lees did - it didn't exactly make for a conventional, prudish English upbringing as far as certain things went. Lack of privacy, for one thing. But given Rosie did have that slightly prudish side to her - the way she still didn't go near the kitchen when Finn was having a bath, for example… He supposed it was touching, actually, that she'd gone researching, even if she had picked Lizzie at first, and that she'd been receptive to Esme's other teachings in addition to the horse riding… He didn't imagine it came naturally to her to want to have those conversations, and she was having them for both their benefit.
Besides, even not living on the road - he and his brothers' own educations had come from what each of them - or Freddie or Danny - had been able to glean from their own experiences and bring back to the group. He supposed he'd be a hypocrite to complain about her discussing things with Esme when it was Arthur who'd first told him a girl would go wild under him if he used his mouth…
He pressed a kiss to her forehead to reassure her and, smirking a little, half joked, "Suppose it'll benefit me, if you're learning how to please your husband, eh?"
She looked back up at him, her eyes sparkling, smirking herself in a way he didn't quite trust.
"What?"
"Well, it was less a lesson in how to please one's husband - and more a lesson in how to manipulate him," she grinned, then yanked her hand from his and sped off looking pleased with herself, out of the reach of his hand being able to collide with her arse, laughing at him over her shoulder.
Thank you so much for reading. I am going to try and stick to my Sunday upload schedule generally but I had been hoping to get this up on Sunday that's just passed, so it feels more two days late than five days early! Hope those of you who didn't skip this chapter enjoyed it!