Chapter Three

"Please, Lord, I beg thee. Give me a sign." - Cotton Mather

I trembled as Cotton carefully unlaced my nightgown and slowly parted the flimsy material. With the greatest of tenderness, his hand slipped beneath the gown, seeking my soft, supple skin. I sucked in my breath, feeling his warm fingertips skimming my naked flesh, searching for any sign of a witch's mark I feared must mar my virgin flesh. He left no part of my body untouched as my nipples became tiny beads beneath his hands.

I forgot to breathe as he slid his hand lower, across my flat stomach and over the indention of my navel, leaving nothing untouched in his path. When his hand made contact with my warm center, I suddenly felt that heat again- that intense, fierce fire. It was burning in my eyes and smouldering like a lustrous flame. He thrust two fingers inside of me, searching, intruding. I rose up to meet those fingers, so wet and full of desire. I didn't realize it then, but I had just had my first orgasm. I had spasmed against his fingers. My eyes were no longer a dark chocolate; they were glowing a bright, fiery, all-consuming red. Had he only seen those eyes, then he would have known, for in that moment, I was not human.

But he did not notice; his thoughts were elsewhere as I continued to quake beneath the downward thrust of his fingers. He was inside me. Inside. A part of me. For just a moment, we were One, but to my dismay, he withdrew. I wanted to cry, but I could not. I couldn't let him see my tears. They would give away my heart!

"Anne," he said, his voice husky. "You have no witch's mark. You are a perfectly healthy young woman."

"But I-," I started to argue, but I thought better of it. I wanted him to love me and to be my husband. I wasn't about to tell him that I had killed my parents and buried them in the cellar.

"What made you think that you might be a witch?" he asked as he gently helped me lace the bodice of my gown. His fingers were skillful as though he were an expert in manipulating a woman's clothing. I knew he had to have performed this task many times before, most likely in the brothel with his long-lost lover, his beautiful Gloriana.

"I- I had a nightmare," I said, still trembling. I wasn't so much scared in that moment as I was shuddering with desire. He had awakened something in me. How was I to know then that passion was a driving force I would need to help me strengthen my powers? I craved it as madly as I craved him!

"Cotton, when you touched me..." I blushed as I looked down, toward the damp place where he had plundered me with his fingers. Inside. I wanted him inside again.

"You need to go home now, Anne. I've had far too much to drink."

He seemed so much more sober than he had been at my arrival and I wondered if he would remember any of this in the morning. "Can't I stay with you tonight?" I begged. "I am frightened."

"It wouldn't be right. You, an unmarried woman, sleeping in the Reverend Mather's bed."

I decided it wouldn't be that way for long. I would soon be married to this man. I'd sleep in his bed EVERY night. He wouldn't need his intoxicant of choice, because he would have me.

Daringly, I reached out and pressed my lips against his in the softest and most tender of kisses. When I pulled away, he looked dazed. "Thank you," I said, my voice just as gentle as his touch earlier when his fingers had moved everywhere against my pliant and supple skin. "Good night."