Author's Note- CONTENT WARNING: SEX/LOVE SCENE
Chapter Six
I was distraught over losing James' letter, but it was not the only reason I missed dinner. Knowing that I would have to face Barclay again, that I might be expected to give him an answer, perhaps even in front of my family, stifled my appetite.
I slept very little that night. Each time I closed my eyes, thoughts of James would appear, conflicting with the emotions surrounding Barclay's proposal. I have yet to decide my answer to either men, for if I say 'yes' to one, I inevitably lose the other.
Which would be the greater loss?
Until he kissed me, I was ready to dismiss the Earl without a second thought. He frightened me today. It was not the common horseplay between us. But then, when our lips met, there was a certain tenderness he had never displayed before. It stirred something in me that I haven't felt since being with James. I loved James, and I knew I always would, but now I am not entirely convinced he is the only man with whom my future lies. For whatever reason, he has chosen to remain absent from my life; silent, as if he never existed. Until now, it seems.
But again… what has changed his mind?
I could not deny his break with Miss Swann undoubtedly influenced his decision. I do not presume to know the depths of his feelings for her. Likewise, I feel that my opinion of her is inadequate, as I have only met her once when she was still a child.
Governor Swann—Lord Swann, then—invited Mama and me for tea when we were in London for my second Season out. Miss Swann was under the tutelage of her governess, she being just eleven years of age. That would have been just before they sailed with James, as I recall. It would explain how he knew them, and his potential interest in her. They were not so very far apart in age, and I would imagine she grew into a fine young woman, groomed to perfection into a lady by all those involved in her upbringing.
But perhaps she was not as fine a woman as I had perceived.
As I recall, she had, in fact, refused him, in favor of someone else. The identity of the gentleman in question is still quite a mystery, as the Governor was rather vague on the details in the announcement of her latest engagement. What can be certain, however, and what is the basis for every rumor, is that he is a peasant; far beneath her class, and quite out of her league. Heaven forbid the couple should ever return to England, for I am quite certain that they would be met with disgrace by the mass.
Still, I wonder… did James love her? Did she love him? Did he ever mention me?
Perhaps he did—perhaps she discovered the indiscretions of his youth and deemed him an unsuitable match for her. It is a known fact, unfortunately, that the gentlemen of the Royal Navy are quite… promiscuous during their time ashore. For a time, I believed he was no different than his shipmates. Yet there was something about him that gave me pause regarding his alleged debauchery.
As I came to know him, I realized he was incapable of it. It just simply was not in his nature. And, knowing him as I do, I hardly think he would have tolerated such an insult so as to be tossed aside for someone nowhere near his equal. His break with Miss Swann must have wounded him deeply, and it truly grieves me to know he has suffered from it. He may have wounded me as well, but I could never wish pain upon him. My heart will not allow it.
"Are you still waiting for me?"
That bloody message… It seems I do not need his letter, for its contents are forever written upon my heart, as is he. He is an eternal part of my being, ever present in my mind, even after all this time.
But had I been in his thoughts as well? How often did he think of me?
The only way to know was if I chose to reply. But dare I take that chance? Dare I make one final attempt to rekindle what we once had? Dare I risk my courtship—my potential future—with Lord Barclay, in pursuit of what might have been? What, perhaps, still could be?
Unable to sleep, I rise from my bed. It is dark, and cold. I dress myself in my robe and slippers to fend off the chill clinging to the night air. I seat myself by the window, drawing my knees into my chest and wrap my arms about them. I have an excellent view of the Garden, and of the moon glittering upon the lake. The wind, I notice, has strengthened during the night, whistling past the shutters and bending the trees… rocking the swing tied to the old oak tree, where I used to play as a child. I find myself wandering back to that night, to our first time. I can see the exact place where I gave myself to him… where we gave ourselves to each other…
"… Anna, do you love me?" he asked quietly.
We stood secluded in the shadowed corner of the Great Hall, hiding from our chaperones—a relatively easy task in a room full of overdressed, overindulged bodies. Laughter spouted from random places in the crowded Hall, the air thick with tobacco and heady perfumes. The orchestra sang a lively tune, sending couples prancing about the chequed floor. Those who weren't dancing were deep in conversation or helping themselves to more of my father's good wine. Indeed, I would not hear him above the noise if not for his deep voice rumbling like thunder and piercing through the din.
"Yes, James. I do love you… do you love me?" I blushed, surprised by my own uncertainty, for the truth of his answer was known to my heart long before he said it.
He smiled. "Yes. I do."
He loves me… I reveled in his confirmation, yet it wasn't enough. I wanted to hear those same words spoken from his lips. "Say it. I want to hear you say it."
He stepped closer, his hands enclosing about my own. His grip was gentle, yet strong—and warm. That same warmth emanated from his eyes as he pressed his lips to my knuckles.
"I love you, Anna Sharpe. With all my heart," was his bold confession. It was music to my ears.
I tingled with girlish giddiness. "I love you, too."
He released my hands to wrap his arms about my waist, drawing me close to him. My hands settled upon his chest. I could feel his heart beating—a strong, powerful thud slightly elevated by his nerves, very much like my own. The world around us dissipated, like the remnants of a dream when one is between sleep and wakefulness. I reveled in this strength only he could offer. His embrace was as strong and secure as this unbreakable bond between us, and in his arms, I felt invulnerable—as if nothing in the world could touch me!
I felt safe.
His head lowered towards mine. My lips parted expectantly, waiting for that glorious moment of unity… only to be startled by something crashing against the floor, followed by an obnoxious burst of laughter. Our eyes darted to the sight of a large woman sprawled out amidst a mound of skirts and petticoats, cackling hysterically at her blunder. The shattered remains of one of my mother's decorative floral arrangements lay scattered about her. Her escort swayed over her drunkenly with a glass of wine in his hand—which he also spilt everywhere, including himself and his lady—as he struggled to pull her to her feet.
I knew Mama would not be pleased.
James breathed a sharp sigh, equally as annoyed as I by the interruption. I bore witness to the ugly scowl upon his face, his lips pursed together so that they practically disappeared and the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. I found myself pressing closer to him, hardly aware of it until I felt his arms tighten around me. How natural it seemed to want to be sheltered from the calamitous throng, to crave his protection and to find it offered at the same time!
I wanted nothing more than to be alone with him. I wanted to lose myself in his kiss, in his touch, in his voice—away from my parents' criticism. I longed to escape the decadence buzzing around me; the shrill, deafening squeals of the ladies being twirled about the dance floor, the choking odor of cigar smoke, and the stench of a hundred bodies stuffed between four walls of a large room still entirely too small to accommodate them. Yet not even an act of tomfoolery proved worthy of halting the festivities. Thus, we remained undiscovered—high society at its finest.
An idea formed in my head. I would have him to myself… and I knew just the place.
"Quickly! Come with me!" I cried, seizing his hand.
His brow knit together, perplexed as I pulled him away, keeping to the shadows as much as possible to avoid catching the wandering eye of our guests. We slipped through the double doors of the Great Hall and flew down the steps. The water spouting from the fountain shimmered in the moonlight. Bits of gold flashed like lightning in its stream from the brilliant lights emanating from the house.
"Anna! Where are you taking us?" James called from behind.
I stopped just shy of the fountain and turned to face him, grinning mischievously. "Catch me! I dare you."
Smirking, he raised his eyebrows at my challenge. "Oh-ho! Be careful what you wish for, ma'am."
"Come on, then. Step lively, sailor!" I jeered.
"Oh, I'll show you 'lively!'"
He squared himself to me, and in the shadows of the night, he seemed to double in size, like a great beast eager for the hunt… and I was his prey. Slowly, I backed away, watching his every move. His predatory stare excited me, his approach slow and graceful. His feet hardly made a sound upon the gravel.
In the blink of an eye, he lunged for me. I leapt back with a shrill cry, and off we went!
As the fox leads the hounds astray, so did I lead us a merry dance about the Garden, darting round the flowers and racing between the hedges, dodging his attempts to snatch me with playful shrieks. I fancied myself as a fox, as I did when we were children: swift and cunning, and quite convinced of my own cleverness so as to believe myself uncatchable.
I bounded over the benches, and raced round the old oak tree, coming to the swing. Here, he stopped me on the opposite side, bracing against the ropes and crouching like a tiger coming in for the kill. I froze, beaming from ear to ear, my heart racing from the thrill of it all. I shifted left and right, trying to trick him, but he mirrored my steps perfectly, his eyes ablaze even in the darkness.
I froze, contemplating my next move.
"Come here!" he growled. As he shoved the swing out of the way, I was off again.
I dodged round the tree, laughing. He was waiting for me on the opposite side. My eyes widened in surprise. I dug my heels into the ground and scurried away in another direction, barely missing his attack. I tore across the yard, but he caught me within a few strides. I shrieked as he snatched me up, momentum sending us into a spin. He lost his footing, and down we went, landing atop each other in a giggling, muddled heap. I scrambled atop him and pinned him down by his wrists before he could recover, straddling his waist.
"I win!" I proclaimed, grinning victoriously.
"I slipped!" he protested halfheartedly.
"Indeed! And now, you're mine."
Releasing his hands, I bent down to claim my prize, kissing him passionately. This is what I wanted; this is what I missed. His lips were like velvet against my own. His hands came to rest upon my hips. His touch stirred something within me—a strange, yet familiar awakening.
Pulling back, I peered into his silvery gaze, smiling. I removed his hat to stroke his long, dark brown hair tied in a queue at the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arms about me, pulling me back down to seize my lips with his own. I melted into his embrace, reveling in being so close to him. Each kiss seemed to fill every inch of my entire being, intensifying my urge. I had felt it before, but tonight… tonight, I knew what it meant: I wanted him.
"Do you want to…?" I whispered timidly.
He furrowed his brow, confused by my request. But as it struck home, he bolted upright, wide-eyed, and looking almost… terrified. "Are you… certain?"
I bit my lower lip. "Only if you are."
He swallowed nervously, his mouth moving in an attempt to render his answer… and then nodded. "… Y-yes."
I slid off and lay upon my back. James turn't over and slowly settled on top of me between my legs. He held my gaze, his eyes searching mine. Hesitantly, he leant down, watching me as if he needed permission to proceed. I said nothing.
His lips met mine in a tender kiss—very much like our first kiss: shy, and timid. I brushed my tongue against his lower lip, drawing a grunt which remained trapped between our lips. I savored the taste of him, basking in the sound of his voice, feeling it vibrating in his mouth. He pulled back, but even so, our mouths hovered so close to one another that I could feel the heat of his breath upon my lips.
"Are you certain this is what you want?" he whispered.
In the midst of becoming enraptured by it all, I had not given a moment's pause to consider my reserves. Now that it was put to me, I found myself dwelling upon it, and the guilt it rendered gnawed in the pit of my stomach.
Did I truly want this?
I had never lain with a man, though I had dreamt of being with him often. To do so, I understood, was forbidden outside of the marriage bed. Yet his weight atop me, the taste of his kiss still upon my tongue and the evidence of it agleam on my lips, of being so close to him, and this growing heat between us, it was… invigorating!
But was I ready to take that leap to satisfy my growing lust and give my innocence to him, to take his in the process? I have been told that it is shameful to lie with a man outside of marriage, yet my shame does not prevail. He said he loved me, and I said I loved him. And I meant it. How can there be shame when the act itself would only serve as indisputable proof of my love? To say nothing of my urge to be with him, to be claimed by him, being too great to bear!
So was this what I wanted? Yes. It was! I wanted him more than I wanted to breathe!
Yet even in the midst of my certainty, my hand trembled as I took his and placed it upon my breast, assuring him—and myself—of my choice. I wondered if he could feel my heart pounding.
"Yes. I… I want you."
His eyes flicked down to his hand, his fingers twitching tentatively against my flesh. He brushed his fingertips hesitantly across my cleavage, swallowing between silent but rapid breaths. I closed my eyes, enjoying his feather-like touch, his fingers creeping closer to the laced collar of my bodice…
… Suddenly, he stopped.
I opened my eyes. "What's wrong?"
He huffed, half-smiling. "My apologies. I'm nervous. I've never done this before."
I grinned at the boyish flush upon his cheeks. "Nor I."
"Um… y-your breasts are love-lovely," he stammered.
"Thank you." I was all giddy, blushing like some silly schoolgirl at his compliment. I wished he would touch them.
He gave my cleavage a playful squeeze, emitting a nervous laugh. "May I… may I kiss them?"
I do not know why, but the very thought of it made something inside me tingle. "You may."
He lingered for a moment, and then pressed his lips to them, kissing each one tenderly. His mouth felt cool and wet on my flesh, yet soft. His kisses across my chest were timid, awkward, sparing me a glimpse in search of my approval. He slowly worked his way closer to my neck. I closed my eyes at this new sensation, craning my head back and baring my throat to him as I moaned softly. His kisses became more deliberate then, trailing across to the other side hungrily. I drew my eyes open as his mouth moved over my chin, my lips parting eagerly to receive him.
The more we kissed, the greater our passion became—to do what it was that God intended between a man and a woman, though we were neither. His heart pounding against my own was invigorating; the heat rising between us, consuming flames. As he adjusted himself on top of me, I became aware of my own femininity. There was a peculiar ache between my legs, and I felt him… pressing against my inner thigh. I also noticed I was wet.
"I… I think I'm ready for you," I whispered between kisses.
He slipped off his longcoat and unbuttoned his belt and breeches. I helped him push my skirts over my legs to grant him access to my entrance. The wetness between my legs became like ice in the night air. I shuddered, longing to be wrapped in his warmth again—I might as well have been bare, for it felt like I was!
There was a moment of shy confusion between us, of trying to guide him where I wanted him, but at last he found me. I marveled at the feeling of him taking his place inside me, filling me… of my own parts stretching about his swollen manhood. I began to feel discomfort. His hips jerked against mine, and I took the rest of him in full. I gasped at the pain inside me.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked quickly, his face riddled with alarm.
"A little…" I winced.
"Shall we stop?"
"No, just… go slow."
His thrusts were timid, unsure of what to do. The feeling of him moving in and out of me was a strange sensation—an odd sort of slippery friction… my parts contracting and releasing with his movements. The pain lingered for a time, but as time went on, it dissipated almost entirely and became a pleasure unlike anything I have ever known. It felt even better when I rolled my hips into his. I watched the same revelation come to light upon his face, of an untapped euphoria that transformed his breath into heavy grunts that grew stronger. He was almost… beastly.
"Oh, Anna!" he exclaimed as my hips bucked against his, his own pushing against mine.
Oh lord, the feel of him inside me! His thrusts were faster now, and stronger, drawing breathless moans from my lips. He buried his face in my neck as he settled into his rhythm, his breath hot as it poured into my ear. He knew what he was about now.
I closed my eyes, craning my head back and losing myself in this forbidden bliss. My body rocked with his, the two of us moving as one. Our souls were united; we were one person—as it was meant to be.
He moved faster, his thrusts growing stronger… going deep inside me. Suddenly, the sensation between my legs changed. It felt as if something was tightening, tightening… swelling, as if something in me was about to erupt. And he was in the middle of it.
His movements ceased abruptly, his entire body tensing. His voice rose, arching his back… and then a strange "hotness" filled me, triggering something in my parts and unexpectedly granting me release from this strange torment… but what such sweet suffering it was! I could not help but cry out to the heavens as I reached the height of this captivating elation, curling into him and gripping his arms, my legs squeezing his hips. His hips twitched against mine for a final time, my own pulsing liberation gradually tapering off, and then all movement ceased.
Everything felt so surreal, though I was fully aware of what we had just done. I knew it the moment he entered me. Yet I scarce could wrap my head round it! I had just lain with the man I loved. He had put his claim upon me and was now a part of me, as I was now a part of him. I had become his, and he was mine… and it was beyond anything I could have imagined!
Drawing my eyes open, I found him peering into my face through heavy eyelids, exhaustion and disbelief upon his handsome features—and immense satisfaction. I felt my own contentment glowing upon my face. It felt as if I was on fire, yet the parts of me that were not covered by his heaving form were like ice.
"You're trembling," my voice quivered.
His breath was hot as he panted heavily. "Am I?"
I nodded. So was I…
How I long to never leave these arms
The strength of my fragile soul
Without their warmth I crumble
And thus, I truly shall be no more!
~A.S.; 12 June, 1717
A tear slowly trickles down my face. More follow. I stare into the darkness, lost in the memory of that blissful night… in the memory of us. I draw my knees tighter into my chest and rest my chin atop them, uselessly trying to stave off the ache forming deep in my heart. There is only one word that can describe how much I miss him. Without him, my life has been utterly miserable.
I have never felt so lost.
I am as a ship is without a mast or sails; simply drifting with the tide, praying that someone will come to my rescue before the sea claims me. One might argue that I have already been rescued by Edmund Barclay, but by no means do I consider myself liberated. On the contrary: I have merely traded one floating prison for another. I am still adrift; I am just on a different course.
Has he ever felt this way? That he is merely adrift in this vast ocean known as life, with no land in sight? No hope? Is that why he contrived to marry Elizabeth Swann? Because she rescued him whilst he was adrift?
"Are you still waiting for me?"
I swallow the lump in my throat, trembling against the growing cold, just as I did that night in the Garden.
James… why did you not return to me, my love? You promised…
I do not want to marry Barclay; I do not love him as I have loved James, nor could I ever have with him what I once had with my former lover. Yet I am still torn between the two. I have learnt, unfortunately, that the world is too cruel to allow the purity of true love to flourish. Life, upon the whole, has become complex, and the innocence and simplicity of my youth has been cast aside by propriety and duty. As I found myself at a crossroads when James proposed, I am once again at those same crossroads: duty against desire.
James has done extremely well for himself. He has achieved most of what he has set out to do. I am no great scholar on the ranks of the Royal Navy, but from my understanding, he is but one step away from becoming what he has always dreamt of being: an admiral—just like his father.
His efforts in clearing the West Indies of pirates have earned him the respect of England. He has become a national hero; and it seems his efforts were good enough to merit his right as a suitable prospect for the daughter of a governor, of a lord. I've not met one person in London who speaks ill of him. Truly, I cannot be more proud of him… but dare I trust him again with my heart? I am in agony every day without him. I do not think I could endure another rejection; to be let down by the one man whom I had once trusted most.
With Barclay, my future is secure: I shall never be in want for anything and I shall have a respectable title, along with the respect of my parents and the mass. My legacy as the wife of an Earl would undoubtedly leave a greater impact upon the world. Barclay himself has left his mark upon the world of trade and is equally respected by his country and his peers in the House of Lords. I would be a fool not to accept his offer; and truly, I do care for him, in my way. The Earl is a fine young man, in spite of the darkness lurking in his person. But will my feelings for him, confusing as they are, be enough to put an end to my pining anguish for James? Could I truly be content if we were to marry?
Or am I merely selling myself to the highest bidder?
Lingering by the window, I give one final pause to ponder my decision, my gaze fixed upon that spot in the Garden. I relive the memory, feeling everything, hearing everything again: his touch, his body, his voice, the feeling of him inside me, the heat of his breath upon my face, the taste of his kiss. In like manner, I think of the kiss I shared with the Earl, his taste still fresh upon my tongue… his touch upon my flesh, the tenderness of it, of his proposal.
I lift my head.
My gaze drifts to the writing desk behind me, the stillness of the night broken only by the hum of the wind. I rise from my place, wiping the remnants of the tears from my face. I locate my stationary and seat myself in my chair. The moonlight offers sufficient lighting so that I do not need a candle—just as well. The last thing I need is for my parents or younger sisters to discover that I am still awake. Chewing my lower lip, I prepare to finalize my decision, my pen poised over a clean sheet of parchment.
"Miss Anna!"
Elsie's voice drifts along the edges of my dreams, cruelly fracturing the line between my imagination and reality. Her hands shaking me bring me even closer to that particular moment of slumbering purgatory, where I linger between sleep and wakefulness. When she calls to me again, I groan in displeasure, not at all thrilled at having been torn so abruptly from a rather erotic moment between James and me.
Raising my head, I drag my eyes open, grimacing from the stiffness in my neck. I attempt to blink away the fuzzy blur of sleep, hardly registering the rain pelting the glass. I slowly become reoriented to the elegant furnishings of my bedchamber. Then I notice the letter in front of me:
If eternity requires, so shall my faithfulness endure.
Love,
A.S.-
Anna
"Oh…" I groan. I must have fallen asleep at my desk. I twist in my chair, trying to stretch out the tightness in my back. "Elsie, would you—" I begin, but she cuts me off.
"—Miss Anna, you must come quickly! It's Miss Elizabeth!"
