Page 67 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
“Shall I lie down so you can…” she offered.
“Enter you? You are not ready for me, my love.” He reclined on one elbow and tugged her down to face him. “First, we shall kiss and caress. You will learn my body and I will learn yours. I will prepare your body to receive me, and you will know only pleasure when I do.”
Margaret had her doubts, but her only previous experience had been with someone who did not want her to touch him and who had barely touched her, beyond a few hard gropes, some punishing kisses, and a rude and uncomfortable invasion.
She put Martin from her mind. This was Hal. She loved him and she trusted him. “Show me,” she said.
And so, he did.
*
It was justas well, Snowy reflected, that Miss Trent and Wakefield shared the carriage with them. Margaret was most likely tired and was probably a little sore, and he could not be in her presence after their night together without wanting her again.
He had remained in her bed until dawn, and they had come together three times.
The first was careful, sweet, and over too soon, though at least he made sure she found her peak before he reached his. The second, half an hour later, was altogether more vigorous. She had lost her apprehension and was eager to meet him in his enthusiasm.
The third time was in the early morning light, a slow, long loving that twined her even more fully around his heart. He had been irrevocably hers before their night together. After it, he could not imagine life without her and didn’t want to try.
She sat beside him and slipped her hand into his; instantly, he was as hard as a rock, with no relief in sight. They would be stuck in this carriage for four hours, except for a single stop half-way to change horses. If railway passenger travel could be made commercial, he mused, then they might be able to shorten the travel time.
There. A topic of conversation to take his mind off his desire. “If a feasible steam locomotive could be produced to pull the carriages, would you be willing to try railway travel?” he asked.
Railways provided them with a lively discussion for the first half of the journey. Miss Trent knew little about them and asked a number of intelligent questions. Margaret showed she’d heard his previous comments on the subject by answering some of them with his own words. Wakefield had investigated a couple of nasty accidents and had views about what could make such travel safer.
At the change of horses, Wakefield fetched drinks and food, including for the driver, the footmen, and the guards on the roof, and they all visited the privies. Even so, the stop was no more than twenty minutes.
This time, Margaret started the conversation by asking about steamships. They were common on rivers and lakes, but experiments had begun with ocean-going ships. One that was about to attempt the Atlantic crossing they disqualified by agreement, because its main propulsion was wind in its sails.
“Still,” Miss Trent pointed out, “the extra maneuverability inshore, and being able to proceed in a dead calm must be an advantage.”
By the time they arrived in the village that was their destination, they had moved on to balloon travel, which was fascinating but, they all agreed, of little possible use, since the wind direction was so variable and it was impossible to navigate with any precision.
They stopped at the inn, where their horses would be rested, and where they would wait for the Ashbys to arrive with Deffew.
Snowy was assisting Margaret from the carriage when Wakefield, who had descended first, shouted, “Dr. Chapman,” and hurried off across the courtyard. Snowy and Margaret followed.
A grey-haired gentleman stopped in the act of helping a matronly lady into one of those chaises for hire known as ayellow bounder. Both turned to look at Wakefield with dread that turned to resignation.
“Mr. Wakefield,” said the gentleman. “If you have more questions, they will have to wait, sir. Mrs. Chapman and I are about to leave for a journey.”
Snowy followed Wakefield, Margaret on his arm.Wakefield was right about the urgency. Another ten minutes, and they would have been gone.
“I am sorry to detain you, Dr. Chapman,” Wakefield said. “I brought Lady Snowden’s son, the true Lord Snowden, to meet you both. We are expecting Lady Snowden’s younger son at any moment. Also, another young gentleman, whom I expect Mrs. Chapman will be pleased to see.”
Mrs. Chapman gazed nervously at Wakefield, while Chapman looked anxiously around the courtyard. “I am sorry you have had this journey for nothing,” he said. “You should have made an appointment. We must go. Come along, my dear.”
He took his wife’s arm to help her to the carriage. Snowy stepped in front of them, and Frank hurried to the lead horse to have a few words with the post boy. The Chapmans stopped and the doctor stepped partly in front of his wife, his fists clenched and his chin set. Snowy sought for words to reassure him, but Margaret spoke first.
“Please, I am Lady Charmain, Lord Snowden’s betrothed. We are to be married on Wednesday, but we have made the trip today because Hal was so anxious to see you. Will you not spare us an hour before you begin your trip?”
“You have no right to stop us,” Dr. Chapman began, but Mrs. Chapman tugged at his arm and addressed Margaret. “His mother called him Hal.”
Margaret smiled at her. “He remembers. He was young, of course, but he has a few memories of his mother. He and Ned remember the lullaby she sang to them.”
“The Welsh one.” Mrs. Chapman returned Margaret’s smile. “Anthony, let us give them their hour. We owe Madeline that much.”
“It could be a trick, dearest,” Chapman told her. “They could be sending for a magistrate, or that villain Snowden. How do we know this man is even Madeline’s son?”
