Page 27 of Weave me a Rope
He wanted her. He would not let go of her hand, and his eyes seemed to burn each time his gaze slipped from her face to study her curves before he ruthlessly dragged his eyes back up.
However, the two hours slipped away in conversation. She snuggled in his arms as they shared some of the spiced buns Cordelia had brought with her. She told him everything she and John had done while they were apart, he described Fielder’s slow thawing, and they spent a delightful but wistful interlude speculating about their future marriage.
“It must be nearly time to go,” he said, and when they checked the stable clock, it confirmed his assessment. “I amtorn, my love. On the one hand, I want you back in the village or—better still—back in London, and safe. On the other, I wish you could stay as long as I must.”
Cordelia squeezed his fingers. “I wish the second bar would conveniently dissolve, so we could escape together.”
It remained as solidly in place as ever when they peered from the window to see half a dozen servants sitting on the grass within easy sight of the tower. They were passing around a jug of something and looked to be settled in for a long time.
“We will have to wait for them to leave,” Cordelia said. “We might as well make the most of it, Spen. Kiss me again.”
As the sun reached higher into the heavens, it became clear Cordelia had been mistaken to think the grounds would be deserted because of the fair. Instead, groups of people were coming and going between the house and the village all day long, making it impossible for Cordelia to climb back down to the ground without being seen. Her escort must have been frantic, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Not that the day felt long. In Spen’s arms, whether they were kissing and cuddling or merely talking, Cordelia was unaware of the passage of time. Every moment felt eternal and yet the chime of the stable clock seemed to be sounding the minutes rather than the quarter hour, each ring following the other in far less time than she expected.
At noon, Cordelia finally overcame her fear of being thought wanton to place her hand on the part of Spen’s anatomy that signaled his intense interest in what they had been doing. Spen shifted away, catching her hands in his. “If you touch me there, my love, I might not be able to resist you.”
“I do not want you to resist,” she told him. “Take me to bed, Spen.”
“We should wait,” he told her, while his eyes yearned and he gripped her hands tightly.
“For how long? For your father to die? I love you, Spen. I want a memory to keep my heart from breaking while we are apart.” She blushed, suddenly embarrassed. “I have given you a disgust of me.”
He folded her in his arms again. “Never that. You honor me. I am only afraid something might happen, and doing this will make it worse.”
“I am afraid, too,” Cordelia assured him. “Afraid I will never know what it is to be with you in that way. That would be worse, Spen. That would be far worse.”
Spen groaned and was suddenly kissing her again. She had thought his kisses passionate, but he had been holding back. His hands were touching her in all the places that burned and somehow managed to soothe the intense longing while forcing it higher.
With caresses and kisses and soft moans, they stripped one another of their clothes and tumbled into the bed to explore one another’s bodies.
What he did with his hands and his mouth set her soaring among the stars, but it wasn’t what she had expected of a coupling. Of course, most of her knowledge had been gathered by listening to servants, but did his male part not need to enter the place where she was so wet? Gloriously wet, Spen had called it, when she had tried to apologize.
“But what of you, Spen?” she asked, as she lay in his arms, her body still vibrating with the music of her release. “Should you not have a turn?”
“I am happy,” Spen told her, and he kissed her again. His mouth tasted a little salty, with a flavor of musk. Her taste, she realized. “Bringing you to pleasure has been wonderful.”
Cordelia was not satisfied with his answers. “I want you to join with me. I want it all.”
“I am told the first time can hurt,” Spen warned. “I shall try to be careful, but I want you so much, Cordelia, I am afraid of losing control.”
Cordelia rolled to her back and spread her legs. “I am ready,” she proclaimed.
She wasn’t. Not quite. Nothing could have prepared her for the intimate invasion. Yes, there was a sharp pinch, but the other sensations were—not pleasurable, precisely. Desirable, yes. This fullness had a rightness about it. She was his and he was hers.
He stilled, holding his weight on his elbows, kissing her deeply, and Cordelia stopped trying to understand the sensations and gave herself over to them. Soon, she was heading for the stars again, but Spen got there first, stiffening, and letting out a long, keening moan as she felt a flood of warmth deep inside.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight comforting, though she could not draw a deep breath. She smiled in relief and triumph. She would remember the pleasure she brought him as much as the pleasure he brought her. A memory to give her comfort, however long they were apart.
After a few moments, he came to himself enough to murmur, “I am crushing you. Forgive me, my love.” He shifted enough to lie on his side, bringing her with him so they were still joined. They dozed for a while until Spen began flexing his hips to slide in and out of her again. The second time was even more wonderful than the first.
Afterward, they washed in cold water from a jug and dressed again, a process impaired by their need to keep touching one another. “I can only offer you water, but there are still a few of your buns left,” Spen commented. That reminded Cordelia she had also brought a bottle of cider. They shared it, drinking it from the bottle.
Fielder’s arrival a short while later was almost a disaster, but Cordelia scooted under the bed and Spen stood in front of the window to hide the rope ladder, which was coiled on the deep sill. “What is happening outside, Fielder?” he asked. “People have been going back and forth all day.”
“Fair in the village, my lord,” reported Fielder. “Steward gave all the staff a half day. I went this afternoon, and I saw them folks what come for Charles this morning. Thought you’d like to know he is well, and pleased to be free, and he thanks you for asking. Said he’d be joining his friend in London, my lord.”
Cordelia was touched Fielder had thought to check on the man Spen had claimed as his servant, and Spen sounded pleased, too. “Thank you, Fielder. That is good hearing. I hope you had a good half-day out. You deserve a break from this place. I like to think of you raising a glass with your friends.”
