His Spoilt Lady (8 page)

Linnett lay
abed, nervously awaiting the arrival of her new husband. She felt
so nervous that she had to grit her teeth together to stop them
from chattering. Yet there was an inner excitement, for at last she
would share the secrets of the marriage bed. Linnett tried to
relax, moving about only to still a moment later at the sound of
the door opening. More candle light spilled into the room as John
entered, softly closing the door behind him.

“Linnett?” John
whispered into the shadowy room.

“Yes?” she
queried softly.

“Lordy, but it
is so dark in here! I shall light us some additional candles.”

Linnett could
hear John as he rustled around looking for tapers.

“No, please
don’t!” Linnett said, sitting up in alarm.

John went over
to the bed and sat down next to her. He looked at her white face,
and reaching out a finger, he stroked her pale cheek before letting
his hand drop to her lap whereupon he took hold of her cold hand.
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb while he watched her
thoughtfully. “You are afraid.” He said it as a statement rather
than a question, and Linnett nodded and hung her head. John reached
out and lifted her chin with his finger.

“No, don’t pull
away, let me look at you. You have no need to be afraid of me,
Linnett. I am your husband, and as such, I shall love, cherish and
protect you, until the day I die.”

Linnett started
to speak, but John said, “Hush now. And hear me out,” reaching over
and gently gathering her against his chest, his arms wrapped around
her. “Your father wrote to me many months ago asking me to consider
taking you to wife, but I could only remember you as a young child,
and I worried about how an English girl gently bred would cope
living in the Americas. The Colonies are quite unlike England; much
of the land is wild, still untamed. Oh, it’s very beautiful, far
more so, I think, than England, but it is not a safe and cosy
country, no place for a delicate English rose. Anyhow, eventually
under pressure, I came to look you over, more for your father’s
sake than mine. I was very surprised to find I liked what I saw.
You were strong, healthy and feisty!”

John paused.
Linnett had suddenly gone rigid in his arms, and she was panting
fast then she started to make a soft hissing sound before she said,
“How dare you! Just as if I were some brood mare or... or a prize
cow!”

She bounced off
the bed, pulling away from him, her eyes blazing furiously. John
laughed. “Your reaction now...it is exactly why I did marry you,
courage and true fighting pioneer spirit!”

Linnett was
completely nonplussed. John grinned and said, “I require that you
grow out of your selfish and, if I may say so, somewhat childish
behaviour; however, you are now my brave, beautiful and feisty
wife, and I think you will cope with the rigors of the Colonies.”
Whereupon he swiftly reached out and pulled her down onto his lap.
John kept her arms pinned in, firmly, so that she would be unable
to slap him if she was feeling so inclined; he lowered his head and
kissed her.

Furiously,
Linnett struggled. After all those unflattering things he had said
about her, she just wanted to claw his eyes out! She needed to
speak. She had things she wished to say to the beast! John’s lips
were persistent and demanding. Linnett looked up into those silver
grey eyes and saw his determination, and she quickly closed her
own. After a while, all she could think about were the delicious
feelings he was arousing in her treacherous body, which was
responding to him despite herself.

Her limbs began
to feel loose and languid, her breasts tingled, and she was acutely
aware of her thinly clad bosom pressed against his open shirt
front. His hand moved up to cup her breast and rub her pert nipple
through the gossamer material of her nightgown. “My own darlin’
girl,” John murmured.

Linnett
shivered. John rolled her over onto her back not breaking the kiss.
When his tongue flicked at the inside of her lips, she sighed. He
pulled up her gown, one hand on the firm swell of her breasts,
rolling and squeezing her aching nipples. She arched her back and
moaned inarticulately. She was softly compliant, open and trusting,
and it was as if all that existed now were the wonderful sensations
he created. She quivered under his questing fingers, his hands
slowly exploring the soft slopes of her body, stroking, knowing.
Linnett writhed under him as arousing shivers pulsed through her
body. Finally, he slid his hand up between her thighs, his hand
going to the heart of her newly awoken desires, that slippery cleft
betwixt her legs.

John looked at
his dark hand lying between those smooth thighs and at the golden
mound of her sex and felt his shaft stiffen and fill to its fullest
extent. It was a long time since he had been with a woman and never
one as beautiful as his new bride. John hoped that he would be able
to control the beast she awoke within him and take her as gently as
she deserved on her wedding night. He let his fingers caress that
sweet, wet divide, his fingers igniting an erotic rhythm within
Linnett, who was overwhelmed by her body’s powerful response. Soon,
she felt as though she was soaring, flying faster and faster.

John could wait
no longer; the sight of his bride writhing with pleasure was more
than his virile body could take. Slowly, he shifted Linnett off his
lap and on to the bed, raising himself up until he was poised over
her, his hands either side of her face, his thumbs caressing her
soft cheeks. He whispered gruffly into her ear, “There is no way I
can make this easy for you, my love; the first time is always bad
for a woman, but next time... I promise will be different.”

The soaring
sensation suddenly left her, leaving Linnett feeling confused and
wanting. John’s weight pressed down upon her, replacing the sweet
spiralling sensations with a forceful and intruding pain. “No!”
Linnet cried out attempting to push herself up the bed and away
from under him. “Stop, no, please no!” Linnett cried.

John held her
shoulders firmly into the bed and with a powerful thrust from his
hips he penetrated her. He felt her virgin flesh tear and pulled
back, ready to thrust higher, pausing to allow her to become
accustomed to the feel of his embedded shaft. Linnett gasped and
dug her nails deep into his shoulders, not quite sure if she was
pushing him away or pulling him to her. Nothing else , only the
sensation of the two of them now joined at the hip with the alien
feel of his swollen member embedded within her virgin flesh. John
lowered his head and kissed her, waiting for Linnett to become
accustomed to the feel of him, but in return she bit his lip
deeply. With a quiet ferocity John pushed himself deep and hard
within her, pounding towards his need to release.

For Linnett, it
was a burning and stinging ordeal. It ended suddenly, with John
stiffening as he gave a loud groan and slumped forward, lying
still, his sudden dead weight a shock to her. Slowly, John relaxed
and lay with his full body weight pressing down heavily on her.
Linnett lay there sore, sticky and slightly sick…. how did women
endure this? This was meant to be love? Those wonderful feelings
that she had felt, they led only to this? She pushed at John’s
inert body, wanting him away from her. She wanted to weep and to
scold. John rolled off, murmuring her name sweetly, but Linnett
turned on to her side and moved to the opposite edge of the bed.
She pulled the covers tight up to her ears and curled into a
ball.

John sighed
heavily and moved so that he was curled around her stiff back.
Putting an arm around her, he lifted the cascade of her hair and
kissed her shoulder. “I know that I have hurt you, my love. I am
sorry, but I can assure you, it will be different for you next
time. It is always hard for a woman the first time. Sleep now, my
sweet. We have an early start in the morning. Good night...Mrs.
Foster.” John kissed Linnett’s unresponsive cheek, then yawned and
settled himself; he promptly fell asleep.

Linnett lay
curled into a ball, wishing her mother was still alive so she could
go to her with her many unanswered questions. She lay silently
weeping, listening to John’s deep, even breathing, until at last
she too fell into an exhausted sleep.

When Linnett
awoke, before she had even opened her eyes, she knew instinctively
that she was alone in the bed. Rolling onto her back, she glanced
around the room, and sure enough, there was no one there. It was
early, dawn. Perhaps John had already left on his journey back to
America. She hoped so. At least, unlike many other women, she would
not have to endure THAT more than once or twice a year. There was a
light tapping at the door and Lottie entered bearing a tray of
breakfast things.

“Good morning,
miss, I mean ma'am,” she said brightly. “Your husband bade me bring
you a tray. Sir Thomas is up and dressed. He is going to travel to
the port as well.”

She set the
tray down on a small table, near a chair that was set by the fire.
“I’ll just give the fire a rattle around and get it burning again,
and you can sit here and get warm, it’s that chilly this
morning!”

Linnett sat up
in bed and shivered. So, her father intended to see John off from
the port. No doubt he thought she would go to see John on his way
and wanted to keep her company. Well, it was the least she could
do; after all, he was her husband. After Linnett had breakfasted,
she made her way to her own room to dress. She looked around her
frowning. Lottie had tided everything away, and her room looked
very bare.

“Lottie,”
Linnett called. Lottie was in the little dressing room next door,
fetching Linnett’s warm travelling dress. “Yes miss?” She came into
the room carrying the heavy clothes.

“There was no
need to clear my room; I won’t be staying in the Rose Room,”
Linnett said, and took the matching cape from the top of the pile
of clothes that Lottie held in her arms and laid it on the bed.

A deep voice
called cheerily from the direction of the doorway, “What, not
dressed yet? Your father is out in the coach waiting for us both!
Incidentally, good morning!”

Linnett stood
in her shift and looked sourly at her new husband. He leaned
against the doorway with an odious grin on his face. John was
dressed for travelling, in high leather boots of dark brown with
tight fawn britches; a greatcoat was slung over one arm. Linnett,
with outwardly cool demeanour, said, “Good morning to you, husband.
If you would be so kind as to leave us in peace, I will be ready
directly.”

John raised an
eyebrow at her formality. “Very well, I will await you outside with
your father.”

Hurriedly,
Lottie arranged Linnett’s hair and dressed her. Linnett thanked
her, kissed her briefly, and as she ran out of the room, called
over her shoulder, “I’ll go riding later, Lottie, so leave my
riding things out for me, would you?”

Lottie’s mouth
dropped open, and she ran after her mistress, shouting, “Miss!
Miss! What’s that? What d’you mean miss? Miss!”

What could Miss
Linnett mean? She wouldn’t be going riding; she was off to America.
After all, Lottie should know as she had supervised all Linnett’s
belongings being packed in the trunks and sent onto the port. No
doubt by now they were stowed aboard in their cabin. She tripped
over Linnett’s discarded nightgown, the one she had spent so many
nights sitting up and sewing. Lottie picked it up and began to
weep. She held the soft gown to her face and rubbed her cheek
against the smooth fabric.

“Oh my dear, I
shall miss you so and no proper goodbye.” Poor Lottie sat down
abruptly and wept.

Climbing up the gangway onto The Tempest, Linnett
clutched the rope support and looked down at the huge drop to the
sea. The murky water of the harbour churned about between the
harbour wall and the ship’s side. The ship swayed backwards and
forwards, nearing the wall but never quite touching it. It creaked
and groaned, moaning to itself.

Linnett
shuddered. It was as if the ship were a live creature. She had
never been to the port before; her father rightly supposed that it
was not the place to take a young girl of gentle upbringing. The
language and behaviour of the sailors were coarse and rough. Once
on board the ship, Linnett looked around her with fascinated
interest. There were men everywhere, scurrying around like ants,
and each seemed to know exactly what he was about. Men shimmied up
and down masts, others carried barrels aboard, and still others
wound huge ropes, as thick as a man’s wrist; they called, swore and
even sang to each other.

There was a
sense of anticipatory excitement all around. Overhead, gulls
wheeled, dipping and diving, their screaming calls adding to the
noise and confusion. The captain was coming towards them and he
waved jauntily, his progress somewhat hampered by men stopping to
speak to him every few feet or so. Eventually, he reached them. He
was a short man, with a large girth, and he was in his fortieth
year. His face was clean-shaven, but he sported huge side whiskers,
which looked startling not so much for their size as for their
colour, a bright gingery red, as was the thick wiry hair on his
head.

“My dear sirs,
miss, excuse me, I mean Mrs. Foster! Captain Pettigrew at your
service, ma’am, welcome aboard The Tempest! The weather is
favouring us, yes indeed! Now, please, I insist you join me below.
I have some fine brandy and a Madeira ready in anticipation of your
arrival. Please do follow me! Follow me!”

He waved his
arm expansively in the direction of the bridge and walked away from
them in that direction, assuming they were obediently behind him.
They all did their best to keep up but kept having to stop as the
seamen ran across their path hampering their progress. They also
had to avoid obstacles such as open hatchways, piles of rope,
barrels of tar and supplies not yet stowed away.