Summer of Love (46 page)

 * * *

Mid afternoon, Helen woke up. Without opening her eyes, she turned to
her side, and her hands touched naked skin. Startled, she shot up and,
seeing Andrew sleeping peacefully next to her, fright turned into joy. She
observed him quietly. His lips were slightly parted, tempting her to kiss
them, but she resisted. She studied his lean torso, his flat stomach, the
sparse spike of black curls pushing from his pubic hair to his navel. Her
hand reached out to touch them, but stopped short. His flaccid penis lay
on his left thigh a few inches above the pink scar of the bullet wound. A
smile played on her face, as she studied its odd shape curiously.

    
After a while, she carefully slid off the bed, undressed, and emptied
her full bladder in the chamber pot. Then she climbed back onto the bed
and, lying on her left side, nestled into the crook of his arms, her head on
his shoulder, her right hand on his chest, leaning against him, their bodies
touching from head to toe. She felt euphoric, hardly able to contain her
love, having a need to wake him, to tell him. Almost without thinking,
her right hand stroked his torso and came to rest on the spike of curls
below his navel. She noticed his manhood filling.
How would it be to
hold it?
For a moment her thoughts shocked her. But he touched her in
the most intimate places, why couldn’t she touch him? Almost gingerly,
she folded her hand around it and couldn’t entirely suppress a giggle
when it began to swell gradually. She moved her hand down the
hardening shaft, freeing its shiny, pink head. Andrew stirred. From the
corner of her eyes she saw that he had opened his eyes. Embarrassed, she
withdrew her hand.

    
"Don’t stop, love," he whispered, "this feels good."

    
She folded her fingers again around the erect shaft, moving her hand
cautiously up and down, feeling its strangely ribbed texture. She searched
his eyes. "Am I doing it right?" she asked hesitantly.

    
He nodded and then cupped her hand briefly with his own, showing
her how to move it more vigorously. Slowly, he tensed his whole body.
She sensed her own arousal. Suddenly, his manhood began to pulsate in
her hand, the juices spilling onto his belly. Peals of soft laughter rose in
her throat. Their eyes met, glowing coals of love. Andrew took her face
between his hands and kissed her.

    
"I needed that . . Where did you learn how to do this?" he asked, with
a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

    
The question was so unexpected that she blushed in spite of herself.
"I discovered it right now," she said defensively. "You’re my first and
only man!"

    
"I know, Helen. I was only teasing… I also love playing with all your
exciting treasures… You’re my treasure trove."

    
"But you learned doing these things with other women!"

    
"I did, Helen… Would you rather that I still were the same green lover
of four years ago?"

    
"I loved it fine then."

    
"I was clumsy, though. Admit it!"

    
"A bit," she conceded reluctantly and then broke into a broad smile.
"And now you’re almost too clever. You set me on fire with a single
touch."

    
She got off the bed, wet a cloth in the water bowl and wiped his
stomach and penis clean, giggling as she did. When she had finished, he
pulled her down onto the bed and, lying partly on her, covered her with
light kisses.

    
"I love you," he murmured.

    
A smile twinkled in her eyes. She offered him her lips.

    
"I want to make love to you," he said softly.

    
She nodded. Her smile broadened. Her eyes became narrow, blazing
slits. "Stay inside me this time," she whispered, as she folded her arms
around his neck.

 * * *

Growling stomachs finally drove them out of bed. Andrew found his
clothing, clean and neatly pressed on hangers outside the door. They
joined Rose in the kitchen. She was preparing the evening meal.

    
"I was just going to bang at your door to rouse you from your sleep,"
she exclaimed. "Or did you wake up already a while ago," she added,
winking at them.

    
Andrew and Helen both blushed, but Helen replied: "Yes, Rose, we
did."

    
"Thanks for doing my clothing," murmured Andrew.

    
"Oh, that was no trouble at all."

    
"I forgot to tell you, Rose," said Helen, "I told Captain McGeorge to
leave our saddlebags with another ship, and that somebody will pick
them up."

    
"That won’t be so simple anymore. Constable Fraser—he’s the fellow
who arrested you—told me that they’re watching the wharf… But maybe
if the bags are put into a sack and taken off the boat by a sailor, we might
get them past the police. Let me worry about this."

    
"So they’re watching the wharf," repeated Andrew. "Then, we can’t
leave by the river anymore." He turned to Helen: "We’ve to flee on
horseback!"

    
"I guess that’s the only way now," remarked Rose. "Where are you
going?"

    
"South to England," answered Andrew, while Helen said at the same
time: "Into the Western Highlands."

    
The two young people looked at each other in consternation. Rose
laughed spontaneously, and then, seeing their confused expressions, tried
to appease them: "I’m sure you want to go together."

    
"Most boats to America leave from Liverpool. So we’ll have to go
south," explained Andrew.

    
"But it will be easier to get away and hide from the police by going
into the Western Highlands, and then catch a boat to Ireland and go to
America from there," argued Helen.

    
"Only small boats leave from Ireland."

    
"So?" Helen countered with a defiant edge.

    
"Quarters on a small boat are too crammed. There’s no privacy." And
then he added somewhat derisively: "Besides, a small boat tosses you
around horribly. I don’t want to be sick all the time."

    
"Most people survive it. It won’t kill us."

    
"But why go on a small boat, if we could take a comfortable big boat
from Liverpool?"

    
"Because, it’s more dangerous to go South." Helen tone of voice was
now strident. "Lots of people live there, and it’s more likely that we’ll be
spotted and reported to the authorities than if we went into the Western
Highlands."

    
"But it’s a big detour. It will easily take a whole month longer."

    
"That’s hardly a good reason for not taking the safer route!"

    
"I had planned to arrive in America before the end of the summer, so
that we’ll be settled when winter comes."

    
"You had planned to go there alone. Now you’re married. So your
precious plans may have to change. Anyway, a month more will hardly
make much difference."

    
Rose watched them argue, an amused smile playing around her mouth.
"So, the two love birds have their first little spat. I bet you’ll have many
more. You can take my word for it."

    
"Oh, it’s not our first one," remarked Helen with a hint of sarcasm.

    
"Helen," exclaimed Andrew, a mixture of indignation and hurt in his
voice, and then he begged in a subdued tone: "Let’s not fight. Let’s look
at the pros and cons and then make a decision together, … sensibly,
logically."

    
"You and your logic!"

    
"There’s nothing wrong with good reason and logic. Any sensible
person will accept logical reasoning."

    
"I see, and next thing you’ll tell me is that I’m not logical and sensible.
If you had used your reason and common sense, you wouldn’t have
bought that black stallion, and we wouldn’t be in this stew in the first
place."

    
Blazing, she stormed out of the kitchen. For several seconds Andrew
stood there, dumbfounded. The remark about the horse felt like a blow
below the belt. He blushed. She was right, but he resented that she
brought it up in front of Rose. He didn’t comprehend how that little
disagreement had suddenly escalated into a major fight.
But I’m right,
he
told himself silently. It was better and much safer to sail out of Liverpool
on a big boat. He had traveled on small boats. He knew how sick
everybody got. In a bad sea, even the sailors weren’t spared.

    
"Go, young man. Talk to her. Make up," said Rose, pushing him
gently to the corridor that led to their little room.

    
He needed little encouragement. His righteous mood had already given
way to fear of having lost Helen’s love, and remorse for insisting on
being right. Hadn’t she said ‘men always need to be right’?

    
 She sat on the bed and turned away when he entered and wanted to
join her.

    
"I’m sorry, Helen. Please, don’t be angry… I’m so grateful for all the
things you did for me and should have shown more consideration. It must
have been terribly distressful on you, and then Robert—"

    
"Don’t treat me like this fragile little girl. I can hold my own as well
as you!"

    
"I know that you can cope. I didn’t mean it that way," he murmured.
"Helen, let’s not fight again… We will go into the Highlands. I just
wanted us to consider all things carefully and find the best way."

    
"Yes, that’s what you always say when you want to wear me down
with your reason and logic."

    
He was stunned by her renewed attack. Fighting his own anger, he
finally murmured: "You’re unfair, Helen. I always stopped when you
made me aware of it… I love you." The last words were barely a whisper.

    
She seemed to fight with herself. Suddenly, she turned to him and
buried her face on his shoulder. "I’m sorry, Andrew."

    
He stroked her hair. Both remained silent for a minute, perturbed,
rueful, wondering. Then he raised her face, searching her eyes, and said:
"Give me a kiss, love."

    
Their lips met fleetingly. A light knock at the door and Rose’s
reminder that dinner was ready made them get up. They returned to the
kitchen holding hands. Helen kept her head bowed, refusing to look at
Rose.

    
"That’s better," chuckled Rose. "For what it’s worth, you should know
that your father and his three helpers, including the Drummond lad,
vanished before the police could arrest them. In fact, as you predicted,
Helen, they beat up the two constables who tried to wake them… I don’t
know if this has any bearing on which way you should go."

    
Surprised, Helen raised her head and let go of Andrew.

    
"And the black stallion?" questioned Andrew.

    
"Oh, apparently, one of the constables rode off with it before the
highlanders could catch him."

    
"So I remain the prime suspect and that’s why the police are still after
me." And turning to Helen, he added: "And now we also may have to
contend with your father again… You seem to be glad that your cousin
got away, aren’t you?"

    
She blushed. "How did you guess?"

    
"Your face lit up… In a way, I’m glad too."

    
She came back and put her arms around his neck. "Andrew?"

    
"Yes, Helen."

    
"No hard feelings?"

    
"No, love." His lips touched her forehead fleetingly.

    
Rose interrupted them: "If he continues in his ways, the police is
bound to get him eventually."