A Fateful Wind (7 page)

“Don’t you know we’re in for a storm? What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death if you’re caught in this!”

Jenna smiled, touched by his concern.

“Here, let me take you home before this rain comes down heavy.”

As though in a trance, she placed her hand in his, his touch sending shivers through her as she let him lift her on top of his horse. As they rode together across the path, the drops of rain began to descend at a heavy pace. The noise of the thunder rose louder and louder in the stormy sky. The horse’s hooves slipped unsteadily along the muddy moorland pathway.

Jack dismounted. “I’m afraid he will fall if we carry on.”

“If we can make it to the edge of the moor there is an old abandoned shed,” Jenna mentioned, eyeing the tempestuous clouds that were gathering closer and closer.

Jack held the rains and walked the stallion toward the quarry that lay at the moorland edge with Jenna seated precariously in the saddle. The thunder resonated louder. Bolts of lightning began to streak through the sky, illuminating the darkness of the storm. Jenna pointed through the rain, which now came down in heavy squalls and they hastily made their way toward an old shed lying hidden behind bushes and trees, its rooftop only slightly visible.

“I would have had no idea this was here.” Jack sounded pleased to find the inside dry and warm.

“This was my secret hiding place when I was a girl.” Jenna breathed in the old familiar wood smell and brushed off the small low bench placed against the back wall. She seated herself upon it and watched as Sir Jack led the horse over to the far side, brushing the rain drops from his coat.

* * * *

“Good God, you’re soaked.” Jack turned to see Jenna shivering slightly. He took off his jacket and wrapped it over her shoulders. Taking his handkerchief, he tenderly wiped away the drops of rain clinging to her face. Her eyelashes darkened from the wet, making her eyes appear even more turquoise than before. Her cheeks were soft and dewy and her breasts were clearly visible through her wet cotton blouse.

Don’t look
, he scolded himself. He brought his coat closer around her, trying to hide the rosy nipples that appeared so inviting. Hopefully the rain would pass soon and he could be on his way. This chance encounter once again ruined the pact he made with himself that he would try and stay far, far away from the alluring servant. But here they were again, standing so close he could feel the softness of her skin on his.

“Well, we meet again.” He laughed, trying to quell the fervent desire ripping through his body. She smiled, brushing her hair away from her face. “But you seem much happier than last time?” He dropped his gaze momentarily to her worn scuffed shoes. They instantly reminded him of who she was and how different their lives were. It was foolish of him to even consider allowing his feelings for this woman, this common servant girl, to take over like they had done. But here, inside the small shed, the rain beating down on the tin roof, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and make love to her.

Jenna nodded. “Yes Sir, I am much better, thank you.” She reached for his hand and held it in hers. The gesture tore through him. “I felt unhappy that day you saw me in the church.” There was a shyness to her voice, her lilting accent barely audible above the noise of the wind. He moved in closer to hear her, seating himself next to her on the small bench.

“Your hands are freezing.” He took them both and rubbed them between his palms. She shifted toward him, allowing him to move his hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm her. He enjoyed the feeling of her body next to his. “Why were you so unhappy? I may be able to help.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “We come from two different lifestyles. What could you possibly know about my life?”

“Well, I could try.” He brought her in closer, wrapping his arms protectively around her and pulling her against his chest.

“Have you ever been married?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve friends who have.”

An amused smile crossed her face.

He stroked a rain drop from her cheek. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” She gazed into his eyes for a moment before turning away to lay her head on his chest.

The thunder rolled outside, each bang rattling the small shed. The rain was squalling around, falling like heavy rocks upon the roof.

Jack held her tighter against him, his hands now smoothing the raven hair she let fall from her bonnet.

She moved her hands up toward his neck and lazily ran her fingers through the tuft of chest hair peeking over the top button of his shirt. He groaned quietly at the feeling of her hand on his body, her head on his chest. He gently lifted her chin. Bending down, he brushed his lips against hers, the intimacy of it sending waves of passion throughout his groin. Her lips were soft, her sweet breath enticing him deeper and deeper until his mouth was upon hers. Their lips joined together, tasting and licking, the clash of tongues eagerly searching the other. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth closer to her. He moved his hands deftly over her body, seeking out the warmth of her breasts as he cautiously ran his fingers over the soft inviting mounds.

Jenna groaned as he undid the buttons of her blouse, unleashing the firm flesh underneath. Her nipples were hard and taut as he moved his mouth slowly away from hers, running his lips over the hollow of her neck closer and closer toward her breast, kissing and licking the body which already felt so familiar to him.

“Oh, Jenna.” He moved his lips back up to hers. He held her face between his hands. She opened her eyes and gazed into his with such longing that he wished to take her, right here in the small shed amidst the storm.

But this was not good enough for her. He wanted to give her the world right now, to take her away from all of this, take her somewhere they could be together, where class and distinction meant nothing. He moved his lips over her face, fervently kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Jenna breathed heavily, sighing and gyrating her body against his bulging manhood.

“Oh, Jenna, you’re so beautiful.” He burrowed his head once more into her inviting cleavage. “I wish I could make love to you over and over again.”

* * * *

Jenna moaned with a longing she never felt before, a foreign, overwhelming anxious desire she could do little to quell. With eyes closed, she tilted her head back, enjoying the feeling of his hot lips against her skin. Cautiously, Jack moved his hands up underneath her skirt, gently stroking the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer and closer to the dewy warmth that lay between. She arched her hips toward him, inviting his hands further. As his fingertips brushed her lips, she whimpered with desire, rotating her hips up and down. His fingers sought out her creamy wetness, moving one finger gently inside her, whilst his mouth grazed hungrily on her breast.

“Oh, Jack, I want you,” she murmured, reveling in the feeling of his touch upon her.
So this is how it’s meant to feel, is it
? she thought. Waves of passion swept over her body as Jack’s finger brought her to the very brink of climax. She felt powerless, as though her whole body would explode as the force shuddered over her.

He lifted his face from her chest and gazed at her face as her lips parted and she succumbed to the power of his touch.

Jack smiled as she opened her eyes, licking the dryness of her lips. “Jenna, Jenna, Jenna,” he murmured. “Whatever have you done to me?”

The rain fell softer now and the thunder dissipated. He drew his hand from underneath her skirt and slowly buttoned her blouse.

She lazily ran her fingers through his hair as they lay gazing at one another, their faces barely touching, their breathing now relaxed and satisfied.

“You’re so beautiful” he said softly.

“Jack,” she said quietly, wishing she could stay in his arms forever. She ran her gaze over his face. Was this how love felt? She loved him. She knew it. She felt it so strongly from the first moment they met. She loved everything about him – his eyes, his voice, his laugh, his touch. She loved him. With Jack, she felt safe and she wanted him more than anything in her life. She didn’t feel this way with Trystan. Goodness, she never allowed Trystan so much as a touch of her breast, let alone her womanhood. With Jack, it felt so natural. At the thought of Trystan, she felt apprehensive again and sat up.

“What is it?”

“Trystan! Oh no, what have I done?” She stood, moving toward the small doorway.

Jack jumped to his feet, took her hand and pulled her back to the bench.

“Oh, Jack. This is foolish, simply foolish. I should never have let you kiss me. I…I….I don’t know. I was overcome with everything.”

He shook his head. “No, Jenna. You’re wrong. Didn’t you feel it? Didn’t you feel it the first time our eyes met? That connection? That feeling we already knew each other?” His eyes implored hers as he spoke.

“Of course I did, but it’s no use is it? You and I, I mean, from two different worlds, living two very different lives. It’s just a fling for you, that’s all.”

Jack stood up, indignantly. “This is no fling, Jenna. How I feel for you I can’t describe. Listen…” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his gaze boring into her. “Meet me here tomorrow. Do you think you can? Meet me here tomorrow evening on your way home from Penrose Manor. I will be here. Please, we can talk about this, but I want to, I have to, I simply must see you again. Please?”

Jenna nodded. She didn’t know why she agreed. What good could possibly come of it? But she wasn’t ready to give up the feeling of his lips upon hers, not just yet anyway. She left the small shed and headed back along the pathway home, her mind reeling with the afternoon affair. She knew in her heart this was just a fling. One more encounter and he would tire of her, and hopefully she of him. Resolutely, she told herself she would only meet him one more time. That would be it. No more daydreaming, no more wishing to be someone she wasn’t. She would get the lust out of her system and set about marrying Trystan just as she planned.

Chapter Eight

Lord Edwin fidgeted excitedly in the long carriage ride up to Plymouth. Several times he poked his head out of the window and asked the driver how much further left to go. Taking his silver flask from his pocket, he took a large sip and passed it to Jack.

“You know, I thought our trip to Plymouth would have to be delayed. I am so pleased, so very pleased that the rain decided to oblige me this time!” He rubbed his hands together with glee. As they crossed the Tamar, he licked his lips eagerly. “Nearly there.”

Jack gazed out into the darkness, willing his cousin to calm down. He was in no mood for a trip to the docklands of Plymouth. He knew well enough what sort of things that would entail. No doubt Edwin’s perversions would be well satisfied by the creatures of the night who roamed the narrow alleyways and public houses of the docks. The thought of having to accompany his cousin on such an excursion left Jack feeling very ill at ease. Imagining the arms of one of those wenches being wrapped around him no longer held any appeal. The only arms he wanted to touch his body were Jenna's. Still, tonight would be a good evening to make sure Edwin got drunk enough to regale him with stories of the many maids he bedded. If Jack felt Jenna was in any danger of being ravished by Edwin, he would make sure it would be stopped immediately.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt as the raucous sound of Plymouth’s docklands came into earshot. Edwin jumped onto the cobblestone street, reaching back into the carriage for his walking cane. Dressed in his evening finery of top hat, tails and polished leather boots, there would be no mistaking him a man of money able to buy any vixen he so desired. Jack chose to dress a little understated and chided his cousin for appearing so wealthy.

“You will be a prime target for beggars and vagabonds.” He chastised, as Edwin emerged from his dressing room, fixing his silk puff tie.

Lord Edwin merely laughed, pointing at the ivory pistol tucked neatly into his sock.

“I never go anywhere without this trusty piece of protection. I am surprised at you for not carrying one. I thought being in America you would have become a fervent fan of the pistol.”

“No, it’s not as dangerous there as people would like to think.”

Jack stood next to the carriage and surveyed the street in front of him. The stench of Union Street hung stagnant in the night air. Rotten vegetables lay decaying in the gutters, feasted upon by errant pigs, dogs and copious amounts of rats. Raw meat hung in the butcher’s window, the pungent smell wafting out into the street. The stench of stale ale poured out of the numerous public houses and whorehouses. Union Street itself was littered with filth, mud and straw. Vagrants and beggars sat huddled in doorways, holding their pestilence ridden hands out for any scraps of coins they could gain. Harlots posed shamelessly, enticing the bawdy sailors into the various brothels lining the streets of the docklands. It was a shabby and destitute wasteland of poverty and depravation. Even Jack, with all his worldly travel, was shocked at the vileness of the place.

With a look of disgust on his face, Jack followed wearily behind his cousin, who strode off with an excited jaunt in his step in the direction of a particularly bawdy establishment. He skirted the various bodies of tramps lying stretched out on the side of the road, kicking away the greedy vermin crawling around them with his cane and made his way up the steep steps leading to the entrance. A red oil lamp hung dissolutely above the door. As Edwin opened it, the noise and smell of debauchery denoted to Jack this would be a place of great distaste. The establishment was full of sailors in port for the night and eager to satisfy the carnal desires pent up during their time at sea. A few well-heeled gentlemen quelled their lusty appetites amidst the scantily clad bosoms of the harlots cavorting amidst the tables and barstools plying their punters with liquor and ale, eagerly eating up the coins and notes thrust into their lace garters.

Jack followed his cousin toward a cordoned off area set away from the myriad of sailors and dock workers where they joined the other gentlemen of society seated in well worn velvet chairs. Lord Edwin beckoned over a voluptuous redhead who knowingly sized up his attire and greeted him with a coquettish wriggle of her bosom. Within minutes, bottles of whiskey littered their table along with ale and rum and a sample of different tobaccos laid out for their pipes.

Edwin fanned his hand around the bevy of beauties who milled around. “Take your pick. My treat tonight.”

Jack nodded halfheartedly, pleased when silence at last descended upon the rowdy patrons and some of the harlots dressed in frilly French knickers took to the stage.

“Ah, ‘tis the can-can!” Edwin shouted, his face red with pleasure, guzzling back the tankard of whiskey with great gusto. Winking at Jack, he pulled over the curvaceous redhead who squirmed seductively in his lap as he thrust a guinea into her garter-belt, his greedy hands already seeking the warmth of her cleavage.

Jack turned to face the stage, ignoring the tartish women who clamored for his attention. Gradually, the honky-tonk sound of the piano began. The dancers moved to the front of the stage, kicking their legs high up in the air and bending over so their round bottoms were thrust enticingly into the faces of the cheering audience. He gazed back over to his cousin, who clapped and cheered, an expression of sheer joy on his fat little face.

Keep on drinking, Edwin
, Jack thought. Keep on drinking so you have no idea what I am doing, or rather not doing.

Reaching over, he poured his cousin another large tankard of whiskey and poured himself a jigger. The can-can dancers continued to cavort around the stage as a large blond woman approached him, her pale flesh spilling out over the lacy corset she squeezed herself into. As she smiled, he noticed the teeth missing from her mouth, the pox ridden skin and open sores around her mouth. She was poverty and destitution at its finest. He felt nauseous at the sight of her. He quickly thrust a guinea into her ample cleavage and pointed her in the direction of his cousin, who merrily pinched her bottom and sent her away. He felt pleased even his lascivious cousin possessed some taste.

Jack stood, excusing himself from the table.

Lord Edwin looked perplexed. He laughed and waved his finger in Jack’s face. “Off to find yourself a looker are we?” He winked, licking his lips.

Jack nodded, pleased with the excuse. He hurried out of the front door and down the steps where he immediately felt the bile rush into his mouth. He bent over the iron railing and relieved his nausea. The stench and poverty of the place made him ill. He longed to be back at Penrose House. He longed to be back with Jenna. She was all he could think about during the coach ride to Plymouth. Now surrounded by throngs of near naked women, not one caught his eye. When he closed them he saw Jenna’s smiling face and no one else.

Eventually, he felt like enough time passed for his cousin to consume more drinks and not be bothered by Jack’s disinterest in the harlots surrounding him. He was right. Lord Edwin now had three such vixens lavishing attention on him and he lapped it up, consuming more whiskey. His eyes glazed over with the heady lust he obviously felt. He barely noticed Jack’s return as the voluptuous redhead gyrated in his lap, whilst two others poured him his whiskey, nuzzling their bosoms against his rotund face. Prying his eyes away from the seedy wrenches, he looked over to Jack, who pretended to be eyeing up one of the lovelies. Moving his chair closer, he poured his cousin another jigger of whiskey.

“Fine show isn’t it?” Sweat poured from his gleaming skin.

Jack nodded, eager to get some information about Jenna from him before his cousin retired up the stairs to one of the brothel’s boudoirs.

“‘Aye, Edwin, there are some beauties here. Fine women full of lust and spirit. In fact the finest I have seen in the west country.”

Edwin nodded with exuberance. “They are fine indeed. I have chosen well for our excursion.”

“Lady Emmeline does not mind?”

“Of course not. She finds relief in my ability to quell my lusty appetite elsewhere. She is a frigid woman, cold and undesirable.” Lord Edwin’s tongue became loose from the vast amounts of whiskey he consumed. “She prefers to fill her passions elsewhere – her books, her rose garden, her parties – all dull, dull, dull. Me, I am a man full of passion she knows cannot be denied and so she turns a blind eye to my excursions to the sordid streets of Plymouth.”

“But you cannot get to Plymouth that often cousin?” Jack pried, eager to get Edwin to open up further. “Have you a mistress closer to home?”

Edwin shook his head sadly. “That is one of two things Emmeline forbids. No regular mistress. She is afraid of how close a relationship with a regular mistress could become. Emmeline may be a frigid spinster of a woman, but she is fiercely protective of how our marriage appears to other members of the aristocracy.”

Jack nodded in agreement “True, a mistress could prove to be a saucy affair. You said Emmeline forbids two things, what is the other?”

“Her personal servant.” Edwin took another tankard of whiskey. “Her personal servants have always been off limits, which is a shame considering the stunning beauty she has right now.” He beckoned over the busty redhead and, turning to Jack, pointed upstairs. “I am off to sow my seeds of lust, cousin.” He chuckled, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Now you behave and make sure you spend my money well.”

Jack heaved a sigh of relief. So, Jenna was safe at least from the rampant hands of his cousin. He had been so worried, so anxious about it. The thought of any man’s hands upon her, let alone Edwin’s caused his blood to curse through his veins. To think she would soon be married to another man. It was a thought not worth bearing. He didn’t know why Jenna affected him so, but she did and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. All he could do was hope for the phase to pass. Either that or make her fall in love with him enough to break off her engagement, leave her family and come back to America with him. Maybe he could suggest that to her tomorrow. He felt foolish at wishing to bear his soul to her so quickly, reminding himself they only spent one afternoon together.

His thoughts were interrupted by a petite brunette walking languidly toward him. Her long straight hair fell clear past her tint waist, accentuating the gentle curves of her hips. She smiled at him, enticing him with a playful pout.
Perhaps I should indulge
, he thought. It may help to rid myself of this lust I have. After all, it has been a while since I had my fill.

He smiled back at the girl, sizing her up with his astute gaze. She was indeed attractive with full lips, white teeth, and almond eyes. She leisurely slid herself onto his lap, moving her hips down upon him, thrusting her small breasts against his face. He felt nothing. For the first time in his life, nothing stirred in his loins…no feeling of desire, no wish to feel the softness of a stranger’s skin against his. She winked at him, a coy look crossing her face and pointed her small finger toward the stairs, beckoning him up from his seat.

Jack closed his eyes.
There really isn’t any point
, he thought. I’ve no desire. He shook his head kindly at the girl and pointed to his pocket watch. “I have to leave,” he mouthed, not wishing to hurt her feelings.

She pouted saucily at him and stalked over to her next victim, a sailor who didn’t look more than sixteen.
Lucky lad
, he thought. Let her give him a night he won’t forget in a while.

With a backward glance at the spectacle he was leaving, he exited the brothel, making his way back to the coach where Lord Edwin’s driver sat waiting. Seating himself in the quiet solitude of the carriage, he closed his eyes. His cousin would be sometime. He toyed with the idea of getting a room for the night, but judging from the decay and squalor of this area of Plymouth Docklands, he felt the carriage to be much more sanitary. Plus the peacefulness would give him time to think of Jenna and dream of what their next secret interlude would bring.

He awoke from his dreams to the smell of whiskey next to him. The driver was loading a very drunk and tired Lord Edwin into the carriage. Jack pulled his watch from his pocket. Two a.m. It would be daylight before they got back to Penrose House. He sighed wearily. Helping Edwin lay down on the coach seat and seating himself back down opposite him, he settled in for the long ride home.