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Authors: Bertrice Small

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BOOK: Besieged
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In response he lifted her off his love lance, and stood, drawing her up with him. “I remember another time like this,” he said softly as he stepped from the water, and drew her out as well. Taking the large towel on the rack by the fire he dried her as she frantically took the edge of the towel to dry him. “Enough,” he said finally, and pushed her onto the bed.
Fortune didn’t need further instructions. She opened herself to him immediately, crying out with undisguised pleasure as he entered her with a single, smooth movement.
“Yes!”
she almost wept.
“Yes!”
It was almost too much. When her legs wrapped themselves about him Kieran shuddered with delight. He delved deeply into her soft welcoming passage, thrusting again, and again, and again. The walls of her love channel closed about his manhood, tightening, releasing, tightening, releasing until he could no longer bear it, and his long pent-up lust for Fortune exploded in a rush of boiling love juices so profuse that she could not contain it all, and it oozed from her body to dampen the lavender-scented sheets.
“I love you!”
he cried out to her.
“As I love you,” she sobbed. “Oh, my darling, never leave me again. Until this moment I did not fully realize how desperately I had missed you, and how much I needed you, Kieran.”
They kissed hungrily, passionately, their lips mashing frantically as if they could not get enough of each other.
“I want more,” he growled in her ear.
“Oh, please, yes!” Fortune answered him, as their bodies uncoupled for a short time.
“More, and more and more!”
He laughed, and brushed a lock of her hair that had come undone in their passionate encounter. “For some reason, my love, I do not find that prospect unpleasant. We shall never be parted again, Fortune.”
“Never!”
she agreed.
Chapter
18
T
he walls of Fortune’s Fancy were plastered. The floors were sanded, and then polished. Tapestries were hung. The India carpets were laid. The furniture Fortune had brought from England was set about. The Irish colonists were invited to a celebration at Lammastide by their sponsor, Kieran Devers. They came to eat, and to drink, and to dance. They stood solemnly as Father White, Leonard Calvert’s Jesuit priest, blessed Fortune’s Fancy. The feeling of community was strong.
Mistress Happeth Jones, the physician, brought Fortune a special gift of two rosebushes. “I brought a dozen from Ireland,” she explained, “and they have taken to this climate well. Come and see me soon, m’lady, and I will give you a strengthening potion for you and the babe you are now carrying. There will be a number of births come next spring.” Her brown eyes twinkled behind her spectacles. “It would seem all the husbands were happy to see their wives again, m’lady.”
Fortune laughed happily. “Say nothing to Kieran yet. I am going to tell him today. My Rois is also expecting. Isn’t Mary’s Land the most wonderful place, Happeth Jones?” She was happy. She could not ever remember being happier in her entire life.
This New World of theirs seemed blessed. Its earth was fertile beyond measure. In the fields the Oronoco tobacco grew. The large dark leaves with their pointed tips, like fox ears, would soon be ready to harvest. In the gardens the corn was high, and the vines from the squash and pumpkins grew together so thickly that you could not see the earth beneath them. The beans, growing on their poles, had produced bounteously all summer long. Everything grew well. The seeds from the carrots, beets, and peas had produced generously, not just in crops, but in seed for the year to come. The lettuces did better in the spring, and they would grow more come the autumn. The cabbages were already green and round. They grew yams, and a small crop of what was called potatoes. These, they had learned from the Indians, could be kept in cold storage most of the winter, and provided tasty nourishment when roasted in the coals, or boiled.
In the forests around them turkeys and deer were plentiful. The bays were filled with ducks and geese. The waters alive with fish of all kinds, as well as shellfish like oysters and clams. There were crustaceans such as crabs and lobsters. Kieran saw that each of his people donated a portion of their harvest to the general storehouses. The rest they stored themselves. The Indians showed them how to grind the corn into a flour which could be used to make bread and cereal.
Comfort Rogers did not like the Indians. She said she was afraid of them, afraid of their curiosity about her sandy-colored hair. Fortune, on the other hand, was not afraid. She willingly let down her long red hair for inspection, snipping tiny bits of it to give the Indian women for souvenirs. They rewarded her with a new name, which translated into English meant
Touched-by-Fire.
“You’ll wake up some morning with your scalp missing,” Comfort said meanly to her mistress, in an attempt to frighten her.
Fortune laughed. “They are only curious,” she answered. “After all, their women are all dark-haired. They have never seen hair like ours that is light, or red. Why do you fear them?”
“Dirty creatures,” Comfort replied meanly. “And they look at me outta the corner of their devil’s eyes. I know what they’re thinking. They’re wondering what it would be like to be on top of me, swiving me, hearing me scream as they hads their way with me.”
“They have beautiful women of their own,” Fortune responded. “I think, girl, you have allowed your imagination to run away with you. I believe we must find you a husband, Comfort. You are obviously ripe for bedding. Perhaps a strong man in your bed would make you feel safer.”
“Already picked my man out,” Comfort said boldly.
“Have you?” Fortune was not surprised. “Who is he?”
“Master is the man for me. You’ll not be able to live in this New World long. You’ll go home to England soon enough, and then I’ll have the master for my man. You’re too much of a lady to survive here. You’re a soft, pampered bitch, and you don’t deserve him, but I do. And when I gets him between my legs he’ll forget you right enough!”
Fortune slapped the girl hard, astounded by her brazen words. She had known that Comfort had a
tendre
for Kieran, but thought it just a youthful infatuation. After all he had bought her bond, and treated her with kindness and decency. “Mary’s Land is my home, Comfort, and my husband will
never
be your man. Nor will he ever leave me under any circumstances. We have a child. I am expecting another. I think I must speak to the master about you. Perhaps you would be happier elsewhere than at Fortune’s Fancy.”
“He won’t sell my bond to another,” Comfort said smugly. “The master likes me. I see how he looks at me even if you don’t.”
“Go and polish the furniture in the salon,” Fortune snapped. “It is full of dust, and you have been neglecting your duties.”
That night as she lay in Kieran’s arms she said to him the words he had been longing to hear. “I am with child again, my love.”
“Will you give me a son this time?” he asked, as if she could actually guarantee his wish.
“Aye,” she said blandly. “ ’Tis a lad I carry this time. I know it in my heart. It is not as it was with Aine.”
“When he is born,” Kieran said, “I shall give you the moon, and the stars, and anything else your heart desires, Fortune mine.”
“I should like a down payment on your rash promise,” she half-teased him.
“Name your wish, wife,” he urged her.
“I want you to sell Comfort’s bond to another,” Fortune replied.
He was only half surprised by her request. “What has the wench done to displease you, Fortune? I know she is infatuated with me, but she’s still just a sixteen-year-old girl, and her life has been so hard. Surely you’re not jealous, sweetheart?” He caressed her breasts lovingly.
“There is nothing girlish about Comfort,” Fortune said. “She is as old as Eve, and has the cold heart of a whore. Do you know what she had the temerity to say to me today?”
He was almost afraid to ask, but he did, and was somewhat shocked by the answer.
“She has not been doing her housework, and Mrs. Hawkins says she will not help in the kitchen unless absolutely driven to it. She disappears for hours on end, and no one seems to know where she is. She is a discordant note in our home, and I don’t want her here, Kieran. I am already affected by the new life growing inside of me. I cannot, I do not, want to cope with the wench.”
“It will not be easy to find someone to purchase her bond,” he said thoughtfully. “I bought her in Virginia, and the price I paid for her included the cost of her passage. When her term of indenture is up, I must give her fifty acres of land, an ox, a gun, two hoes, a skirt and waist of penistone, shoes, stockings, a blue apron, a linen smock, two linen caps, and three barrels of corn. I don’t know if there is anyone here who will have her.”
“Then take her back to Virginia, and sell her,” Fortune said irritably. “Or better yet, we’ll give her a purse, and send her back to England on the
Cardiff Rose
next time she returns. Who is to know she was transported for theft? She certainly won’t tell them else she be thrown back in Newgate. With a purse she can set herself up in a little shop, or find a husband to quell that itch that is consuming her.”
“Let me see if I can find someone to purchase her bond from me,” Kieran said. “I dislike losing the entire investment, and she has worked off two years of her bond already. I’ll not get full price for her, Fortune.”
“I don’t care if you get nothing for her. If someone can be found to take her, sign her bond over to them gratis. I just want her out of our house!” Fortune said.
“When the harvest is in, I promise you,” he said.
The tobacco was cut in September and hung in the curing house to dry. Then it was tied into bundles, and packed into hogsheads for shipment to England on the
Cardiff Rose
. The O’Malley-Small trading company now had a small investment in tobacco which was to prove highly profitable. The
Cardiff Rose
would also take barrels of corn to England. The colony was growing more than it needed, and a cash crop was always welcome. The garden crops were gathered in, the root crops and the cabbages stored in the cellar for winter use. The men went hunting for deer and fowls to be hung and kept for winter’s meat. The
Highlander
returned with three milk cows, two team of oxen, two dozen hens, and a rooster.
Around them were signs of the coming winter. The geese were flocking in great cackling groups that filled the waters of the bay. The trees were turning colors. The maples gold and red. The oaks red and russet. The beeches and birches a wonderful rich gold, almost the same color as the dried tobacco. And Fortune began to bloom with the evidence of her coming child as did her serving woman, Rois.
One afternoon as the two women sat outside the house sewing new garments for their children Comfort Rogers came into view. There was an almost slatternly look about her today. There were pine needles in her hair, and she had a look about her that caused Rois to say, “I wonder who she’s been lying with, m’lady.”
“God’s nightshirt!” Fortune swore. “If she gets herself a big belly Kieran will never be able to get rid of her, the little bitch!”
“Is he going to sell her bond?” Rois asked. “I’m glad! You should see her eyeing my Kevin. Rubs up against him every chance she gets. I’d like to scratch her eyes out, but I’d not make a scene and embarrass you, m’lady. I’ll not be sorry to see her go! The bondmen gossip to the other men, and ’tis said for a ha’penny, Comfort Rogers will spread her legs without argument.”
Fortune closed her eyes, and swore softly to herself. Then opening them she looked directly at Rois and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me this before? The girl is, as I suspected, a trull. We have to get rid of her, and the sooner the better!”
“I can’t find a buyer to take her bond,” Kieran admitted to his wife when pressed about the situation that evening.
“The wench is lying on her back for any and all, Rois tells me,” Fortune said angrily.
“I know,” he admitted unhappily. “That is why I can’t get anyone to take her bond. No decent woman will have the wench in her house. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I only meant to give you servants as you have always had. I didn’t want you to be unhappy in Mary’s Land.”
Shaking her head ruefully Fortune cuddled her husband on her breasts. “What a coil,” she said. “Well, there is no other choice. We will have to send her back to England with a purse to keep her. I cannot have her whoring from our home. It will bring us into disrepute if we appear to be allowing it, and how can we stop her short of shackling her?” She paused. “Perhaps we should so she can’t run off all the time where we cannot find her. I think we should have her whipped, and put in the stocks. That will show everyone that we do not condone her bad behavior. Then we will shackle her ankles so she cannot roam.”
“It’s harsh,” he said, “but I agree. The
Cardiff Rose
is back one final time this year. When she sails for England Comfort Rogers will be aboard her, I promise you, Fortune. We can’t be bothered with such a wayward wench.”
Fortune called her servants together the following morning. “I am well aware,” she began, “of the bad behavior of some of you. You are put on notice that I will not tolerate it any longer. I will sell the bond of any whose behavior is not Christian, or proper.” She looked sternly at the four bondmen, who, though they professed the Puritan faith, had been as dissolute as anyone else. “Comfort Rogers, you are not to leave the house without my permission. Do you understand me?”
Comfort glared sullenly at her mistress, but was silent.
Fortune did not press the issue. The decision had been made concerning Comfort’s fate.
“About time,” Mrs. Hawkins said to Dolly, the nursemaid. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see her gone, and sooner than later.”
“Do you really think mistress will sell her off?” Dolly asked.
“If they can find someone to take the jade,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “I’m sick unto death of hearing how
master
looks at her. The wench needs a good beating, I tells you.”
“She probably wouldn’t mind if master administered it,” Dolly giggled. “Owww!” She rubbed her arm where Mrs. Hawkins had smacked her with a hard wooden spoon. “What was that for?”
“You mind yer tongue, Dolly,” the cook warned. “The mistress loves her man dearly, and he, her. I’ll not listen to such talk, and shame on you who are in charge of the little ones.”
“I didn’t mean anything,” Dolly said, stricken.
“I know,” Mrs. Hawkins soothed her, confident she had restored order. “Now be a good lass, and run along. I’ve a brace of ducks to clean and stuff for tonight’s dinner.”
Standing in the shadow of the keeping room’s outside door, Comfort had listened to the two women. Mrs. Hawkins was an old cow, and Dolly too soft and stupid. When I’m mistress of this house, Comfort thought, I’ll send them both packing. I’ll be the one selling their bonds. Master Kieran will never send me away. He loves me except he can’t admit it because of
her.
His hoity-toity lady wife with her flaming pate, and white, white skin.
I hate her!
What is it the Indians call her? Touched-by-Fire. That’s it! I wonder if some big buck with his red-brown body would like rummaging between her milky thighs. Ohhh, she’d scream, she would. If she weren’t around Master Kieran would turn to me.
I know he would!
Says I can’t leave the house without her fine ladyship’s permission, does she? I’ll show her! I’ll go where I like, and when I like. I’ll have no bitch like my old mistress back in London ordering me about. I showed that one, and I’ll show this one!
BOOK: Besieged
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