Listen to the Moon (10 page)

“His ayah?”

“His nursemaid,” she said flatly, going to the hearth to examine the chicken roasting for Mr. Summers’s dinner. As it had clearly been put on the spit in the last five minutes, he thought this a pretext to keep him from seeing her face.

“Would you like me to speak to Mr. Summers?” He didn’t want to—it was his first day in a new home, and Mr. Summers was obviously on good terms with his curate and looking forward to sharing his home again—but he would.

“No, thank you.” She poked at the potatoes baking in the drip pan. “Did Mr. Summers tell you why the previous butler left?”

“Not precisely.”

“He was…he took liberties. The upper housemaid before your wife, Lucy, she couldn’t stand it any longer and gave notice. She wept in Mr. Summers’s study, and he winkled the whole story out of her.” She gave John an imploring look. “I thought he was only a nuisance. I thought it was just me. I didn’t know he was bothering the girls too. If I had, I’d have spoken out.”

“I have no doubt you would have.”

“We’re lucky he believed us. I can’t make more trouble. Twice in six weeks? He’d think I must be doing something to encourage them. That because I conversed with Mr. Bearparke sometimes, I…”

John hated that it was true. He’d seen it a dozen times in his career: a gentleman or lady taking a fancy to a servant, and a few weeks later the unfortunate person was out on his or her ear.

“Mr. Bearparke’s been a gentleman so far,” she said.

“Please tell me if he doesn’t remain so. I will help you.”

“Thanks.”

He was debating what more he could helpfully say when Molly came in to lay the table.

Mrs. Khaleel walked by him with a pot. “If
you
don’t remain a gentleman to the girls, I’ll poison you,” she said too quietly for Molly to hear.

“Understood.”

* * *

The clock chimed eleven. Mr. Summers had gone to bed an hour ago, and Sukey herself curled up beneath the blankets for half that time.
Like a human warming pan,
she grumbled to herself.
Everything nice and toasty by the time he gets here
. She had no notion what John could be about, other than avoiding her, but that made the fourth time he’d rattled the back-door knob to be sure it was locked.

This was the one thing about their marriage she was sure he
did
want. Could he be nervesome? No, she remembered the casual kiss he’d given her after she’d stroked him, how he’d taken in stride something entirely new to her. More likely his nerves were for his first day at the vicarage, and getting to bed was at the bottom of the endless list he was keeping. He must go through those little memorandum books by the dozen at this rate.

Sukey was tired and she had to be up at half past five. Serve him right if she just went to sleep.

But she’d been working since half past five this morning, all except the half-hour she’d spent getting married. Even that had been presided over by their employer. She didn’t want to go to sleep without a few moments that were hers. She wanted Mr. Toogood to come and talk to her under the sheets. She wanted him to touch her. Oh, how she wanted him to touch her. She’d been waiting weeks for him to do it.

She thought about getting up to ask him to bed, but it was so cold. The butler’s pantry, being a low growth at the back of the house without a room above, was the sole room with no chimney near it. Sukey was glad of the privacy, but the only heat came from the brazier in the far corner, holding coals that would start tomorrow morning’s fire in the study.

Besides, she didn’t want to beg him. She wanted him to want it as badly as she did, the way he had in Mrs. Pengilly’s kitchen.
I brought myself to completion, thinking of taking you.

She’d closed the sliding shutters except for one, cracked open to let in a beam or two of moonlight. She was alone in the pitch dark, on her wedding night. It was only good sense to prepare a little, so it wouldn’t hurt if he was in a hurry. She skimmed her hands up to cup her tingling breasts.

Mmm
. She rolled her hands, sensation spreading evenly through her breasts like a thimbleful of dye through water. Pulling up the hem of her nightdress, she reached underneath to tease one bare nipple.

In a flash she was frantic, her body restless and taut as if something was trying to get out.
I could go into that back corridor and ask him to fuck me right there against the wall,
she thought. But she couldn’t, and probably he wouldn’t, anyway.

Sukey had spent nearly three weeks in this snug little room by herself. If Mr. Summers rang the bell at night, it was up to Molly to answer it, not her. Three weeks of glorious privacy, and she’d held back from finally discovering what all the fuss was about venereal orgasm. It was part being worn out in a new job, and part embarrassment at being twenty-two and not yet knowing. But mostly it’d been a shy, mawky desire for him to give this to her, the first time.

Well, she’d waited, and he couldn’t even be bothered to show up. That’s what she got for relying on a man. She felt about between her legs. She slid a finger down her cunny and up again, and her mouth fell open. Oh yes, she remembered this from her few fumbling attempts in the past. Touching her slit was nice, but this spot above it was much, much nicer.

She petted it gingerly. Oh. Oh, yes. She went on, lost in sensation.
I’ll go to sleep after this, legs spread, and he’ll come in and stick his cock in me without bothering to wake me up first
. She imagined it, starting awake from sleep to unexpected pleasure, an unexpected weight on her body, tangled in the blankets and pinned to the straw mattress, his thrusts—

Suddenly everything was much, much better than before. A fever raged through her, a bright flash of lightning. She was hot, pins and needles all over, about to split open like a ripe plum. She did split open, her cunny convulsing, her body shaking and shivering.

It was so much more wonderful than she’d ever really believed it would be. She lay there, gasping and giddy, a wide foolish smile on her face.

The door creaked open, and her husband came in with his candle and began going around the room making sure the chests and cabinets were locked.

She giggled. “Come to bed.” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

He went to the shutter she’d left open an inch or two. “This ought to be locked at night.”

“It squeaks something awful. We’d hear if someone tried to get in.”

His candle was near his face, so she could see his frown. “Then it ought to be oiled.”

“But then I couldn’t leave it open, and I like the moonlight.”

“It lets in drafts.”

“You wouldn’t notice if you were in bed with me.”

“The security of the house is my responsibility. Imagine a burglary my first night here.”

“Is that what you’ve been imagining?” she asked tartly. “I’ve been imagining you in bed with me.”

He went very still, turning towards her. “Have you?” he asked, a reluctant smile in his voice.

“Mm. For quite a while. Promptness is a virtue, Mr. Toogood.”

“So is care,” he said primly.

She sighed. “I don’t have time for this. A minute ago I spent for the first time in my life, and if you don’t come over here and make me do it again, I’m going to sleep.”

He set the candle down. His face was in darkness, but she heard him swallow. “You did what?”

She blushed, wishing she hadn’t said it. But they were married, and she was drunk and tingly all over, and she wanted that wonderful feeling again
now
. “You heard me.”

“For the first time in your life?” He sounded more appalled than anything else. “You never…?”

She blushed harder. “You try being a girl. It isn’t so very obvious what to do, and it takes a long time, and I always got bored or fell asleep before.”

“But not tonight.” He blew out the candle. Taking off his shoes and shrugging out of his coat, he began carefully arranging his clothes on a chair by the window. Which meant that, while she couldn’t really see him, she could see the
outline
of him, moonlight creeping around the edges like sneaky fingers.
Good idea, moon
.

The gathered wool shoulder of his coat gave way to clinging, rumpled linen, which gave way—Sukey held her breath—to the smoothness of skin and muscle. As he turned to hang his shirt on a cabinet knob, she caught the edge of his hipbone.

“Not tonight,” she agreed breathlessly.

He took a nightshirt from his trunk and pulled it over his head. For a brief moment his cock was outlined by moonlight. Too brief, alas, to see much but that it stuck out from his body, but Sukey tightened happily, everywhere.

“And how do you feel?” he asked.

“Oh, tol-lol,” she said airily.

He huffed a laugh and crawled into bed with her. She turned towards him just as he landed on top of her, pushing himself down until his head was entirely beneath the quilt. Rucking up her nightdress, he pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to her belly, and then took one nipple in his mouth.

Dear God. They had barely done anything but kiss before. Even when he’d spent, they’d both been fully dressed. Now his mouth was open on her bare flesh. This was more and strange and different and Sukey loved it at once.

“I was worried I wouldn’t be able to satisfy you twice in a night,” he confessed, his beard-roughened cheek scraping her soft skin.

“Were you really?” she asked, delighted that he’d been nervesome after all.

He nodded, pushing himself lower, and Sukey realized what he was going to do. Her legs were open and her nightgown already pushed above her breasts, if she was going to object she’d best do it quickly—

“Never mind, I don’t object,” she said. “But doesn’t it taste—”

“It tastes like a woman. I like women.”

“Stop talking,” she ordered, and he did. Oh, that was wonderful, entirely different than fingers—
more efficient,
she thought, and almost laughed because her husband was so very efficient. Soon that lovely, unimaginable feeling rushed over her again. She couldn’t believe her luck.

She felt every brush as Mr. Toogood moved up her body, his head emerging from the blanket to hover above hers. He was so much taller than her that his hips dug into her thighs. She tried to wriggle downwards, hoping even just for his cock to graze her tender flesh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t know about this or I’d have been married a long time ago.” She wriggled again.

He laughed and reached down between them, moving so that…

So that his cock lay between her folds, the head over that particular spot. He raised himself on his hands to keep his chest from smothering her. She moved a little. Oh, it was so
hard
, and that bump where head met shaft was such perfection.

“We never talked about children,” he said.

She couldn’t stop moving, but inside, she faltered. “I bought pennyroyal,” she said breezily. “I’m not having children with you. Not for a few years, anyway.”

Don’t contradict me,
she begged.
Don’t. Don’t make me stop doing this.

“You can’t brew pennyroyal here. Our master is a vicar, and it’s a very distinctive smell.”

“Fine,” she hissed, rubbing hard against him. He groaned. “I’ll keep it at my mother’s.”

“She won’t mind?”

“She took me to buy it.”

He moved down,
bump bump,
and then he surged into her. She’d thought she was split open before, but no,
this
was split open, this was being pried apart and helpless, so full of feeling she could hear her seams stretching. She gasped for breath.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, low as thunder.

She shook her head and pulled him closer, angry with his nightshirt. She pushed it up to claw at the hot skin of his bare shoulders. He shuddered and pushed his cock deeper inside her.

“I suppose you’d be flattered if I said something about how big you feel.”

“I probably would,” he agreed.

“It would be a lie, though,” she said as mournfully as she could when her voice was trembling.

She felt his laugh, chest and hips shaking over hers. “Wrap your legs around me.”

That got him even deeper, the bone in his groin hitting her in a really admirable manner. When he hunched forward to kiss her, the angle changed and she knew she’d spend again. She counted against his mouth,
One…two…three…

Four thrusts and she flew apart, understanding now that her cunny rippled like that to draw him deeper into her. She was supposed to
work
tomorrow, knowing she could be doing this instead?

When her shaking stopped, she lay beneath him like a rag doll, head flopping back at an awkward angle. Part of her wondered if she could do that a fourth time, but mostly she was sleepy and happy and ready for bed. Still her husband thrust into her, grunting under his breath. She wasn’t sure how to help him, now her own urgent instincts were quiet.

“John,” she said. “May I call you John?”

He nodded jerkily.

“John, next time I’d like you to take off your nightshirt before we do this. Or perhaps wait to put it on until afterwards. That would be more efficient, wouldn’t it?” She yanked and tugged until their bare stomachs touched, and then she raised her head and sucked on his nipple.

He made a sound like a shout sucked back down before it could escape. So men liked that too. She licked with the tip of her tongue—he shuddered—and nipped him with her teeth.

“Please,” he said raggedly. “Again.”

She did, feeling ever so smug. He froze, his groin pressed fiercely against hers, and spent.

Above them, a bell rang. She could feel John go alert, propping himself on his arms as if a few inches closer to the ceiling would help him hear. Long moments passed. Sukey almost fell asleep with him still inside her.

“Yes, Mr. Summers?” they heard faintly.

“That’s Thea,” John said. “Molly should answer the bell at night.”

Sukey froze, much less sleepy. If he went upstairs to investigate, he’d realize what she’d found out over the last weeks: that Molly had got her hands on a key and was sneaking out at night, probably to meet a boy. And then either Molly would get the sack, or she’d think Sukey had peached on her and would make her life hell.