April 1795

As soon as she saw the envelope with the familiar handwriting propped up on the hall table, Caroline Heywood caught her breath and snatched it up. Even though she was alone in the hallway, she took her letter
out into garden so she could be assured of reading it in peace.

Her refuge, especially in spring and summer, was the grape arbor. Dropping onto the bench and pulling her rose-colored shawl tighter against the freshening breeze, she glanced up through the gently moving green leaves and sat down with a sigh. Somewhere on the other side of the garden wall, her nephew Max and her two nieces were tearing around like Red Indians; their spaniel Pete barked happily in the distance.

She read the letter with relief. Today was Wednesday, so Sylvia was already on her way to Whitborne, and should arrive tomorrow. In Caroline's state, just to unburden herself freely would be a blessing.

Oh, everyone had been very kind, naturally. Papa would pat her hand, vaguely saying "There, there" while shaking his head. Whenever her maid Hannah finished brushing her hair, she laid a gentle hand on Caroline's shoulder before leaving the room. These well-meant kindnesses only made her want to burst into tears or throw something. But of course, she did not.

No, it was Sylvia, with her sharp mind and sharper tongue, who was needed now. Her sister would not treat her like a fragile, disappointed spinster, especially since the shoe didn't exactly fit. She would ask hard questions, listen well, and give sound advice. More importantly, nothing would shock her. She could truly confide in Sylvia.

Caroline slid down in the seat and let her head rest against the back of the bench. Not a very ladylike posture, but no one would see her here. She only wanted to close her eyes and let her mind rest.

It was less than two weeks since their former houseguest, Captain Edward Pellew, had left for Cornwall, and she didn't think she was bearing up particularly well. More often than not, in fact, she awoke with her heart pounding, certain that she had fallen asleep in Edward's bed, that dawn was near and she must fly. She would turn her head on
the pillow, expecting to see his peaceful, sleeping face, to feel the warmth of his body, his hand resting on her hip or her belly. Then her heart would falter as she realized she was in her own bed, quite alone, and she would cover her eyes with her hands and try with all her might to keep back the tears.

Circumstances had conspired, she told herself later. Oh, she had started out quite properly, welcoming him as a guest who might bolster her father's spirits and enliven the family dinners that included her straight-laced brother and sister-in-law, who lived just next door.

But a slightly formidable Sir Edward had rebuffed her effort, shortly after his arrival at Whitborne, to invite Lady Pellew to stay with them as well. Clearly, there was some rift between him and his wife. Beyond that, he was weary from battle, though he worked hard each day on the refitting of his ship, laid up in Portsmouth Dockyard. He was
good company for her father, Admiral Heywood, but his straightforward, engaging personality could not completely hide that he was in a melancholy frame of mind.

What she had not reckoned on was the potent effect of her ability to bring him out of himself, combined with his unfeigned attentiveness to her in return. She had even surprised herself by telling him of her first love, and the loss of him. His company was a solace to her, as hers was to him. The attraction that had grown, unbidden, simply became too much for her starving heart to resist.

Caroline herself had been considering, half-heartedly, whether to marry a Winchester solicitor, though she was well beyond the age when ladies generally married. She could not have predicted that the scoundrel would as good as jilt her, let alone what the consequences would be.

From his arrival, Sir Edward never hid that he liked her well, even admired her. She would feel his warm, dark gaze on her across the dinner table, color up helplessly, and try to hide her reaction behind her wineglass or by turning to her neighbor. Her erstwhile suitor, George Winslow, had never drawn such a response. Inevitably, she compared the two men and, inevitably, Winslow came up dreadfully short. Looking back, being more or less jilted by him was a short, sharp shock, but nothing more. It was Sir Edward's reaction that had surprised her and broken some seal she kept on her heart.

Not that it would have taken so very much attention, or so very many such stimulating events to tempt her into behaving as recklessly as she had upon finding herself alone with him in the library one night, she
so very grateful to him and he already stirred up from exerting himself on her behalf. And both of them were perhaps a little tipsy. One thing, as they say, had led to another. Her better judgment was never consulted; it was lost like a needle that had rolled between the floorboards.

From the moment she and Edward found themselves in a passionate embrace in front of the library fire, three weeks or so after his arrival, she had put all notions of propriety out of her head. Within another week, Caroline knew herself for a heedless, irresponsible creature--willing to ignore her better sense of what was right, to risk discovery and disgrace, his as well as hers, and at the same time knowing with an abiding certainty that she was deeply and hopelessly in love with a man who could never truly be hers.

It was too ridiculous, at her age, to find herself in that situation, but she believed that it must have been much the same for him. Every night since that first one, she had gone to his bed, not at all her usual reserved self but trembling with desire and tenderness, and found herself welcomed there, enfolded, cherished.

Now, she looked up as a tiny bird flew into the arbor and began a cheerful little tune, then pulled out a strand of fiber from the grape vine and flew away. Her eyelids fluttered shut in the wavering light beneath the leaves. As soon as she let her mind drift, her memory and all her senses were once again full of Edward, of her and Edward, they
way they were together in the earliest, heady days after they had first fallen.

***

On a freezing night in February, Caroline's maid had just left her room when she heard the door open quietly and wondered why Hannah had returned. But the voice she heard was not the one she expected.

"God, Caroline, that gown! Were you trying to drive me mad?"

She started when she realized it was Edward who had just entered and shut the door silently behind him. He had never set foot in her room.

"What are you doing?" she whispered urgently. "Hannah's only just left."

"I know. I heard her pass my door." He came to stand behind her where she sat at her dressing table and slid one hand beneath her hair to caress her neck, his eyes meeting hers in the oval looking glass. The soft glow of candlelight was reflected in the mirror, lighting up her face. The fires were never neglected at Whitborne; the room was cozy
with warmth.

"Didn't want to wait," he murmured, slipping his hand into the neckline of her nightdress and bending to place a burning kiss near her left ear. "Won't you come with me now?" The timbre of his voice thrilled her and she quivered to think what they would soon be doing in his room.

He pulled her to her feet and led her, barefoot in her long white nightdress, her rich brown hair falling down her back in a loose plait, down the hall to his own room. Not for the first time, she was grateful that her father was so hard of hearing and that in a house so big the servants slept apart from the family.

The fire in Edward's room was well-stoked and welcoming. He drew her inside and over to the chair beside the fireplace, pulling her down into his lap. She smiled in the soft firelight, thinking how she had actually lost her balance and fallen straight into his lap that night in the library. Now he didn't seem to want to let her out of it.

"I think you are trying to kill me, madam," he whispered huskily. "That gown you wore this evening nearly mad me run mad."

"Truly?" She could not imagine why; it was not very different from any other gown she might wear in the evening. Russet watered silk with a close-fitting bodice (fashionably low-cut), a high waist and a flowing skirt, it was designed, in the new manner, to be worn without petticoats. "It's a very ordinary gown, isn't it?"

"I beg to differ." One long, elegant hand cupped her left breast beneath the embroidered nightdress, the thumb working her nipple tip into a stiff point. "It makes a display of your bosom, and the way it drapes in back . . ." Caroline placed her hand over his and looked up, leaning against his solid chest. She closed her eyes and rubbed her
cheek against his paisley dressing gown, a happy, secret smile playing across her face. She could feel the way his voice vibrated in his chest.

"I vow I could see the shape of your bottom when you and the other ladies left for the drawing room after dinner," Edward went on. And at that moment, I could no more have walked than I could have flown. Or stood, for that matter," he said dryly, "without disgracing myself."

Her eyes flew open and she smothered a laugh with her hand. "I doubt you saw any such thing. I think your imagination is playing tricks on you, love." The tip of her breast was beginning to ache so sweetly beneath his fingers. What was it she was going to say? Oh, yes."But seriously, you must have a care, you know. If your eyes linger too long, as much as that delights me, someone will notice."

"Perhaps you should look to yourself, madam." He called her "madam" in bed with a sly, ironic turn of voice that she adored. As a consequence, she felt a little thrill whenever he called her "madam" in company. She squirmed a bit now as she felt his erection rising hard against her bottom and the cream welling between her legs in response.

"Whatever do you mean?" said Caroline, pretending to be affronted.  "Hmm. Perhaps you are not aware your own eyes linger in certain places?"

"They certainly do not! " she countered with a quick smile. "You really must bring your rampant imagination under control, Edward." She wound her arms around his neck, nuzzled at his ear.

"Oh, I'm not suggesting that you stare at my britches. Although I'm sure you would like to." He dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head and moved his other hand, which had been caressing her cheek, to slide inside her night dress. He captured her other breast, stroking it gently, tracing around the aureole with his fingertips. "But I have seen you fix your gaze upon my hands from across the room-or develop a strange fascination for the buttons on my waistcoat.

"Come, madam, admit it," Edward teased. He lowered his voice, its vibrancy sending a shiver across her shoulders. "And I will admit how much it pleases me when your eyes give you away."

She could not help but blush a little, recalling her early daydreams about unbuttoning his waistcoat, or the heat that swept through her now whenever her eyes fell on his beautiful hands, thinking of the places he had touched her or the way her body responded to his each time they were together--tingling, melting, arching, and finally tightening
around him until she lost all sense.

On this particular night, what pleased Edward was not to wait for an answer. Instead, he set her on her feet and stood behind her to undo her plaited hair, combing with his fingers to spread the glossy waves down her back and about her shoulders. She stood quietly until he turned her 'round and pulled her into his embrace.

His mouth came down on hers so gently, brushing lightly, but he soon began to tease her lips with his tongue, coaxing her open for him. His rough velvet tongue glided against hers, twining with it, arousing her so that she pressed herself into him, wanting to feel his strength, his ardor. She slipped her hand into his dressing gown.

Of course he was naked beneath, he had been waiting for her. Grown bold in only a week, she took him in her hand and gasped with delight as his hard shaft grew thick and long beneath her touch. He moaned into her mouth in reply, pushing himself into her warm palm. She let go, then, to unfasten her nightdress and draw it down her body,
her head tipped up to watch his dark eyes flare at the sight of her.

Never taking his eyes from her, Edward shrugged off his dressing gown and backed up onto the bed, drawing her up beside him. Half-sitting up against the pillows, he eased her naked body back against him and folded his arms about her. She relaxed into his embrace, feeling his whole supple length behind her, as he nuzzled his lips next to her ear.

"I know I told you I did not wish to wait, but we needn't hurry, now," he said softly.

Caroline only sighed and wriggled her bottom against his belly, parting her legs so that his cock sprang up between them. He slowly rubbed his hands along her arms and shoulders, then rolled her sideways, moving with her, nudging at the back of her thighs with his legs. She gasped as his cock, hard and thick, slid between them, not entering her, but slipping deliciously back and forth, just grazing against her moist slit. How he made the honey flow from her, bumping his pubis against her bottom, kissing her neck, murmuring softly in her ear.

"Yes, sweetheart," he said, "Just arch your back and push your breasts against my hands."

As if she could help doing so. She could have perished from the pleasure he was giving her, lost in sensation as he held her from behind, his fingers caressing the slopes of her breasts, cupping them, strumming their tender tips. All the while, he stroked his shaft in and out of the damp crevice at the top of her thighs.

She was reaching back to caress his hard thigh, the curve of his arse, when he surprised her by kissing her face very gently and then rolling her completely on to her belly. He knelt between her legs her to pull her up against him. Even in the low flickering light, she felt skittish to be held thus, exposed and vulnerable, in the middle of the bed. He had never taken her in this way. Sylvia had once declared she liked making love like this "above all things," but Caroline was not so sure.

She turned her head slightly. "Edward?"

"It's all right, love." The way he was fondling her bottom did feel delightful, she had to admit. He reached around her and glided his fingers into her mossy cleft, caressing the responsive little bud just inside so lightly, then delving deeper, drawing out of her a soft, involuntary cry.

He placed his lips close to her ear once again. His queue fell over his shoulder and brushed her neck. "I know you trust me, hmm?"

"Yes," she breathed. "B-but that's what . . . ." She had been about to say, *that's what animals do*, but she did trust him. And she wanted him to enter her soon, however he did it.

"Let me, then, Caroline. Let me show you. If it does not please you, we won't go on."

She quivered as he turned her head and settled her onto a pillow, stroked her back and her arms until she wanted to mew like a kitten.

"Yes," she said, finally, her body jumping as she felt him bending close over her, moving one hand up to grasp her hip while he steadied his cock between her legs with the other. With exquisite slowness, he guided himself back and forth in that slippery space, just as he had before.

Only now, she was impatient to feel him inside her. She was growing so very warm, so very moist. Finally, just as slowly, he slid his hand up further to grip her waist, pushing himself into her inch by glorious inch until he had filled her utterly. She realized he was deeper inside her than he had ever been. Her face flamed, her throat and breasts grew hot. She moved her head on the pillow, whimpering.

Slowly still, he drew back, separating himself from her slightly, the movement making her shudder. Slower yet, he pushed forward, the sweetest invasion she could imagine. He reached beneath her to pull her up, to hold her breasts and tease her nipple tips with his insistent, clever fingers.

She liked to look at Edward while he loved her, to touch him, to open her mouth to him. It was strange to use her hands and arms only to brace herself, to use her mouth only to gasp her pleasure. But she was lost to pleasure.

"Shall I go on?" she heard him say.

"Oh, Lord, yes," she breathed. "Edward! Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?"

"Why yes, sweetheart. I believe I do." That he should reply in that dry tone, even now! She could hear the smile in his even voice and dimly realized that he was yet in complete control of himself, while she was losing control with every delicious thrust of his affair.

"But if you had not wiggled your bottom at me this evening, madam," he continued, "perhaps you would not find yourself in such a . . . predicament."

"I don't admit I did any such thing," Caroline gasped. She had not meant to start a conversation when she was nearly out of her wits. She just managed a response, all the while feeling her swollen sex growing heavier and tighter. "Tell me though, if I wiggled it at you tomorrow, would I find myself here in the same situation?"

"Why don't you try it and see?" he answered, his voice a low, sensual growl. After that, all speech ceased. Edward pulled her closer yet, her bottom right up against him so that she could feel the crisp hair at his groin, and sense the heavy sac nestled there.

She no longer thought about being exposed in this position, was no longer capable of any coherent thought except that she might die if Edward did not keep up this delightful stroking in and out of her. The hand he had used to steady her hip snaked around between her legs, and he began sliding his fingers across her most sensitive spot. She was
awash for him.

Her arms and legs began to tremble and she could barely hold herself up. It didn't matter, however, because Edward had her. She was safely in his grasp and he was bringing her there with every deliberate, luscious stroke of his thick hard cock. His fingers circled lazily 'round her responsive little pearl in the same knowing rhythm until finally she felt herself go rigid as one powerful contraction after another rippled through her tender, molten core.

If there had been no need for restraint she would have cried out to heaven. As it was, she moaned into the pillow while Edward grasped her hips with both hands and pushed into her over and over again. At last, he shuddered and withdrew to spend himself next to her damp, boneless body, groaning his release against her shoulder.

"Oh, god, Caroline," he rasped. "You are . . . I . . ."

* * *

A bird in the arbor, startled by a sudden noise, interrupted her reverie with an angry "chirrup" and flew off over the garden wall. She recognized her father's footfall on the gravel path, and then his tall shadow fell across her face.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, my dear," said Admiral Heywood, standing awkwardly before her.

Caroline was still disconcerted by her vivid daydream and pulled out a handkerchief to fan her rosy cheeks.

"Oh, no, Papa, please do come and sit with me."

He really had been so gentle since Edward had left. It was apparent he knew of their attachment, although perhaps not its true nature. In the midst of the green arbor, father and daughter regarded each other solemnly, neither knowing what to say to the other.

Chapter 2