Cast Adrift - Book 03

It was the first argument with a woman in which Matthew Cooper had ever prevailed. And, as on those rare occasions when it would happen again, his triumph would be short-lived.

Lucy sniffed.

"Still, Matthew," Caroline said, "a woman does appreciate something romantic, some avowal of love from the man with whom she will spend the rest of her life."

"Now, now." William gently patted his fiancée's hand. "The poor man does not need to be shown up by his captain."

But the poor man was already on both knees in front of his love.

"I have no ring," he said. "But I offer you my love, Lucy Burton. It is a love so bright, as is the shining of the dawn. It is a love so sweet, as is the honey of the bees."

Matthew took a deep breath, conscious of his heart hammering within his chest.

"It is a love so soft, as is the skin of newborn lamb. It is a love so fine, as is a cloth of finest silk. It is that love that I bear for you, Lucy Burton."

Lucy sniffed again.

Caroline sniffed as well.

Both women burst into tears and fell into each other's arms.

Matthew turned to stare at his captain, a stricken look on his face. William looked equally puzzled.

"You bear being shown up by your captain quite well, Matthew Cooper," James said. "No doubt it is a daily occurrence. I do not believe I have heard that piece before. From where does it come?"

"Sir?" Matthew Cooper asked.

"Your poem. Who wrote it?"

Matthew Cooper reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of greasy papers. From their midst he extracted a well-worn sheet filled with scribblings and crossings-out in all directions.

"I guess I did mostly, sir. Although it ain't no poem. It don't even rhyme, sir."

He offered James the paper. The women had begun a new flood of tears.

"You wrote it yourself?" William asked.

"Well, not as who should say wrote it, sir. Not having the writing at all. Mr. Lampson it was wrote most of it down, sir. And he suggested the bees. Along with these last two lines which I didn't say, sir, on account of Lieutenant Neville suggesting that ‘twould be better shorter."

"My God, man," James exclaimed. "You've filled both sides of the page."

"Oh, aye, sir. There were many as who had suggestions for me. On the barky. In Bermuda. I had them all copied to learn by rote. But Mr. Neville it was suggested that –"

"Yes, yes," William said. "You did very well, Matthew."

"Are you quite certain, sir?" Matthew asked, glancing at the tear-stained faces of the two women on the couch.

"Quite certain, Matthew," Caroline said softly.

Lucy took his chin in her hand and turned his head so she could look into his eyes.

"Quite certain, Matthew Cooper, you silver tongued devil. Now take me upstairs before the New Year arrives."

William pulled Caroline to her feet as their servants ran up the stairs.

"I believe we will call it an evening as well, dear brother," he said. "May we leave you here by yourself?"

"Most certainly," James said. He picked up the magazine. "I shall celebrate having my manhood intact for yet another year."

"I beg your pardon?" William asked. Caroline was already pulling him toward the stairs.

James waved his brother and sister-in-law toward the stairs.

"And a fine manhood it is," Caroline said over her shoulder as she reached the bottom step.

"Aye, quite nice," Lucy yelled from the upper landing.

"You told me you didn't look!" James said. But he returned to his magazine with a smile.

**********

The Reverend Barnabus Cocksley rearranged his cassock for the tenth time and cracked his door to peer out at the crowd for the fifth time. His poor little church was bursting at the seams, the pews filled to overflowing with a mix of raggedly dressed civilians and impeccably attired naval officers.

He pulled his pocket watch out and opened it. It was time. He walked out to the altar and faced the congregation before nodding to the two men who were waiting at the door to his left.

Matthew Cooper took a step and stopped, even more overwhelmed by the size of the crowd than the priest had been. His best man, Captain Sir William Stanhope, nearly knocked him down. Cocksley watched Captain Stanhope hiss into his coxswain's ear, and the man strode forward as if he had been struck with a whip.

Cocksley jerked his head up as the organist began playing. He was still quite unused to having an organ in his church. For that matter, he was unused to the idea that the Earl of Prescott had donated an organ to his church and had had it installed in the last two weeks. He was unused to the Earl of Prescott. The man had placed Cocksley in this parish a decade before but had never once attended services. Now he was a man transformed, appearing every Sunday, paying for countless repairs and innovations, and generally making Cocksley even more nervous.

The glorious sounds of Handel filled the packed nave as the matron of honor started down the aisle. Mrs. Stanhope, the widow of the Earl's youngest son and the future bride of his middle son, was a vision of loveliness in a dress from a past era. But it was a loveliness that paled beside that of Lucy Burton, who followed her on the Earl's arm. She was dressed in the purest of white silks, a dress, he had been told, that the bride had sewn herself with the help, if it could be believed, of only her fiancé.

The wedding was the traditional Anglican ceremony, followed by a reception in the Earl's castle. It was evidently a catered affair, as all of the Earl's staff had been at the church and all were now having a fine time drinking the Earl's punch and eating his beef.

"Mr. Cocksley."

He turned to see the Captain and his fiancée waiting to address him.

"Lord William," he said with a bow. "Madam."

"I wish to know whether it would be quite convenient for you to perform our wedding in a month's time. Would the twenty-fifth of February be suitable?"

"My Lord, I cannot imagine that it would not be," the vicar said. "I owe this living to your father. If the Earl's son wants to marry, I should be more than happy to perform the ceremony. A month, you say?"

"My fiancé apparently needs to show various people in London that he is capable of finding someone willing to marry him," Caroline said.

William smiled.

"I am forced to announce, Mr. Cocksley, that I am no longer available to the many young ladies eager for me to escort them to this or that affair. Having Mrs. Stanhope there will give them a target for their rage."

Caroline rolled her eyes.

"My husband-to-be has always had a way with the ladies, sir. What was that you once called me when I was a guest on your ship, dearest? A young –"

"Excuse us, Mr. Cocksley. I believe my father requires our attendance."

Mr. Cocksley couldn't help but smile as he heard Caroline laugh as she was being led away. He predicted a very successful marriage indeed.

**********

"Darling, you look just as delicious as you did when I had you last year."

"Last year?" Caroline sputtered. "I recall your ‘having' me several times the next morning. Well into the tenth hour of the New Year as I remember it. We would have been quite the scandal if Matthew and Lucy hadn't followed right behind us. And you weren't the heir to the Earldom."

Caroline finished hanging up her wedding dress in the closet. The wedding had been perfect. The Earl had been more than pleased to stand in place of her father and "give" her to his son. After the reception, they had been driven to London for the evening. William's staff had re-opened his London house the day before and had all slipped away as soon as the bride and groom had arrived.

"And now here we are at our house, darling," William said.

"Our house," Caroline said. "Yours and mine."

"And Michael's. We should not leave out the future Earl of Prescott. I did not tell you this before, Caroline, but I . . ."

"Yes?"

"I have taken out papers to adopt your son as my own. With your permission, of course. I will never let him forget who his real father was."

"Oh, William," Caroline said as she felt tears coming to her eyes. "I did not think you could make me any happier today."

William folded his hands behind his head as he lay back on the bed. He had already finished taking off his clothing.

"My intention when we entered the room was to make you as mad with desire as you make me," he said. "But I will accept happy."

"Desire?" Caroline asked.

William blinked. There was a husky quality to her voice that he had never heard before.

Caroline had had her hair carefully sculpted for the wedding. Reaching up, she pulled a single pin and let her hair tumble down her shoulders.

"You like it better long, don't you?"

"Yes," he said, his voice a froglike croak.

"And now," Caroline continued, "you would like to see the woman you just made your wife?"

William licked his lips. He watched his wife pull the thin satin slip over her head. Underneath she wore three garments. Two were pink stockings that made his wife's long shapely legs appear to blush at her immodesty. Each was tied several inches above her knee with a black lace garter. On top was Caroline's stays, a silken garment that had the effect of separating and lifting Caroline's already generous breasts, and that ended just below her hips.

"My husband approves?" Caroline asked, wiggling herself slightly from side to side.

"Is that normally that short?" he asked, his voice sounding oddly hoarse. "And isn't it normally worn with a shift underneath?"

"I love an experienced man with an eye for clothing," Caroline purred. "I had this one made just for you, dear husband. I might need help with the tie, don't you think?"

She turned around and William gasped. The cloth tie criss-crossed her back starting just under her shoulder blades, extending down over the small of her back and over her hips, and halfway down her exquisite rear. She moaned her approval as she felt his hands on her, pulling the ends of the knot that Lucy had so carefully tied at the bottom of the opening earlier in the day.

"I believe I can do the rest," Caroline said, stepping away and turning around once more. She reached behind her back, which had the effect of thrusting her chest even further forward. William could hear the tie leaving each eyelet along the way as Caroline pulled the two sides of the fabric apart. He watched the tie fall to the ground behind her, leaving the stays hanging loosely from her shoulders. It hadn't had the least effect on her bosom; her breasts were as firm and full as they had been when the stays had been tightened.

"My love," he said, extending his arm toward her.

Caroline slipped the garment from her shoulders and held it in front of her as she walked slowly toward the bed.

"You want me, husband?" she asked.

"Yes," William groaned.

She glanced down at his prick, already half erect.

"Show me," she said, pulling down one side of the cloth to just above her large pink areola.

"Show you?"

What could she possibly mean?

"Touch yourself, husband."

He slowly extended his arm and wrapped his fingers around his member.

"Pretend you are on your ship," Caroline whispered. "You have been there for months. With only a portrait of your wife to look at. Imagine her thinking of you. Imagine her stripping off her clothing and lying naked on her bed."

Caroline dropped the stays to the floor. William felt his cock swell in his grip.

"She awaits your return," Caroline continued. "She knows that you will touch yourself when you think of her. And you know that she will touch herself as well."

Caroline lifted her right hand to her mouth and slowly sucked the middle finger deep between her full lips. William stared as if hypnotized, his body motionless but for the rhythmic stroking of his fist.

Caroline pulled out her finger with an audible pop and then slowly traced it down her torso. William watched it travel through the valley between her breasts, down to her navel, and then down even further. It was still shiny with her saliva as it entered the trimmed thatch on her mound. And then it reached her clearly visible pink lips. It stayed there a second, vibrating against the top of her lips.

"I want to see you spend, William," Caroline whispered.

He shook his head. It was too much. He had married a wildcat.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," Caroline said. She used her first and third fingers to pry apart her lips, forcing their swollen pinkness into view. Her middle finger went between them and as William watched it slowly disappear into her opening, he knew that he had no choice. He felt his prick tighten up. He groaned and watched himself spray white cream all over his stomach.

He looked up at his wife, wondering, in spite of what she had said, what she would think of this exhibition. To his delight, she was laughing.

"I have been very selfish, dearest," she said. "It has been nearly two months since we made love. I wanted to make sure that when we do it tonight you last forever. Trust me."

"I have no choice," William said with a laugh of his own. "I am bewitched."

Caroline's answer was a smile. She climbed onto the bed, and slowly traced the very same middle finger through the semen that had puddled on her husband's stomach. She again returned it to her mouth and this time sucked it clean.

"You are delicious, my love," she said. "Would you like to clean up or shall that be the first of the wifely duties I undertake?"

His cock twitched again and she laughed.

"I thought so," Caroline said.

She bowed her head and slowly started lapping at the cream-covered skin of the man she loved. It was a long task, requiring considerable attention to the purple head, the ridge that separates it from the long, beautiful root, and the thick forest that surrounded them all. By the time she was finished, her husband stood tall and proud again.

She grabbed hold of it and gave it a gentle tug before she rolled onto her back next to him and spread her legs wide.

"Come, darling," she said. She reached for his hand and pulled it between her legs. "Your wife awaits your pleasure."

He rolled onto his side, and spent a moment tracing her sex with his fingers.

"And her own, I think," he whispered with a quiet chuckle.

Caroline was too busy moaning to answer him. Who would have believed a sailor would have such talented fingers? When he pulled them away, she groaned as if in pain. Only the weight of her husband moving between her thighs stopped her. And then his deliciously swift plunge into her core made her cry with delight. She was only barely aware of her hands encircling his body. Not until later would she learn of the ragged marks that her fingernails had left in his back.

"Husband," she whispered as he began moving in and out of her. "Darling. Lover."

Her words dissolved into chanted nonsense syllables. Her last sight of him, before her eyes rolled upward toward the ceiling and her eyelids fluttered closed, was of a man at the height of his power, claiming his woman, making her his, taking what she offered and giving everything in return. He was her man. She was his woman.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Caroline and William Stanhope gazed lovingly at each other across the remains of a late breakfast. A cold March rain drummed steadily against the window of the room they had taken. Caroline traced a slender finger down the cream-colored skin visible between the lapels of her dressing gown.

"So what should you like to tour today?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"I had always thought that the ‘bridal tour' began with a visit to relatives who were unable to attend the wedding," William said.

"And it is my belief that it begins with touring the bride as intimately and thoroughly as possible," Caroline answered. "But I may have a second cousin or some such thing here in Bath if you would like to look her up. I'm sure I can entertain myself here."

William laughed.

"I think I would rather that you not discover yourself better at entertaining you than I am. As for the tour, I am most happy to be shown the error of my ways. I cannot imagine, however, that there is any place on my lovely bride that I have not yet visited."

"It is always possible that you might find some new delight on your second or even third visit," Caroline said, her voice dropping lower.

The knock at the door startled them both.

"Yes?" William asked, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice.

"Begging your pardon, sir?" came a timid voice from the other side of the door.

"Yes, Mrs. Delaney?" Caroline asked.

"A messenger, ma'am, for the Captain."

"A messenger?" William asked. "Here?"

"I'm very sorry, sir," a faint male voice said. "I stopped at your house. They sent me on me here."

William rose and opened the door a crack to accept the message.

"It appears we are going to have to postpone the next portion of our trip," he said after reading the message and closing the door.

"No visit to France?" Caroline asked.

"It seems the Emperor has decided to take the waters there as well. He has left Elba and made his way to the mainland. I am required and directed to take command of the Classic in Portsmouth and put myself at the service of Rear Admiral Chester in the Eastern Mediterranean."

"War," Caroline said with a sigh.

"War," William agreed.

"I want you to return to Prescott Manor, my love," William said, "to take care of my father. James has already left for Vienna and may not be able to return immediately. I will be at sea for however long it takes to beat the Emperor back into his hole. You and Michael are Father's only anchorage."

"Of course," Caroline agreed.

"I need not report for three days. It will take some time to fully man the vessel and Jennings – you remember my first, Lieutenant Jennings? – is already in Portsmouth. That will give us time to return you."

**********

"Ship ho!" yelled the lookout.

"Where away, Jennings?" William yelled back.

"Two points to starboard, sir. Flying the old French flag."

"Beat to quarters, Mister Bates. It may well be a Royalist ship, but we can find that out just as easily with our guns manned as without."

"Aye-aye, sir. Beat to quarters!"

"British flag, Mister Kerns. I don't have time to play games today. Where's Matthew?"

"Right here, sir."

"It'll be a good two hours until we come up. Tell the cook I intend to release the starboard watch to eat in half an hour. And tell my own cook that I'll be ready to eat in an hour. Please inform Mr. Carruthers that I would be delighted to have his company."

"Aye-aye." Matthew Cooper acknowledged the order with a knuckle to his forelock.

George Carruthers, a tall, thin civilian with a perpetually saturnine expression on his face, had joined the ship at Gibraltar as an interpreter fluent in several Mediterranean languages. He appeared on deck several minutes later.

"You asked for me, sir?"

"I intended to ask for your company at dinner, sir," William said with a slight bow of his head. "I regret that the message was garbled. No, if this is a Royalist ship, the chances are that they will speak English of a sort. And if it is one of Boney's, the chances are we won't let them get close enough to let us hear them speak anyway."

"Quite," Carruthers said. "Still, if they are Royalists, this will be quite a feather in your cap, eh?"

"Not at all, sir. If they foreswear allegiance to the Emperor I shall merely escort them into a convenient port. There is little credit to be earned there, sir, certainly not compared to the hundreds of tons of new shipping that we have destroyed so far. May I offer you a glass of wine before dinner?"

"You are most kind, Captain. Pray lead on."

With an hour's notice, the captain's private cook was able to prepare an elegant feast. William and his guest dutifully ate their way through one remove after another until Matthew appeared to announce that the approaching ship had fired off a leeward gun.