A Wedding in Wottfordshire

I felt tears forming in my eyes at my own stupidity. My problem that seemed solved just moments before as I climbed that mountain still lay before me; I had to find my Rob, to figure out if Stephen might really be the one, or determine if it was one of any number of men I might still have to encounter.

I'm not sure but I think I was still thinking of this when sleep finally overcame me.

***

Chapter 6: Day Three—Following Up

The next day was going to be busy, but I awoke early, thoughts swirling in my head but with a sense of purpose that had eluded me the previous even due to lust. I had to prove that Stephen was Rob...or prove that my feeling was completely wrong and he wasn't.

Having at least a couple of hours while most were still in bed or having breakfast before the big activity of the day, I went to Uncle John's stable dressed in my riding outfit. Myles, the Lead Stableman, was there and he asked my desire, so I thanked him for allowing me to borrow Geoffrey the afternoon before and asked about his location in addition to requesting a ride on Royal.

Myles set young Hoyt to the task of collecting the horse while he got Royal's saddle, still adjusted for me from the day before. "Lady Catherine, you're quite welcome, of course. Geoffrey is out exercising a horse as he does most every morning when there isn't a special ride. Do you need me to fetch him?" he asked as he saddled the big stallion.

"No. I just wanted to thank him again for his assistance. Tell me, is he always so shy?"

The older man chuckled. "No, milady. It's only around beautiful young women named Catherine."

Blushing, I thanked Myles and then made my escape before making my way through town. The first stable we'd visited the afternoon before was near the west edge of town so I made my way there and gave Royal some water before going inside, calling out "Hello, anyone here?" as I entered.

"Back here," called a man's voice. He came to the entrance to a stall and said, "Yes?"

I was surprised to see Mr. Nigel Andrews standing there with a fork in his hands. He'd also been the first man for whom I'd ever had any sort of romantic feelings when we'd bought Chesapeake, our newest filly for breeding stock, nearly three years before.

Mr. Andrews had owned a horse farm a number of leagues south of Wottfordshire, and I'd been thoroughly taken with the man. He stood about a hand taller than my own height of 5-feet 6-inches in my stockings, with muscles that said he was quite used to physical work and a tight physique. Now in his early to mid-30s, his brown hair was pulled back into a short braid behind and was receding a bit in front. His face was tanned and clean-shaven, and his brown eyes reminded me of the times I'd looked into them several years before.

Brown eyes! Why, oh why, did Rob have to have brown eyes? It seems that half the men in the country have brown eyes. On seeing Nigel, I realized that he was yet another possible candidate for my Rob!

His questioning look turned to a broad smile when he recognized me.

"Nigel," I started, before correcting, "Mr. Andrews, hello. How are you?"

"Catherine," he breathed, as surprised as myself, even as I was saying his name. "Lady Catherine. I'm fine, thank you. And you? How have you been?"

"Fine, thank you, and good. I was out for a morning ride this morning and thought I'd stop by and look at the horses again, but didn't know you'd be here. Do you work here now?"

"Bert mentioned that you'd come by yesterday. And, yes, I work here but also own the place. I sold my old farm last year and purchased this stable and the accompanying farm just outside of town to be closer to customers and, perhaps, to make myself more accessible if I were to ever meet the right young lady. The last time I thought I'd found her, she wasn't exactly interested in leaving one relatively remote and lonely area for another just like it."

Therein lay the rub.

When we'd met over three years earlier, I was an inexperienced girl of 18 and responsible for my father and our little estate. Nigel and I had both felt a strong, mutual attraction but I wasn't sure what I was feeling and was unable to leave my father and move over ten leagues away due to his state. Therefore, I had to suppress my still uncertain desire and I forced myself to decline Nigel's interest.

He'd written me a letter soon thereafter, adding at the end that he would still like to pursue our relationship further if I changed my mind. I answered the business part in detail, but thanked him for his interest and told him that my circumstances hadn't changed but that I would contact him if they did. By the time the light and heat of the flames of our burning home lit my father from his darkness, my interest had faded and I never wrote again.

At least I thought they'd faded.

Seeing my hesitation, he asked, "Catherine, would you like to come to my office and have tea with me?"

"Nigel, I..."

I didn't know what to say. Surely Nigel wouldn't have taken advantage of me in the coach, but had he really? After all, I'd been the one who suggested it, trying to save the locket with my mother's little portrait.

In addition, Rob wasn't really "my Rob" either. While a flesh and bone man, he was, even more, a fantasy I'd created from the few things I knew and had experienced with him. To make matters worse, Rob might not care for me as I believed I did for him and he might disappear like the wind, never to be seen again, though I would never know unless I continued my search for him, searching the face of each man I encountered for a clue as to his identity. While I still had great hope my path and Rob's path would cross again soon and that our love might be proven, Nigel had said 'tea' and, in the off chance that he was actually Rob, perhaps he'd let something slip.

"I think I'd like that. If you don't mind, you go along and I'll join you in a minute."

He smiled, giving me that look I'd barely resisted as a girl of 18, and turned to go while I quickly wandered down the stalls, looking at each horse present in turn. The roan, the primary object of my interest, was there so I spent some time watching, evaluating, and being friendly with him. He nuzzled against me, and I looked closely, wishing this was Rob's horse but distinctly remembering the blaze and that sock, so I knew it wasn't the same stallion.

I moved on, going from horse to horse until I came to the stall beyond the one from which Nigel had emerged on my arrival. Glancing in, I saw that it was completely clean and in the process of being whitewashed with a mix of slaked lime and water, probably in preparation for boarding a new horse.

The bucket was filled with clean water and a tightly woven cloth bag sat over to the side. Looking into the top, I saw the lime mix, but it was the brush, cleaned but precariously perched on the rim that caused me a thought. I grabbed the handle of the brush and carried it back to the roan's stall, holding it up by the horse's head.

"Whose horse are you, pretty fellow?" I whispered. "Who's your owner? Who is my Rob? Surely not Nigel? Or could he..."

I quickly returned the brush to where I'd found it and went back to Nigel's office where he was just taking the pot off the little cast iron stove.

"I was about to call you, milady. How do you want your tea steeped?"

Smiling, I did the honors for both of us and then sat down in the chair opposite his to wait for it to be ready. "Nigel, to whom does the roan horse belong? I might be interested in making an offer for him."

He smiled and shook his head. "I figured that might be the purpose of your return, though I hoped that you'd secretly heard that I now owned this place and was using the roan merely as an excuse to visit me."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't know you'd purchased it until you told me."

"I know. I saw the surprise in your eyes, but a man can wish, right?" His face tightened, as if accepting the rejection, though I hadn't intended it that way. When he looked back at me, he said, "Milady, I have been assured by the owner that there is no interest in selling, for I've pursued such a line myself."

"Oh, I hoped he might actually be yours. If not, perhaps if you point me to him, I'll be more persuasive."

"No, I have asked many times and the answer is always the same. He has no interest in selling and has asked that his identity be held in strict confidence."

"Nigel, all I'd have to do is stand down the street and watch for him to arrive or depart on the horse. Please? I won't tell him that you told me."

"Lady Catherine, I'm sorry, I can't. Please don't ask again and put me in a spot."

I was surprised that he reacted in such a manner, so I nodded, glancing around his office before focusing on him, thinking as I did that his denial might only be to cover up his ownership and what happened on the road from Humden. To get him to admit that, he needed to be put at ease.

"Tell me, how did you end up purchasing this place?"

Over tea, we talked for almost an hour, with him hopping up only once to check on Bert when the assistant returned from an exercise ride with a pretty mare. Nigel was interesting and kind, a man who would make some woman an excellent husband, making me wonder if I'd made a mistake when I'd turned him away over three years earlier. Getting to know him again, if only a little, I really didn't think that he was Rob, but with that roan and that paintbrush, I couldn't be completely sure.

When it came time for me to go, he stepped close and took my hands in his as our eyes met and stayed locked on each other.

"Cat...I surprise myself but can't truthfully say I'm sorry to find that I still have feelings for you. I thought they'd gone away a long time ago, but I'm finding it's like coals that look dark in the blacksmith's fire pit. One doesn't know without feeling if they've gone cold or if an ember remains that the smith's bellows can turn into a roaring flame. They aren't cold in this case, Cat, and I find that they're still there, hotter than an inferno, and I think you feel it too. Since I'm closer now and since I understand your father is better, can we try again? May I see you again?"

If circumstances were different, I think I would have said yes, and I could be sure he was Rob, I know I would have, but circumstances are what they are and my doubt was strong so I slowly shook my head. "Nigel, I do, I feel what you're saying, but I can't see you right now. Maybe things will change sometime in the future, but now's not a good time for this. I'm very sorry."

He nodded, understanding showing in his eyes, before he leaned in to kiss me. I shouldn't have responded but I couldn't resist and I leaned into him and felt a surge of pleasure through my body like the rush of blood through my veins as his lips played over mine and his tongue gently swept my lips.

"Mmm, I think that usually happens when the girl says 'yes,' not 'no,'" I said when we parted.

"I know, but since you essentially said 'maybe someday,' it's just a kiss to remember me by and maybe even to encourage you to reconsider whenever that someday arrives."

It was the kiss that convinced me, Nigel wasn't Rob. His kiss was soft, sweet, loving even, while Rob's had been bold, fierce, passionate. No, Nigel was a good man who would never try to rob a coach and I hated to hurt him, so I grazed his face with my fingers and followed with a little kiss to his cheek before I said, "Goodbye, Nigel."

My stomach aflutter and my knees feeling wobbly from the unexpected kiss, I climbed back on Royal and wheeled away quickly to escape Nigel and the feelings I hadn't expected. As I returned to the estate to get ready for the big outing of the day, my mind was abuzz with what I'd learned as well as thoughts of Rob, Stephen, and, to my great surprise, Nigel Andrews.

***

Chapter 7: Day Three—Afternoon Excursion

When the weather cooperated during the summer visits of my youth to Wottfordshire, Aunt Eliza and my mother would take Susannah and me to the coast less than a league from town for a day of fun.

Mother told me that there was an old wives' tale of the town having originally been on the bluff above the beach but that it was moved inland due to Viking raids almost a thousand years before. Susannah and I never found any ruins and no Viking treasure either so we doubted it was true, which was quite disappointing to two young girls with very fertile imaginations.

Aunt Eliza would always invite the mothers of the household staff with young children to bring them along so we'd spend the first part of the day in the sun on the strip of sandy beach playing and shrieking, searching for seashells or the treasure we never found, climbing the bluffs to look for ships on the horizon, building sandcastles, and having a great time all while wearing short pants and short sleeve shirts enjoying the heat of the summer. It was summertime at its best...until after lunch, anyway.

That was when, an hour or perhaps two before it was time to go home, our mothers would dress us all in thick woolen sweaters and long woolen leggings and let us run into the water like we'd been wanting to do all day. Despite being high summer, the water in the Irish Sea was cold but we didn't care and the real fun began, with us running and splashing and wishing we were on the islands thousands of miles to the south where Uncle John said the water was so warm the children could play and swim in the water practically naked for hours without having their teeth chatter once.

In our area though, the water was cold but we didn't care; we loved every second of our time in the surf...until it was time to get out. Then, our mothers would strip us as bare as those little children in the tropics but then wrap us in thick blankets and carry us to the carriage where they finished drying us and dressed us in warm, dry clothes as the carriage driver took us toward home with the wagon carrying the household staff following along behind.

I don't think I or any of the other children ever gave a thought to how cold our mothers must have been, chasing after us in those breaking waves with their skirts hiked up, the hem getting soaked but they clearly loved it, too, and never complained. As we got older and could go out a little further on our own, our mothers, their skirts held up as before, still pranced near the water's edge, laughing and giggling, while always keeping an eye on us.

Therefore, while arranging activities for Susannah and Wilfred's guests, I'd suggested in one of my correspondences with her that we consider an afternoon excursion to the coast. She was all for the idea, so we arranged it and at eleven of the clock two days before the wedding, seven coaches filled with guests and two wagons filled with Aunt Eliza's household staff made their way to the coast. Hilary rode up top with Renald and Susannah, Wilfred, and Stephen rode inside with me in my coach.

The house staff set up tables with food and then were given a time for each to have a break to spend time atop the bluffs, on the beach, or in the surf, but I grinned on realizing that Hilary and Renald had taken off as soon as the horses were tended and that they were nowhere to be seen.

I'd tease her unmercifully if she refused to share details.

The guests ate and then each went their way, with Susannah and Wilfred leading the way in excusing themselves and then beginning to walk to the south. Once they were out of hearing range, I asked the other guests to leave them their privacy and stay in our general vicinity or walk to the north. Then, as chaperone for just two more days, I excused myself and took off after them. I'd only gone a few feet when I realized that Stephen was right behind me and that we'd have to hurry to keep from losing them in the distance as they rounded the outcroppings of rocks that had been the boundary of our play area as kids.

"I've been looking forward to spending more time with you," Stephen said as he took my arm and walked with me. I was a bit disappointed that he didn't offer his arm rather than taking mine, but I enjoyed the closeness of having him with me, becoming more convinced with each interaction that he really was my Rob and that we might find a way to be together.

We rounded the rocks a short time later and I saw the beach narrow, the bluffs being a little lower and a little closer to the water, but continuing on as before. In the distance, I saw Susannah with her skirt hiked above her knees treading in the surf up to her ankles before giving a little shriek when a wave deeper than expected came in and caught the bottom of her dress as they almost invariably do. She went running back from the water with Wilfred right behind. He caught her and slipped his arms around her before they turned and faced each other with a loving kiss.

I bit my lip, hoping that Stephen would see and take the hint, but he was watching the rolling surf or the gulls or something and we walked on, closing the distance a bit. However, not wanting to get too close to them and interfere with their gentle loving, I turned up the beach toward some more rocks at the base of the bluff. I approached a large boulder and propped my behind against it as I looked at Stephen and smiled.

He took the hint this time, stepping in close where he took my hands in his. "Catherine, I'm very happy for my brother, that he's found Susannah and what he seeks, but I'm thrilled beyond words that he didn't spot and claim you before we met. My heart stirs when I see you and when in your presence, I can't think clearly due to how much I want you."

"Stephen, shh. Look. Do you see them?"

"Yes. They're...kissing."

"Well?" I stretched my neck up a bit and tipped my head back as I looked expectantly in his eyes.

He looked at me for a few moments before his lips met mine.

Just as the night before, the man could kiss but this time, with me sitting against the boulder, he pushed close, between my legs and I could feel his hardness pressing against me.

"Mmm," I moaned as he rubbed against me, one hand behind my back and the other sliding up to cup my breast. The fabric of my bodice rubbed against my nipple, exciting me further, and I closed my eyes again as we started yet another kiss.

I lost track of time for a spell and apparently lost track of his hand, too, for the next thing I knew, it was under my dress, rubbing my pantaloons against my sex, and I almost bit my tongue to keep Wilfred and Susannah, now even further away from hearing me. The fabric felt wet as it rubbed me, but it took a moment to realize it wasn't from the surf but from my own desire.

Stephen's hand pushed up and then down, working his way into my undies with his fingers running through my fuzz and then catching my clit where he circled a few times before dipping his fingers lower. With my bum planted on the rock and him between my legs, I lifted my feet up and spread my knees, opening myself up to his roaming hand where he ran his fingers through the wetness of my cleft.

"Oh, Stephen," I breathed as he played with my nubbin with a speed and intensity that exceeded anything I'd ever done. My eyes squeezed tight as I plunged over a peak and needed a break but I was surprised when his fingers, at least two, entered me completely.

He sawed in and out of me, with the wet sounds of my puss about his fingers, the slapping of his hand against my quim, and my own labored breathing all, at least to me, drowning out the noise of the surf just yards away.

"My God, Catherine, I so want to fuck you," he breathed into my ear and I'm sure that I would have agreed if I hadn't opened my eyes. Just down the beach, I saw Susannah and Wilfred walking hand in hand toward us with Susannah skipping in the shallow water flowing up and down the sand above the surf. They were both laughing and, I suspect, about to see us.