She pulled her shawl around her. The morning was still cold, the sun had not yet any warmth, and she shivered.
You’re a fool, Betsy Foster. What are you doing out here at this time of the morning? He won’t come. He’s been having a joke with you
.
The pathway down to the copse and beyond was deserted. Few people came down here unless it was to sow or reap the harvest, and now the fields were greening with young crops which were being garnered by flocks of partridge and pigeon. A low whistle attracted her; she glanced about her, her gaze going back towards the mill in fear that her brothers or father were up and about. It came again and someone signalled from the copse. It was Luke. So he had come.
‘You came then!’ Again he gave her that lazy smile, which turned up the corners of his mouth and crinkled his eyelids in an amused manner.
‘I was awake,’ she said carelessly.
‘Aye, so was I.’ He gazed intently at her from deep blue eyes, his smile disappearing. ‘I haven’t slept all night for wondering if you’d come.’ He glanced over his shoulder into the shadow of the copse. ‘Come back in here if you like. Nobody will see us in here.’
Her heart started to pound. ‘I’d better not,’ she whispered. ‘I’m only out for a walk.’
‘Aye, so am I.’ He took hold of her hand and drew
her into the shelter of the trees. ‘But nobody would believe that if they should see us. Better not tek ’risk. We can talk just as well in here as in middle of ’footpath.’
She allowed herself to be led a little way in. It was only a young copse, but already an under storey of shrubs was growing thickly between the young saplings.
He took off his jacket and laid it on the ground. ‘Would you like to sit down a minute, Betsy?’
She shook her head. She felt so strange, an excitement welling up inside her, tightening her throat, her pulses throbbing and making her feel quite lightheaded. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not tired, why should I want to sit down?’
‘Well, folks often do sit down to have a bit of a jaw,’ he said patiently. ‘Still, if you’d rather stand.’ He stood looking at her for a moment and she could almost swear that a laugh was playing around his lips. She looked up at him defiantly and was about to say something cutting when he took hold of her, crushing her into his arms and kissing her forcefully on the mouth.
‘Stop that, Luke Reedbarrow. I didn’t come here for that sort of thing.’ She wriggled in his arms and tried to push him off.
‘What did you come for then, Betsy?’ Now he was openly laughing at her, but still held her fast. ‘You didn’t really come just to have a bit of a chat?’
‘Get off me, Luke. I have to get back. Stop fooling around.’
He lowered his hands and put them around her waist, he spanned it easily with his large hands, and with his thumbs he stroked her abdomen. ‘I’m not fooling, Betsy. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to for long enough.’
She stopped her struggling and lowered her eyes and inwardly smiled.
I knew it
, she thought triumphantly.
I knew he’d always been sweet on me, hanging around
the mill yard, casting sheep’s eyes at me
. She felt a sense of power, a need to tantalize and invite, to provoke him with fire and then to spurn him. She lifted her head and gazed at him with what she thought was a look of allurement, but she hesitated as she saw an ardent eagerness in his eyes and wondered if she had, after all, made a mistake.
‘Don’t tease, Betsy.’ He licked his lips, the smile had gone. ‘You don’t know what happens to a man when a woman leads him on.’
Again she felt the sense of control. This, then, was how to bring a man to his knees, to have him begging for just a kiss. She leaned against him ever so slightly, so that he would feel just the brush of her body, nothing more, and reached to fasten the top button on his shirt.
‘You’re not decently dressed, Luke Reedbarrow,’ she said softly, and was cut short as he stopped her hand with his and once more drew her close, his lips hard on hers and holding her face fast between his hands.
She didn’t stop him. She couldn’t have stopped him even if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t, for kissing was, she decided, as she swam willingly into a haze of pleasure and desire and put her arms around his neck, a most delightful sensation. She didn’t stop him as he undid her bodice and cupped her breasts into his mouth, devouring and sucking each nipple in turn until she was gasping with pleasure.
But she cried, ‘No,’ when his hand crept beneath her skirt and she felt the strength of his fingers pressing on her bare thighs.
‘No. Stop. Stop.’ She gasped and tried to sit up. They were lying on his coat and she had barely been aware of them gently sinking down on to it.
He pushed her down again and strode across her, pinning her with his muscular legs. ‘Don’t say that, Betsy,’ he groaned. ‘Please, not now. I want thee. Please!’
She licked her dry lips and closed her eyes. She felt as if she had been running, her breath was so short.
I want you? What does he mean, he wants me? I’m here now; he’s kissing me, holding me, doing things which surely are wrong, but which are so wonderful, I don’t want him to stop. But I must say stop. I must go home, Father will be up and looking for me
.
‘My father will be awake soon,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t stay.’
He bent again to kiss her, his lips demanding against hers, and he forced them open with his tongue. When he released her he was breathing heavily and he held the lower part of his body as if he was in pain.
‘Come back later, Betsy,’ he begged. ‘When your da and the lads are in ’mill. Meet me later,
please
.’
‘All right,’ she said breathlessly, and sat up as he released her and started to fasten up her bodice. He bent once more and kissed her breasts and she thought she would explode with joy. Yes, she would come back. If she had known how wonderful the sensation of being kissed and fondled was, then she might have thought of tempting him before. She stood up and looked down on him and smiled. He was so very handsome. His face was weather brown, and his fair hair streaked blond.
He smiled back at her and lay on his back. ‘Are you glad you came, Betsy?’ He reached out a hand and she stepped towards him and put out hers.
‘Yes,’ she admitted, feeling suddenly shy.
‘Come here, then. A bit closer.’
She stepped closer, thinking that she might kiss him once more and stood nearer to him. He sat up and once more put his hands beneath her skirt and petticoat, sliding them over her nakedness towards her buttocks and hidden places and burying his head in her skirts.
She took in several gasping breaths, and pressed her hands to her skirts to stop his exploring hands.
‘I’m not going to hurt thee, Betsy. I just want to hold thee.’ He gazed up at her, his lips parted and his eyes glazed. ‘Tha’s so beautiful. I want to kiss thee everywhere.’
She could scarcely breathe, her throat and ears were hammering, her heart thundering, her whole body trembling and pulsating.
He dropped her skirts and stretched out again, putting his hands behind his head. He smiled and she saw that one of his front teeth had a small chip in it. ‘Off you go, then, if you must. Back to your da.’
She was taken aback, her passion brought to an abrupt halt. ‘Shall I – when shall I come back?’ she breathed. ‘Today, did you mean?’
He looked up at her through his fair lashes. ‘Does tha want to, Miss Betsy?’
She swallowed and pressed her lips together. Damn him! Yes. Yes. She did want to. She had an ache inside her body that told her that she did. And a confusion in her mind that told her that she shouldn’t. ‘I can do,’ she whispered. ‘If I can get out. Maybe this afternoon?’
He sprang to his feet and stood in front of her, his legs wide apart and his arms folded across his chest. He nodded. ‘This afternoon then.’
She wanted him to hold her again, but he made no move towards her. ‘Yes. I’ll try. I won’t promise.’
He didn’t answer, but just stood looking at her. Impulsively she stood on tiptoe and offered her mouth to him. He bent his head and touched her lips with his, not hard or passionate like before, but softly and tenderly, then gently he kissed her neck and throat and ran his fingertips down her breasts and waist and around her hips. ‘Go on, then,’ he said huskily and pushed her away.
Betsy didn’t know whether to run with joy or slink with shame at her scandalous behaviour.
I should never have gone. I won’t go back. Never. I only said I would to get away. Oh, but I want to. Oh, please
, please
let the wind
blow so that Da and the lads have to go into the mill
. She clasped her hands together and thought of the strength of him, his big body holding her so close.
He’s so strong, yet he’s so tender too. He makes me feel – he makes me feel so, so …!
Never before had she felt as she did now, never before felt desire or sensual craving. She had kissed boys often, stolen kisses for a dare or a tease, but had never been so aware of her body as she was now. She walked briskly along the path, ignoring the gap in the hedge, not wanting to sneak through in case Tom or anyone was in the garden, and skipped into the lane and towards the mill gate. There she stopped abruptly and flushed in confusion as she was confronted by Sammi, who was struggling to open the gate and at the same time keep hold of the bridle of her horse. On the floor of the trap was a large carpet bag.
‘Betsy! Betsy! What are you up to, girl?’ Her father, washed and dressed, called from the doorway, and she and Sammi came running from the paddock where they had turned out Sammi’s mare.
‘Sammi? What’s tha doing here so early? There’s no breakfast of course – unless we make it for ourselves.’
‘Good morning, Uncle Thomas. Betsy and I will make breakfast in no time at all. She’s been helping me with Boreas.’
Betsy heaved a sigh of relief as her father grunted and went inside. He would have asked some awkward questions if Sammi hadn’t been there, questions as to where she had been so early in the morning, which she wouldn’t easily have been able to answer.
But coupled with her relief at reprieve was frustration, for if Sammi was going to stay as she had requested, then she wouldn’t be able to slip away to meet Luke as they had arranged.
And he’ll think I don’t want to
, she thought miserably.
And I do. Oh, how I do!
Ellen Rayner lay wide awake at the side of her sleeping husband. It always amazed her that, no matter what his worries, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
Unlike me
, she thought, gazing up at the ceiling and watching the first dawn-painted fingers of rose and gold streak across it. She could hear the sigh of the sea as it washed on to the shore.
It’s gentle today. Perhaps today we won’t lose any more land
.
She felt so sad as she thought of William’s words last night: that Monkston was finished and one day would be no more. She felt so sad and sorry, for she knew how much he wanted to leave the estate to his sons, as his own father had done. Perpetuity. Eternal. For ever and ever. Amen. A tear trickled down her cheek.
I must be getting old
, she thought.
I’m becoming wise. When did I become aware that nothing lasts for ever? Not the land that we love, not the people that we love
.
Her mind fluctuated to Victoria, her beautiful, fragile daughter who needed such care, yet didn’t complain and who wouldn’t outlive her parents.
So I needn’t ever worry that one day we might leave her
. She thought then of Richard and his cheerfulness; he’d not let a landslip deter him from his farming, he’d simply move back the fence and continue as usual; and Billy, he too would survive; they came from good strong stock, her sons.
She sighed and turned over in bed.
But Sammi! What am I to do with Sammi? She has such a capacity to love
. Her parents, sister and brothers, cousins, all had a share of her bounteous affection. Dogs and cats, horses, lambs and now James’s child.
But is he?
I have a lingering doubt that I can’t quite put my finger on
.
She heard a rustle outside her door and as she lifted her head from the pillow, she saw a white envelope being pushed beneath the door. She waited for a moment, then threw back the sheets and padded to the door and picked it up. ‘
MAMA and PA
’ was printed on the outside, and it was securely sealed. It had to be from Sammi, she was probably going off for a morning ride. She glanced at the French clock ticking on the mantelpiece. She blinked and looked again. It was only five o’clock! Not even the servants would be up yet.
She sat on the edge of the bed and, brushing her long hair back over her shoulder, carefully tore the envelope open.
‘
Dear Mama and Pa
,’ it read. ‘
Please don’t be cross with me, but I have decided to stay with Uncle Thomas and Betsy for a little while, if they will have me. If James’s baby has to go away, then I would like to choose a place for him myself, somewhere kind where they like children. I promised James, you see, that I would be responsible for him as he isn’t able to. I’m taking Boreas and my trap so that I can get about
.’
Ellen turned over the page.
‘
I’m not running away. Please do not think that I am, for I love you all too much to do that, but I am so concerned about the baby’s welfare and cannot bear to think that he will be rejected again. From your ever loving daughter, Sarah Maria Foster Rayner (Sammi)
.’
Ellen put her hand to her face. She wanted to cry. It was so typical of Sammi to take matters into her own hands, yet she felt also a warmth in her heart, that her daughter’s compassionate and tender nature had enfolded to encompass a small and defenceless
infant. No thought that the child might affect her own future, but only concern for the plight of the child. She walked across to the window and, still grasping the letter, she looked out. The wide skies were lightening across the sea, bringing an unfledged day, and the sun tipped its brightness into the sea, casting its strong light into the grey water and turning it to silver.