The Fancy (21 page)

You have learned and you wil continue to learn-…”

“I do not wish to fail you – bring you shame,

dishonor!”

“Good – then don’t. It is as simple as that – the

moment that you decide that you wil not fail, you wil

not. The moment you decide that you wil no longer

wear the cloak of a lesser person, but the garb of

someone to be cal ed, Lady – you wil then wear it

and do so proudly! You lack nothing in what is

required of you – nothing! I have made my choice –

and it was the right choice. The rest is up to you.”

He turned from her, lifted the glass panel and

He turned from her, lifted the glass panel and

blew out the lantern, shaping his pil ow for comfort

and flopping down into it with hopes that sleep would

take him quickly since he was no longer in the mood

for making love.

Sarah was not used to him turning his back to

her, the gesture made her stomach ache. She

wanted to reach out for him, touch him, make him

turn back to her, but she would not.

Sarah lay breathing deeply, unsure of herself

and what was happening to her. She knew how to be

a slave, a servant, her mother’s daughter, rushing

about the woods, gathering al that they needed. She

knew what was expected of her, how far to go, who

to trust, who not to trust. She knew her place.

Quinton, was making changes to her place,

changes she was unfamiliar with – she wasn’t sure

she could cope with al the things that came with the

new place. Reading, writing, speaking a certain way,

taking the lead in matters she always thought

belonged to white women – now here he was tel ing

her, that everything she knew and understood, was a

lie, a trick – and that she must now walk away from it

al , into
his
new world, that frightened her.

“I have asked a question, I wish an answer.

When have I ever made you feel, you are

unwelcome?”

For the first time ever, he watched his wife cry

– “I do not want this thing – I do not want it! I am a

fancy; that is al – I am to do nothing more, than offer

you pleasure, join you in bed – see to your comfort, I

cannot do this-…”

He jumped out of bed and went directly to his

night shirt, pul ing it on over his head.

He began pacing at the foot of their bed, his

mind racing, his heart hammering. Sarah sat up

once more, her back to the head board of their bed,

watching him pace back and forth.

Final y he stopped, turned and looked at her.

“If I can be this thing that was thrust upon me as

a ten year old boy – you too, can be this thing, as you

cal it!”

She stared at him, uncertain of what he meant.

“You think that I was born this way? An Earl?

No, I assure you, I was not. I was born a bastard. The

bastard son of Lord Horace Thaddeus Caine the

third from one of his bloody chamber maids! My

mother – Lilith! She bore him two bastard sons and

a bastard daughter. We were poor, his cast offs!” He

vented, as he took up pacing once more thinking

about it, tel ing her about it.

“He is the reason, the bloody aristocrat – the

very cause of my sister’s death! Cold, hungry, in dire

need – you think that he could care about her

condition? She became sick and weak. I would have

done anything to save her, anything! He never gave

us a second look, never mind the first! We lived like

commoners – in a one room thatched cottage, while

just up the hil – he lived in such opulence – it was

beneath him to wipe his own arse!” He spat with

contempt, pacing stil .

“They thought us common, peasants, beneath

them, yet – there was no loyalty to be found among

them! No honor, no restraint, hypocrisy at its

highest!” He stopped pacing to gaze at his wife,

“There is one word I have not yet taught you –

discretion! To be discreet! It means, when you first

find yourself going from my bed, to another – it

should be done discreetly – in secret, subtle, yes,

sneak as you go. You see, the aristocracy is

especial y skil ed at being whores and whore’s sons!

Sleeping about, lifting a skirt of any one who tickles

one’s fancy because most al marriages are

arranged, political affairs – marriages of

convenience, ceremonies of grand style – in a

system that makes the women in truth the most

common prostitute!” He bit out showing how bitter he

was from it al .

Sarah could not believe her ears.

He stopped, staring off into space as if under a

spel .

Sarah remained quiet, watching him as her

mind spun with al that he was tel ing her. More than

a couple of minutes passed before his eyes focused

back on her, “His wife – was barren. She could not

bear him heirs. He was getting up in age, as he had

philandered for years and realized that one day he

would pass away with no one to whom he could

leave al of his possessions. Know this, I am not his

only bastard – there were others - however, I was his

first bastard, and of course that made me, his first

born son. I was born, Timothy – nothing before it,

nothing after – just Timothy. Also, I won this place not

only for being his first born, it was because out of al

his scattered oats of bastardy – I was one who

looked the very spit of him. With me, there was no

doubt – thus I was chosen. At the age of 10 years

old, I was plucked from the world that I knew –

renamed – and sent off from my mother and brother

– to an entirely new world with not a soul to look after

me. From the very beginning, I was bul ied; spit

upon, labeled ‘bastard’ and treated like the common

shite shifter they thought I was. Alone, I fought and

stood up to many who thought themselves better

than me. But when you hate, as much as you fear,

you soon learn, that your hatred serves you better – it

equipped me for a fight I refused to lose!”

He final y came back to the bed, and sat

sideways – staring off stil ; one leg bent on the

mattress as he leaned with his forearm on his thigh –

lost in thought – remembering what it was like.

“While I was away, his wife died. He brought

my mother in and married her. My mother was on top

of the world – nothing meant more to her, than being

part of the elite class.

She and my brother came into the better life,

while I was away, being put through
hell
– to become

worthy of being cal ed, Earl of WhistHirst. I came to

hate them al for it.”

“Al I had left to hang on to was the pledge I

made to my dying sister that I would learn this

mystery of life, disease and death and maybe, I

mystery of life, disease and death and maybe, I

would be able to save another, from the claws of the

grim reaper. I continued on in my schooling, learning

because it kept me away from them. When I finished

in al there was to learn, I returned – lived upon the

estate for two of the longest years of my life. They

tried to set in motion, an arranged marriage for me.”

He threw his head back laughing at the mockery he

made of it al , “I told them, you wil not saddle me with

one I have not chosen – who has not chosen me!”

He smiled thinking back on it, “My mother was

so angry with me, she accused me of,
not trying
–

she said my actions were al deliberate acts of

rebel ion and that she wanted me to cease in my fits

at once!
We are blessed
, she said.
We have a

chance finally
, she said – and al of it rested upon

me – al I had to do was cooperate, and the world

would be ours for the having. So I played along, but I

would not take part in the promise of an engagement

to the daughter of Lord Fitzal an.”

Once more, he paused, thinking getting his

thoughts in order, “My father, took some adverse

delight in my rebel ion – in either case; it would seem

that he had his own hidden angst against the order

of things and granted me my inheritance before he

passed – stating, if I did not wish to marry – there

was no need in forcing me to do so.” He stopped

once more, thinking back to that day, wondering why

his father had said such a thing, releasing him. “I was

there at his death and the next thing I knew, al who

had gone to him, began coming to me. I could not

take any of it seriously and passed al on to my

mother to

see to, she wanted it so badly; after al – I had no

wife – did not want one. I also gave certain

responsibilities to my brother, who had been living

there al along. I woke one morning feeling that time

was wasting in my vow, it was then that I decided to

travel, to learn and try to understand more – to be a

doctor.”

“My man servant at the time was very loyal to

me, in fact, admired me for some reason – when I

left, he left with me. It has been 3 years since.”

He went quiet and looked at Sarah.

“You are my wife. I have chosen you. You wil do

this, just as I did. I wil return, and you – wil be by my

side. You are, Lady Sarah Abigail Caine, Countess

of WhistHirst – that is that. I have spoken. You wil

never leave my bed; you wil never seek the arms of

another because…” However, something made him

pause – considering his own words that he had

earlier stated, in truth, she had not chosen him as he

had her; he looked into Sarah’s eyes, “To be fair,

there is only one way out that I wil give you. You must

tel me, that you no longer wish to be mine and that

you cannot hold yourself loyal to me, and only me. If

you cannot do that – I wil set you free – and al that I

ask of you, you wil be free from as wel . Tel me now.

Which wil you choose? Me, or your freedom?”

Sarah’s heart was hammering away disturbing

her breathing; she felt as if she were being tossed

from a great ship into the ocean and had little choice

but to swim, or drown. There was so much expected

of her, but the one thing she did know; the one thing

that she was certain of which sealed the pact.

She would sooner drown,
die
than not have

Quinton. She was in love with him – to have had him,

love him, know the heady heaven of being in his

arms, being in his favor, it was impossible to even

consider the touch of another, for any reason.

She could no more betray him, than she could

change the color of her skin – to her, both deeds

were impossible.

Tears gathered in her eyes, spil ing over to rol

down her cheeks, “I would sooner tear my own heart

from my body, than have another touch me. I want, no

one but you – of that, you have my word, my vow.”

Saying those words, she knew she had committed

herself to being, Lady Caine – whether she wanted

to be or not.

Quinton moved forward onto his knees,

palming the cheeks of her face, pul ing her up to him

as his mouth opened and moved over hers, taking it

in a heat of passion. Moving the covers down, he

made quick work of putting her back to the bed and

moving over her – kissing her wildly, his body flexing

and grinding between her thighs.

Sarah spread herself wide, pul ing the hem of

the gown up to her waist as one of his hands was

suddenly there – touching her bare skin and moving

up her body to cup and squeeze her breast; leaving

his night shirt to her to move out of the way for him to

grip his swol en length and guide the dul hard knob

of it to her wet folds – they moved together in a

desperate rol for penetration, crying out from the

ecstasy of their joining, their mating, pumping and

grinding desperately as if racing to be the first to

meet at the peak. She loved what he did to her, how

he did it; wrapping her legs securely to hold him

there.

Quinton rocked against her, pounding his

crotch against her hard and heavy, plunging and

thrusting so that the bed creaked and shook. His

mouth moved over her face, kissing her, sucking at

her earlobe, at the side of her neck, nipping and

pecking as if he’d turned into a beast that needed to

devour her. His back curved above her as his pelvis