nights. They had waited for so long, and now within their own home he would take her slowly, and with love. He stood.
Fortune's fingers clumsily began to unlace his shirt. Her hands were practically shaking in their eagerness. She pushed the fabric from him, her lips touching his heated skin. She felt a chill as the night air touched her wet body, and remembered she was standing in her tub. Bending she kissed his chest and belly frantically. She was aching to possess him. This love play was utter torture. Her fingers fumbled at his breeches, and he laughed, helping her, but then she swore impatiently.
'You've still got your damned boots on,' she said, straightening up, and glaring at him.
In reply he pulled her close again, but this time his fingers sought her out. 'You're an eager wench,' he said softly, and two of his fingers pushed themselves into her sheath.
Fortune shuddered with pure pleasure. 'Ahhh, yes!' she sighed.
The fingers thrust deliberately, tauntingly into her fevered body, and Fortune squirmed frantically to make the conjunction between them even closer than it was, her fingers tangling themselves in his dark hair, pulling at it to force his head down, and then their lips met in a hungry kiss, their tongues frantically playing. She shivered as a frisson of pleasure was released by his teasing fingers.
'There, you delightfully greedy little bitch, that should hold you for a moment or two while I divest myself of the rest of my clothing.' The fingers slid from her body, and looking into her sloed eyes he put them into his mouth, murmuring appreciatively. 'You taste quite delicious, my darling lass.'
She couldn't move for the longest time. She stood there in the warm water of her tub enjoying the wonderful feelings of pure pleasure that he had unleashed in her.
His back to her, he drew off the remainder of his garments. 'Now, wife,' he said to her, 'it is your turn to bathe me.'
'Kieran, I am dying for you,' she pleaded with him.
'As I am for you,' he replied, and turned about.
She moaned lustfully at the sight of his manhood, fully engorged with his hunger for her, thrusting out from its nest of black curls.
'You must learn the fine art of compromise, Fortune,' he told her, climbing into the tub. Seating himself carefully, he pulled her down.
Fortune gasped with both surprise and pleasure to find herself impaled on his love lance as he seated her opposite him.
'Now, my love,' he said calmly, handing her the flannel washing cloth, 'wash me.' The dark green eyes gazed at her.
She could hardly breathe as she attempted to ply the soft cloth over his chest. The sensation of him filling her was so terribly acute. He throbbed with desire within her hot, tight sheath. She ached. She was both hot and cold at the same time. Finally, drawing a deep breath, she washed him with an almost grim determination, leaning over his shoulders to wipe at his broad back. The slightest movement she made was so intense that she was close to shrieking her need for him, particularly when he began to fondle her breasts, playing in leisurely fashion with the sensitive globes, tweaking at the nipples until she begged him to cease, or she would shatter into a thousand pieces.
In response he lifted her off his love lance, and stood, drawing her up with him. 'I remember another time like this,' he said softly as he stepped from the water, and drew her out as well. Taking the large towel on the rack by the fire he dried her as she frantically took the edge of the towel to dry him. 'Enough,' he said finally, and pushed her onto the bed.
Fortune didn't need further instructions. She opened herself to him immediately, crying out with undisguised pleasure as he entered her with a single, smooth movement.
It was almost too much. When her legs wrapped themselves about him Kieran shuddered with delight. He delved deeply into her soft welcoming passage, thrusting again, and again, and again. The walls of her love channel closed about his manhood, tightening, releasing, tightening, releasing until he could no longer bear it, and his long pent-up lust for Fortune exploded in a rush of boiling love juices so profuse that she could not contain it all, and it oozed from her body to dampen the lavender-scented sheets. '
'As I love you,' she sobbed. 'Oh, my darling, never leave me again. Until this moment I did not fully realize how desperately I had missed you, and how much I needed you, Kieran.'
They kissed hungrily, passionately, their lips mashing frantically as if they could not get enough of each other.
'I want more,' he growled in her ear.
'Oh, please, yes!' Fortune answered him, as their bodies uncoupled for a short time.
He laughed, and brushed a lock of her hair that had come undone in their passionate encounter. 'For some reason, my love, I do not find that prospect unpleasant. We shall never be parted again, Fortune.'
Chapter 18
The walls of Fortune's Fancy were plastered. The floors were sanded, and then polished. Tapestries were hung. The India carpets were laid. The furniture Fortune had brought from England was set about. The Irish colonists were invited to a celebration at Lammastide by their sponsor, Kieran Devers. They came to eat, and to drink, and to dance. They stood solemnly as Father White, Leonard Calvert's Jesuit priest, blessed Fortune's Fancy. The feeling of community was strong.
Mistress Happeth Jones, the physician, brought Fortune a special gift of two rosebushes. 'I brought a dozen from Ireland,' she explained, 'and they have taken to this climate well. Come and see me soon, m'lady, and I will give you a strengthening potion for you and the babe you are now carrying. There will be a number of births come next spring.' Her brown eyes twinkled behind her spectacles. 'It would seem all the husbands were happy to see their wives again, m'lady.'
Fortune laughed happily. 'Say nothing to Kieran yet. I am going to tell him today. My Rois is also expecting. Isn't Mary's Land the most wonderful place, Happeth Jones?' She was happy. She could not ever remember being happier in her entire life.
This New World of theirs seemed blessed. Its earth was fertile beyond measure. In the fields the Oronoco tobacco grew. The large dark leaves with their pointed tips, like fox ears, would soon be ready to harvest. In the gardens the corn was high, and the vines from the squash and pumpkins grew together so thickly that you could not see the earth beneath them. The beans, growing on their poles, had produced bounteously all summer long. Everything grew well. The seeds from the carrots, beets, and peas had produced generously, not just in crops, but in seed for the year to come. The lettuces did better in the spring, and they would grow more come the autumn. The cabbages were already green and round. They grew yams, and a small crop of what was called potatoes. These, they had learned from the Indians, could be kept in cold storage most of the winter, and provided tasty nourishment when roasted in the coals, or boiled.
In the forests around them turkeys and deer were plentiful. The bays were filled with ducks and geese. The waters alive with fish of all kinds, as well as shellfish like oysters and clams. There were crustaceans such as crabs and lobsters. Kieran saw that each of his people donated a portion of their harvest to the general storehouses. The rest they stored themselves. The Indians showed them how to grind the
