We saw each other as often as possible and only when Mr. Worthe was home did I not steal away, except for to tell George I could not stay. His eyes always registered deep disappointment, but he went away and continued to meet me in the meadow after.
When Mr. Worthe violated me, I shut my eyes and thought of George, and when he came home stinking of rum and beat me for not repairing his trousers I envisaged those aqua eyes resting lovingly upon me to endure.
The next day Mr. Worthe took his rickety carriage and left again for another run in Boston and I ignored Malvina’s knowing eyes as I ran out the door and to the meadow. I was terribly embarrassed to see George with bruises on my cheek, but could not bear to stay away. I needed him to stave off the stale misery of my life with Mr. Worthe in order to be able to still stand living in it.
When George spied me, his smiling eyes quickly darkened. He flew to his feet and ran to me, grabbing my face gently between his rugged palms and studied me. “I will kill him.”
“No, you cannot,” I moaned.
“He has beaten you, Mary!” he cried out, dismay and helplessness heavy in his kind eyes as he looked me over for more injury.
“It is not the first time and shan’t be the last.” I admitted, willing tears not to fall, though they did not listen.
George leaned forward and kissed them from my cheeks, so gently that they did not even disturb the welts, which stung from my salty tears.
My hands traveled up his chest as I sighed. My body could not be this close to his and not respond, and I found myself lifting onto my toes to encourage his lips to meet mine. His eyes were on fire with unrelenting want as he painfully extracted from me and stood away.
“I’m married, Mary,” he told me, eyes agonized. “While we’ve never discussed it, I felt sure you must know it to be true.”
“I am married as well, George and I do not care a whit. I want you,” I cried out, stepping forth again, reaching my hand out and imploring him to take it.
“I have nothing to offer you, Mary,” his eyes strayed to my hand, and I could see the battle waging in his eyes. “I do not love my wife, but she is a fact that I cannot deny.”
“You have brought me happiness that I have never known,” I whispered, as I continued to advance on him. This time he did not retreat, and I knew that he only needed me to step just a few inches forward to topple his will. “That is all that I need, and you’ve already offered it. Please take me.”
“I have fallen in love with you, Mary,” he told me, besotted. “If we lie together, how can I go back to Sarah?”
Boldness suddenly possessed me and in answer I shimmied my skirt down around my hips, watching the arousal build in his eyes. His breath hitched as I pulled off my shirt and then my shabby underthings, leaving me completely naked before him.
The longing in his face overtook him and before I could step forward he quickly filled the gap between us, taking me into his arms decisively. His mouth covered mine with a passion that ignited my body in places that I had not thought possible as he slowly lowered me to the ground.
He took me then and I was introduced to coupling in a way I had not known existed, where pleasure was mutual, and the feelings that preceded ultimate release were just as satisfying. He lavished attention upon every inch of me and we lingered there until dark, alternating between furious passion and long, slow strokes.
Finally, as I laid in his arms looking up at the stars I felt whole. He was as heady as his claret, and I was just as intoxicated off of those sips of him. He kissed my head gently.
“I cannot get enough of you,” he told me as he stroked my breasts. “I want to lie with you for eternity.”
“And I you, George,” I whispered, taking him in hand.
“But I must go, my love,” he said, as he extracted himself from me and began looking around for his discarded clothing. “Will you meet me again as we have been?”
“Yes,” I told him solemnly. “I have no choice. I must be with you.”
As I walked home that night, my heart sang and my eyes shined like the moon, my body reacting every time I recalled his touch. For the next months I met him in the meadow without pause, and we both tried to ignore the chill stealing into the air heralding winter and ultimately the end of our outdoor trysts.
I began to wonder if I might appeal to Malvina to take Iris to her cabin so that George and I could continue our affair in my own cottage. I’d not spoken of it, but Malvina knew, just as she knew everything. Her eyes softened everytime I came home, singing like a lark, happiness infusing my song and a pure smile on my face.
One chilled November night, as Iris slept in her small room and I stayed up reading, I heard Mr. Worthe lumber up the stairs and jumped as he stumbled through the door. His eyes were trained on me immediately and I swallowed, knowing he’d be on me in moments.
I submitted and waited for him to fall asleep quickly as usual, but he did not this time, as he continued to stroke my back with a tenderness that was rare for him.
“Why have you not become pregnant again, Mary?” he suddenly asked, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “I seed you as much as possible, and still nothing.”
“I do not know,” I lied quickly, thrown off balance by the question.
He just grunted and went back to petting me and