Into the Wilderness (58 page)

"Go
on," he said.

"Well,"
she said slowly. "There were other terms.
Sexual congress
and
consummation
,
and of course the biblical
fornication
,
but as we are married—" Her voice trailed away.

"
Vera copula?"
Nathaniel echoed.
Elizabeth felt herself begin to flush, not with embarrassment this time, but
with irritation.

"It's
a simple question, Nathaniel," she said. "I just would like to know
what you call this act, as almost all of the terms I have read do not seem
appropriate."

He
was smiling at her, and she didn't like it. She began to pull away, but he held
her tight.

"Let
me go."

"Oh,
no."

"Why
are you laughing at me?" she demanded, her throat tight with longing and
mortification.

"I'm
not laughing at you," he said, dipping his head to kiss her, but she
turned away and he caught the crest of her cheek instead.

"You
are. It's quite clear that you're laughing at me, and I won't have it. I've
been worried about you for so long and waiting and ... wondering. And you gave
me this necklace of your mother's and now you are laughing at me." She
knew she made no sense, but the choices available to her at this moment were
anger or tears, and she would not weep. She would not.

Nathaniel's
face had cleared of all laughter, but he didn't try to kiss her again.

"I'm
sorry," he said. "But I just can't imagine you sitting in your
uncle's library making a study of this topic in his medical texts."

"Why
not?" she asked. "I read all his books."

He
shrugged. "Why not. Well, I suppose because you were so set on yourself as
a spinster. I'm surprised you could bring yourself to read about something that
didn't concern you."

"I
hope to never have plague or gout, either, but I read about those things,"
she said, knowing that she sounded peevish. She was not being completely honest
with him, and it irritated her to be made to explain herself when all she
wanted, really, was a simple answer. And the demonstration he had promised her
so many days ago on the nature of satisfaction. She glared at him, but he
looked back at her without flinching.

"And
I was curious." she added, reluctantly.

Nathaniel
nodded. "Aye, I can believe that. But most young ladies don't have the
opportunity or the nerve to take up a study of the subject, do they?"

This
insight took Elizabeth by surprise, and she nodded.

"Wait
a minute," Nathaniel said. He stood, unfolding his long legs and pulling
her up with him. Then he settled himself on the cot, and her next to him,
tucked into his side with his arm around her shoulder. Elizabeth came to him
willingly, although she was a bit surprised at this change in direction and
purpose.

"So
tell me about the other words."

Elizabeth
sat away to look at him, but his face was open and his expression guileless,
and he waited for her response.

"What
do you mean?"

"You
said almost all the terms that didn't suit. Which ones did?"

She
tried to turn away, but he kept her where she was.

"No,"
he said. "We've started this discussion and we'll finish it, by God,
otherwise you'll never be satisfied. Tell me what you read, Boots." He
still was not grinning, and Elizabeth settled in next to him, with some
reluctance.

"Two
phrases come to mind," she said slowly. "The first is from
Timon
: "Lovelie Venus sported and
with Mars consorted.’ " And because Nathaniel was quiet, she carried on
without daring to meet his eye. "The other was from a collection of
letters. I can't remember anymore who the author was, but the sentence remains
with me. "They were made one flesh by bodily fellowship."

"Is
that all?"

"Do
you want to hear more?" she asked, surprised.

"If
you want to tell me."

She
shook him a little, in frustration. "This all started because I wanted you
to tell me about your words, and now you've made me give you a history of my
reading habits and I must say, Nathaniel, you have quite ruined my mood."

"Oh,
have I?" His hand had moved up her arm to her neck, where his fingers
tangled lazily in the loose hair curling there. Her skin rose at this gentle
plucking, and she gave up her frown with a small sigh.

"Maybe
not altogether, then."

"Perhaps
not," she conceded, as his fingers continued on their quest.

"Now,
about those words you're so curious about. If you ain't satisfied with the
fancy terms you know, Boots, then I suppose we must find others that will
suit."

She
stilled then. His hands were moving over her, but it was his voice that had her
whole attention. He kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her ear.
"I'm going to undress you now. And then I'm going to make love to
you—that's the name we'll put to it for the time being—and as we go along, I'll
tell you what you want to know." He blew lightly on the moisture he had
left on the soft flesh under her ear and she shuddered with that. "I'll
tell you what it is we're doing, in my own words. Will that serve?"

She
nodded, because she could not speak.

"And
I'll ask you questions now and then to see if you've been paying
attention."

Elizabeth's
mind was fuzzy with the heat of his mouth at her ear and the pressure of a palm
against her breast. It seemed that suddenly there was not enough air to
breathe. He took his time kissing her, a long, soft kiss that made every nerve
in her flare and then pulse. In response to his gentle prodding, she raised her
arms over her head and Nathaniel pulled the shirt up and away, his hands so
warm on her naked arms, running down her sides to pull her shift out and up.
Then it was gone too and her skin rose in goose—flesh; he was looking at her,
his eyelids heavy and his wanting so clear on his face.

"And
if you get confused, well, then we'll start again."

She
looked down at herself, her plait lying over one shoulder, a dark cable against
her white skin. Her breasts, and between them the flower of silver and pearl.
Nathaniel leaned back and pulled her down against him so that it was caught
between them, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. He kissed her mouth
while his hands moved lower to cup her hips. There was a spreading sensation in
her that ran like a warm tide.

As
she sank further and further into the universe that Nathaniel created with his
hands and mouth and body, Elizabeth's perception of their physical surroundings
faded, the smells of mineral springs and beeswax giving way to Nathaniel. On
some level she had an awareness of her pores opening and her own scent rising
to meet him. He was murmuring to her, talking to her between kisses and tangled
clothing, laughing softly against her mouth, puffy with his kisses.

As
they lay on their sides face to face, Nathaniel slid a knee up her thigh until
it lodged there at the juncture of her. He was watching her face while he did
this, his eyes flickering with satisfaction at her gasp. The warm, hard surface
of his knee rocked against her, and her flesh answered with an increasing
dampening and a sparking rhythm. In the back of Elizabeth's mind a connection
was made, between the pleasure of this particular kind of touch and what might
be possible, what he might have meant about satisfaction. Because she could not
find the words to ask this question, she hooked her knee over his hip to draw
him closer, but he held back.

"Not
yet," he whispered against her mouth. "Patience."

Patience
took on a new meaning, then, in the next long minutes. She had often used the
word with her own students as they strove toward some new skill, and she vowed
to herself never to use it again.

"Nathaniel!"
she said finally, her voice breaking, and he looked up from her breast.

"There's
no special word for this that I'm aware of." he said, grinning at her. In
response she batted at his head, hit him with the heel of her hand above the
ear. He caught her hand and then the other one, coming up to take her chin in
his mouth, suckling softly. She moaned then, and he stopped it with a kiss, his
length against hers and his weight concentrated where their hips strained
together.

"Yes,
there is," she gasped finally, her fingers flexing and stretching without
effect. "It's called teasing. And if you tell me to be patient—”

“But
if you're patient, darling', you'll hear those words you wanted. If you still
do want them. Aye, I see that you do. Well, then, listen, listen to me. With
his mouth at her ear he flexed and suddenly he was poised there at the quick of
her. She gasped, her eyes wide and startled, at the silky, hard touch. "Do
you know how fine you feel to me?" he murmured, his eyes flickering with
this, with his pleasure.

But
he drew away, his mouth trailing down between her breasts. She cried out in
disappointment and frustration and then stilled, her whole being startled and
frozen, as Nathaniel finally settled between her legs and set about the
business of teaching her, with great deliberation, about one kind of
satisfaction.

"Nathaniel?"
she gasped, her fingers in his hair, her mind reeling in panic and shock and
confusion. This could not be; there must be a mistake. But the rough caress of
his cheek against her inner thigh was real and so were the hands that cupped
her, spread—fingered. He murmured to her, soft words, as soft as the first
touch of his lips and tongue, and suddenly all the questions and doubts and all
the words in the world disappeared in a blaze of pleasure and Elizabeth let
them go without any regret.

And
when she had finally learned about satisfaction of one kind, when she lay
subdued and sated, her flesh still pulsing and leaping, then he came to her and
taught her about another. Arched over her, belly to belly and mouth to mouth,
Nathaniel taught Elizabeth what she had wanted to know, and he took his lessons
in turn.

* * *

When
she slept, he covered her with a blanket and stood looking down at her.
Carefully, gently, he smoothed damp curls away from her face, resisting the
urge to kiss her temple because she needed her sleep, and because he wanted a
few minutes to himself to think. But then, because he could not do otherwise,
he sat carefully on the edge of the cot to watch her. Supporting his weight on
one arm, he leaned in and lowered his face to hers, close enough to feel the
heat of her on his skin. In the soft candlelight he traced the sweep of her
eyebrow and the curve of lashes on her cheek.

Nathaniel
wondered that she could be both women, this peaceful one and the one who had
wound herself around him with such purpose, her mouth open in a circle of
surprise and wonder. The close memory of her heat, her weight in his hands, her
unapologetic desire, stirred him almost to the point of waking her. But he
mastered himself by degrees and leaned slowly away to rise, feeling the cool
air on his damp flesh. He blew out all the candles but two. One he left on its
shelf on the wall, the other he took with him to the spring where he lit a
torch.

With
a soft grunt of appreciation he walked into the pool and submerged himself,
holding his breath as long as he could in the heavy hot water, and coming up
with an explosion of breath and spray, shaking his head. He floated, spread—bodied,
feeling his muscles expand and loosen, his hair sweeping around him. With his
eyes open or closed he could see only Elizabeth. This evening they would sit
together and eat and talk; he had missed talking to her. Tonight he would sleep
with her alongside him. In the night she would turn to him and he would have
her again, because he wanted her already with a will that surprised even
himself. He rolled in the hot water and submerged himself again and again,
letting the images of her wash over him with the water.

In
the morning they would emerge into the daylight and confront what waited for
them. In the morning there would be no choice but to face it all, because by
the day after, they would be on the run again.

"You
cannot be serious," Elizabeth said, wiping a strand of hair away from her
forehead with the back of her hand.

Nathaniel
looked up over the edge of his tin cup, wondering exactly how angry she could
get.

"I
cannot, I will not believe this," she said, stirring the porridge with such
force that it jumped out of the iron cauldron to hiss and bubble on the rocks
below it.

"If
I understand this correctly, you are telling me that Kitty Witherspoon has
forsworn herself against me in a public court of law, and along with her Martha
Southern and Liam Kirby." She glanced up at him, her mouth set hard.
"Liam Kirby! The ungrateful—" She stopped, but reluctantly.

Nathaniel
was silent. There was nothing he could say to make this news better; in fact,
there were things still to tell her that she would not like at all.

Robbie
sat to the far side of the fire, cleaning his traps and getting ready to deal
with the beaver he had brought in, but his attention was primarily on
Elizabeth. He caught Nathaniel's eye now and shrugged sympathetically.