Where Seagulls Soar (31 page)

His reaction was immediate, unashamed and predatory. There was a sudden intake of breath as he edged her closer, savouring the contact between them. He had a good body, lean, taut and
well-muscled. He stooped, his mouth brushing against hers, testing her vulnerability to his advance.

Her reaction was obvious, even to herself, for she allowed his exploration, fully understanding what it would lead to. She wanted him. She needed the comfort of experiencing love in his arms and
the oblivion that the physicality of it would bring.

She placed her palms against his face, her thumbs gently caressing the sensitive sides of his mouth.

He stopped kissing her to say, ‘Are you sure this is what you want, Joanna?’

‘Yes, it’s what I want. It seems so inevitable, somehow.’

‘It was inevitable the moment I first set eyes on you.’ He slid his hands down her back to gently cup under her buttocks, pressing her into him so she could feel his hard outline
against her softness, and know the strength of him. It was a subtle salesmanship of his manliness, but it was one tempered by sensitivity when he said, his voice ragged in his throat, ‘I want
you naked, but it’s so cold.’

‘There’s a warm blanket.’

She’d hardly finished speaking when his fingers were seeking the fastenings on her bodice.

She stilled his hands. ‘It will be quicker if we undress ourselves,’ and she began to divest herself of her clothing. When the task was done they stood there, naked to each
other’s feasting eyes for a second or two.

He reached out and brushed her hair away from her neck, gently touched the rope burns.

‘Ignore the bruises.’ Watching him frown, and the unspoken question gather in his eyes, she told him, ‘Bisley is capable of inflicting cruelty, but he lacks any manly urges or
qualities.’

Taking Seth’s hands in hers she drew him down on to the mattress and pulled the blanket over them.

He gathered her gently against him and they lay there, thigh to thigh, belly to belly and breast to chest, while their bodies lost the shyness of first contact. His hands smoothed down over her
buttocks, cupped them and pulled her closer. He grew harder against her belly before he turned her over on to her back. Propping himself up on one elbow he gazed down at her, his smile so faint as
to hardly be there. Joanna, who couldn’t breathe properly with the anticipation of knowing him, felt his heat reach out to envelop her.

She ran her forefinger along the length of his lips, then took his silky hair in her fingers and gently pulled his face down to hers so she could kiss him. He took the initiative from her,
making unmistakably suggestive and exciting little inroads into her mouth with his tongue, teasing her so she responded with her own.

From there, he slid downwards to apply a moist tongue to the rigid nubs of her breasts.

This was a man who was going to make a meal of her, who would make it his business to discover what pleased her, and who would coax her into enjoying what pleased him.

As the caress of his fingers against her skin brought her body to life she dared to taste and touch him in the same way. He seemed adept at finding something to exploit, so her sensual pleasures
were layered one on top of the other and anticipating release.

There was a sense of purpose about Seth. Gradually, he made every inch of her willing flesh part of his own, leading her into delights she’d never experienced, so she was helpless and
craving for more. Her mind and body were merged into one being, quivering with anticipation.

So when he straddled her hips, even if she’d wanted to, she was helpless to prevent his relentless slide into her body. He paused there, his eyes full of silvery light as he stroked the
strands of hair from her face, and she was sure the expression of need she wore was very apparent.

‘Seth,’ she murmured, tasting his name on her tongue as she moved against him.

Whatever he was looking for in her face, he found. As he began to stroke inside her, she arched against each mounting thrust and her muscles tightened around each slow withdrawal. His breathing
gradually quickened.

Joanna closed her eyes as the exquisite loving became too much to bear. Their bodies slid one into the other dewed by the moisture of desire. He sensed that moment when the pleasure peaked in
her, to join her in a frenzied climax of loving that ended when they tumbled over the edge and he collapsed against her with a final shudder.

She laughed from sheer relief that the tension between them had relaxed, and snuggled against him, her head against his racing heart.

There was the sound of water hissing along the hull. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘We’re moving. Do you think we untied the knots holding us to the shore?’

‘You’ve untied my knots,’ he whispered, gently nipping the lobe of her ear.

‘It was my pleasure.’

There was laughter in his voice. ‘I do hope so, but it wasn’t entirely yours, I assure you.’

Seth was different to Alex, who had often been a selfish and impatient lover, as if his mind was somewhere else, and the pleasure his alone to savour. There was nothing rushed about Seth. He was
aware of her every need, and some she wasn’t aware she had. He exploited them, making her deliciously aware of them too,

As contented as a cat, Joanna stretched against him. Enjoying the freedom of their mutual nakedness. Despite the cold creeping under the blanket with them her body was glowing.

‘I suppose we must dress.’

‘Of course we must,’ he said lazily. ‘But not just yet, hmm?’

‘No, not just yet.’ Already eager for more of him, she tilted her face up to his and kissed him.

‘The stupid old hag has run out on me,’ Brian muttered. He’d just eaten the last of the rabbit, which he’d boiled in a pot with the vegetables. The meat
was tough, the stew watery. He spat the bones on to the floor and gazed at the brat.

He’d been grizzling all night and was now asleep in a smelly patch of dampness. Brian thought he might be sickening for something. His face was flushed, his eyes were dull, his nose ran
thickly, and he wouldn’t eat or drink. He just turned his head away.

‘Well, that’s Durrington’s problem, not mine,’ he said to himself. ‘And if he doesn’t come and get him soon, I’m going to chuck the sulky little bastard
over the cliff. That’ll teach you for thinking you were too good for me, Joanna. We’ll see if you like that.’

He shut the door on the boy and went through to the other room.

The thought of his mother being at large worried him. If somebody fed her some gin and she opened her mouth he’d be done for.

He went out into the raw morning and piddled against the wall, sighing with relief. Something moved inside the mist.

‘Is that you, Ma? Where the hell have you been?’

When a skinny dog came to cringe around his ankles, Brian kicked out viciously at it. ‘Get away from me, you cur.’ It ran off, tail between its legs, squealing loudly.

He wondered if the ship had docked yet. No good trying to see anything until the mist had lifted. He had a mind to go to Bill Point, see if there was anything to steal from the local fishing
boats. And sometimes there was contraband to be found, stashed out of sight in the caves undercutting the cliffs.

He must take that ring to the Barnes brothers, too. They were the only people he knew he could trust, since both of them were as crooked as cripples. He should go now, before they went to open
their market stall in Weymouth.

But the ring wasn’t where he’d left it. He swore loudly. No wonder his mother hadn’t come back. ‘Solid gold that was, and the old sot has probably poured it down her
gullet and pissed it out through the other end. You wait till you come home, Ma. I’m going to give you a beating you’ll never forget.’

In the other room, the boy gave a cry as he woke up with a start.

Slamming the door back on its hinges, Brian gazed at him and shouted, ‘Shuddup!’

Toby cringed away from him and began to sob quietly.

The next morning, Mrs Abernathy was at Weymouth market. She liked to get there early, to browse amongst the second-hand stalls in case she came across a bargain.

People sold all sorts of valuable items when they were hard up. The month before she’d bought a pretty gold locket for next to nothing, from a woman with several ragged children to feed.
Mrs Abernathy had managed to haggle her down in price, though.

When she came across the gold ring she paused. It was unusual, with a pair of clasped hands, and heavy. She had the feeling she’d seen it somewhere before.

‘How much?’ she said to the stallholder.

He shrugged and named his price.

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘It’s solid gold.’ Barnes shrugged. ‘Take it or leave it.’

As Mrs Abernathy walked off in high dudgeon, a man stepped forward. ‘I hear you wanted to see me?’

‘I have some information regarding Brian Rushmore.’

The man’s eyes sharpened, and then Barnes showed him the ring and whispered what he knew in his ear. The man nodded and handed over some coins for the information.

Leaving it until the end of trading, Mrs Abernathy caught Barnes just as he was packing up his stall. Smirking a little, the offer she made was lower than the first one.

Barnes the younger stared at her. The woman was a Kimberlin from the island, one of the quarry owners’ wives. She was a mean-natured woman, he’d heard, and could afford to pay more
than that. He shook his head.

‘How do I know it’s not stolen?’

‘’Twas sold to us by Mother Rushmore . . . her who lives up at Southwell and is mother to the Reverend Lind’s wife. We told you the price earlier. D’you want it or not,
missus? We can’t stand here all day.’

‘It’s daylight robbery,’ she grumbled, thinking it a disgrace that the reverend’s mother-in-law had to sell her jewellery to these thieves to survive. And she’d
tell Tilda Lind so the next time she saw her. She fumbled in her bag and threw the money on the stall. Sliding the ring on her finger she stalked off to catch the cart back to Portland with her
purchases.

‘Yes, missus, it probably was,’ Barnes the elder said, and grinned at his brother. ‘But it’s no business of ours where Fanny Rushmore got it from, is it, Bob?’

As Mrs Abernathy made her way back home, a ship was coming into harbour. She hardly gave it a glance. It was one among hundreds to her. Gazing at the ring as she opened her front door, she
wished she’d stayed to haggle him down. She’d spent much too much on it.

But what was going on? She could hear one of the Misses Nash talking and the other one answering. Then the piano started and one of them began to sing.

It was irritating not being able to tell the two apart, and sometimes she thought the pair was laughing at her because of it. Well, that was all right, as long as the second one didn’t
expect to be paid as well.

Her husband’s deeper voice joined in with the chorus. Her eyes narrowed. What was he doing home?

There was a momentary silence when she threw the sitting-room door open. One Miss Nash was seated on the piano stool, with Harriet standing next to her. The other was sitting on the sofa with Mr
Abernathy.

‘Mrs Abernathy,’ the one on the sofa said. ‘I trust you had a good day shopping. You’re just in time for the concert. Mr Abernathy has just taken his turn with my sister.
Now it’s Harriet’s turn.’

As if she were mistress of the house. Mrs Abernathy intercepted a smile between her husband and the girl siting next to him. There was barely twelve inches of space between them.

‘Hussy!’ she said, her voice as outraged as she felt.

Both Misses Nash looked startled and the one on the sofa said, ‘Are you referring to me, Mrs Abernathy?’

‘Who else could it be, carrying on with my husband in my own house, and behind my back.’

The Miss Nash on the piano stool stood up. ‘How dare you make such a wild accusation against my sister. Singing together in the company of others cannot be classed as
carrying on
,
a rather vulgar expression, don’t you think, Lydia? I demand that you apologize to Lydia, and at once.’

‘Well?’ her husband said.

Mrs Abernathy’s hand fluttered to her breast. ‘I will not.’ Oh, why did she feel so intimidated by these superior girls? ‘May I remind you that we pay these people to
work for us, not to sit around singing. And where is Joanna Morcant, when she’s supposed to be cleaning my house today? That’s what I want to know.’

‘She was called urgently to London,’ Lydia said. ‘Today, in the absence of Mrs Morcant I have cleaned your house from top to bottom, so you will not be
inconvenienced.’

Irene’s glance narrowed in on the ring. ‘You’re wearing Mrs Morcant’s wedding ring. Pray, where did you get it?’

‘Joanna Morcant’s ring?’ she stammered, suddenly realizing why it had seemed familiar to her.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know it was hers. I heard you admiring it a few weeks ago. She told you it was bought for her by her late husband when they were in Melbourne,
Australia. She must have left it here the last time she cleaned. It’s very precious to her. May I have it, please? I’ll give it to her when she returns.’

Mrs Abernathy opened her mouth to refuse, then closed it again. ‘I bought this from a stall in Weymouth.’

‘And you didn’t question where it came from?’

‘Of course I did. The man told me that Tilda Lind’s mother sold it to them. The dreadful woman drinks gin, I believe. She must have stolen the ring, for I certainly
didn’t.’

Her husband was observing her in a rather speculative manner now. He wouldn’t approve of her spending all that money on a ring. She capitulated because she had no choice. ‘You can
have the ring back for the price I paid for it.’

‘Exactly how much was that?’ her husband asked silkily.

She hoped her lie sounded convincing as she hurriedly removed the ring from her finger. ‘Only five shillings. I thought it was bargain.’

‘Yes, no doubt it would have been,’ her husband said dryly ‘Perhaps you would hand it over to Miss Irene.’

‘And which one of these women is Miss Irene, pray?’

‘The one nearest the piano, of course.’