Talisman Ch. 4: Lucy McFey

"Love me, Richard," she whispered.

Faulkner began to move, pressing gently forward, then easing aback until he almost left her, coating his prick with her juices, then pressing forward again. She felt tight about him, tighter even than Lucy, and he knew it could not be long before he must spend. He lengthened his strokes, letting her feel the length of his weapon, enjoying the slither of his prick in her quim; enjoying, too, the sound of that slither and the soft springy feel of Emma's pubic hair rubbing against him as he moved.

Emma had closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of Richard Faulkner's prick within her, enjoying it, abandoning herself to the sensation, feeling herself fill as he pressed forward, empty as he pulled back. Her arms were around him, not clasping but touching him, stroking him as he moved. Her hands moved lower, to his buttocks, stroking him, feeling the flexing of his muscles as he thrust vigorously into her. She reveled in his thrusting, feeling unfamiliar but wonderful sensations welling in her, so that the world became only her quim and Richard Faulkner's prick, raising her, lifting her, taking her to levels of pleasure she had never anticipated. Her breathing quickened so that she was almost gasping for breath.

"Oh, Richard!" she gasped.

"What is it, dear heart?" he managed to say.

"I know not. I feel so…. I feel… I, oh, I feel…. Oh, Richard," she cried as her climax took her and carried her to pleasure on a wave of sensation she had never experienced before. She was dimly aware of Faulkner's own ecstatic thrusts as his own climax took him and she sank back into the bed, clutching him, gasping for breath, almost unconscious, drifting….

When she became aware of her surroundings again, her first sensation was weight. Faulkner was lying on her, his arms clasping her, his breathing laboured as he too came back into awareness. She could feel him still within her, but smaller now, shrinking. She giggled, suddenly.

Faulkner eased himself to his elbows and gazed warmly down at her. "What is it that amuses you so? Is my lovemaking so bad as to be worthy of your laughter?"

"No, no," she cried, smiling, shaking her head in denial. "'Tis just that I have ne'er seen your prick in anything but its most mighty state, yet I feel it diminishing within me."

Faulkner chuckled. "You will soon see the insignificant reality of me, dear one, for I must either withdraw purposefully, as if meant, or else I shall suffer the indignity of falling out, rejected by that sweet opening that I have violated."

"Never violated, Richard, do not say that!" Emma cried. "Say rather, awakened."

"Awakened, it is. Nevertheless, I must withdraw." So saying, Faulkner gently moved to remove his softened prick from within Emma's quim. Easing himself back and sitting back on his heels, he looked down and grimaced ruefully.

"What is it?" asked Emma, concerned.

"Proof, if proof were needed, sweet Emma. I am stained by your virgin's blood."

"Oh, I am glad that you have that proof!" Emma sat up and looked at him. Soft and limp his weapon now, coated with her juices, those both of love and of lost virginity. She smiled at him. He leaned forward and kissed her, just as there was a tap at the door.

Lucy came in, a wrapper about her shoulders but unfastened, her lovely body still on display. She carried a tray with a jug of water and a soft towel, which she deposited on the dresser. She came over to the bed and bent to give Faulkner a brief but positive kiss, then bent over to kiss Emma. She glanced down and smiled.

"Was it well with you, Emma? Did my cousin satisfy those urges that you and I developed in your sweet body?"

"Oh, yes, Lucy! I never dreamed before today that I could feel such pleasure."

"Aye, I felt that way too, when Arthur took my own maidenhead and rendered it history." Lucy glanced over at the clock in the corner of Faulkner's bedroom. "'Tis almost one. I think we should take luncheon and renew our strengths."

"Almost one," cried Lucy. "I should be preparing things for dinner tonight!"

"And I must leave and go on to Newcastle. I can make it by evening and will return as soon as I can tomorrow," said Faulkner. He smiled ruefully at the keen disappointment showing on the faces of both of the women. "My sincere apologies, my lovely ladies, but I must. It is a business matter and Thomas Anderson leaves for London on tomorrow afternoon's tide. I must see him ere he leaves."

"Go then," said Lucy dismissively. She shook her finger at him. "But hurry back, else Emma and I find another lover."

Emma blushed and giggled, but said nothing, although she thought to herself, 'Never another. Only Richard Faulkner is welcome within me.'

"Bathe yourselves, and I will fetch your clothes, Emma," said Lucy.

A scant hour later, Lucy and Emma were finishing their luncheon. Faulkner was gone to Newcastle, his promise to return as soon as possible renewed with a kiss for each of them.

"Emma, it is only we two for whom you must prepare dinner tonight, is it not?"

"Yes, indeed, dear Lucy."

"Is there nothing cold on which we might sup?"

"Indeed there is, Lucy. May I inquire as to your questioning?"

Lucy smiled. "It is but two of the clock, and you promised to show me some of the Wall. If we go now we can be back well before sunset and satisfy ourselves with a cold supper and an early night." She smiled meaningfully and Emma detected a hidden purpose in Lucy's suggestion, a purpose that resulted in a tingling within and a moistening between her legs.

"Get your coat. I shall harness the gig and we shall be away directly."

And they were. The day was bright and sunny and they chatted happily, or rather Emma listened while Lucy told of Arthur Pendleton, as Emma drove the gig towards the line of the Wall. She pointed. "See, the wall runs along the top of yon escarpment. We must drive a little way yet before we can approach it on foot; there is a path along here that we can take." They arrived at Emma's chosen spot and tethered the pony, walking up the steep path until they arrived at the ruins of that great feat of engineering, Hadrian's Wall. Lucy exclaimed at the views northwards towards Scotland.

"Just imagine," she said, "what is must have been like to have been a Roman soldier on this wall, defending the Empire against invaders. I think this wall could tell many tales."

"The folk hereabouts talk of ghostly regiments marching through the night," said Emma, smiling, "but I have never seen them."

"Oh, that is too exciting, Emma. I fear I shall dream of nothing else!"

Emma laughed. "There are worse dreams, dear Lucy. Come, let us return. I want to be home before sunset."

They returned to the gig and turned it homeward. Approaching the crossroads where they would turn towards home, a rider approached from the direction of Newcastle. Spying the women, he reined in his horse and waited, doffing his hat in greeting as they approached.

"Arthur!" cried Lucy. "Emma, it is Arthur, come to rescue me as he promised!"

"Lucy, is it you?" cried the stranger, hurriedly dismounting. "I saw the gig and thought to ask directions. I can scarce believe my fortune in finding you so readily."

Lucy by now had leaped heedlessly from the stationary gig and rushed into Arthur Pendleton's arms, raining kisses upon his face. Eventually, he disengaged himself from her embrace and turned toward Emma. He bowed in greeting.

"Arthur Pendleton, madam, at your service. May I ask whom I have the honour of addressing?"

"I am Emma Dodd, housekeeper to Colonel Faulkner, sir."

"Excellent. This is well met indeed. May I please ask you to ask Colonel Faulkner to do me the honour of receiving me, Miss Dodd?"

"I shall, sir, but I fear that Colonel Faulkner is in Newcastle on business. I expect his return tomorrow. I shall ask him then."

Pendleton's face fell. "I had hoped to see him tonight." He sighed. "No matter, a day will make no difference. Tell me, pray, where I may find accommodation?"

"Arthur can stay with us, surely, Emma?" asked Lucy excitedly.

"I fear not, Lucy," said Pendleton ruefully, "it is not meet for a single man such as myself to take a bed in a house where only the ladies are present. Not so, Miss Dodd?"

"I fear you have the truth of it, sir."

"Accommodation, then?"

Emma pointed. "There is an inn a scant mile along there, sir. They cater for travelers such as yourself. Food and bed; simple fare, but sustaining."

"It sounds capital. May I have a private word with Lucy?"

Emma hesitated, and then smiled. "I shall admire the wild flowers over there, sir. In sight but out of earshot."

Pendleton smiled, a smile of great charm, Emma thought. "I am in your debt, Miss Dodd," he said simply, and then turned to Lucy.

Emma walked out of earshot and pretended to study the wild flowers growing at the verge. Pendleton seemed amiable enough and she thought he showed some semblance of resolution in following Lucy this far North. Emma smiled. From the candid tales Lucy had told of his prowess, he was also an excellent lover. She looked up to see the lovers coming toward her hand in hand.

"It is agreed, Emma. Arthur will stay at the inn tonight and call on Richard tomorrow. Will it be all right if Arthur calls tomorrow morning and escorts me on a ride?" she asked winningly. "I couldn't bear not to see him again until Richard returns."

"With your permission, Miss Dodd, as it seems you are in charge of the household until Colonel Faulkner's return," said Pendleton.

Emma thought for a moment, but could see no harm in the suggestion. "Very well, Mr Pendleton. We shall expect you after breakfast tomorrow."

"Thank you, Emma," said Lucy, turning to kiss Pendleton. "I shall see you in the morning, my love. I can scarce wait. I shall not sleep a wink tonight."

"Do try, my sweet," said Pendleton, smiling. He kissed Lucy again, bowed to Emma and mounted his horse. "Until tomorrow," he said and wheeled his horse towards the inn, waving a hand in farewell.

"Oh, Emma," cried Lucy. "I am so excited, with Arthur so near."

Emma laughed. "Calm yourself, my dear Lucy. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. Ah, I see Dan and Maria have returned. I shall ask Dan to saddle the grey mare for you in the morning. You have your habit with you?"

"Oh, yes. I feared that riding might be the only entertainment here, so I made sure to bring it." Lucy laughed. "Tomorrow will never arrive!"

Supper was soon behind them and as nine o'clock came Lucy stood. "I am going to bed now, Emma." She smiled and reached out to touch Emma's cheek. "Please join me, Emma, you can help me to sleep," she whispered.

Emma pressed Lucy's hand against her face, and then turned to kiss the palm. "I shall, dear Lucy, just as soon as I have cleared away our supper dishes. Go, while there is still light. I shall be along directly."

As soon as she had cleared away the dishes and set things ready for breakfast, Emma undressed in her own bedroom and donned a wrapper over her nakedness. She tiptoed down to Lucy's room, only to find the younger woman in a sound sleep. Emma smiled and bent over, lightly kissing Lucy's cheek, then quietly made her way back to her own room. She reached for her nightgown, hesitated, and got into bed naked. She lay for a while reflecting on the day's events, then flushed in remembrance at her wanton behaviour with Richard Faulkner. She had behaved like a strumpet, flaunting her nakedness before him and urging him to penetrate her virgin body. But, oh! How she had thrilled to his touch, how she had enjoyed his caresses! How she had welcomed the invasion of her body by his mighty weapon! Emma felt herself moisten just at the thought of Richard's touch. But Richard is not here, alas. What am I to do? She smiled. Pretend, she thought, and let her hand stray to the fork of her legs. This is Richard's hand, not mine, she told herself as she began a gentle caress.

Emma woke to find Lucy standing at her bedside, the light of morning at her window.

"You did not come," said Lucy, pouting in reproof.

"I did. As I said I would, but you were sound asleep and I had not the heart to wake you."

"You should have." Lucy leaned forward and kissed Emma on the lips. "But now I shall go and get ready for dear Arthur arriving."

"And I shall go and prepare your breakfast."

"May I eat with you in your little parlour, Emma?"

"Of course, whenever you are ready. I'll bring a jug of hot water for you directly." Emma kissed Lucy lightly and swung her legs out of bed, mildly surprised to find herself naked.

Lucy smiled at her, with eyebrows raised. "Naughty Emma, not wearing her nightgown," she teased.

"A lesson you taught me, Lucy. Now go, for I must wash and dress before I can prepare our breakfasts."

Breakfast was cheerful, for Lucy was eagerly anticipating Arthur's visit and Emma in her turn was looking forward to Richard Faulkner returning home. It was not long before Lucy, watching eagerly from the window, clapped her hands in delight.

"It is Arthur," she cried, "come to fetch me." She ran to the door to welcome him. Emma followed her. Lucy was on tiptoe, kissing Arthur Pendleton in welcome, but when Emma came up Lucy turned to her. "Will Dan have my horse ready?" she asked eagerly.

Emma laughed. "I asked him to saddle her just as soon as he spotted Mr. Pendleton, Lucy. And look, there he comes now with her."

Emma was soon waving goodbye to the young couple. When noon came without their return she was not anxious, for she knew that they were eager only for each other's company, but as midday moved into late afternoon she began to worry. With Lucy's absence Emma also began to ask herself why she had let herself be dragged into a sexual liaison with Lucy. Yes, and with Richard Faulkner, too. How he must despise her, for giving in to him so easily. Whatever had become of the level-headedness for which Richard Faulkner admired her? She had shown no sign of it yesterday, that was certain, letting herself be taken out of wedlock like a common trollop. What was she thinking!

So it was with mixed feelings that Emma spotted Faulkner as he made his way up the lane towards the house, easy in the saddle like the cavalry officer he had been. Her heart lifted just to see him, but her mind raced as she wondered how to greet him. Her mind was in turmoil as she tried to tell herself to be formal when part of her wanted just to fling herself into his arms.

Faulkner was smiling as he came inside where she awaited him, a smile soon lost as she greeted him with a formal, "Good evening, Colonel, welcome home."

A part of her mind berated her for her stupidity as the smile disappeared, replaced briefly by a terrible sadness before he replied coolly, "Good evening, Emma. Is Lucy around?"

"Ah. No, Colonel. Miss McFey went riding with Arthur Pendleton."

"Pendleton is here?" There was surprise in Faulkner's tone.

"He arrived yesterday. He wished to call on you this morning, but when I told him you would be delayed he asked if he might take Miss McFey riding. I could see no harm in that."

"Indeed not, Emma. How long have they been gone?"

"Since ten this morning. I confess I begin to be anxious for their return."

Faulkner looked hard at her, frowning. "Since ten?"

Emma nodded.

"Did they say where they were going?"

Emma shook her head. "No. I assumed they would just ride the lanes for a while."

"They may have got lost and will return directly. In the meantime, I would be grateful for some food."

"At once, Colonel." As Emma turned away she caught a frown on Faulkner's face and a thoughtful look in his eye.

Emma served Richard Faulkner's dinner and then retired to her little parlour. Eight o'clock came without Lucy and Pendleton, then nine o'clock. At ten, Emma went to Faulkner's study.

"Colonel, I am worried about Miss McFey. What can have become of her?"

"I, too, Emma. Have you been up to her room?"

"No," said Emma, surprised. "I saw no need to."

"Come," said Faulkner. "Let us take a look." He lit a candle and led the way up the stairs to Lucy's bedroom. Inside they looked around, seeing nothing untoward until Emma turned back the bed covers.

"Colonel, a note!" she cried, holding it out to him.

"What does it say?"

Quickly, Emma opened the note. She read aloud. "My dear Richard and Emma, I hope it will be evening before you read this, so that we will be well on the road. Arthur and I are going to Gretna Green, to be wed. I hope you will wish us well. We both hope for your own happiness together, too. With fondest love, Lucy." Emma's voice trailed off and she looked at Faulkner. "They must have planned this last night, for Lucy never went back to her room following Pendleton's arrival this morning."

"We can do nothing tonight. I will leave at first light." Faulkner regarded her gravely. "And what of us, Emma. Only last night you told me you loved me, but since my return you have been most cool toward me."

Emma forced herself to face him. "I thought you must think me the most common trollop, the way I let you take me. I…" She faltered, not knowing quite what to say.

"Emma, Emma," said Faulkner gently. "I think you are a most uncommon trollop. You are a beautiful and passionate woman and my dream of heaven is to be in your arms." He moved closer and put a finger under her chin, raising her face so that she must look at him. "Am I no longer welcome in your bed, dearest Emma?"

Emma burst into tears. "Oh, Richard," she stammered, "You will always be welcome in my bed." Faulkner put his arms around her and held her to him. Emma buried her face in his chest, happiness bubbling through her. Faulkner held her for a moment, then eased his embrace.

"I have a confession," Faulkner began, just as Emma began to speak.

"I must tell you," she began, then stopped. She gestured to Faulkner. "Speak first, my dear."

"It's about Lucy," he began, and then paused.

"You bedded her," said Emma. She took his hand as he looked at her, guilty, astonished. She put her finger on his lips as he began to speak. "I saw you, Richard. I heard a moan. I thought she was ill and came downstairs to see. The door was ajar and I saw the two of you. I'm sorry, Richard, I did not mean to spy on you." Emma shrugged. "I think watching the two of you made me realise how much I loved you. And when Lucy seduced me into her bed, her intent seemed only to have you bed me in my turn." Emma smiled. "That, my dear, I would not resist if my life depended on it."

"Can you forgive me?" asked Faulkner quietly.

"Of course, for I believe Lucy has becharmed us both," cried Emma.

"The pendant," said Faulkner thoughtfully.

"What of it?"

"I think Lucy's pendant has affected us. It must be something of that ilk, for I would not ordinarily bed my own cousin's daughter, even if she were begging me to do so." Faulkner smiled ruefully. "I fear I did not need much persuading."

Emma laughed. "I have seen Lucy's unadorned beauty, dear Richard. Remember? Were I male I fear I too would have little resistance if she were trying to lure me into her bed."

He looked at her warmly. "Her beauty pales against your own, my love." He smiled. "The carvings on the medallion. Shakti and Shiva, I believe. I saw things when I was in India that defy conventional wisdom," said Faulkner seriously. "If I were told that the pendant was bewitched I might find it hard to deny. We must count ourselves fortunate that it is Shakti who affected us and not Shiva the Destroyer." Faulkner looked deep into Emma's eyes. "Tell me, Emma. Tell me true. Do you love me?"

"With all my heart," said Emma simply.

"As I love you," said Faulkner. He grinned, the sombre mood over. "To your bed, my love," he said. "I will join you directly, if I may?"