Summer Of Love Part 10

"But I saw you get dressed. Did you get into the water again?"

"No, there's a narrow entrance above the water. Come, I show you."

She took his hand and led him to an opening near the rear of the cave, partially hidden behind a rectangular slab that seemed to fit perfectly into the hole.

Helen was keenly aware of their naked closeness and noticed that he tried hard to keep his gaze on her face, but couldn't prevent his eyes darting to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"You may embrace me, Andrew, but promise not to do anything else."

She put her arms around his neck. He held her close, skin touching skin from top to toe, and began to kiss her pa.s.sionately. While one hand traveled up and down her back, the other cupped a breast. His manhood felt hard against her. Suddenly, he lifted her up and lay her on the soft sand, a few steps away. He pushed her shoulders gently to the ground, stretching out next to her, his chest touching her bosom.

Alarmed, she exclaimed: "Andrew, no. We mustn't."

She tried to rise. He held her down, kissing her, and murmured in a husky voice: "I won't do anything you don't want me to do, I promise."

"You do? Really?" she stopped struggling, still hesitant, torn between her mind and her senses.

"Yes, I do."

His free right hand began to explore her body, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her flat stomach, the copper curls of her raised mound, her thighs, coming to rest again on her bosom. His palms felt so soft and warm. Propping up his head, he seemed to drink in her womanly body.

"Stop looking at me like that. I feel embarra.s.sed."

He kissed her.

"But you're beautiful. I want to burn this sight into my mind, so that I can find it again at night, when I'm longing for you."

She smiled bashfully.

"Are you getting cold?" he asked, touching the raised nipple of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Yes. We better go outside and get dressed." She felt suddenly anxious.

They left the cave the same way they entered. She let him dry off her back with his plaid, and then they dressed quickly.

"I was afraid for us in there," she said, taking his hand, and leading them back behind the goat shelter.

"I know. Didn't you trust me?"

"For a moment I wasn't sure anymore. But I was even less sure of myself... If you had asked me I would have given myself to you."

"If you got pregnant, your father would have to let you marry me."

She looked at him, smiling briefly, but then a frown clouded her face. "I'm not sure. I don't trust him." She held him. "Oh, Andrew. Sometimes I'm so afraid that something terrible is going to happen."

"We'll be more careful. Maybe I'll wait on top of the boulders at the head of the glen until I see you coming, rather than be on our rock, ... although I loved meeting you there. It has a special meaning for me. That's where we met the first time, ... that's where you told me you loved me."

Andrew had great difficulties to find sleep that night. He was strung almost to breaking point, Helen's sensuous curves constantly in his inner eye. Finally, he relieved his s.e.xual need and fell into a restless slumber. But the inner tension was still there next morning. He would have liked to talk to somebody, to share his turmoil, maybe to get advice. He knew that he wanted to make love to Helen. It was like an irresistible physical urge. Was there no way to make love without risking to get her pregnant? And how did one make love, anyway? But he knew n.o.body that he felt close enough to trust, except for Helen. And he could hardly ask her. More than ever, he became aware of how alone he was in this world, and she suddenly became even more precious.

What about Mr. Graham? The old man had several times offered a fatherly word and given him good advice. Should he talk to him? All morning he vacillated. Finally, he mustered his courage and asked the ailing man if he could join him for lunch. It was served in the factor's chambers.

Dougan was very pleased to see his young charge in a social way, and chatted away of all sorts of things, starved for an audience. He lamented much about the hard times, referring mainly to his own declining income which was a percentage of the rents collected. Twice he asked Andrew whether he might not be a bit too lenient with the tenants who were bound to take advantage of his inexperience. Andrew a.s.sured him that he was tough, but fair, and that he never granted any extensions without paying the applicants a visit first. But he kept quiet about the McGregors being in arrears.

After spending more than two hours with the factor, he still hadn't found a way to bring up his own problem. And then the old man fell asleep almost in the middle of a sentence.

Paying a visit to a tenant, as he had earlier explained to Dougan Graham, he returned late and missed dinner with the gentry in the mess hall. Instead, he went down into the kitchen to ask for food. Having served their masters, the cooks, their helpers, and the maids were eating their own dinner and invited Andrew to join them. The open, often vulgar banter between the men and the maids made him blush, but also p.r.i.c.k up his ears.

"Michael, I hear, our sweet Anne's locked her door to you," exclaimed John, one of the cooks, grinning broadly to the maid in question.

"Yes, indeed, she did, the ungrateful damsel, after I gave her a new plaid. There you see how they just take advantage of our soft hearts."

Anne feigned outrage and said haughtily: "You bought that plaid for a penny from a soldier. It wasn't new. And you know why I locked you out. I don't want to be with child."

"But why did you then let me eat your little p.u.s.s.y in the first place?"

The males around the table began to snicker.

"Did she now? And was it sweet as honey?" one asked, rolling his eyes at Anne.

She pulled a face at him, not at all embarra.s.sed. "You'll never know, Duncan!"

"It was delectable, and she was wriggling and cooing like a little turtle dove, she was," said Michael, and turning to Anne he pleaded: "Honey-dove, aren't you keening for your lover?"

"I'll have you back after you've spoken to the minister," Anne answered firmly, glancing at her fellow maids self-righteously.

Shouts of "ho ho", "she's telling you", "she got you pinned down now", "that'll tame you", "she'll see you in church," greeted her response.

"You can speak, John! Didn't your own dame kick you out of the conjugal bed too?" interjected the third cook.

"Yes, I did," exclaimed one of the maids who seemed to be in her late thirties. "I won't have another babe."

"What do you want me to do then? Tie a knot?" John mumbled with a full mouth.

"Nothing that drastic. Just pull your sweet little thing out before it spurts!" was her caustic response, met by whistles, catcalls, and laughter. She simply shrugged her shoulders and continued eating.

"You've heard it," shouted John. "You've heard it all. My own wife's offending my virility, calling it a sweet little thing. I bet a shilling that I'm bigger than any one of you b.u.g.g.e.rs."

Andrew did not quite know whether the man was really angry over his wife's remark or simply play-acting for fun, but he couldn't help blushing. The maid, sitting across, watched bemused and then said: "We'd better curb our tongues a bit. We're embarra.s.sing our wee laird here."

Andrew went crimson all over. Everybody laughed in good nature.

John winked at him and asked: "And how many of these lovely young ladies have succ.u.mbed to your good-looks, master Andrew?"

Before Andrew could find an answer, one of the young maids came to his rescue: "He's very respectful of us. He treats us like a gentleman, like all of you should."

"Admit Martha, you really want us to woo you."

"Yes, but also showing proper respect, like master Andrew does."

"Oh, I think the reason he isn't after you is that he has a la.s.s somewhere else," Michael burst out, a twinkle in his eyes. "Isn't that so, master Andrew? That's why you order such big lunches and go out riding so early in the morning two or three times each week."

Andrew nodded, finding that agreeing was most likely to get the talk away from him. In fact, during most of the dinner, he had not said a word, nor had he understood all of the allusions made. Only later on, lying in bed, and thinking about the remarks, did several of them fall into place.

On their next two meetings, both Andrew and Helen made an effort to control their pa.s.sion. They kissed and cuddled, sheltered behind the goat hut, rather than playing, running, and lying in the heath. The constant danger of being discovered by Helen's mother or father bound them even more closely and added fuel to their pa.s.sion. So their tacit restraint faltered the time after. Before they knew it, they lay intertwined in the soft gra.s.s, teasingly shedding each other's clothing, discovering each other's bodies.

"Helen, I want to make love to you."

"Andrew, I want it too, but we can't. I don't want to be with child. Please, don't press me."

"There's a way. I can withdraw before I come."

Her own urges unleashed, she needed little convincing. "But will you? Promise!"

"Yes, Helen, I promise," he replied huskily, kissing her again, renewing his fumbling love play. When he sucked her nipples too strongly, she begged him to be more gentle. When he rubbed her crotch too hard, she took his hand, touching herself lightly. In a flash of understanding, more of the cooks' banter fell into place. He explored her inner thighs gently, encouraged by her quickened breathing, his own excitement rising. When he pressed his swollen member into her thighs, she parted her legs, raising them, and guided him to her opening. He pushed timidly, but the blockage held.

"You've to help me, Helen."

She strained against him and suddenly it gave. A gasp of surprise and pain escaped her. Then she smiled and raised her lips to his. When he began to move slowly in and out, she responded, meeting his thrusts ever more vigorously, her arousal heightening with each. And then suddenly, he withdrew with a groan and almost collapsed next to her. In a desperate frenzy, she reached for her opening, clasping it with both hands, pressing her thighs together, as a wave of unbearable pleasure remained suspended, on the verge of breaking, but not quite, and then suddenly burst, crashing through her body, making her cry out softly. For a few seconds she lay still, letting her excitement slowly ebb away. Then she turned to face him. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes shone brightly, exuding their love shared.

After a while, propping his head up, he leaned against her, his right hand resting lightly on her breast. She folded her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmured into her ear and she responded, a glow in her eyes: "I love you too."

The tip of his index traced the curves of her body, the shape of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach, around her belly b.u.t.ton, over her flat belly to the copper fuzz on her mound, down the inside of her thighs, up over her protruding hip bones, finding her left breast, making narrowing circles around the pink areola, his soft palm cupping the nipple when it hardened, gathering the softness.

"That feels good. Don't stop," she whispered.

He smiled happily, kissed her, and let his finger take up its journey again.

"I want us to get married, Helen!"

"Yes, I want that to, Andrew."

"I'll send a letter to your father, asking him to let me talk to him."

"No, Andrew. Let me talk to them first. Prepare them."

"Will you do it soon?"

"Yes, I promise."

They bathed in each other's eyes, in the love shining in them, remaining locked together for a long time, a smile occasionally deepening their fire.

8.

The following day-it was late August by then, Mary told Helen to bring the goats back, that they would move down into their cottages in the glen. Helen blanched and uttered a distressed "Not yet, mother. Can't we stay another few days?"

"Why? What's there to keep us up here? It's more comfortable down there and warmer at night. There's enough pasture for our goats."

Helen was at a loss of what to answer. If they left the next day, she would miss Andrew and couldn't tell him of their return to the clachan. But she couldn't admit that to her mother, nor could she muster the courage to tell her that Andrew had proposed, despite her promise to him. She sensed that her mother's mood was rather dark. So she simply repeated her plea: "Just two more days, mother, please!"

"What's the matter? What difference will two days make?" Her mother's eyes narrowed, and she said accusingly: "You are meeting somebody at the lochan, aren't you? ... I've suspected this for a long time. Who is it?" She stared at her sternly and then raised her voice sharply. "I ask you to tell me who it is, la.s.s."

Helen did not answer, just matched her stare stubbornly.

"Oh, I can guess. It's the factor's apprentice, isn't it?"

Helen felt the blood rush into her face, but replied, defiantly: "Who else could it be? You knew that the food I brought home didn't grow under planks in a goat house."

Her mother shook her shoulders violently, and almost hissed in an effort to keep the voice down: "La.s.s, I told you two years ago not to get involved with that lad. It can only lead to trouble. You hear me?"

As her mother's agitation increased, Helen's decreased, and she became suddenly icily calm. "What kind of trouble?"

"He is gentry! He's just out to take advantage of you-has anything untoward happened already? Is that why he brought you food? Tell me, child, I must know."

Helen chose to ignore her mother's questions and answered: "He's different. He wants to marry me."

"They all say that until they get you pregnant, and then they drop you like a hot coal."

"He loves me. I know. I love him."

"He's a Campbell. You cannot marry him. Father would never agree, not after what he did to us."

"What did he do to us, except help? Was it not he who helped Betty and me getting away that day? If all he wanted was to have me, he could have done it right then and there. Was it not he who revenged you? Father, with all his big words hasn't raised a finger yet. And he helped us survive, when we had no food. He said he admired you. He said that he would have liked to have a mother like you."

For two or three seconds, Mary seemed lost for words, then she shouted: "What do you know of men? You foolish girl! I forbid you to see him again, ever! You hear me?"

"I love him. We want to get married."

"You stay away from him, or I'll send you to my cousins in Balquhidder. They'll keep you safe."

"You do that and I'll run away with him. We'll go to America. He has enough money."

Mary's agitation bordered on the hysterical. She again grabbed Helen and shook her wildly, shouting, her voice almost snapping over: "You can't! You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because ... because he is your brother!" groaned Mary and broke into hysterical sobbing.