Chapter Twenty-Two
Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes, the pain of what was happening to her so great, so traumatic, she did not know how much longer she could endure it. She slowly sliced the hard cheese and set it on a plate, which she had to wash before it could be used it was so filthy, and placed a hunk of hard bread next to it.
“Stay strong,” she whispered to herself. Then she pasted a fake smile on her face and hoped the redness of her eyes would not be visible in the low light.
Harry had started a small fire, the warmth helping to take the coldness from the cottage and the dampness from her clothes, as well as heat the water for the tea. He sat in a wooden chair, a grin on his face as he placed his boots next to the fireplace.
Sarah stared in horror at the man’s bare feet. Then the stench hit her so hard she feared she would collapse, the smell being worse than she had ever encountered in any stable or even on the docks of Weymouth.
“Hungry,” Harry grumbled, snatching the bread and cheese from her hand. He took a bite of the bread and then the cheese, the smacking of his lips taking away any sense of hunger Sarah might have had. She grabbed a cloth and grasped the handle of the kettle that swung over the fire, the hot liquid steaming as she poured it into a chipped teapot. At least the tea smelled drinkable.
“I figure once we leave here and settle down,” Harry said, a few bread crumbs falling from his mouth as he spoke, “we can start our family.”
“Family?” Sarah asked, her heart racing.
He nodded. “Six of the little bastards running around. Make sure you give me some daughters, too, so they can marry some fancy men with money.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Six children? She would not have one with him let alone six! Not only was the thought repulsive, but they would more than likely inherit the smell of his feet. She would be outcast even among the common folk, a fate worse than the one she found herself in now.
He began to speak of their life together and Sarah forced a smile, though inside she shuddered with fear. Fate had been more than cruel to her that she would have to bear him many children. But no, even that was not the worst of it all. She stared at the tiny kitchen and swallowed a groan. She would have to work and serve this man. That was more painful than anything she could have imagined. She wiped at the tears that threatened to fall. If she could promise herself one thing, that would be that this man would never see her cry. Ever. Yet, the tears came, and try as she might, she could not stop them.
“No need to cry, my love,” Harry said as he finished the last of his cheese and bread and then wiped his hands on his shirt. This brought on a new deluge of tears, and soon Sarah was sobbing into her hands in front of the fire. Why, oh why had she run off? She had jumped straight from the boiling water into the fire. Or was it from the frying bacon into the fire? Sarah could not remember exactly how the saying went as she had never had to deal with cooking and fires in that way, but all she knew now was that she was burning in the depths of Hell. “Now, now, what do you say we get to bed?”
Panic rushed through Sarah. “But we are not wed. I think it best until that day, do you not?”
He reared his head back and barked a laugh, spittle flying up in the air. “We do things a bit different than what you’re used to,” he said as he leaned forward, a grin on his stubbled face. She stared at him wide-eyed. “And don’t sit there and tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Are you implying that I have been with a man?” Sarah asked, the tears now replaced by outrage that he would speak in such an offensive manner. When she managed to escape from this peril, and she would, she now had no doubt because there was no way she would endure the gall of this man, she would write a book about it. Though she wondered briefly if anyone would be able to read a story so foul without being overcome with fear and thus unable to finish it.
However, the look Harry gave was much different than what she had expected. Rather than the mocking he had done previously, his face had a curious look to it. “I figure you lot did all that with each other all the time.”
She shook her head as she glanced around the small room. She needed to find a way to keep them both from the bedroom for as long as she possibly could, if not forever. If she had relations with him, her life would be ruined. She did not know why, but the advice Ingrid had given to her at the Horse and Plough came to mind. She searched the room until her eyes fell upon a bottle of liquor and an idea formulated in her brain.
Sarah stood up and thrust out her bosom as Ingrid had taught her, and Harry's one good eye went wide as he wrung his hands together in anticipation. “Though I have not had any experience with men, there are certain things of which I am aware that a lady in my standing must do before coming together with a man,” she said, saying the words slowly in an attempt to give herself more time to allow the plan to develop in her mind. Seeing that Harry's single eye had not moved, she continued, her heart racing. “Do you remember the night we met? How you kissed my hand?”
“Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “What about it?”
She walked over to the small wooden stand and took the bottle of rum from it, relief rushing through her when she realized that it contained more than enough of the spirits for her plan to work. “Your lips were coated with this,” she continued, her back to him as she spoke so he would not see the lies in her eyes, “and when you pressed them against my knuckles, it was all I could do to contain myself.” She turned back toward him to see his reaction and was pleasantly surprised that it seemed he was buying her story.
“Is that so?” he said, his voice sounding bewildered.
She walked over and handed him the bottle. “It is so. It is called…the courtship of the…two birds,” she said. “Yes, that is what it is called. ‘The Courtship of the Two Birds’.”
“Well, that’s a funny name, ain’t it?” He pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and rather than pour himself a glass like any decent man would do, he lifted it to his lips, pulled back his head, and drank directly from the bottle.
Sarah shuddered as she watched his ill-bred mannerisms. Retaining the forced smile to cover her disgust was almost her undoing.
“This ain’t rum,” he said with a grimace. “It’s brandy. No self-respecting man would drink this at a pub. He’d be accused of puttin’ hisself above the others.”
“Rum, brandy, it makes no difference whatsoever. What does make all the difference is that you drink some sort of liquor for the courtship to be successful.”
He seemed to accept her explanation and pushed the bottle toward her. “So, what happens next?” he asked.
Taking the bottle from him, she slid her thumb over the opening and brought it to her lips. She leaned her head back just as he had done and allowed a very small trickle to pass her lips and slide down her throat; however, she gave the illusion she was drinking much more than she was. Even the small amount burned her throat, and she coughed despite how little of the fiery liquid she had drunk.
“Might want to go slower,” Harry said with a laugh. “Don’t need you passing out before we finish this courtship bird thing.”
Sarah handed the bottle back to him. “I thought men of your caliber could handle their liquor. Besides, you must drink more for the courtship to be successful.”
Harry narrowed his eye, his eyebrows crunching together. “You tellin’ me the truth?” he asked, his voice skeptical.
Sarah nodded, placed her hands behind her back, and pushing her chest forward, quickly erasing the speculation from his face. “I am,” she said as she stood and began pacing back and forth across the small room. “For this ceremony to take place, we both must drink. Then when the brandy is at its full potency within our bodies, it will release the proper emotions through your lips onto my hand.” She stopped in front of him and held her hand out. “Then, and only then, may we join together as one.”
“Sounds lovely,” he said dreamily, taking her hand and planting a wet kiss on top of it. It was all that Sarah could do to keep what little she had eaten in her stomach as his lips moved across the top of her hand. She had been violated before by this man and here he was doing it again. But the violation was the price she was willing to pay if it led to her escape. Though she would live in shame the rest of her life, she had to push on.
“Now, that was good,” she said, pulling her hand back, “but more brandy is needed.” She pulled the bottle from him and pretended to drink once again. “Do you recall the night we met, Harry?”
He nodded, then took a drink from the bottle. “I told you I did. I knew then that we were meant for each other. It’s why I had Marcus come with me to find you.”
Sarah returned to her pacing. Pacing was the only way to get her mind to remain on her plan. Plus, it was what helped her to think and unfold her tales. “You were quite drunk,” she said. “I believe you had difficulty standing and your words were slurred.”
Harry gave her an indignant look. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “Or is there?”
“Oh, my, of course not! That is my point. It made your lips become looser, which, when they were upon my hand, caused great desire to stir in me.”
He raised a single eyebrow at her. “I did that to you?” he asked in amazement.
She stopped her pacing to stand before him, her smile as wide and captivating as she could make it. “It was all I could do not to tear my dress off my body right there and then.” She shook her head sadly and returned to her pacing. “Though, I wonder if you could bring about that same passion in me again. Perhaps it was only meant for that one time.”
“We will see about that,” Harry said with the determination for which Sarah had hoped. “I can let the emotions get to my lips again,” he said. He then took a long drink and then lapped at his lips. “Now, let me see that hand.”
Sarah presented it again, closing her eyes against the violation that was about to befall her once again. She grimaced at first when his lips pressed against her knuckles but then glanced down as he continued to rain down his kisses.
“How’s that?” he asked in an unsure, and quite slurred, voice. He was now on his knees, and his stance wavered in his attempt to remain so. Sarah’s plan was bringing on the desired effect.
“Harry, I believe it is working!” she shouted with glee. “I am finding it difficult to breathe, and my body is filling with desire. Do not stop now!”
Much to her delight, he took another drink from the bottle, this time not even offering it back to her, and then kissed her hand once again. There had been almost a full bottle when they started and it would take a while for him to finish it off before he finally had enough to collapse in a drunken stupor. So, summoning all of her strength and allowing herself to be violated for the sake of freedom, she presented her hand once again to Harry.