Fic: 'Harry & the Pirate VI: Blood and Treasure (Jack/Harry, etc. - 19/20)
Chapter Nineteen: Sweetness and Light
A few days before the wedding, the Norringtons journeyed from London to Lincoln by post-chaise. Aunt Caroline deigned to ride in the second carriage with George and Weatherby Swann, and the brothers had been so solicitous of the lady’s comfort and kept her so thoroughly entertained that she was in quite a good humor as Anne’s family checked into Lincoln’s finest inn.
The brothers bid the Norringtons adieu and journeyed on to Fleet Hall, but the very next day Captain Jack, Lady Harry, and Tom came to Lincoln, and Tom and Anne were reunited at last, albeit under the watchful eyes of their mothers and Aunt Caroline. Their fathers went off and met together with Jack’s solicitor, Harold Clarence, who had also come up from London, but it wasn’t long before a marriage settlement agreeable to all was established, set down in writing by Mr. Clarence’s thin, pale clerk, Mr. Timmons, and signed with all due ceremony. A celebratory dinner ensued, followed by a walk in the park, some shopping, and a light supper. Then Anne and Tom parted for the last time before their wedding.
It was surprising how quickly the two intervening days flew by, but almost before she knew it, Anne’s mother was waking her in the dark before dawn for the drive to Mavis Enderby. The Sparrows had reserved the whole of the Golden Lion Inn for the Norringtons’ convenience, and it was in the well-appointed room where Tom had plied her with dinner and his notorious punch that Anne bathed and donned her wedding finery. Lady Harry’s dresser, Amelie, had been sent over to help, and to create a superb coiffure for the occasion, and her exclamations regarding Anne’s beauty could not but please.
“Such hair, like spun gold,” Amelie said as she worked. “And see how it takes a curl? One has but to touch it with the iron.”
“I’m so happy you’ll be coming with us on the Christiana,” Anne said, smiling at Amelie’s reflection in the mirror.
“Oh, but yes!” Amelie said. “Louise and I will take excellent care of you and Tom, and we will visit our relations - for the first time in years! Why, I have a cousin in Paris who has six daughters! Six! Would you believe it?”
“No sons?” Anne’s brows drew together.
“Not a one,” Amelie asserted. “Ah! But I see that you worry that the same may happen to you. Voyons, can you imagine such a thing from a Sparrow? No! Sons you will have, mark me.” And she smiled and stroked Anne’s reddening cheek with the back of one finger. “You look forward to this evening, no?”
Anne laughed a little nervously, glad that her mother had left them for a few minutes. “I do, of course.”
Amelie sobered, though her eyes still smiled. “Your mother has told you something of this?”
“Yes. And my aunt.”
Amelie nodded wryly. “Ma petite, it will be well. Your Tom loves you as he does himself. And after all, he is a Sparrow. Put away doubt, and go fearlessly to meet your joy.”
It seemed excellent advice.
The day seemed truly blessed from that point on, and it was with a happy heart that Anne took Tom’s hand before the altar two hours later.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here… I, Thomas, take thee, Anne, to my wedded wife… I, Anne, take thee, Thomas, to my wedded husband… With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow… In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost…
There were tears shed-by the fond mothers, not by Anne. Tom’s heart was in his eyes from the moment Anne entered the church, and she almost had to laugh at the worshipful way his gaze sometimes lit upon her during the next few hours, as they drove in state back to Fleet Hall, were greeted as man and wife by the servants for the first time, and enjoyed an al fresco wedding breakfast with their families and neighbors.
But when Anne excused herself briefly at one point, Tom waylaid her as she was headed back outside, pulling her into an alcove.
“And how are you today, Mrs. Sparrow?” he murmured and kissed her - a very different kiss than they’d exchanged in church.
Her arms went about him in the most natural way, and she returned the favor, though there was laughter beneath it.
“What?” he demanded.
“I just love you, that’s all,” she said. “Can we go soon, do you think?” And suddenly felt herself blushing.
He chuckled, and murmured, “Lord, I hope so,” and his lips brushed her warm cheek, her neck… collarbone… the slight swell of each breast. He straightened and said, solemn and wide-eyed, “You’ll be gentle with me tonight, won’t you?”
And she burst out laughing. “Oh, Tom! What am I going to do with you?”
“Anything you like, love, upon my soul and honor,” he said, and kissed her again.
*
The Christiana sailed along like a swan, a steady breeze behind her and the shimmering path of the full moon lighting her way. But it was Joshamee Gibbs who held her steady, his hand at the wheel, quietly directing the picked hands that made up the crew. They were older men, and most of them married, and Tom and Anne had thus been spared some of the more ribald humor that might otherwise have been their lot before retiring on that first night.
That first night…
They’d drawn the stern gallery drapes, but had left a gap and now, in the small hours, as the moon drifted down toward the horizon, golden light flooded in, waking Tom to enchantment. Anne was asleep beside him, facing him, still and beautiful, her pale hair spread over the pillow, her cheek flushed, her perfect lips a deeper, even more delicious pink.
It had gone well, Tom thought, though he would never forget those terrible, wonderful moments when he’d made her his own. Brave lass. He’d tried to use her gently and make a quick end, but his own sweet agony had made him tremble and groan, and though there’d been a glint of tears on her cheeks, there had been something like triumph in her eyes as she’d wrapped herself tight around him, inside and out. His faint protest -- Anne!… Anne, no- had been countered with a rather fierce, Yes! Now! and she’d kissed him deep and moved beneath him, and her hands… it was no wonder he had not been able to keep back that harsh cry.
Which he supposed was only fair, considering the gratifyingly intense culmination that had resulted from his careful efforts in preparing her. She’d been eager, yet there had been a touch of shyness, too, and he’d murmured instruction and encouragement as well as love between kisses. Time and patience: a delicious torture for them both, and he could still feel how she had writhed against him in the final minutes, how her fingers had gripped his arm hard, then harder. And finally, she’d opened her eyes-Tom! -and then she was coming apart for him, for him, turning her face against his shoulder after her first small shriek, imperfectly muffling the rest until it was too much for her and he gently hushed her as he gathered her close.
How had he come to deserve such happiness?
And now, as he watched, she drew in a deep breath and stirred. He reached up and brushed a finger against her cheek, and her eyes opened again and met his.
“What time is it?” she asked, her voice so young and uncertain that his heart turned within him.
“Late. Or early. About an hour to dawn. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Are you?” To his delight she ran her hand down his side, under the covers, to his hip, then hesitated just a moment before her fingers drifted down and around, exploring.
“Anne,” he whispered.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, blushing but curious.
“No… just… don’t stop.”
She didn’t, but she did say, “Shall we try again? It might be better a second time.”
Her smile was teasing, and he found he had to kiss it from her lips, though this caused her to release her more intimate hold in favor of hugging him close with both arms, and moving her hips against his most provocatively. “Oh, you wanton!” he gasped. “You’ll be the death of me… though I’ll go willing enough, God knows.” He slid his hand down and beneath her backside. “Mine,” he said, caressing, then pinching that perfect, rounded flesh.
She gave a little gasp of laughter, but her reply, “Yours! ” was most earnest.
His smile faded slightly in the weight of that moment. “I love you, Anne.”
“I know. And you know: I’ve always been yours.”
The truth of that filled him with such joy that he had to kiss her again at length, and wonder at the miracle that had made the blossom of friendship flower with such perfection.
They had been children together. He could not remember a time without her, mischievous, loyal, trusting. And even when they’d been parted he knew now that she’d held his boyish promise close in her heart: We'll marry, and I'll never look at another female again, long as I live.
It had to be admitted that he’d looked at a few in these last years away from her, and much more than looked, in a few instances. But even those encounters had been savored with an eye to the future, and in the long months at sea it was Anne that he’d thought of, the sweet girl he’d left behind, now grown and ready to take her place beside him. Lord, when he’d seen her that first time, in the Norringtons’ foyer, before that fateful night at Vauxhall… well, he wondered that his Sparrow sangfroid had not entirely deserted him. She was more beautiful even than he’d dreamed.
He ended their kiss and moved to the side, watching her as he let his hand roam, holding her gaze, delighting in her changing expressions: the bitten lip, the sharp intake of breath. Her blue eyes widened. “Tom….oh! ”
He could barely breathe.
Treasure.
Heart pounding, he bent his head and whispered against her ear, “Shall I show you some things, sweetheart? Do you trust me?”
She shivered, but he saw that her lips curved as she whispered, “Yes. Oh, yes,” and she gave herself up to him.
Concluded in Chapter Twenty: Bring Me That Horizon