Castaway

Chapter 11: Resolution

Despite Sidney's promise to continue the 'conversation' they had commenced on the clifftops, once they reached the cottage, tied up the pony and fed and watered the poor, tired beast, they were both so weary that, after visiting the privy, they simply tumbled into bed. Within seconds, Sidney was snoring loudly, but although Charlotte was tired to the bone, she found it difficult to fall asleep, mulling anxiously over the future and what it might hold. Eventually, she poked Sidney in the ribs to stop his racket, rolled over and closed her eyes.

The day dawned brightly. Charlotte awoke to find her lover behind her, gently manhandling her; there was no other word for it. Softly kissing her neck and fondling her breasts, his groin was pressed firmly against her back.

"Oh, my love," he murmured in her ear, "Let me have you. Please."

Without making a reply and, smiling to herself in pleasurable anticipation, she parted her legs a little wider and guided him inside with her hand. Sidney groaned in ecstasy as their bodies joined, piercing her soft folds with his slow yet firm thrusts. In her half-asleep state, Charlotte simply gave in to the exquisite pleasure of being desired, wanted and loved, the intensity of their lovemaking transporting her far away from the mundane world in which they existed, casting aside all her worries about their future. Surely, this is what life was for. How blessed, how lucky they were to have found each other again.

As his cries lessened and his breathing calmed, Sidney held her close, remaining inside her as he softened, whispering words of love into her neck.

"You are very eager this morning, Sir," she laughed.

"Charlotte, please, I had no human contact for five years. Allow me a little pleasure, if you will."

"Is that all I am to you? Human contact?" she teased.

Sidney squeezed her tight. "No, my sweet, you are the love of my life."

She turned her head to kiss him, but just at that moment, there was a sharp rap on the front door. "Who can that be? At such an early hour? I hope nothing is wrong with Molly." She sprang up from the bed, hastily pulling on her shift and her wrap. "Stay there," she instructed him, hurrying downstairs.

Another urgent rap on the door. "Who is it?" she called timidly.

"Mr Collins," came the terse reply.

Hesitantly, she opened the door a crack to see the long nose of the parson inclining towards her. "Good morning, Mrs Grant. May I come in?"

"It is very early, Reverend," she blustered, arranging her disordered hair.

The good vicar gave her an obsequious smile, which did not however conceal his impatience. "I need to speak to you on a matter of great urgency."

"Of course, Sir." Reluctantly, she led him through to the parlour, hoping he did not notice Sidney's boots, strewn by the front door.

The Reverend scanned the room, his ear cocked to the ceiling. "And where is little Molly?" he asked, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"She is at my sister's. I had... business to attend to yesterday."

"Yes, so I heard. You were seen last night, returning under cover of darkness." Reverend Collins drew himself up to his full height, leaning on his cane. "I will not beat about the bush, Mrs Grant. There have been rumours. The long and the short of it is that you have been seen in the presence of a man, and I have good reason to believe that this man has been residing in your house, nay, is here even now, as we speak!"