Forbidden Love (Sapphic Historical) (2 page)

Well, there was no danger of
that
happening, I thought wryly, offering her a vague, embarrassed reply.

My first calf-love had been for a housemaid at our country estate – I was only young, but I’d been smitten with the older woman, feeling a fluttering sensation in my stomach whenever I’d come across her. I’d found her generous figure beautiful but of course at the time I hadn’t quite realised the level of my attraction to her. I was
more
than certain now. Shapely women were the ones who turned my head, not handsome, cheeky young men.

I watched – or stared, rather – quite unconsciously as Helen extracted dozens of pins from her dark blonde hair before running her fingers through the thick waves. She groaned in delight as she massaged her scalp. The low, throaty sound had my skin goosing.

“Been dying to do that all day. Help me with these buttons, will you? Usually I get mum to do it but you’ll come in handy for that if nothing else.”

In the mirror, I saw her amused look, the teasing light in her eyes
at her gentle mockery.

“Anything to earn my keep,” I arched a brow, before going over and helping her with her tricky fastenings, and once undone, she stood and continued to disrobe, oblivious to her audience.

I found her confidence shocking for the girls at my school had always been body conscious and prim about such things; it had been bred into me – into all of us – that we were to be modest about our bodies and how we presented them.

My heart racing, I quickly slipped from the room as the sight of her buttocks encased in thin undergarments was exposed. Although she wasn’t any blood relation, it was still shameful for me to find myself roused by her and I cursed myself as I slowly descended the narrow staircase, wondering why I couldn’t be normal like other girls, getting that funny, fluttery feeling in my stomach about a handsome
man
rather than a beautiful woman.

***

“She’s
really something, isn’t she?”

I frowned at William’s whimsical tone as the two of us cleaned the dishes from dinner, the task utterly alien to us, before realisation hit. “
She
is our
cousin
,” I hissed under my breath in outrage.

William rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be a twit – you know she’s not. Not
really
. Why, we’ve never ever seen any of them before now. Some family, eh? The older brother is a bit of a cold one, isn’t he?” William mused then, placing a still greasy plate to one side, and I scolded his laziness.

“Even so,” I shook my head. “She’s – she’s-”

“What? A beauty? Indeed. That’s one thing I’ve noticed up here – the women are rather more…abundant, than the women back home, aren’t they?”

“You’re a fool,” I tutted in disgust. “They’re no different here than they are there. Now, pull your weight, will you? I’m having to re-wash all your dishes!”

As I trailed up the stairs a little while later, I considered William’s words again, thinking how dissimilar Helen was from my aunt who was thin to a fault, her face all sharp and severe angles. William was quite correct in one regard, for Helen had a well-curved figure and her face round and pretty. I wondered why she hadn’t yet married, for she appeared a good few years older than I was, and I’d turned twenty a few weeks ago; many of my friends were already engaged to be married. It was the norm.

Helen’s room was dark and she was already tucked up in bed when I reached it. I quietly undressed and put my nightgown on, staring out of the window at the starless sky for a moment, thinking how far I was from Surrey, when Helen said loudly:

“Well, get in the bed, then.”

I jumped in surprise and turned to see her sitting up in bed, holding up a corner of the blanket, the moonlight from the open curtains bathing her generous, thinly clad figure in light.

Mortification hit me as I wondered fretfully if she’d seen me undress.

“Are you sure the bed is big enough?” I mused doubtfully then, padding across the floorboards.

“Well, it’ll have to be – unless you want to sleep on the cold floorboards!”

The smell of her hair – clean with a slightly floral scent – drifted over to me as she fidgeted for a while.

“You’ll be alright tomorrow,” she said then on a yawn, patting my arm. “Don’t fret about it.”

“I’m not fretting,” I said archly, wincing at the primness in my voice.

Helen snorted beside me. “Aye, you are, I could see your nervousness at dinner. Nothing to be ashamed of. It’ll be the first time you’ll be working, after all,” and then a moment later, there was silence save for her steady breathing.

How she could fall asleep so quickly given our uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, I didn’t know.

I stared at the dark ceiling for what seemed like hours before the creeks at the staircase outside announced that everyone else was retiring for the night, and then the house stilled entirely. Much as I tried, I couldn’t find ease in this strange bed in this strange house, shifting about the bed in frustration.

“Will you give it a rest?” Helen whispered suddenly, annoyed.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

I turned onto my side, shifting to the very edge of the bed, my body stiff as I deigned to keep from disturbing her again but I couldn’t help the rather dramatic jerk as she turned and her length pressed against me.

I felt the heat of her through my nightgown, was sure I could feel her heavy breasts against my back.

I shivered, wanting to die of mortification and shame as a hot wetness gathered between my legs. My centre throbbed slowly, a dull, hateful reminder of my perversity in finding Helen – a
female
– attractive.

Pressing my warm face to the coarse pillow, I prayed for the blissful numbness of sleep to claim me.

***

“Did you sleep at all?”

Peering vaguely across the dark room at the question, I shrugged tiredly.

It was still pitch black outside – a time when one should be safely tucked up in a warm bed, not hopping about from toe to toe as a biting chill swirled around you.

But all traces of grogginess left me as Helen stripped off unashamedly, throwing her nightdress over her head. Her large, naked breasts bounced as she briskly moved about the cold room, and despite the darkness circling us, I could make out more than enough from the moonlight: her nipples were hard from the cold, her areola large. The bush between her legs was dark and small.

I turned away on a belated jerk.

“You’re not shy, are you?” I heard her amused rebuke then, my head pounding slightly. “You hoity toity lot are a right bunch of prudes!”

I said nothing, knowing that my voice would most likely shake with the repressed desire beating through me.

Helen laughed again and sailed past me to the door, now fully dressed, as I struggled out of my nightgown. I listened to her retreating footsteps a little anxiously, hurrying to dress.

By the time I arrived downstairs, Helen was already buttoned up and ready to set off, a frown pulling at her lovely brow.

“You’ll make us late,” she warned, urging me to hurry, and I mumbled an apology.

We entered the dark, empty street, the bitter winter chill hitting me hard.

“Suspect it’ll snow soon enough,” Helen mused as we traversed the narrow pavement, and the journey up to the manor house I’d be working at for the foreseeable future passed in sleepy silence once we’d mounted the conveyance which, each morning, collected the few workers who didn’t board at the house.

I watched as the narrow buildings that made up the port village disappeared; as acres of forestry and greenery replaced the dismal display that was now my home.

As my place of employment came into view I gasped, full wakefulness coming to me. My father may well have been a wealthy man before his troubles but it had been nothing compared to this. The Moreland’s manor house was a sprawling white-brick beauty, the grounds surrounding it lush and expansive.

We entered through the servant’s entrance after dismounting, something I found amusing and novel given my life of privilege on the other side thus far, and I was put to work swiftly, peeling and chopping mounds of potatoes and other vegetables for breakfast. My mouth watered as the cook, a thin, sallow looking woman, fried my morning’s efforts in herbs and butter.

When it came time for the staff to eat their morning meal in the small servants hall where Helen had informed me the staff congregated on their breaks, it was well past ten and I felt almost lightheaded having picked at my food last night.

Shyly, I stared around the cluttered space, taking in the people laughing and chattering as I sat alone. I’d seen Helen briefly thus far and she had barely acknowledged me when we
had
come upon one another. I felt slightly sore at her dismissal but shrugged it off – we were not friends. We were not even family, really.

“Cheer up, love. First day can’t have started off that badly. You’re Helen Simmonds’s cousin, aren’t you?”

I finished off the last of my breakfast, nodding, warily eyeing the boy who had just taken a seat next to me on the bench.

“Well, what’s your name, love?” he leaned across the table, grinning.

“Lara,” I supplied before rising from the table, but he stayed me with a hand over my own.

“Stick with me and I’ll show you the ropes – been here since I was ten. I know how things go ‘round here.”

Helen’s earlier warning came back to me, and I smiled sardonically. “Thank you – however I shall be perfectly alright.”

His handsome face twisted slightly and I felt my face warming at my prim, clipped response.

“Suit yourself, your
highness
,” he scoffed on a mocking laugh, earning quite a few mocking looks from those in the room.

I hurried away from the servants’ communal room in embarrassment for it wouldn’t be long, I thought in regret, before news spread of my ‘airs and graces’ if that boy’s expression of disdain was anything to go by.

***

By the time I left
the Moreland’s it was dark, a fact I found depressing since I’d risen in pitch blackness only to step outside again after a full day of work to the same.

Helen scoffed when I mentioned this. “Best get used to it now that it’s winter – you’ll barely see daylight,” she tutted as we entered the house.

I bumped into my mother on the upstairs landing, her face pale and drawn.

“Oh, it was awful,” she moaned as I enquired after her day. “I don’t know how
people
endure
it.”

I shook my head at her lack of tact, but at least she had the good sense to whisper.

“I need a new dress, mama – my plain grey one was still too fancy. I’ll need something black and also a white apron-”

“Nonsense!” my mother cried, frowning. “I see no earthly reason why we should be expected to dress badly just because our station in life is currently difficult.”

“But mama, I was scolded this morning by the head housemaid – I haven’t a choice in the matter.”

“You can borrow one of mine,” a loud voice declared then, and my mother and I started as Helen climbed the stairs, my mother looking far from impressed at her brazen eavesdropping and boldness.

“Oh – well, thank you,” I nodded.

“Though they’ll probably all be too big,” Helen mused, as I followed her into her room.

She looked me up and down critically and
the urge to self-consciously cover myself was strong.