Chapter Text
The Kellynch garden was always a place of refuge for Frederick; if not for the brilliant flowers that caught his eyes, it was for the woman that examined them with such gentle curiosity. His gaze softened at the sight of her; his steps were light as he advanced towards her and planted successive kisses that traveled over her shoulder to end on her lips.
“Frederick! I did not think you would be here.”
“I managed to escape your sister, for she wanted to know if she could run across my ship.”
“What ship?” said Anne, laughing.
“Do not laugh,” said Frederick, grinning. “I tell you we will have a ship and I will take you wherever you wish. It shall be our own paradise.”
“A paradise that will be shared with a colony of men under your command,” retorted Anne.
“Those men will not bother us,” Frederick quickly replied. “And our ship will still remain a paradise, I promise you.”
Anne looked down in thought. “What if it doesn’t happen?”
“It will.”
“If it doesn’t?”
“It will, Anne,” cried Frederick in a somewhat irritated tone. “You must trust me. Luck has been a very good mistress to me and I doubt she would leave so soon without warning.”
His clipped manner of speech silenced Anne; her attention now shifted to an orchid that danced in the soft breeze. Frederick suddenly felt terrible and joined Anne as she traced the curves of the petals with her finger.
“Anne, I beg pardon for the quality of my response.”
“Frederick, I just wish to know if you have security in your station,” Anne replied humbly. “Luck may be your mistress, but she is fickle. She may remove any benefits at any moment and move to the next.”
“Luck has been very generous to me as she brought us together,” he said with a tilt and a smile. “Even if she is fickle, I am still a disciple of her teachings, for she has brought me a woman of great quality to be my wife.”
Anne rolled her eyes but inwardly blushed at his beautiful words. He bent his head and placed his palm on her cheek. He marveled at how soft she was, how responsive she was to his touch.
“Am I forgiven?”
“Do you think a pleasing smile is enough to persuade me?”
He smiled indulgently. “You find my smile pleasing?”
“I find your tongue too sweet for my liking,” she teased.
“How would you know? You haven’t tasted it yet.”
He closed the distance with a kiss and Anne willingly accepted it. Her lips parted as he tasted her, his tongue catching the faintest trace of the lemonade she had consumed earlier. His palms held her, as if she were the most delicate porcelain; however, she was made of firmer stuff. Anne was no wilting wallflower, she was made of flesh and bone that he craved, and she kissed him with a fervor that was more than pleasant.
“Frederick,” she whispered between kisses.
He pressed her against the wall, hiding her among the flowers. She held fast to him, as if she feared the ground would break underneath her feet and take her. She held her arms about his neck, sighing happily as he cradled her head and smiled into the kiss.
After a few more moments of delicious silence, Frederick pulled away. He adored the sight of Anne’s heaving breast and her reddened cheeks. Her lips were a tempting pink, and he could not deny himself the chance to caress her bottom lip and grant her one final lingering kiss, one that showered a tantalizing dusting of spice on her heart and made her nerves sing with exhilaration.
“You have earned my forgiveness,” replied Anne in a breathless voice.
“I am glad.”