As a way to release her frustrations, Robbie wrote. Her story about Oscar and Madeline was coming along well, but it needed an antagonist. And who more antagonistic than a prim, wily, spoiled parrot named…Birdie? Robbie pondered that decision. Perhaps it wasn’t right, but it was true that Birdie was the perfect antagonist.
Suddenly she heard a crash, and a wail. Oh God.
She raced to Birdie’s apartment to find the porcelain water basin on the floor, in many pieces. She turned to Lydia. “Where’s Birdie?”
One eyebrow raised, Lydia said, “Flailing her arms and legs against the mattress, she is. I thought we were doing well; she could find the bathroom by herself.” Lydia pointed to the floor, “Then this happened.”
“It was an accident?”
“Aye, if she’d done it on purpose, I’d have given her something to cry about.”
Robbie’s gaze settled on Lydia; she almost pitied her. “Are you sorry you came?”
Lydia’s chin came up. “I am not a quitter. Truthfully, this is the most difficult patient I’ve ever dealt with.” She gave Robbie a knowing look, “And I’ve known many difficult patients, as you well know.”
Robbie helped Lydia clean up the mess, then went to check on her sister.
Just as Lydia said, Birdie was on the bed, face down, pounding on a pillow.
“Birdie?” Robbie prayed for a sympathetic tone.
Birdie rolled over. “I can’t do this. I just can’t. I’ve always had help, even when I could see. How does that woman expect me to do things blind when I didn’t even do them when I had sight?”
Robbie lifted an eyebrow. “You were always capable of using the bathroom by yourself.”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” She blinked repeatedly, as she often did now. “Am I so hard to look after?”
Robbie sat on the bed and stroked her sister’s arm. “I think you could use a little patience when you speak to others. In spite of how you might feel, you aren’t alone in the universe.”
Birdie sighed and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “If I thought I had it hard before, this is far worse than anything I could have imagined.”
“When did you ever have it hard?” Robbie couldn’t help it; she needed to ask.
“The minute Joey was dead, my life became miserable. Not only was I blind, but I was poor.” She screwed up her face and her lips quivered. “That was hard.”
“We were never anywhere near wealthy, Birdie,” Robbie reminded her.
“But I never wanted for anything. Papa gave me whatever I asked for.” She stopped a moment, then frowned. “Except for that pony I always wanted.” Then she gave Robbie a sly smile. “I didn’t really expect to get it, though.”
“You sure put up a big enough fuss,” Robbie answered, remembering the incident well.
Birdie lifted her shoulders. “It was expected of me.”
“Are you going to act your age now, when Lydia asks you to do something?”
“I’ll try. I can’t promise anything.”
With that, Robbie left and went in search of her husband.
• • •
She found him behind the barn, chopping wood. Without a shirt. She stopped and stared. He was beautiful.
He glanced up, aware of his lack of modesty, and stopped working long enough to grab his shirt.
“Don’t,” Robbie said, taking it away from him. “You are handsome.”
“Robbie, I—”
“Shh,” she answered. She stepped close and ran her palms over his chest. It was hard and well muscled with just a salting of blond curls across his nipples. “I’ve wanted to do this, you know.”
He didn’t move, but she saw confusion and perhaps even a little desire in his eyes. “But we’re outside…”
She smiled, continuing to touch him. “Yes, we are, aren’t we?” She looked around. “But no one can see us back here, Gavin.” She bent closer and inhaled his scent, now mixed with sweat and brawn.
“Robbie, I—”
“I’m going to kiss you, Gavin.” Not giving him a moment to react, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. She took his arms and placed them around her; she felt a thrill as they tightened.
He opened his mouth to say something, and Robbie put her tongue against his teeth.
When they separated, he said, “You know, you’re quite a naughty girl.”
She gave him a winsome smile. “Thank you.” She put her arms around his waist and held him close. “Have you ever had sex outside?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “No, minx, I don’t believe I ever have.”
She pressed herself against him, feeling him stiffen. “Would you like to?”
He glanced around. “I don’t see any place suitable.”
She took his hand and tugged him along into the trees. “Suitable isn’t what I’m looking for.” She saw a small shed beyond the barn. “What’s in there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he answered, taking the lead.
He shoved the door open; it smelled musty and earthy. The floor was hard-packed dirt and there were some old tools leaning against one wall.
“The floor is too dirty,” he said.
She shoved him against one wall. “We don’t need the floor.” She began undoing his breeches, finding him long and hard, waiting for her. In a matter of seconds, her underwear was on the floor and she hiked herself into his arms, hugging his waist with her legs, impaling herself on him. He held her easily, and they stood there a moment, simply savoring the feeling. They kissed again, face to face, their breaths mingling, their hearts pounding.
And then they began to move; not much, just enough so Robbie could feel his shaft rubbing against her. For her, the feeling came on so quickly she almost wanted to stop it and savor it, but she had no control over her hunger, and she squeezed him inside her and felt him explode just as she felt her own release.
Breathing hard, he lowered her to the floor. “You are a woman of many contradictions. You never cease to surprise me.” He pulled up his breeches.
She climbed back into her underwear and gave him a hooded look. “Good. I hope you like surprises.”
“Like this?” He took her chin and tilted it toward him. “How could I not?”
“I still haven’t had a good look at it, you know.” She didn’t mention that she’d seen him at the Tweed.
He gave her a half grin. “It’s always been dark.”
“It’s not dark now,” she teased.
“Right now he isn’t much to look at, not after you took such good care of him.”
She stepped close and put her hand over his crotch. “I want to see.”
“Only if I can see yours,” he tormented.
“Any time, but now it’s my turn.” She undid his breeches again and tugged them over his naked hips. His penis was still at half-mast, and it was nestled into the beautiful, thick, tawny bush she’d seen briefly before. She was almost dizzy. “Oh, Gavin, he’s beautiful, just like you are.” She touched it and saw it move, then touched it again. And again. She glanced up at him and cocked an eyebrow.
“He’s got a mind of his own,” he murmured.
“And what is he saying right now?”
“He’s telling me he wants you again, so drop your drawers, wife.”
• • •
Robbie met Lydia on the foyer stairs; her expression was pained until she noticed Robbie, then she smiled.
“Having problems with Birdie again?”
“She’s a handful, I’ll admit that.”
Robbie shook her head. “How are things otherwise?”
“Colin is reading to her now. She really seems to enjoy his company.”
“Well, of course she does,” Robbie countered. “He’s probably the only one who caters to her every whim.”
“That could get old.”
“I know it already has for me,” Robbie answered. “But men never seem to tire of my sister. She has some kind of hold over them. It’s almost mystical.”
“As long as he’s entertaining her, I’m going to help Mrs. Murray in the kitchen.”
• • •
Robbie went down the hallway to Birdie’s apartment and listened at the door. Yes, Colin was reading.
She opened the door a crack and peeked in. Birdie was nestled close to Colin on the settee, her eyes wide, a tiny smile on her face. And Lady, once Robbie’s sweet pup, was asleep on her lap. Colin glanced up, and Robbie put a finger to her lips. Colin turned the page.
“‘I resisted all the way: a new thing for me, and a circumstance which greatly strengthened the bad opinion Bessie and Miss Abbott were disposed to entertain of me.’”
As quietly as she could, Robbie stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Bless Colin and his willingness to keep Birdie occupied. Jane Eyre was an exciting read for anyone.