Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Time Travel, Historical,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In this sequel to A Timeless Love, Wesley suddenly finds himself a victim of the inexplicable time warp surrounding Margrave manor. Will he and Katherine have a happily ever after, or is their tragic fate inevitable? And will Finley be able to capture Jane's heart?
Wes stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he followed the monotone man around the old house. Sam, his best friend, stood beside him, acutely hanging on every word the tour guide said.
"This is a portrait of Charles's wife, Cynara Stanmore. There's actually..." but Wes wasn't listening. He hadn't wanted to come to this stupid house to look at old furniture and paintings, but Sam had dragged him along. She had always been into history, costume dramas, and the like. He indulgently went, for he found that it was hard to say no to her, especially when she was threatening him with refusing to go see the new Star Wars movie with him.
He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his mind wondering to other things. His boredom, though, quickly turned to a sort of nausea. He felt dizzy, and wondered how he had gotten sick so quickly. "I'm going to go wait outside," he whispered in Sam's ear, thinking he would feel better if he could get some fresh air. Sam gave him a glare, but then just shrugged her shoulders.
Wes left the tour group and back tracked down the stairs and outside the front door. The sun was shining brightly, and he walked down the little stone steps at the front of the house. He kicked some of the gravel when he reached it, staring off into the parking lot. He contemplated just going to wait by the car, but found himself circling the house instead.
It wasn't too bad looking, he had to admit to himself, rather large. There were gargoyles topping the roof, which he thought was pretty awesome. He could enjoy himself much better without that tour guide prattling information down his ear. The house was surrounded by large oak trees on either side. In the back there was a large yard filled with green grass. Wes would have been tempted to run through it if he hadn't felt so sick, the fresh air was helping, though.
The house had several gardens he knew. He decided to stop by the one closest to him. The garden was on a lower level than the rest of the yard, and Wes walked down the stone steps to get into it. Heads spewing water into a fountain greeted him upon his entrance. The garden was filled with fragrant flowers, but he walked by them rather quickly, walking up the identical stone steps on the far side.
Following the dirt path further, he was led into some more trees. It was darker there, with the green canopy above only letting in scattered light onto the smooth dirt path. He walked by another stone statue, a figure of a robed woman.
He came to an abrupt stop. He hadn't noticed anyone else close by, but just a few feet ahead there was a girl sitting on a stone bench, crying quietly into her hands. The first thing Wes noticed about her was her clothes. She was wearing a long, flowing dress that went all the way to her feet, which were just barely popping out from underneath it. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head in a fancy do.
Wes debated for a minute if he should just leave her alone, but something made him go up to her.
"Hey," he said gently, "What's wrong?"
The girl looked up in surprise, and then she screamed. Wes jumped back in surprise, he hadn't been expecting that reaction. The girl jumped off the bench and stood behind if, as if the thing placed between them gave her some sort of protection.
"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, looking as though she were poised to fight. Now that he could see her face, he saw that she was quite pretty. A couple tendrils of hair escaped their pins and were framing her face. Judging by how messy and uneven they were, it was not done on purpose, but the effect was still charming. Her bangs were wispy and sticking to her forehead; her tears were drying on her cheeks.
Wes couldn't believe this girl. "Relax," he held up placating hands, "You're acting like you're afraid I'm going to attack you or something. I simply wanted to know why you were so upset."
"My brothers are inside. They'll be out looking for me any minute now," she warned, as if he were some crazed murderer or something.
Wes sighed in frustration. "Hey," he said a little angrily, "I just said I'm not going to hurt you or anything. Geesh."
"Then what are you doing here?" she demanded.
"I was on a tour," Wes explained easily, "I just came out here for some fresh air. What did you think I was doing here?"
"What tour? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She looked braver now, standing up regally.
"Well I'm not going anywhere, missy," Wes snapped at her. Judging by her outfit, he guessed she worked her or something, but he didn't care. He had paid for his ticket, and he had a right to look at any goddamn garden he wanted to. "You don't own this place."
The girl crossed her arms stubbornly. "Yes I do, or at least my family does. And I demand that you leave at once."
"You don't own this place," Wes shook his head, wondering if the girl were crazy. "The historical preservation society owns it."
"The what?" she was staring at him like he was crazy. Wes snorted at her. Now apparently they both thought the other was insane, and one of them obviously was--and it wasn't him.
"Look," Wes said, "I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm just going to be on my way now, okay?" He turned to leave. Though he was still curious about the girl and why she had been crying, he didn't need to deal with this sort of thing right now. Not while he was feeling do sick. Then as he thought it, he realized that he didn't feel sick at all anymore. That was odd, he thought.
"What are you wearing?" he heard her ask. She had come from behind the bench and was now standing next to him. "I've never seen clothes like that before," she was looking over him curiously.
"Just jeans and a t-shirt," he said incredulously. What did she mean she had never seen clothes like these before? Then it hit him. She was teasing him. She's playing the character of some nineteenth century lady.
Wes laughed now. "I guess not what you're used to," he said, playing along. He didn't mind being teased, and if this pretty girl wanted to play some game with him, who was he to object?
She shook her head and stepped back. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," she said lightly, "I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding. You're at Margrave Manor, sir," she said by way of explanation.
"Oh, I know," Wes assured her. "What's you're name?"
"Katherine Stanmore," she answered, looking at him a little warily now.
"Hello. I'm Wesley Rubens, nice to meet you," he held out his hand. Katherine placed hers in his, and looked surprised when he shook it.
"Please tell me what you are doing here?" she asked again.
"Just admiring the view," he stared at her, flirting a little.
"I-I must be getting back inside," she told him, trying to step around him, but Wesley playfully stepped with her, blocking her way.
"Please, Mr. Rubens, I really have to get inside," she stepped past him and walked briskly away. She seemed frightened again, Wes thought. What an odd girl he had come across, the though, someone he wanted to get to know better. He turned and started following her back into this house.
"Why are you following me?" she demanded, stopping and turning to face him.
"I'm not," he asserted, "I just happen to be going the same way you are."
"I don't believe you. I demand you stop following me."
"Fine," he said, walking around her and continuing on his path back to the house.
"Hey," Katherine trotted after him, "Where do you think you're going?"
"Inside," Wesley stated easily.
"I told you to stop following me!" Katherine said irately.
"I believe it is you who is following me," Wes said, pointedly glancing at how she was a few paces behind him.
Katherine made a small sound of frustration and quickened her steps until she was a step ahead of him. Wesley smiled at her spunk, and easily widened his steps so he was in front of her again. Katherine had to practically jog to keep her smaller steps in pace with his larger ones, and it had turned into a full out race by the time they reached the front door of the house.
Wesley opened it, then stepped back and waved his arm. "After you," he told her, and Katherine glared before stepping inside.
Wesley was surprised by what he found. Everything looked the same, but different—newer, and there was no one about except a maid on the far side of the room. What was going on? Was this some sort of elaborate practical joke Sam was playing on him? But how could she have pulled it off?
"Katherine--" a man walked into the room. He was also dressed in nineteenth century clothes. "Who is this?" Finley asked her, upon spotting Wes.
"I don't know," Katherine said, "He was just outside."
The other man looked to him. He wore a fearsome scowl that made Wesley less sure of himself. "Well," the man asked, "Who are you?"
And then as if in answer to his question, a voice came from the top of the stairs. "Wesley!"
"Nice going, Finley," Cynara was leaning against the wall, watching Katherine's retreating back as she ran out of the room. Katherine had come home for hers and Charles' wedding, and she and Cynara had become fast friends. Katherine wasn't as delicate and polite as she looked, and had a bit of an obstinate nature. The two girls had gravitated toward each other instantly, and Cynara was a bit upset with Finley for yelling at her new friend and sister. "You didn't even ask what happened," she accused.
Katherine had spent two pleasant weeks at home celebrating the marriage, but when it came time for her to leave for school again, she had to finally make her confession. She had been kicked out. Finley had been furious, not only that she had been kicked out, but that she had hid if for so long. He immediately started complaining about finding her a new school, but Katherine had protested, saying she wanted to stay home, she was too old for school. Finley said that was out of the question, she couldn't come home until she learned to act like a lady. Katherine had run off.
Finley quickly turned to his anger to Cynara. "You don't know anything about it. You haven't known Katherine for more than a week," he growled out in his most intimidating voice. Cynara was immune, though. She had been the recipient of his anger about a month ago when she had tried to set him up with Jane Withurby. Finley had a bit of a temper, but his bark was worse than his bite, and he always calmed down quickly.
And just as predicted, the scowl left Finley's face to be replaced with one of mild exasperation and just a touch of guilt. "I didn't mean to insult her," he explained to Cynara, raking his hand through his hair, "I just don't know what to do with her sometimes. I swear she loves nothing more than to make me fret."
Cynara giggled. "You should just let her stay home, Finley," she implored, not only for Katherine's sake, but for her own. "Apparently sending her away hasn't worked to change her so far, and I don't think it magically will start. Plus, her four brothers aren't the most polite, well-mannered bunch of nobles in existence, why do you expect Katherine to be?"
"I suppose you're right," Finley agreed.
"Here you are," Charles walked into the room, spotting Cynara.
"Hey, Charlie," Cynara greeted her husband, wrapping her arm around his waist.
"What is the matter with you?" Charles asked is brother, upon seeing his face.
Cynara answered for him, "Katherine got kicked out of boarding school."
Charles laughed good naturedly, "What for this time?"
"We don't know," Cynara informed him, sending an accusatory glance at Finley, "She didn't really get the chance to tell us."
Charles nodded knowingly, "Ah Finley, and his temper, no doubt."
"You guessed it," Cynara confirmed Charles's assumption that Finley had not taken Katherine's expulsion with the best of manners. Well, Katherine was never one to let these sorts of things get to her.
"I do believe we just might have run out of schools to send her to," Charles laughed.
"That won't be a problem," Cynara didn't try to hide the pleasure in her voice, "Katherine is going to be staying here!"
"Ahh," Charles nodded, "Now I know the real reason for that permanent scowl plastered on Finley's face," Charles informed Cynara, while really teasing his brother. "When Katherine was younger, she took great pleasure in torturing her older brothers, the minx," he smiled fondly, leaving no doubt that he loved his sister very much. "No doubt Finley is afraid that she has not grown out of her trouble-making ways. And with you around, my love," he addressed the girl who was smilingly innocently enough up at him, "I fear we do not stand a chance."
"Who? Me?" Cynara asked cherubically, while her eyes held a twinkle of mischief.
"Yes, you," Finley whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze.
Cynara couldn't help but grinning, being perfectly in love. Her smile faded slightly though when she happened to glance over at Finley, who was sitting, scowling in his chair. She knew that it wasn't just about Katherine and her dismissal from school. Poor guy, he always had that miserable look about him.
"Come along now," Charles urged, tugging Cynara out of the room.
"Where are we going?" Cynara asked even as she let herself be led into the hallway and toward the staircase.
"I think you know," Charles said suggestively. It had only been two weeks since their marriage, and Charles would often refuse to even let Cynara out of their bed. And even more often, it was the other way around, with Cynara clinging all her weight to Charles's body when he tried to get up in the morning. Between the two of them, it was a wonder that they made an appearance in the outside world at all.
"I feel bad leaving Finley to sit stewing all by himself, though," Cynara said guiltily, even as her body jumped at the idea of crawling into to bed with Charles.
"He'll survive," he assured her, grabbing her hand in tugging her toward their room. Something down stairs caught her attention, though, and she was turning to look over the balcony and glance down at the people below.
Katherine and Finley were standing next to each other, but there was a third person with them. Cynara immediately recognized that his clothes were familiarly out of place. He was standing with his back to her, and all she could see was his floppy blonde hair. Even without recognizing him, she knew who it was. Ever since her second trip back in time, she had been wondering if she would see him.
"Wes!" she shouted confidently. All three faces turned to gaze up at her.