Chapter 12: Naughty Sisters

“Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” Doña Maria asked her son over the rattle of the coach wheels on the cobble stones.

She had spent the last hours of the ball sitting with the Carters. It had been a pleasant evening for her, the ice between her and Sir Anthony’s wife had finally melted. Lady Carter had been in a very happy mood and that had helped. She realised that her son had not answered.

“Antonio! Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Err, yes, sorry Mother. I was in thought. Tell me, Mother, the Carters, would you consider them a good family?”

“Why yes! Lady Carter’s father, Lord Lambert, is of an old family of Navy officers and Lady Lambert is the granddaughter of a Marquess. Sir Anthony, of course, has humble origins, but he is a most distinguished officer. Why do you ask?”

“Their daughter Eleanor, Mother. I have never met a more fascinating girl. She is not only beautiful, she is witty and warm hearted. I feel as if I have known her for years.”

Doña Maria was glad for the darkness in the coach for she knew that she was pale with shock.

‘Not that!’ she thought desperately.

“She made a most positive impression on me, Antonio,” she said fencing for time and trying to regain her composure. Divine inspiration came to her help. “You must not forget that she is a Protestant, a heretic. Even if we live in enlightened times, you just cannot woo her. Your father was a Knight of the Golden Fleece after all.”

Obstinacy shone through when Antonio answered.

“In these enlightened times we must dispense with any prejudice based on faith. Isn’t a Protestant, the Duke of Wellington, a Knight of the Golden Fleece? The Carters are Christians, they worship the same God as we do. They just do not recognise the Pope. It is still too early, I know, but I shall never sacrifice my happiness for the church. Just think how you suffered at the hands of a priest and a prioress. I know that I need to get to know her much better. Yet, if she feels like I do I shall talk to her father and we shall reach a solution.”

“Antonio, be reasonable! You just met the girl, and already you want to talk to her father? She is still quite young and I cannot imagine that her mother will be too happy to have a suitor for her already.”

“Do not worry, Mother! I shall have all the patience in the world. If she feels like I do, I shall wait years if need be.”

“Promise me to talk to me before you commit yourself in any way. I beg you, Antonio!”

“Of course, Mother,” Don Antonio said lightly. He bent over to kiss his mother’s cheek.

Doña Maria’s mind was in turmoil. She had to speak with the Carters urgently. But how? After all, she had assured Anthony Carter that Antonio had been fathered by her late husband, Don Alonso. How she wanted to believe that herself! Had not her husband been a changed man after she was returned from her captivity? The very first evening back in Cartagena, he had made love to her, gently and with surprising prowess. That was when her life had really turned for the better, and for the next fifteen years he had remained her loyal husband. Antonio was born a full nine months after her return to Cartagena and there had not been a shadow of a doubt as to the fatherhood of Don Alonso. Yet, seeing her tall son stand side by side with Anthony’s son Richard, she thought she saw a likeness of features. Both young men were tall, and they shared a high forehead and a very similar nose. Could Richard Carter be her son’s half-brother? Worse, could he be the half-brother of Eleanor Carter?

Eleanor Carter had a striking likeness to her mother. What if Anthony Carter’s blood made her son react so strongly to Harriet’s daughter? Was everything a cruel jest by fate? Would her son and Anthony’s daughter be punished for the adultery of their parents?

How could anyone prevent a disaster? What if she told her son that he possibly was the natural son of Anthony Carter? He would be devastated, of that she was sure. He would view her with contempt. He might even challenge his natural father over the seduction of his mother to restore the family honour.

If she kept her peace, maybe this problem might be solved by time. She could see to it that Antonio met other women. Maybe he could be wooed away. Or perhaps her worries were unfounded, based solely on her bad conscience over her indiscretion?

Those were the thoughts that revolved in the head of Doña Maria as she lay in her bed without finding sleep.

To Eleanor Carter and Ellen Wilkes, sleep did not come easy either. They shared a room and a large canopied bed for that night, but both were too excited to find sleep in spite of their exhaustion.

“Do you think, Don Antonio will call upon me?” Eleanor asked her friend.

Ellen felt in the darkness until she touched her friend’s hand and pressed it.

“Don’t worry! The only uncertainty that I have is whether he will be here before or after breakfast tomorrow. How did you like his mother?”

“She was nice enough. Why do you ask?”

“He is her only son. If you get him, you will get her too,” Ellen laughed.

“I suppose I could get along with her,” Eleanor mused. “She is a little intimidating, don’t you agree?”

“She has a commanding presence, almost like royalty. As the wife of a Royal Governor she must have been quite powerful. I thought your mother had some unresolved issues with her and your father took pains not to appear too familiar with her.”

“I think Mother is a little jealous of Donna Maria. After all, she sailed to Cartagena as guest in my father’s cabin whilst Mother was married to that hateful Rupert Palmer.”

“Do you think that your father and Donna Maria may have...” Ellen hazarded.

“Oh my God, I never thought of that. She must have been young and very beautiful twenty years ago.”

A thought struck Ellen.

“You better be careful, Eleanor. Your Spanish Grande may just be your half-brother!”

Eleanor almost shrieked in her embarrassment.

“Ellen, you are so naughty! The thought alone! He does not look like my father at all, does he? Ellen, seriously! Please say something! Oh, you’re impossible!”

Ellen was shaking uncontrollably in the fits of violent giggles, doubling over with suppressed laughter. When she was finally able to control her voice, she tried to mollify her bed fellow.

“Eleanor, hick, I was only tea-hick-sing you.”

“Oh you!” Eleanor fumed, poking her fingers into Ellen’s ribs, causing new spasms of laughter.

“Stop it -hick-! Please -hick-!” Ellen finally managed to plead.

Eleanor had already stopped. In fact, she had frozen. Tickling Ellen, with Ellen thrashing around in her futile attempts to escape, she had misjudged the other girls position in the darkness, and she suddenly felt a breast in her hand, complete with an erect nipple. For a full second, she remained motionless, with her hand on Ellen’s boob, then she withdrew it hastily.

“I’m sorry Ellen, I didn’t mean to, you know...” she stammered.

“Accost me?” Ellen suggested teasingly. “For a moment I thought Richard had sneaked into the bed.”

Eleanor thought her head would glow in the darkness. Curiosity got the better of her though.

“You let Richard feel your boobies?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes, once, and it felt wonderful. I though they would burst when he suckled on my nipples.”

Eleanor felt up her own budding breasts.

“I don’t feel anything there,” she stated sadly.

Ellen felt light headed. For one, she’d had a few too many glasses of wine. Secondly, the tickling and the talk had excited her. And thirdly, she wanted to get back at Eleanor for the tickling. With uncanny accuracy, her right hand moved in the dark and closed around Eleanor’s left breast. Eleanor gasped, both with shock and with the unexpected sensation. Ellen felt a hard nipple poking through the night shirt, and she bent over, closing her mouth over the protrusion. Her wet kiss soaked the night shirt through, and the sucking sensation on her breast made Eleanor squirm. When Ellen finally relented, Eleanor was breathing heavily. She shuddered when the coldness of the wet cloth replaced the warm feeling of Ellen’s mouth.

“See, you like that too,” Ellen stated smugly.

“How could I know?” Eleanor retorted. “It is not like I could do this to myself to find out.”

“No,” Ellen laughed softly, “that would seem awkward. And they are too small to reach!”

That set her off giggling again.

“Ellen, do you play with yourself too?”

“Play with myself?” Ellen did not quite understand.

“You know, between your legs,” Eleanor whispered.

“I tried to put my finger in once or twice, but it hurt.”

“So you don’t, you know, do it? I do it almost every day.”

“Do what?”

“Play with your fanny!” In her exasperation, Eleanor almost shouted the naughty word.

“Oh, that. Richard did that once, before you almost caught us. I thought I died with pleasure when he touched me. You do that to yourself?”

“Of course! I think of someone, imagine to be with him, and I play with myself until I reach my release.”

It was Ellen’s turn to blush. How stupid of her!

“Of whom do you think?” she asked to mask her confusion. “I mean, of whom did you think before you met Don Antonio?”

That got her another minute of tickling. She squirmed, trying to protect her tummy, and was surprised when Eleanor deftly squeezed her breasts. This time Eleanor did not remove her hands.

“Ellen?”

“Yes,” Ellen whispered.

“Your boobies feel wonderful. I wish mine were as nice.”

In response Ellen reached out and took Eleanor’s smallish breasts in her palms squeezing the small nipples between her thumbs and fingers.

“Yours are lovely too. Your nipples get really hard.”

“Mhm,” Eleanor moaned. “Keep doing that.”

Her right hand dropped from Ellen’s breast and Ellen could hear the rustle of fabric.

“Are you touching yourself?” she whispered.

“Yes,” came the dreamy response. “Why don’t you do it too?”

Ellen paused, her hands still squeezing Eleanor’s small tits. Hesitantly, she dropped her right hand from her friend’s chest and moved it between her own thighs still outside the night shift. The touch caused a delightful tingle and she gasped.

Ellen decided that she would rather be hanged for a sheep than for a lamb. She drew up the hem of her shift and let her hand explore her naked crotch. She was surprised at the wetness she found there, more even than when Lady Carter had examined her and almost as much as when Richard had caressed her.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Eleanor asked with a tone of urgency in her voice. “Of whom are you thinking?”

“Richard of course,” Ellen whispered, not entirely honest. It was true that she thought of Richard touching her, but her excitement was mostly derived from the situation. Or, more specifically, from her future sister-in-law lying beside her and frantically rubbing herself. “And you? Are you thinking of your handsome half-brother?”

Ellen had meant it teasingly, but the words had a strong effect on Eleanor. Ellen heard a sharp intake of breath and then a muffled scream broke from Eleanor’s mouth. She had bitten into the pillow to prevent herself from screaming loudly.