Samantha and Paul

It was an age of propriety and decorum. Though the turn of the century had come and gone, the small village of Saulk, England lived in the past. The women were taught to be ladies with no independent thought and that men were the fighters, protectors and lovers of their species.

Raymond Arnold was a banker by day and a gambler by night. His luck ran out when he got caught stealing money from the vault at work to take to the gambling houses that night. He lost his job and spent time in jail, but instead of losing his life, he traded it for his oldest daughter’s.

Samantha Arnold was a spirited young woman of almost eighteen years. She had flowing red hair she usually let fall down her back and green eyes that shone whenever she laughed or smiled. She was friends with most of the young women in the village and sought after by most of the men – young and old. The duke, their neighbor and overseer of the village, was one of those men and took the opportunity that arose to obtain her.

Samantha was sitting by the fire cutting her fingers on her needlework, a past time she despised, when Lord Robert Ravensclaw came to call. Her mother pulled her off her chair and shoved her upstairs with instructions to change her dress and fix her hair. Samantha grumbled as she changed into a blue satin gown with matching slippers and then brushed her auburn mane, using silver combs to pin some of it above her ears. She pinched her cheeks for color as her eleven year old twin sisters, Tamara and Tara, entered the room. The three of them complained about what was going on before Samantha exited the room.

She reached the stairs and hurried down as fast as she could when she heard her father’s voice. He was home! Her heart swelled with love as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Samantha, we have company,” her father told her and she turned to see the duke standing by the fire with a young man about her age. Both men had dark wavy hair and blue eyes, though where the duke was cold and menacing the young man was warm and inviting. She curtsied as she wondered what was going on.

“Miss Arnold, I would like you to meet my nephew, Mr. Paul McCoullough. He comes to me from my sister in Ireland and will be staying until next month’s festivities for St. Patrick have passed,” the duke told her and the young people inclined their heads to one another. She found him attractive, though she couldn’t imagine his manner being any better than his overbearing uncle. Lord Ravensclaw stepped away from the hearth and leaned closer to her.

“I trust he’ll be good company for my fiancée and keep her out of trouble,” the older man added and straightened, motioning for his nephew to follow him out.

“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Arnold; I trust I’ll be seeing a lot of you now,” the duke stated and left the house.

Samantha stared after him as she tried to comprehend what just happened. His nephew would keep his fiancée out of trouble? She looked to her father for an explanation and that’s when she knew. Shock turned to anger as she realized she was the fiancée he spoke of.

“How could you, Father? He’s a foul old man,” she screamed. “And now I have to be guarded by that vile look-alike of his. As if I don’t have enough trouble finding a husband – though that doesn’t matter now since you’ve found one for me. He’s as old as you!”

“There was no other way; he was going to kill your father if we didn’t agree to it,” her mother spoke up and Samantha stopped. It was her life for her father’s; there was no choice. She squared her shoulders as she coldly regarded her father.

“Welcome home, Father, thank you for the gift,” she grimly told him before going upstairs to change out of her dress.

* * *

Two days after the announcement of her engagement, Mr. McCoullough caught up to Samantha while she was out picking berries along the river bank near their shared property line. Her parents said the wedding was planned for the day after her eighteenth birthday. She hated arranged marriages – marriage was supposed to be for love, not convenience – and the fact that her fiancé felt she needed to be watched upset her further. Anger swelled in her chest at the sight of her appointed guardian. She spun so fast to run away, she almost spilled her basket.

“Miss Arnold,” he called after her and she stopped to turn and curtsy as she glared at him.

“Mr. McCoullough, I know you mean well and are only doing as you were told, but I don’t need a keeper,” she informed him and inclined her head before continuing her retreat. He easily caught up to her and walked next to her, keeping up with her fast pace.

“Please, Miss Arnold, do not think I am happy with this arrangement; babysitting a girl who is almost a woman is not my idea of fun – unless of course that girl is already mine.” He grinned mischievously as she gaped at him, appalled.

“Beg your pardon, sir, but that was rude.”

“It was honest.” He placed a hand on her arm. “Do you think we could slow down and I could properly walk you home instead of chasing after you?”

She slowed to a normal pace when she saw he wore riding boots.

“Do you ride often?” she asked and he grinned.

“Every chance I can. My parents raise horses and I usually break them for riding,” he explained. “Would you like to ride with me?”

“I thought you were walking me home.”

“Another time then. My uncle has half a dozen horses; I’m sure one of them would suit you.”

“I have my own horse, thank you.”

“Take advantage where you can, lass. You’re engaged now; your husband would want you to use his horses for your pleasure. His property is soon to be yours.”

She grinned as she realized the potential of the situation; though it wasn’t much, the use of his horses could be her freedom.

“Very well, I shall; were you busy before you pursued me?” she asked and he shook his head. She looked down at the basket in her hands and realized their ride would have to wait as she remembered her mother wanted the berries for a pie. She frowned as a pang of disappointment swept through her.

“It will have to wait; my mother is expecting me home soon,” she told him.

“We will go whenever you wish.”

She smiled and they walked in amicable silence until they reached the end of her drive.

“Do you really despise having to babysit me for your uncle?” she blurted out and he smiled. She found that she liked his smile; she felt like it was only for her.

“There have been worse things I have had to do,” he replied and she grinned. “Just promise you won’t run away next time you see me.”

“I’m afraid I have no other choice than to follow you.”

“You always have a choice, Samantha.” He glanced over her shoulder towards her house. “Now go inside before you mother becomes suspicious of my intentions.”

“Why would she? You are only following orders from your uncle.”

“I’m afraid she may not see it that way. Now go; I’ll call on you in the morning.”

“Until then.” She prettily smiled as he inclined his head, his dark waves falling over his forehead. She thanked him for the walk before running up to the house, being careful not to spill any berries. As she walked in the door she realized that despite the situation, she was looking forward to seeing him again.

* * *

Her mother surprised her the next day by waking her just after dawn to say she had a visitor. Samantha was as upset as she was curious about who could be calling and pulled herself out of bed to see who it was.

“It’s your fiancé; you must dress quickly, he doesn’t have all day,” her mother announced as she threw a dress at her. Samantha pulled on the dress and brushed her hair, braiding it before finally descending the stairs.

She found him by the hearth again and had to admit he made an impressive vision: tall, dark and handsome against the red brick. But then he turned and she saw the coldness in his eyes before he forced a smile on his face. A chill ran through her as she stood before him.

“I’ve come to ask you to escort me to the opera tonight,” he told her and she smiled. “I will be here at eight. I’m spending the day in London, but my nephew is waiting outside with two horses; he said something about teaching you to ride. I hope he treats you well in my absence.”

He bid her good day and walked out of the house. She turned toward her mother, who knew she could ride and didn’t look keen on the idea of Samantha spending the day with her fiancé’s nephew.

“Mother, may I go?” she asked.

“He said the boy is waiting,” the older woman sighed and Samantha raced out of the house.

“Just remember you are engaged now,” her mother called after her as she ran down the drive.

“You are supposed to remember you are engaged?” Mr. McCoullough smirked and she waved the comment away.

“My mother worries too much,” she declared and mounted the horse he’d brought for her. “Shall we race to the river bank?”

She dug in her heels without waiting for a response and laughed when she won the race. They slowed the horses to a walk as they started down river away from their homes.

“What brought you to stay with your uncle?” she asked.

“My mother will tell you I don’t want to settle down and my father would say I have no ambition; they’re hoping a stay here will rectify both those concerns.”

“They expect you to marry and gain ambition in a month? Shouldn’t you be in London with your uncle if they have such high hopes for you?”

“My uncle sees the situation differently. He feels that spending time with a beautiful woman who is already spoken for will calm my soul and teach me propriety.”

“You have none?”

“I have plenty when it is warranted, but my uncle only knows the stories of my loose ways.”

“Loose with women?”

“With women, money, my time; whatever I fancy at the time.”

“And you are used to getting what you want?”

“Aye, every time.” He watched as she read the message in his eyes and then looked away as color rose to her cheeks.

“I’m spoken for, Mr. McCoullough,” she murmured.

“My uncle would have it no other way.” He kicked his horse and galloped down river. She followed suit, unsure of what just happened. He looked up and met her gaze when she caught up to him and she saw a heat in his eyes that had nothing to do with the early morning sun. She opened and closed her mouth, unable to speak or form a single thought. All she could think was to ask if he was sure, but she didn’t know what she would be asking about. Instead of pursuing it, she changed the subject.

“Are you excited about the St. Patrick’s Day festival?” she asked and he nodded.

“Aye, it’ll be nice to have a bit of home while I’m here.”

“You must be terribly homesick.”

“Only when the company I keep is less than thrilling.”

“Will you tell me about Ireland?”

He told her stories about his family and the people of the village where he lived. She laughed at his jokes and loved his Irish brogue, especially when he sang. He was charming and enchanting and Samantha was disappointed when he took her home while the sun was still high in the sky.

“I have errands to run before my uncle returns from London,” he explained after helping her down from her horse and she frowned.

“You should be free.”

“Shouldn’t we all.” He inclined his head before mounting his horse again. “Good day, Miss Arnold. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

* * *

“St. Patrick’s Day is a Christian holiday, a time for prayer and silent celebration not gallivanting all over town drinking cheap ale,” Samantha stated and Paul nodded. They were walking along the river, one of their favorite past times. Samantha found she really enjoyed his company: his stories from Ireland, the jokes and banter, and of course his smile that was just for her. They flirted and played; they’d become inseparable since the first morning he called on her for that ride he’d promised her. She found herself thinking about him often, especially when she was in the company of his uncle, and she missed him terribly when they were apart. She told him about the shows and dinner parties his uncle brought her to and even managed to dance with him once when they ended up at the same party. She looked forward to seeing him, something that scared her more than anything.

“On that I couldn’t agree more; besides, cheap ale is absolutely wretched.” He made a sour face and she giggled.

“But seriously, St. Patrick was said to be a pagan before he became a Christian; shouldn’t we also celebrate the old ways?” he added.

“What; dance naked under the moonlight? I believe you would enjoy that rather well.”

“Only if you were dancing next to me.” He gave her a meaningful look, his eyes never leaving hers, and she was sure her heart stopped as her knees weakened. She recovered as a grin spread across his face and she punched him hard in the shoulder.

“You’re despicable,” she declared. “I’m engaged, you know.”

“To an old lout that knows nothing of passion.”

“Need I remind you that old lout is your uncle and a well respected member of this society?”

“You’re too young for him; he’s old enough to be your father. Could you really get it on with him?”

Samantha gasped and punched him again. He grabbed her fist before she could pull it back and held it with both his hands. He looked deep into her eyes and she saw something there that made her breath catch in her throat and her pulse quicken.

“You deserve better,” he hoarsely declared.

“There is no one better.”

“There’s me.”

She scoffed. “How are you better? You’re out of work and completely dependent on your uncle. You have no idea what to do with your life. You spend most nights in taverns or gambling houses and more than once you’ve brought a less than reputable woman to your bed. So please tell me, how are you better for me?”

Instead of answering, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close as his mouth crushed hers, his tongue assaulting hers. Shock quickly gave way to lust and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as her knees gave out. As she kissed him back, she knew this was what she’d wanted since meeting him outside his uncle’s manor. He was what she wanted; young and passionate, not old and lame. But her family needed the money; they would lose everything if she didn’t go through with this union. She pushed him away as she wanted even more of what she couldn’t have.

“I can’t,” she gasped as she wiped her swollen lips with the back of her hand.

“You already have,” he countered and she wanted to scream. Yes, she had. Her eyes widened as she realized what this could mean – what would happen if anyone found out – and she lifted her skirt as she ran away from him. She ran as far as her legs would carry her and then pressed further until she was safe within her home. The only problem was that she couldn’t run from her feelings. Her fingertips touched her lips as she remembered their embrace and tears welled in her eyes because she knew it wasn’t meant to be.

* * *

Samantha avoided Mr. McCoullough for the next week. Every time he started her way, she went the other. And when he stopped, she found herself watching him, waiting for the next time he would pursue her – the next time he would kiss her. For though she knew it was improper for a young lady to kiss a man she was not publicly with, she longed for it to happen again. She sighed; she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Mr. McCoullough finally caught up to her in her parents’ library. She was curled into a chair reading her favorite book when a shadow fell over her. She looked up, annoyed with the interruption, and gasped when she found him not outside as she’d expected but standing before her, casually leaning a hip against the window sill with his arms crossed. She closed her book around her finger as she jumped to her feet, intending to escape.

“Do not try, I locked the door,” he informed her and she glared at him. “It’s the only way I could get you to stay put. That is, other than kissing you again.”

She threw her book at him as she let out an aggravated growl. “You’re insufferable!” she screamed. “Immoral! And what you did was improper! I could have you hung for that, you know!”

He chuckled, an amused smile stretching across his face. “If showing affection to a beautiful woman in punishable by death, then this world would lose many a good man.”

Her eyes widened as he pushed himself away from the window and closed the distance between them. She took a step back and found herself cornered between him and a bookshelf. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She involuntarily lifted her chin as he stopped and raised a hand to brush a piece of hair away from her eyes. She braced herself for what she knew was going to happen.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers as though asking for something she couldn’t understand.

“What do you want, Mr. McCoullough?” she asked.

“What every lovesick fool wants – the one thing he can’t have.” He turned away and she stared at him, dumbstruck by what hadn’t happened. She’d been in his reach; what was wrong with him? She cleared her throat, trying not to be disappointed with the turn of events.

“Again I must ask; what do you want, Mr. McCoullough?” she repeated and he raked a hand through his hair as he stared out the window.

“I want you to meet me on St. Patrick’s Day,” he finally told her without turning to face her. “Meet me on top of the hill at dusk. That is the time of the rite.”

He headed for the door and unlocked it. Finally, he turned toward her, his eyes so tormented that her heart ached at the sight of him. She wanted to go to him, to beg him not to leave without touching her again, but found she was unable to move.

“I’m sorry for the interruption. I hope you enjoy your book,” he said and was gone. She stood staring after him, wondering why she felt lost without him.

* * *

St. Patrick’s Day dawned bright and warm two days later. Morning mass was mandatory in the Arnold household and she spent most of the morning helping her twin sisters into their dresses and brushing their hair. Samantha forced herself to focus on the twins, refusing any thoughts about Mr. McCoullough. She hadn’t seen him since his interruption in the library, but she’d thought about him every moment since then. His behavior puzzled her; for a man who always pursued what he wanted until he obtained it, his absence was disconcerting. He’d kissed her, touched her, and now left her; she didn’t know whether to be relieved or sick. She thought about him all the time, an obsession that interrupted her daily life. She couldn’t even read her favorite book without remembering how she’d thrown it at him. She missed the banter, the long discussions, the walks along the river; most importantly, she missed him desperately.

She was brushing her hair when her mother came into the room and shooed the twins away. She put the brush down, surprised to find her mother standing so uncomfortably just inside the door.

“Your father pursued me for two years and I nearly lost him before I begged him to marry me,” her mother admitted and Samantha was taken back by the statement. Her mother never begged for anything; either she had it or she learned to go without.

“Mr. McCoullough is a decent man; don’t make him wait until you have to beg him,” the woman added and Samantha stood there with her mouth hanging open, speechless. Her mother approved of Mr. McCoullough? But he had nothing to offer her, no money or status aside from what he received from his uncle.

“But he has nothing,” she blurted out and her mother frowned.

“I learned the hard way that money and status do not make the world go round. Don’t make the same mistake I almost did,” she stated and left the room before Samantha could respond. She stood staring after her mother, shocked by the turn of events, and then laughter bubbled up inside her as she realized her mother had said she could have what she wanted – she could marry for love!

She finished her hair and ran downstairs as her dad said it was time to leave. She’d never been so anxious to go to church; surely Mr. McCoullough wouldn’t miss mass on such an important day. She would have to wait until after the service, but she would tell him how she felt. She craned her neck and scanned the crowd once they were seated in a pew and was surprised when she didn’t spot him anywhere. As the pastor took his place behind the pulpit, she realized he had indeed missed this morning’s service. She sulked in her seat, afraid she was already too late.

The festival came to town the night before and set up during morning mass. The kids were excited to go and Samantha offered to take her sisters to eat junk food and enjoy the shows. Their parents walked with them for a while and she watched as they disappeared into the crowd, jealous of their entwined fingers and the love in their eyes. She was in love so why was she alone? It wasn’t fair!

She spent the afternoon searching the faces milling around her for the one she loved. Some of her friends asked her to join them, but she refused, using the twins as an excuse. She was acutely aware of Paul’s absence as she watched her friends play games and laugh together; just a month ago, she and Paul had been part of that group and now she was alone and he was nowhere to be found. Why had he abandoned her? She had to find out.

Samantha rounded up the twins as the sun began to sink below the horizon and took them home. She knew what she had to do. She left the girls at the door and told her mother she was going for a walk. Her mother just nodded and knowingly smiled as she walked away from the house.

She trudged through the field and up to the top of the hill. She was surprised when she didn’t find Paul there. It was like he’d vanished. Had he gone back to Ireland without saying goodbye or giving her an explanation for what had happened in her library? She couldn’t bear the thought and blinked back tears as she turned towards his uncle’s manor. If anyone would know where Paul was, it would be her fiancé. She swallowed hard as she approached the stately manor; she needed to see the old man anyway.

The door opened just before she reached it and the housekeeper allowed her inside. The uniformed woman led her to the drawing room and made sure she was comfortable before disappearing to find Lord Ravensclaw. A small book shelf and desk sat against the wall next to the door. Two plush chairs in rich burgundy velvet faced the window. She perched on the edge of a chair, captivated by the glorious sunset outside the window.

“My darling, I wondered when you would call on me,” her fiancé said after entering the room and she jumped to her feet. “It seems my nephew has been keeping you quite amused.”

She puzzled at his choice of words. She shook her head. She had to get this over with before she lost her nerve. She took a deep breath.

“I can’t marry you unless you wish to enter into a union where there will never be love,” she told him and he raised his eyebrows, apparently amused by her declaration.

“Is that so? And how is it that you think our union will never have love?” he asked.

“Because I’m in love with your nephew.” There, she’d said it. She waited for him to say something – anything – whether in anger or in jest.

“He has nothing to offer you, no job to support you and not a penny to his name,” he finally told her and she raised her head a little higher.

“I don’t care; I would rather be poor and happy than rich and miserable. I know our arrangement was meant to clear my father’s debts with you, but I’m sure something could be arranged. I could work for you if you wish until his debts have been paid in full.”

“That won’t be necessary. Your father and I settled our debt this afternoon after mass.”

She gaped at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But how? Why?”

“It seems, Miss Arnold, that my nephew is as smitten with you as you are with him. He wrote to his mother to plead his case and his father secured him a position at his bank. I received the letter this morning shortly after Paul came to me and confessed his feelings for you.” He sighed. “I admit I should have known it would happen considering how alike you two are. I know I can’t stop you; I can only give you my blessing.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Paul spoke up from the doorway and she gasped. He was here! How much had he heard? She was as nervous to see him as she was excited. Lord Ravensclaw turned to his nephew as he entered the room and she looked out the window as she tried to gather her thoughts. He was here; he hadn’t left her! He had some explaining to do once his uncle left them. She tensed as the door closed and she knew they were alone.

“What did you hear?” she nervously asked.

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” he replied. She turned as he put a hand on her shoulder and instead of speaking, she kissed him.

“What was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.

“It’s what I should have done in the library. I didn’t understand what happened that day until I realized what I needed to do. I’ve looked for you all day; where were you?”

“I had something I had to do.” He took her hand. “Will you come with me?”

She grinned. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

He kissed her one more time before leading her out of the house. They walked to the top of the hill where they found her parents and his uncle waiting for them with the pastor from the church.

“What is all this?” she asked turning to Paul. “What’s going on?”

He took her hands in his and nervously licked his lips as he gazed into her eyes.

“I know it’s not much and I promise we’ll have a traditional wedding once we land in Ireland, but I can’t wait that long to pledge my love to you.” He lowered himself to one knee. “Will you love me tonight?”

She looked at him and then at the people surrounding them. Tears slid from her eyes as her mother nodded and her father grinned. Even his uncle smiled.

“I will love you always,” she promised and kissed him.


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