Author's Note: I wrote this little story at the request of a friend. It's my first foray into anything mature, but I don't think it turned out too badly. I usually write under a different pen name, but I didn't want the younger people who read my work to get an alert about this one (just in case). The one thing I noticed is that they both seem a little young the way I've written them—they're supposed to be forty or so here. I suppose I figured that shyness is simply part of both their characters, one that wouldn't go away too much as they aged. Any thoughts or suggestions would be much appreciated.

20th Anniversary

"Do you remember our wedding night?" Victoria asked, looking over her shoulder at Victor. She was seated at her vanity table in her bedroom, beginning the tedious process of taking out her hairpins before getting ready for bed. The bedroom curtains were pulled only halfway shut, so that the moonlight fell in bright shafts over the floor and bed. Though with all of the lamps lit, the moonlight was rather hard to see. It would be brilliant once the room was dark, though.

Victor, who was sitting in the armchair near the window, looked startled at her question. And, after the startled look left his face, his expression was slightly embarrassed.

"Er, yes," he replied, only meeting her eyes briefly before looking back down at the photo album he was looking through. Victoria couldn't help smiling a little as she regarded him. Twenty years she'd been married to this man. Two decades of sharing the same bed, sharing meals...sharing children. Today had been a special occasion, a big anniversary. Twenty years. Goodness, they'd now officially lived together longer than they had lived apart. Victoria gave silent and heartfelt thanks, just as she did every day (but most especially on their anniversaries), that she and Victor had been brought together. What a happy coincidence it had been that the husband her parents had arranged for her just happened to be her soulmate. Coincidence, or Fate, or whatever...it really didn't matter. Victor was her husband, and she was his wife, and Victoria was positive that their next twenty years together (here Victoria rapped her knuckles on the wooden surface of her vanity table) would be just as happy as these first had been.

"Is someone knocking?" Victor asked, looking up. Victoria concentrated on her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't realized that she'd knocked on wood loud enough for him to hear.

"I didn't hear anything," she replied lightly. For another moment Victor looked at the door.

"Oh. I could have sworn..." he remarked, not bothering to finish his sentence. With a shrug he turned his attention back to the album. Victoria pulled a few more pins from her hair. Now her hair fell loose around her shoulders. She shook it out gently before picking up her brush and running it through her hair. As she brushed she gazed at Victor, reflected over her shoulder in the mirror. Smiling a little, she cast her eyes down. Victor was the only person besides her parents and Hildegarde who had ever seen her with her hair down. He probably doesn't realize what a privilege it is, Victoria thought, amused. She wouldn't let just anyone see her with her hair unbound. It was a strange quirk, she knew, but Victoria had always felt rather undone and vulnerable when her hair wasn't properly pinned up. Victor was the one person that she felt she could be undone and vulnerable with—she felt safe and comfortable in his company. Not to mention loved. Even though she'd never voiced any of those ideas, Victoria suspected that, on some level, Victor knew. Something about the way he always took a moment to gently run his fingers through her hair whenever she had it down. Somehow, just thinking about it was enough to make Victoria flush just then. Putting her hand to her warm cheek, she took a deep breath to calm herself. That certainly wasn't a very ladylike thought, or reaction. Not that Victoria regretted it in the least, though.

"I remember how nervous we both were," Victoria continued reflectively, running the brush through her hair. Victor merely cleared his throat quietly. So she went on, "We spent half the evening reading together. Then you came up to my room...after you broke my great-grandmother's vase."

"As you said, I was nervous," Victor murmured with a self-deprecating smile, his eyes still on the album.

"I was so shy...a bit frightened, actually," she went on, more to herself than to Victor. Finally she turned and faced him. His ears, she noticed with amusement, were slowly turning pink.

"But everything worked out," she said. Tilting her head, she looked at him for a moment. "After that first night, it seems amazing that we ever--"

"Goodness, the girls certainly put a lot of work into this photo album, didn't they? It was a lovely idea for a present for us," Victor interrupted, all too obviously trying to change the subject. At that moment, Victoria realized that it had been a while since she'd teased him affectionately. So, with a smile, she said,

"You very nearly had my eye out. And I was so startled when, all of a sudden, you were...on top of me." Victoria deliberately dropped her voice to a near whisper with those last words. Amused, she watched Victor fidget uncomfortably. Why is it, she wondered, that we can do it, and quite enjoy it, but get flustered talking about it?

"Really, Victoria, this is hardly an appropriate conversation," he said. But he sounded amused at the memory, too. Before she could say anything else, Victor looked up at her.

"You truly shouldn't talk about such things, Mrs. Van Dort. It isn't fitting," he said in the closest to a gruff tone that he could manage. He looked as though he was trying very hard to keep from smiling. Gruff was not a tone that worked for Victor, nor did he do it very well—he only tried it when he was joking with her. One of their favorite little private jokes that they'd developed over the years had to have been "Overbearing Disinterested Husband and Meek Retiring Little Wife." The joke being, of course, that no set of roles could be farther from the truth of their relationship. No wonder everyone thinks we're utterly mad, Victoria thought as she considered her and Victor's many private jokes that were amusing and understandable only to them. But then she shrugged it off and held up her end of the game.

"How terribly rude of me," she said in her best chastised tone. She cast her eyes to the floor and folded her hands in her lap. "You have my deepest apologies, Mr. Van Dort. I shall never let such a thing happen again."

At that, both of them broke into wide, amused smiles. Victor even chuckled quietly.

"In any case, we—well, I—learned eventually," he told her in a low tone. Then he held out the photo album and pointed to a picture of their daughters that had been taken years ago out in the back garden. "I have proof. Exhibits A through D," Victor said, tapping the photograph.

As Victoria laughed quietly, she was taken by the sudden urge to embrace him. Something about his expression, the way he was grinning at her, then at the photo, then back again. He simply looked...well, embraceable. So she put her hairbrush down and got up. Within moments she was standing in front of him with her hands on his shoulders. He had watched her approach, looking expectant, and he'd already placed the photo album on the small table next to the chair.

"How long has it been since I told you how funny you are?" Victoria asked in a teasing tone, leaning forward until their foreheads met. Victor opened his knees just enough for her to stand in between them. Closing her eyes, she gave him a light, affectionate kiss on the end of his nose.

"I don't remember, but it's rather nice to hear," he replied, his voice teasing as well. He ran his hands up and down her arms, making her shiver. Finally he placed his hands over hers, and Victoria took a step backward. They were both still for a moment, gazing at one another as they held hands. Victoria felt a warm knot starting to grow in the pit of her stomach. Victor was wearing his dreamy-eyed romantic look, the one that never failed to make her toes tingle. Even after twenty years, it got the same reaction out of her. He simply looked so sweet, and so very loving.

"What are you thinking about?" he finally asked, giving her hands a squeeze. "You look quite deep in thought."

"I was merely thinking," she said reflectively, stroking his fingers, "I've now been Mrs. Van Dort longer than I was Miss Everglot." It truly seemed amazing. Could they really have been married for twenty years now? It could hardly have been that long...it didn't feel as though it had been that long. Victor smiled that odd, affectionate half-smile of his.

"How does it compare?" he asked. He lifted both her hands to his lips briefly before looking up into her face. When their eyes met, a pleasurable little thrill shot through her. It never failed. Looking into Victor's eyes, and really seeing him and all of the obvious affection he felt for her, always did more for Victoria than any words or caresses ever could.

Suddenly feeling bold, she gave his hands a gentle tug. Taking her hint, Victor stood and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed the side of her face against his chest, stroking his shoulders, feeling his cheek resting gently on the top of her head. In the stillness, she could hear his heart beating. It was a reassuring sound.

"Well," she finally said, speaking into his coat, "Miss Everglot was a very lonely, sad girl. She never had anyone who truly cared about her. Or even understood her. All she had was a faint hope that someday she'd meet someone who loved her, and that she would love him back. And then she wouldn't be lonely anymore. But she never quite believed it."

"The poor thing," Victor said when she paused, making her smile. He ran one hand gently over her hair before twining a few strands through his fingers. "I think I know precisely how she felt."

"But Mrs. Van Dort," Victoria continued, "is quite possibly one of the most contented and happy women who have ever lived. She has four lovely, happy daughters who know they have a mother and father that love them very much. She has a husband who treats her as an equal, with respect and affection. For twenty years she's felt protected and well-taken care of. And very, very loved."

There was a silence. Victoria was rather surprised that she'd said all of that. She could tell that Victor was pleased. He held her closely to him—they'd even begun to rock back and forth slightly. She closed her eyes, a warm wave of affection coursing through her. She'd meant every word she'd just said.

"That was lovely, Victoria," Victor finally said, his voice sounding rather thick with emotion. He stroked her back gently. "And believe me, I feel just the same way about you. I always have. But I don't think I could ever have put it so well."

Victoria lifted her head to find Victor looking down at her with that same tender, half-lidded expression. She lifted a hand to his face, running her thumb over his cheek.

"You don't need to," she told him. "I know."

Smiling, Victor lowered his face to hers. When their lips met, she felt the breath go out of her. After so many years, it seemed as though his kisses shouldn't affect her so much. But they always did. What began as a light, tender peck on the lips quickly became deeper, more passionate. He was holding the back of her head gently, his other arm about her waist, holding her as close as he possibly could. She held on to him just as tightly, her hands massaging his chest. Victoria began to feel her knees trembling as she attempted to get even closer. She could feel Victor's entire body pressed against her own. Even through layers and layers of clothing, it was a very intimate embrace—one that they'd shared many, many times. And it never lost its allure. The kiss seemed to go on forever. Actually, Victoria rather felt that she wouldn't mind if it did go on forever. When she felt Victor's tongue run gently over her lower lip, she had the sensation of melting.

Both of them were breathless when they finally pulled apart. They didn't loosen their embrace, instead hugging one another close. Victoria felt herself beginning to tremble a little, though not unpleasantly. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Goodness, he was still so thin...she could nearly wrap her arms all the way around him. It took a moment for both of them to get a bit of their breath back. Once they had, Victor brought his hands to either side of her head and pressed his lips against her hairline.

"I'll go get changed," he murmured. Victoria could barely nod; the feel of his lips moving against her forehead as he spoke was almost too much. He pulled back, and merely stood there for a moment regarding her.

"You do look lovely with your hair down," he finally told her, his voice full of affectionate admiration. Victoria cast her eyes to the floor with a pleased smile. Even after all this time, Victor could still make her blush like a girl. After a moment she looked up again to find him still gazing at her. Whether it was the blush or affection, Victoria couldn't tell, but either way she felt warm all over. Especially when Victor leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"I'll be right back," he said. Reluctantly Victoria let go of him. He seemed equally reluctant to let go of her. She watched him walk away. When he got to the door that adjoined their rooms, he turned and smiled at her over his shoulder.

"I'll be waiting," Victoria said quietly, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.