4.

~ He was kissing her feet and she was trying not to laugh. His lips pressing into the curve of her foot as she tried not kick away from him.
"Ticklish?" Eames asked as he kissed her toes and she giggled.
"I never thought I was." Ariadne told him as she felt as giddy as she did the first few nights she was married to Arthur.

That lovely euphoric feeling of a new and promising infatuation that wanted so desperately to turn into love.

It was early morning and Eames had built a cozy fire to chase away the encroaching winter chill that always haunted Blue Rivers. The couple, after their furious lovemaking, had settled on the rug to enjoy the warmth of the fire.

Eames had refused to let Ariadne re-dress or even wrap a sheet around herself. Insisting she was at her most beautiful when she wore nothing.

Her new lover had likewise remained unclothed as they enjoyed the fire.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked him as his thumb rolled over the arch of her foot again.

"Do what?" he asked with a sinister little smile.

"You know what." she scolded and lightly hit him. Her cheeks flushed red at being too lady like to say it. "When you had your... your mouth... down... down there." she said and blushed harder.

Eames only gave her a little smirk.

"It's an ancient Indian sex book call the Kamasutra. I'll lend it to you. It's full of the numerous and interesting ways to make love." he said.

"There's more then one?" she asked in disbelief and Eames started to laugh.

He laughed a laughed and seemed unable to stop as she told him to quit teasing her.
"I haven't been able to write since before I left for the war." Eames sighed. "I think I can do it now that we're together. The words want to come to me again."

"You haven't written at all? You used to write every day." Ariadne told him as her long dark hair manged to cover her breasts and nothing more. She felt like Lady Godiva, riding her horse naked through the streets with only her hair to cover herself. Likewise, she kept her hair covering her breasts as best she could. Or, as much as Eames would allow.

Her new lover had changed from a carelessly charming man to a demanding creature who refused to be parted from the things he wanted most.

"I couldn't make the words come. My stories were falling flat." he told her sadly. "I was too depressed to write."

"Sadness brings out the best in writers." she told him as he was kissing the arch in her foot again.
"Not in me. I would try to write about how sad I was, it just made things worse." he said.

"So what do you want to write about?" she asked.
"I was thinking a love story. About a knight who falls in love with another man's wife. The king's wife no less. He only pretends to serve the king so he can protect the queen and grow closer to her." he said.

She gave him a laugh.

"You're talking about Lancelot and Guinevere." she told him.

"No, it's different." Eames promised.

"How so?" she teased.
"It just will be." he assured her.
"Is it about you and me?" she asked.

Eames said nothing.
"Because I was another man's wife. I was Arthur's wife. He was like a king. Is my Arthur to be your king Arthur?" she prompted.
Eames said nothing.
"Because you know, if Arthur hadn't died on the Empress, I wouldn't be here with you. You couldn't have seduced me like you've done. I wouldn't have been with you, no matter what." she assured him.

Eames said nothing. His hands playing with her feet.
"I loved Arthur." she whispered.

Eames gave her an odd look then. One that she wasn't used to seeing on him. A look of menacing hatred that was almost dangerous.

"I know that." he whispered.

She wanted to say something else. Assure him she did love him, but the words didn't come.

"So what have you been writing about?" he asked. Changing the subject so they could avoid a fight.

"I haven't. Gave it up." she told him flatly.

"What?" he laughed.

She let out a long sigh.
"I haven't been published since Arthur died, Eames." she admitted.

"Yeah, but you've been writing. I've seen you."

She shook her head.
"No, it's rubbish. All of it." she said sadly. "I've been too busy with Olivia and Harold, my job, the war, the house. Not to mention your mother and Lady Percy."

"We need to start writing again. We can't used our conservatory, we can lock ourselves in here and write. We'll create masterpieces of literature while we make love all day." he promised.

She rolled her eyes.

"Eames, what about the kids? What about your mother and Fredrick?" she said as she felt that thorny pin prick of guilt start to grow.

"Ariadne, I've waited for you long enough." Eames said. "I don't know what more I have to do to prove to you I love you."

"I... I know you..." she stammered.
"Fredrick will be gone, and I want to leave this house forever. We can go where we want, be who we want." he promised.

"What about your mother? What about Lady Percy? The children? How would they live with us being creative geniuses?" she questioned.

The practicality of Eames' plan was starting to crack. His dreams were lovely and she yearned for them the be true. But life had already taught her ugly lessons. Reality wasn't picture perfect. Eames wanted a cozy cottage by the sea where they could be together with no cares or allowances for the future.

Eames was so unlike Arthur. Her poor late husband would have ensured they had a proper home, financial backing and a plan. Arthur was the unimaginative planner. Eames was the careless free spirit.

"I need to get dressed. It's almost time to get the kids up and I need to give Fredrick his breakfast." she said as she slipped away from Eames.
"Ariadne, it's still early." he insisted as she went to her wardrobe and started to get dressed.
"I have things to do today." she said absentmindedly.

~ Cobb Residence ~

~ New York City ~

~ Cobb looked over the three telegrams he received that morning.
"I'm becoming popular." he muttered as Arthur scowled over the business section.

He was glad his friend had returned to normal in the year since he had resurfaced. It had been a hard road. His former friend had been traumatized by the ship sinking from under him.

His separation from Ariadne and Olivia had seemed to hurt him even more.

Cobb had tried in vain to coax Arthur to contact his now ex wife. She thought he was dead and didn't know he had divorced her so she could marry Fredrick.

Cobb had also tried to get Ariadne to come to New York and 'accidentally' run into Arthur. Neither one seemed to take the bait.

Arthur need his wife, Cobb decided. He had reverted to the cold heartless business owner he was before he married his convenient wife.

Ariadne had softened Arthur somehow. She had been very good for him and transformed him into a man that was happier and more content.

Since the Empress sank and Arthur had come to live with Cobb and Mal, he had become colder and more distant. Cobb was sure if Ariadne would only come back into his life again, everything that was wrong with Arthur, would be restored.

"These rioting over factory conditions." Arthur muttered as he red over his paper instead of eating.

"Thought you were making better working conditions." Cobb said as he read a telegram from his uncle.

"It's too expensive and with the war in Europe, there is too much money to be made." Arthur said.
"Yes, but 16 hour days? No time off?" Cobb questioned. "It's like forced labor in some places."

When Arthur re-assumed control of his factories, all of the high minded ideals of social change and workers rights went away.

Arthur had instead increased working hours and started to pay his workers less money. In the past year, there were three riots that broke out because of the conditions.

"I'm not going to engage in talk about how I run my factories, Cobb. I don't force people to work for me. I pay them a livable wage and I have plenty of people who are willing to do the work." Arthur grumbled as he ignored his food and drink only black coffee.

Cobb bit his tongue and glared at his friend.

If Ariadne were here, she would have scolded him. She would have given him a speech about human rights and how he was employing immigrants who didn't know there were laws against such places and working conditions.

Arthur would listen, become annoyed and they would agree to disagree. Then, Arthur would change to make her happy. He would always give into her to make her happy. He would grumble and call her madam for a few days, but then he would be content if the woman he loved was pleased with him.

Arthur was a better person because of her and Cobb was intent on bringing them together again.

He gave his friend a cold look before opening the last telegram.

He almost exclaimed at it coming over from England, when he had to bite his lip.

Cobb.

Fredrick Hays passed away from his war related injuries this morning.

The children and I will be leaving England the first of December.

We expect to arrive in New York on December 8th.

Hope to see you and Mal soon.

We plan to live in New York indefinitely.

Regards,

Mrs. Ariadne Bradford- Hays.

Cobb looked up at Arthur, his heart beating a little faster.

"What is it?" Arthur asked as he finished his paper and glared at his friend.

"Nothing." Cobb said and stuffed Ariadne's telegram in his pocket.

sorry this took so long to post up. is acting up.