The evening began as any other, Patrick and Shelagh had fallen into a routine relatively quickly and both relished in the normality of it. Shelagh sat tucked into Patrick's side on the sofa as one arm draped lazily around her shoulder. He read the lancet and she read whatever book had piqued her interest at the time. However, on this particular evening Patrick became restless, it had been a busy week at the surgery and he felt like he'd barely seen his wife. He tossed the Lancet to the floor and the thud it caused when it hit the floor caused Shelagh to look up from her book.
"Everything okay dear?" she asked.
"I've just missed my wife, that is all," Shelagh had learnt what the look in Patrick's eye meant. Before she had to chance to respond Patrick began to trail a line of kisses down Shelagh's neck and stopped when he got to her collar bone. "mine," he murmured against it before gently sucking, marking her as his in the best way he could.
"You're so possessive," Shelagh chided, though her voice held no hint of annoyance.
"I've only possessive of what is mine," Patrick hummed as he continued his ministrations against her neck. Something about the statement seemed off with Shelagh, she was slowly getting used to Patrick's affections towards her, and he'd claimed her as his many a time, however this time uncertainty rose within her. Much to his dismay she pushed Patrick away from her and her brows furrowed together.
"Is everything okay darling?" Patrick asked, stroking her cheek gently as he did so.
Shelagh simply nodded her head.
"Shelagh, if something is bothering you, if this is too much, please know that you can tell me."
"It's daft," she whispered, more to herself than Patrick.
"Darling," he pleaded. Shelagh took his hands within hers and began to rub circles there, giving herself an excuse not to look him in the eye, and bringing herself comfort.
"All my life I've prided myself on being my own person, on belonging to no one but myself," Shelagh echoed the words spoken by Sister Julienne on her wedding day.
"But?" Patrick prompted.
"But when I'm with you, when you call me yours, when you mark me as your own," Shelagh couldn't help but blush at her own words, talking about certain things were still very new to her. "It feels right, like I finally belong, but how can I belong as someone else's but not as my own person? Is that so very wrong?" She shook her head, immediately regretting having said anything, as she said the words they barely made sense to herself, she daren't know what Patrick thought of her. "I told you it was daft." Patrick used his finger to lift Shelagh's chin very gently so that he could look her in the eye.
"It's not daft Shelagh. But you do belong to only yourself. You're my wife, not my possession. You belong to me as my wife, my partner, my lover," Patrick took a moment to admire the way in which Shelagh's cheeks pinked again, he found it incredibly endearing. "But you're also Shelagh, mother, Nurse, friend, Midwife, you are the sum of everything that makes you the most wonderful person to walk this earth. And I thank the Lord every day that you fell in love with me." Tears fell both their cheeks as Patrick spoke. It still seemed very surreal that they were allowed to voice their love so openly
"And you're MY husband," Shelagh choked through her tears and marked him in the same way he had done to her minutes ago. That night both celebrated that their hearts and souls belonged to one another, and one another only.