Thanks as ever to Marianne Greenleaf for her encouragement and inspiration for this idea – as well as her unending support for all my floofy fluff that helps to convince me that I'm not a ninny for writing it. Though I know that I'm tough to convince. :P
xxx
Harold Hill had never been an excellent cook, but he'd had to learn how to feed himself out of necessity. While he'd spent most of his life in boardinghouses and hotels, that didn't mean that there hadn't been a few occasions when he'd had to provide something more substantial than toast for himself. And after he'd moved out of River City's boardinghouse and into the lovely house on Maple Street where he'd planned to bring Marian as his bride, he had spent a few months fully reliant on his own cooking – with the exception of his quite-frequent dinners at the Paroo house, of course. At home, he'd spent most of his nights experimenting with recipes and cookbooks, at first with often-disastrous results, but he'd eventually managed to hone a serviceable culinary repertoire.
As a husband and father, he was now grateful for those skills, however unpolished they may have been – while Marian was undeniably able to prepare a better meal, from the earliest days of their marriage Harold had detested the idea of being the kind of husband who expected his wife to wait on him hand and foot all the time. And on the rare occasions when the librarian was indisposed, it certainly helped that he could take care of things reasonably well while she took the opportunity to rest.
Recently, Marian had been feeling a bit under the weather, and on this particular evening in August, she had come home from the library nearly falling asleep on her feet. While she'd professed no appetite herself, she'd made a valiant attempt to prepare dinner for Harold and the children – but she'd quickly found that the sights and smells of food were almost unbearable to her in this state, making her nauseated and woozy. Swooping in to fulfill the role of dutiful spouse, the music professor had insisted that he would handle everything for the rest of the night, and he'd even prepared a bowl of oatmeal for Marian to eat before she went upstairs to lay down.
While it obviously distressed Harold to see his beloved in less than perfect health, it reassured him to observe that the symptoms did not appear to be any that she hadn't suffered before. Perhaps she had started her courses – she was due for that, wasn't she?
Maybe even overdue, considering that he couldn't recall any significant impediment to their frequent, passionate lovemaking since before they'd left for their trip to California in May – at least, not until she'd become so fatigued in the past week or so...
But he didn't have time to pursue that line of thinking any further, as the evening soon took the sort of chaotic turn that one had to expect sometimes when living in a house with three energetic young children. As usual, it was four-year-old William who provoked the mayhem when he bounded in from the backyard, proudly showing his father and sisters the frog he'd caught. Predictably, the slippery creature got free within moments, resulting in utter panic throughout the house as Harold and the children tried to herd it back outside without causing any harm to the furniture or the animal, and all of this while dinner simmered on the stove! To further complicate matters, their recently adopted kitten, Strawberry – usually as prim and prissy as Susanna who had named her – had immediately harnessed her feline instincts and launched into a frenetic, clumsy attempt to hunt down the frog, giving the Hills yet another obstacle to setting things right. While the music professor found himself wishing that Marian was there to help out, he also knew that she was lucky to have missed out on dealing with such a commotion, considering how very tired she'd been feeling.
Somehow, everything had eventually sorted itself out, with the frog outside, the children cleaned up and seated at the table, and dinner unburned, though Harold was not sure that he could recall exactly how, as the whole event was somewhat of a blur in his mind when he tried to reflect on the details.
Thankfully, the children played quietly after dinner, perhaps a little worn out from the excitement of the frog incident, giving him enough time to get the dishes washed – and once he was able to devote his full attention to them, Harold could usually get the children in the palm of his hand.
When Charlotte was a toddler, the music professor had discovered a certain talent that, he supposed, further proved that he was naturally suited to fatherhood after all: his silver tongue and flair for the dramatic made him a masterful storyteller.
On most nights, it was enough simply to read to them from their own picture books, but once in a while, when he was feeling especially enthusiastic, he would spin his own tales, and the children were captivated by those most of all. By stretching a single story out night after night, Scheherazade-style, he could actually convince them to get ready for bed willingly, just to find out what happened next, and even Marian had admitted that she looked forward to hearing what he could come up with – though he'd occasionally had to ask his well-read wife for help when he wasn't sure where he could take a particular plotline that he'd begun!
Clamoring for the next installment in the rather convoluted saga of the fisherman and his magical seashell, the children climbed all over him soon after he came in to settle down on the couch tonight. He'd brought a newspaper with him as only a sort of formality, just in case this turned out to be one of those rare nights where the children were too occupied with something else to corner him and demand a story immediately, but it quickly became clear that this reading material would not be needed.
Of course, the newspaper he was holding was, as usual, a blatant invitation to Strawberry, who promptly sprawled her fluffy white body across it and made it impossible to read even if he'd wanted to. Between the cat and the children, Harold was thoroughly pinned to the spot by eager little admirers, and he couldn't have been more pleased about it. It was in moments like these that he recognized just how soft he'd become – but, even if it made him feel ever so slightly silly to have become the sort of man who cooed over children and kittens, he did not wish to be anything else, and certainly not to have remained the callous, calculating con man who looked upon domestic life with scorn! He was simply happy to be the sort of man who had such love in his life that he'd been able to discover this side of himself. Marian, for her part, never seemed so utterly besotted with him as when he embraced his paternal side, and he could easily understand how she must have felt, considering how immensely it warmed his heart to watch her with their children.
Through several years of practice, Harold had learned how to draw out a story just long enough until the three of them grew too sleepy to listen for much longer, and, as he brought the tale to a more sedate conclusion, he would inevitably end up with at least Susie falling asleep nestled in the crook of his arm, her golden curls spilling across his shoulder. William always fought harder against his drowsiness, but he too would eventually end up heavy-lidded, yawning and leaning into his father's other arm.
Charlotte, nearly seven years old, was unlikely to actually fall asleep so easily, but she still grew rather dreamy and calm by the time Harold had finished with his storytelling – and she enjoyed the special responsibility of "helping" her younger siblings get to bed, after which she was usually more willing to climb under the covers herself.
As they dropped off to sleep one by one, it was almost hard to believe that these were the same children who'd been capable of kicking up such a ruckus earlier. But there was something profound in these moments of tucking them in and kissing their sleeping brows. When they were drowsy or sleeping – perhaps the only time of day when they weren't moving too quickly to get a good look at – Harold watched their faces and felt simply overwhelmed by love, in awe of the very miracle of their existence, that their very lives had arisen from the love that he and Marian shared.
He'd known that he wanted to have children with her from the moment that he'd chosen to stay in River City and build a life with her, but he could never have been prepared for what it would be like to see his own features reflected in the face of a tiny child, mingled with those of the woman that he loved and cherished above all others.
The former con man could easily remember a time in his life when even loving one person had been unimaginable to him, for it hadn't been that long ago at all – and now he had his dear little librarian and their three beautiful children, and each one of them had his heart completely. At times like these, no matter how tired he was, he just wanted to rush to his wife, take her in his arms, and demonstrate how much he loved and adored her and everything that they had together – but tonight, she was certainly already sleeping. His display of gratitude would have to wait.
From a practical perspective, Harold supposed that he should have retired to the music room after putting the children to bed so he could get some work done, but he felt restless, unable to stop worrying and wondering if Marian's condition had improved at all. Though he didn't want to irritate her, he simply couldn't stop himself from checking in on her for a moment, just to ease his mind. Perhaps he could at least have the chance to place a tender kiss on her sleeping forehead, to make up for the hundreds of kisses that he currently longed to bestow upon her.
He was set to open their bedroom door very carefully and tiptoe across the room, but it surprised him to see light streaming from underneath the door. Still, he couldn't dismiss the possibility that she'd fallen asleep with the light on, so he turned the knob very slowly and pushed the door gently so it wouldn't creak and risk disturbing his slumbering princess (sometimes, it was difficult to get his mind out of those fanciful storytelling thought patterns right away!)
But Marian wasn't sleeping after all – she was sitting up in bed reading. There was a rosiness in her cheeks that had been absent earlier in the evening, but Harold was still concerned about her well-being, especially as she apparently wasn't getting the rest that she'd so desperately desired.
"You couldn't sleep?" he asked, coming to sit near her on the edge of the bed.
She shook her head with a small yawn, removing her spectacles and laying them on her nightstand, along with the book. "No, I did. But I woke up a little while ago, and I was feeling better enough that I thought that I might as well stay up – especially because I've been wanting to talk to you alone."
"What about?" he inquired offhandedly as he leaned down to untie his shoes.
There was a moment of hesitation in her response that somehow got his attention more than anything she could have said, and he sat up to look at her. She was gazing back at him with eyes that were wide and uncertain, but the corners of her mouth trembled as if she were trying to hold back a smile that she wasn't certain that she should be having. In essence, his proud, indomitable librarian looked shy and vulnerable – an expression that he wasn't accustomed to seeing from her, and certainly not in recent months or even years.
"Um – can you come sit by me?" she finally asked, patting the bed beside her.
There was no way in the world he could have refused such a sweet request, nor would he have wanted to. He removed only his shoes, suit coat and tie before climbing into bed next to his wife, wrapping his arms around her. "Everything all right?"
The librarian drew her knees up closer to her chest under the covers, her fingers nervously tracing aimless patterns along the bedspread. "Harold, there's something I need to tell you. I hope this won't come across as too sudden, but I think I just ought to say it." Breathing in deep to gather her composure, she took his hands in her own and bit her lip as she gazed up at him. "I haven't had my courses, you know."
It was amazing, the way that a few simple words could carry such power. His heart leapt in his chest and his head was sent reeling as he tried to absorb the full significance of what she was telling him, and as he came to understand what this would mean, he felt elation radiating throughout his entire being.
Harold had woken up this morning assuming that this would be a day like any other, without any particularly remarkable occurrences; and, up until mere moments ago, the most extraordinary thing that had happened all day had been the fiasco with the frog, something that he might very well have forgotten all about by this time next year or even next month.
And then with one statement, Marian had turned this into one of the most wonderful days of his life, one that he would remember forever. But wasn't that often how these sorts of days came about? After all, it had been at a rather late hour one July night when she'd confessed her love for him and he'd realized, in the nick of time, that he couldn't live without her, either...
Though his mouth had gone suddenly dry, Harold still managed to speak. "You're – you're right. Since – "
"Since before the trip," she confirmed with a nod. "I've missed at least two months now. And, well, we weren't very cautious in California – or after, for that matter – and with the symptoms I've been having, it all makes sense if I'm… Of course, I don't know for certain. I might be wrong. But I've realized that I hope I'm right."
"Oh my God. I – I hope so, too," he stammered, laying a hand on her stomach in a loving, reverent embrace. "I had thought of this, but I hadn't really taken the time to do the math..." Overwhelmed, he pulled his wife into his arms, kissing her cheeks and her hair over and over. "Darling, here I was getting so worried about how sick you'd been feeling, and it turns out to be for the most wonderful reason possible. I know that this wasn't in our plans, but I will love this child, any child of ours, so very, very much. I already do."
At that, Marian nearly burst into tears, her eyes welling up and voice trembling. "I feel the same way. It's true that I haven't been to the doctor yet – there's a chance that there might not even be a child. But the moment that I began to entertain the possibility, I was already in love. Oh, Harold, I'm so relieved that you don't think this is – a problem." With a shaky sigh, she buried her face in his chest.
Harold held his beloved even more tightly, letting his hands move in soothing strokes down her back – he supposed her doubts about his reaction shouldn't have shocked him, yet they sounded utterly ridiculous in the face of the incredible joy he was feeling. "A problem? Marian, I couldn't imagine a greater blessing than to bring another child into the world with you," he assured her. "If anything, I was worried that you might be upset – it goes without saying that pregnancy and childbirth are much harder on you than on me. How could you doubt how happy this would make me?"
She looked up at him again with a little shrug. "Well, it's just – it isn't what we planned."
"If everything had always gone the way we planned it, there'd be no Susie," he reminded her, gently wiping the tears from her face. "Really, if everything had always gone the way we planned it, we wouldn't have ever even fallen in love – or, at least, we wouldn't have ever acknowledged our feelings. But everything that has come into our life, planned or not, has been absolutely beautiful."
"I suppose I knew you would feel that way, but I just couldn't help wondering how you might take the news," she admitted. "Everything is going so well now that I could understand if you didn't want anything to change. Certainly, it's not easy to have a new baby, no matter how much of a blessing it is. I can't say that I like the idea of another labor, and it is nice to finally have children who are old enough not to keep us up all night – so I could see that it might upset you to have to deal with raising an infant again."
After the moments of reflection he'd happened to experience tonight, Harold was more than prepared to refute her doubts. "It won't be easy, but you know as well as I do that there are so many wonderful things that make the difficulties of parenthood more than worth it. Watching our children grow from tiny enough to hold in our arms into independent, intelligent little people, watching them develop their own unique personalities and points of view and talents – there's nothing more amazing than that, and I can't feel anything but overjoyed about having another. Even the occasional little troubles with frogs don't seem so bad – "
"Frogs?" the librarian interrupted with an incredulous laugh. sitting up a little straighter. "Oh, don't tell me that this has something to do with William…"
Harold winked. "I think that's a story that I'll have to save for later. But my point is that I love every moment of being a father, even when things get hectic. I'm already happier than any one man has the right to be, especially a man like me, and yet tonight, you've managed to make me happier still. Another child is the most delightful surprise you could have given me – don't you ever say that you're bad at surprising me, darling!"
"Well, then – surprise!" Marian announced with a beaming smile, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Even though we hadn't planned this, the timing does feel right to me this time – although even if it didn't, I suppose that this would still be what was meant to happen. When I think back on it, I still feel guilty about the uncertainty I felt when I found out I was pregnant with Susie, but this time, I have no reason to feel so afraid. If I managed to carry and give birth to Susie while William was still an infant, and then to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old with all of their varying needs, along with Charlotte, too – well, anything else doesn't sound so hard at all anymore!"
That was another fact that made this particular pregnancy seem less imposing. They had conceived their third child while their second was still nursing, making the mistake of assuming that they would not need to worry about any precautions until their son was weaned. Marian hadn't even resumed her courses once after giving birth to William, and when a visit to the doctor had revealed that she was, in fact, pregnant, she had initially felt panic and dismay at what should have been joyous news – followed by guilt that she'd greeted that news with anything less than sheer elation. The fact that she'd ultimately been able to overcome her doubts in that situation made Harold feel much more optimistic about this unplanned child than he might have been otherwise, and he was relieved to hear that Marian felt the same way – they had already proven that they could handle this under significantly more difficult circumstances.
"By the time that this baby is born, Susie will be four, and that's a perfectly reasonable gap between siblings. You shouldn't ever have to worry about being able to take care of all of our children – especially because I'll be with you every step of the way," Harold promised, squeezing her hand tightly. "We're a team, and we can accomplish anything together. You and I made a successful, acclaimed band out of nothing at all – surely we can handle four kids of our own!"
The librarian cuddled close to him, a flash of spirited tenacity in her eyes. "Didn't I tell you that I'm committing to embracing adventures now – especially with you? There's no greater adventure than bringing another child into the world!" Though she seemed much more encouraged by now, the music professor could tell that another uncertainty had entered her mind when her smile faded a bit and she abruptly shifted her gaze down to her fingernails. "Now that I know how happy you are, the only thing that truly concerns me, I suppose, is the number. We never discussed the possibility of having any more. Though if it would have been such a bad thing – if we really thought we couldn't handle another – we could have taken precautions. We always had the option." She frowned slightly, beginning to doubt her own argument. "Although I suppose we might have merely been careless…"
Harold was quick to dismiss that possibility. "It wasn't just a single mistake, though, or a miscalculation. We made that choice, again and again, and clearly neither of us objected too strongly. So somehow, we'd already acknowledged that we wouldn't mind this happening. Yes, we did decide on three back when we first started having children – but then, we haven't really discussed the matter ever since."
"Well, yes. I thought three sounded like a nice size for a family, but not so many that I'd risk having to give up my job at the library. But I'm sure four can be managed – and you're right that we never ruled out four, strictly speaking," she told him with a small smile. "Of course, any more than that would most certainly be too many for me – we've absolutely got to commit ourselves to being careful after this baby is born! I don't think I have it in me to be the mother to five, even when with a wonderful husband and father like you to help out. I want to be sure that I'm always able to have more in my life than just being a mother – is it terribly selfish for a woman to say that?"
"Not at all," Harold replied with a firm shake of his head. "You're brilliant at what you do, darling, and I couldn't imagine what you or River City would do if you weren't the librarian. And, as a father, I'd say that four is my limit, too, and I don't think that it's a bit selfish to want to keep our family to a manageable size. We want to be able to give each of our kids all of the time and attention they need, and to do that, we need to be able to remember all of their names! I'm no expert, but I think that to be the best parents that we can possibly be, we should be able to be fulfilled in all parts of our life, including our work and our marriage. I imagine that it does children a disservice to have a pair of constantly exhausted, harried parents that can barely find enough hours in the day to treat them like parents should! But I have complete confidence that we can still have our cozy little family with four. This time, we'll just have to promise to keep it that way – and stick to it."
"Can we?" she asked, and though there was levity in her voice, her words were laced with real concern. "This will make our second lapse, after all. That's what worries me – not that we're having another child, not at all, but that we've failed in preventing pregnancy twice already! Can we trust ourselves in the future? I don't want us to be overrun with children simply because we love each other so passionately. I need to be able to work, Harold. You know that. Some women, maybe most women, can be perfectly happy as housewives, but that could never be me. I love the library too much – it was my child before I had any of my own! And it's practically a miracle that I've been able to hold onto my job with one child, never mind three or four. Not to mention that I never want us to be so busy with children that we never have the time or energy to simply enjoy being husband and wife. As you said, I don't want our work or our marriage to suffer."
Certainly, he could not pretend that those concerns hadn't crossed his mind as well – but the very fact that they were having this conversation right now gave him great confidence in their resolve. "Marian, I'm sure we can trust ourselves, because it's so important to us and to the rest of our children that we do so," he assured her. "You made a good point when you said that we never quite ruled out four, and lately, we'd all but given up trying to prevent it, so I wouldn't exactly call this a lapse. But we're ruling out five, right now, and so I know we'll do the right thing for our family and follow through on that promise."
"It's just hard to imagine that we'll never make a mistake again, or decide in the heat of the moment that we'd rather go without something – between us." She let the final words trail off into a whisper, obviously mortified at speaking so frankly about such an intimate detail while they were not actively engaged in lovemaking. "Passion and caution don't always work together so well."
Harold cast a glance at his nightstand, feeling mingled gratitude and annoyance for the "precautions" hidden therein – they were incredibly useful, but far from ideal, and the thought of using them forever was vexing, no matter how prudent it would be.
"You're right. The damn things are just so inconvenient when one is... distracted by other matters. Of course, raising a passel of children while we both have jobs that we're devoted to as well would be much more inconvenient than merely being conscientious about precautions, I know that, but I truly wish there were a better way – something that lent itself better to those who are as, well, impulsive as we are. Something that wouldn't require a last-minute remembrance or detract in any way from how close we feel when we make love."
The librarian laughed, rolling her eyes. "Well, yes, that would be nice. Lots of things would be nice. For example, I'd prefer diapers that would change themselves! But there's no easy way around it – we just have to work with what we have."
"So we'll work with it to the best of our ability," he said, wanting her to know that he wasn't going to let any complaints of mere inconvenience deter him from that aim. "After the baby is born, I'll – I'll fill all my pockets with prophylactics if you want me to, just so I can make love to you any time and as many times as we desire."
With a giggle, Marian shook her head, the blush induced by the delicate subject matter growing even deeper. "As if that couldn't result in an embarrassing situation."
Harold chuckled as he imagined how terrible of an idea that would be if put into practice. "Well, I just mean that I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure that we can still make love whenever the mood strikes us without having to worry that you'll become pregnant. I need to be more responsible – the consequences are much greater for you than for me, and I need to keep aware of that."
"You know as well as I do that it takes two," she admonished, patting his hand affectionately. "But thank you."
Pressing his lips into a tight line, the music professor drummed his fingers together in thought, trying to figure out if there was some solution that he simply wasn't seeing. "For all I know, my preventative knowledge could be well outdated. It's not the sort of thing that gets trumpeted in the newspapers, after all! I'll bet that there must be more convenient ways, less intrusive ways, that are just as effective, maybe more. If it's okay with you, I'll even talk to Dr. Pyne when go tomorrow and ask him there's anything else we might be able to do to make sure. I promise, I'll do whatever it takes."
"Short of not making love to me, I hope," Marian said coyly, fluttering her lashes at him.
"Never," Harold responded almost before she'd finished speaking. "I want to promise you that I'll never allow my desire for you to take precedence over our plans for our family – but I'll also never allow the need to be careful to take away from our passion. I don't know if it's possible to achieve both things in balance, but we're going to make it possible. If nobody's done it before, then we'll just have to be the first. Marian, nothing in the world could make me stop making love to you – unless, of course, you no longer wanted me to, in which case – "
"Never." The librarian placed her fingers on his lips while using her other hand to playfully dangle her seashell pendant before him, reminder of all their renewed promises and ever-growing passion. "It seems, Professor, that I only want you more and more all the time – and have I not already proven quite thoroughly that every burning, distracting, all-consuming desire you feel for me, I return quite equally? Or do you want a reminder?"
How she could make herself look so glowingly innocent and yet so frankly sensual all at once, he couldn't know – it wasn't necessarily done on purpose, either, because she'd had that look about her since long, long before she'd ever discovered her sensual side. But she certainly delighted in intentionally stirring him up these days, and the saucy way that she arched her brow and pouted those perfect crimson lips was enough to make him want to tear off her nightgown and spend the next several hours ravishing her.
And she said that she feels the exact same way… He shouldn't have been surprised by that fact in general, given all that they'd shared and confessed to each other throughout their marriage, but he still found it hard to believe that she could be feeling so amorous right now after he'd witnessed how pale and exhausted she'd been before dinner.
"You know, I'd love to see what kind of reminder you can give me – but I thought you might be too tired tonight," he admitted, even as she pressed closer to him and proceeded to bestow light, fluttery kisses against his neck. "We can always make love in the morning, if you'd prefer..."
Marian pulled back, her expression a tad exasperated with his overbearing concern. "I did have a nap, which made quite the difference." The impish smile spread across her face again, and she trailed her fingers through his wavy brown locks and down to the short fringe at the back of his neck, making him sigh in contentment. "And you of all people, Professor, should know that fatigue, or all manner of other complaints, can become rather insignificant when one is feeling very, very much in love with a certain exceptionally attractive person..."
"Well, I couldn't be sure how bad you were feeling – I've never been pregnant."
He had never been the type to blush, to say the least, but the music professor felt heat rushing rapidly to his face as he realized the sheer stupidity of what he'd just said – and he knew that she was not about to let that remark slide by!
Sure enough, Marian clasped his hands in her own and gazed up into his eyes with mock solemnity – though her features were already quivering with the overwhelming desire to laugh. "Thank you for the clarification, darling. I could never be sure."
When she burst into delighted laughter at last, she threw her arms around him to pull her down with her, and husband and wife tumbled back into the pillows together in a fit of mirth and happiness. On a mischievous, amorous impulse, Harold decided to turn the tables by pinning Marian beneath him, letting his tickling fingers dance up and down her arms and her sides, and she laughed and squirmed helplessly against him. The music professor grinned even more broadly as he imagined how he could shortly have his gorgeous wife writhing against him for completely different reasons, running her lithe hands over every inch of his body in return, moaning his name as she begged him for more...
But, while he wasn't eager to say anything that would spoil that delicious prospect, a certain alarming-yet-amusing thought suddenly intruded on his mind, and he found that he couldn't keep the words from spilling out.
"You know who's never going to let us hear the end of this, don't you?" he said, stopping in his tickling momentarily to lean up on one arm and gaze down at her, one eyebrow raised.
Marian smirked. "My mother?"
"Oh, her, too, but I was thinking of someone significantly... tinier."
"Charlotte!" the librarian exclaimed, her eyes growing wide with dismay. "Goodness, you're right - she was so very keen on finding out where babies come from a couple of months ago, and that was without having any particular reason to ask. I can't imagine that she'll let me get through this pregnancy without getting some information out of me!"
The music professor was struck by a certain memory that made the situation seem even more dire – and, he had to admit, more amusing, too. "Do you think she remembers the time she nearly walked in on us? She was only about three – could she remember that?"
"Oh, no – I hadn't even been thinking about that," Marian wailed, turning to bury her face in the pillow as she giggled helplessly. "If I'm not incredibly careful with what I say, she's going to enter the first grade knowing far, far too much about the facts of life! That confirms it – taking care of an infant is nothing compared to dealing with a precocious child who's grown old enough to ask questions that we don't want to answer. At least we have ample experience with infants by now!"
"Yes – and at least we have a lock on our door by now," Harold murmured, playfully trailing kisses along the swell of her breasts at the neckline of her nightgown, which he tugged lower with every passing moment.
"One of the best investments we've ever made," she attested through her quickening gasps as his hands and mouth explored her sensitive skin – and then, as if their words had summoned it, a sound came from just outside the door, causing them to stop their canoodling and sit upright in alarm, wondering if someone was seeking entry to that thankfully-locked door after all. But after a moment of listening so intently that they were barely breathing, they fell back to the bed, laughing in relief, as they realized that it was simply the scratching of little cat claws on the doorframe, the source made even more obvious when they were accompanied by a high, plaintive yowl.
Harold waggled his eyebrows at Marian in mock horror, even as he eased her out of her nightgown and traced her delectable curves with his hands. "Oh, no – do you think we can handle four children and the cat? Somehow, we forgot to factor her into the discussion..."
The librarian rolled her eyes heavenward with a knowing smile. "Harold Hill, if I can handle you, I can handle anything."
He let out a low chuckle, his lips still pressed against her neck as he paused in administering a hard, wet love-bite. "Can you? Handle me, I mean?"
As she pulled his shirt from his shoulders and flung it to the floor, she met his smoldering gaze with one that burned just as hotly, and, in her most sultry, seductive tone, challenged: "Try me."
The way that Marian could send two little words directly below his belt shouldn't have surprised Harold, but it still did, somehow. He was still astonished every time at the extraordinary eroticism of their lovemaking, how much she turned him on and how wildly passionate she was – and all of this as she gave herself to him, body and soul, as the most open, affectionate, selfless lover that any man could ever dream of.
As his wife gazed enticingly back at him, blonde curls spilling all around her shoulders and hazel eyes dark with longing, he wanted her so fiercely that he couldn't think straight – and, considering that she had just made a point of assuring him that she felt the very same way, the thought of his dear little librarian aching for him as badly as he did for her was simply impossible to resist. Divesting himself of his remaining garments as quickly as he could, he pulled her against him and let their bodies tangle together on the bed, her soft, smooth skin feeling like silk against his own.
She melted beneath him as he teased and tantalized her, sighing in affirmation even as she pleaded with him to touch her more, to kiss her more, to make love to her, and all while she returned his every caress with equal fervor... Harold could barely believe that he was lucky enough to have this beautiful, brilliant, fascinating woman once again carrying a child that they had created through their love.
And as he lost himself to the sweet, intoxicating bliss of loving Marian, he reveled in the knowledge that she could surprise him in so many wonderful ways – and that there were simply no limits to how much joy they could find in the life that they'd built together.