If someone had told Harold Hill that a mere six months after arriving in River City, he'd be contentedly ensconced on a library bench reading Charles Dickens while his librarian-wife tended to her duties, he'd have laughed and recommended the fortune teller go hawk his yarns elsewhere.
But here it was, a cold January evening in River City, and Professor Harold Hill was doing exactly that. He and Marian had returned from their honeymoon in Des Moines only two weeks earlier, and Harold, reluctant to be separated from his new bride, had made it a point to drop by the library at some point every day to say hello to his sweet wife and steal a kiss or two if circumstances permitted.
However, after the onset of an early snowfall that morning, Harold decided it might be best if he arrived at the library earlier than usual. Marian seemed surprised to see him when he appeared at her desk around two p.m. and chuckled at her husband's explanation for his early appearance.
"Darling, this is quite normal for this time of year."
Harold merely shrugged and planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "It's my first Iowa winter, Mrs. Hill. Next year, when I'm a seasoned Iowan, I'll bring a sled."
"Honestly, Harold," she laughed, rolling her eyes.
Giving her a cheeky grin, he winked and proceeded to situate himself on the nearby bench, taking a copy of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol with him. Marian would join him later. She always did. Although they were only recently husband and wife, they had established this routine shortly after his proposal and both had found it to be quite satisfying. He read while she tended to library business. The quiet intervals simply spent in each other's company were some of Harold's favorite moments, and he found himself eagerly looking forward to a lifetime filled with similar evenings.
XXX
The lights flickered intermittently as Harold quietly read his book. Marian sat beside him, fastidiously scribbling away in her book ledger, ensuring everything was as it should be. Every now and then, the music professor would pause and glance at his wife, waiting until her eyes lifted to meet his, before giving her an impish smile. Once the familiar blush colored her cheeks and she lowered her eyes in mild embarrassment, he would chuckle and return to his book, supremely satisfied by their little game.
As the afternoon progressed, they were interrupted by one brave patron who stopped by to check out an armload of books. But after that brief disruption, the solitude returned, and the library remained empty.
Harold had just finished reliving Scrooge's boyhood Christmas when Marian laid aside her pencil and shut her ledger.
"My goodness," she exhaled. "That certainly took longer than expected. I shall have to remember to teach Zaneeta the ins and outs of record keeping."
Harold smiled and closed his own book. "Her entries leave something to be desired?"
"She did an admirable job," Marian quickly replied, "but there are certain tricks that make it easier to track the comings and goings of volumes. I didn't realize I'd been so remiss in her training."
Harold chuckled and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "Don't be so hard on yourself, my dear. You had an awful lot on your plate what with the wedding and moving from one home to another."
Marian nodded in agreement, and Harold was grateful to see the slight self-recrimination that had settled in her eyes slip away. She glanced around at the empty library and smiled.
"I'm certainly grateful for the lull in patrons. The library seems to have accumulated several stacks of books while we were away. I've yet to manage to re-shelve all of them!"
Harold was amused by this revelation and regarded her with curiosity. "Darling, we've been back for almost three weeks. How can they still be unattended?"
A bright blush suffused Marian's cheeks and she started to turn away, but Harold caught her arm and gazed inquiringly at her.
"Harold," Marian murmured in admonition, but he continued to watch her with avid eyes, and so she was forced to reply. But she didn't meet his gaze as she softly responded, "I haven't been staying as late as I normally did before we were married."
It took Harold a moment to work out what she was saying, but when he did, a beaming smile bloomed across his face as what Marian hadn't said sank in. During the first week of their return from Des Moines, Marian had returned home near seven o'clock every evening for the first three nights. Harold, eager to spend time with his wife, had expressed his frustration that she was working such late hours, but his wife pointed out that as the town librarian, the late hours were necessary in order to set the library back to rights after her extended absence. Although Zaneeta had done an admirable job in her absence, there were still many small things that needed attending and her expert eye.
While Harold understood this, it didn't lessen his desire for Marian's earlier arrival. He had spent nearly six months dreaming of Marian in his bed, and once he'd had the opportunity to finally demonstrate the true extent of his love for her, he discovered that even he hadn't been prepared for the onslaught of emotions being with her produced. It was more than just the carnal, although he would be the first to admit that he greatly enjoyed that aspect of their marriage. But there was more to it than that. Harold's heart began to race as he recalled their honeymoon and the trust that shone in her eyes each time they made love, and the words of love that fell from her lips as he moved within her. It was the way she gave herself so freely to him that made him want her more. And when they were spent, huddling close to one another, her hand trailing along his arm, they would talk in hushed voices, content to remain in each other's embrace as long as they could until they finally drifted off to sleep.
After an entire week of learning his wife's lithe body and listening to her passionate cries, Harold had found himself suddenly impatient when Marian began staying late. Although she happily and eagerly made love to him when they retired in the evenings, he missed the spontaneity and surprise that had colored their honeymoon.
So on the third evening of her late arrival, he met at the door and before she could even utter so much as a hello, he swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to their bedroom. Marian had been shocked by the abrupt welcome, but her amazement quickly melted away as her clothes drifted to the floor, and moments later, she was beneath him, moaning in pleasure as Harold fervently made love to her. When they had finished, Marian expressed her surprise at his enthusiastic greeting. Harold chuckled and informed her that although being a conman had taught him the art of patience, she had an uncanny knack of bringing out his impatient streak. He thought his wife might melt from embarrassment when he revealed he'd been dreaming of their lovemaking every afternoon and would happily make love to her every evening when she breezed their doorway, if he could. But instead of admonishing him, Marian merely gave him a coy smile and said nothing; however, the next evening – much to Harold's delight – she promptly arrived home 20 minutes after the library closed at 5 p.m., and her return was as dependable as clockwork every night after that.
A carnal man by nature, Harold heartily welcomed this change in Marian's schedule, but he hadn't stopped to consider the effect it might have on her duties at the library. Although he would sorely miss their early evening lovemaking, the music professor made a mental note to mention to Marian that he would be staying late one or two nights a week at the Emporium. Hopefully, that would allow his wife the time she needed to tidy up her domain.
Normally Harold would've suggested they stay a bit later tonight so he could help her with her tasks, but the constant snowfall and heavy, gray clouds that had loomed all afternoon made him think such ideas were better left to clearer days. As if to confirm this thought, the howling winds began to shriek outside the library windows. Unaccustomed to such furious weather, Harold looked toward the doors in concern.
"Sounds like Old Man Winter sure is sore about something."
Marian smiled and laid a comforting hand on his. "Darling, this is perfectly normal for this time of year."
Harold didn't look convinced. "Maybe for you," he muttered. He ignored Marian's gentle laughter and made his way to the double doors to get a better look at the commotion outside. When he pulled open one of the doors to take a peek, he was instantly buffeted by sheets of wind and snow. Flinching as the cold flecks pelted his eyes and nose and dusted the top of his head, Harold quickly pushed the door shut with a loud thud and turned to his wife, shaking his head as he wiped a hand along his damp face.
"With the way it's coming down out there, it doesn't look like we're going anywhere for a while."
Marian gave him a dubious glance, and Harold had the distinct feeling his wife thought perhaps her music professor was simply unaccustomed to an Iowa snowstorm. Her next words confirmed his suspicions.
"Honestly Harold, I don't think it's that bad," she replied with a wry smile, and made her way from the table to the front entrance.
Harold raised his eyebrows in surprise at her dismissal of his assessment, but then chuckled and waved an arm toward the door. "Be my guest, Madam Librarian, and see for yourself."
Marian had no sooner opened the door than she was immediately pushed back by the strong winds and biting snow that rushed through the open doorway. Harold moved to assist her, but with a strength that belied her small frame, the librarian managed to shut the doors before he could even take a step. When she turned to face him, her face was pale and her eyes wide, devoid of their earlier amusement.
"Oh my," she murmured in genuine concern. "We wouldn't make it ten steps in that storm." She looked at him and chewed on her lower lip, concern seeping into her expression. "Harold, what are we going to do? It'd be ludicrous to try to make it home."
Harold shrugged and gave her a boyish smile. "It looks like we're stranded here, my dear little librarian." He hoped his teasing demeanor would put his wife at ease, but as soon as she heard his solution, her face drained of color and she raised a hand to cover her mouth.
Concerned, Harold stepped closer to her and took her hand in his. "Darling, what's wrong? I realize being stranded isn't the ideal solution, but it's only for the night. Tomorrow morning, the storm will have died away, and we can return home."
"Harold, what will people think? The two of us, spending the night together. Here! It's indecent!"
"Say now, there's nothing indecent about a husband and wife seeking amenable shelter when they're stranded," Harold countered, bringing Marian's hand to his mouth and placing a reassuring kiss on it.
Marian frowned. "Unfortunately, people aren't as understanding as you. Besides, I daresay no one else is facing such a precarious situation."
"Probably not," Harold readily agreed. "But look on the bright side, my dear. Who will even know we're here?"
His comment was meant to allay some of Marian's fears, but it wasn't far from the truth. It was unfortunate that the heavy and unexpected snowfall was forcing them to spend the night in Madison Public Library, but Harold very much doubted if any of the townspeople realized they were even still there. After all, it had been unseasonably cold the previous days – even for River City – and as such, most of the townsfolk had chosen to stay inside and forgo the weather in favor of steaming cups of cider and the warmth of a crackling hearth.
Marian appeared to consider his statement, and Harold felt relief flutter through him as the tension in her shoulders slowly eased and a smile bloomed across her face.
"You're absolutely correct, Harold. I haven't seen a patron since Mrs. Phelps left three hours ago."
"See? Our secret is safe. Now, about bedding down for the night…" His eyes roamed the library in search of the best place to situate themselves for warmth and comfort. When his alighted on the radiator near the upstairs wall, he smiled. "That'll do." Turning back to Marian, he considered her thoughtfully for a moment. "A resourceful librarian such as yourself wouldn't happen to have any blankets around here, would she?"
Marian nodded and went to a nearby closet. "Of course I do. I keep them tucked away in here for just such an emergency. This isn't my first snowstorm," she smiled. "The winter after I first took over the library, we had a surprise snowfall in late November. I remember spending several chilly hours as I waited for a lull that would allow me to make it safely home." She opened the door and retrieved two blankets. "The next day I returned with these, and they've been here ever since!"
Harold gave her a winning smile. "Always two steps ahead!" He took them from her and nodded at their coats hanging on a nearby hook. "If you'll collect those and follow me, we'll see about settling in for the evening."
Marian held up a hand. "I need to lock up first. You go ahead, and I'll follow you as soon as the doors are secure and I've returned my ledger to the desk."
Nodding his agreement, Harold gave his wife an affectionate look and headed up the large spiral staircase in the center of the room.
Harold turned when he heard the distinctive sound of Marian's shoes clinking against the metal stairway. He watched as she made her way to him, their coats draped over her arm. When her eyes landed on the radiator situated behind him, she smiled and shook her head in amusement.
"You never cease to amaze me, Harold."
He laughed and gestured behind him. "Well, it's not as good as a roaring fireplace, but it sure beats the cool floor down below."
"Indeed," Marian concurred. "But why is your suit jacket on the floor? You should be wearing it for warmth."
Harold frowned and retrieved their coats from his wife's arms. "Marian, if you think I'm going to let you lay on the floor without a pillow of sorts, you're sadly mistaken." She started to protest, but Harold waved away her concern and proceeded to arrange their coats into an impromptu mattress. Satisfied with the makeshift bedding, he lowered himself to the floor and patted the area next to him, encouraging his wife to join him.
When she had settled herself beside him, he leaned down and began unlacing his shoes. He gave Marian a boyish grin and wiggled his toes as his shoes came free. "I've always wanted to do that in here."
Marian laughed. "Why does that not surprise me, Professor Hill?" She reached out to unhook her boots, but stopped when Harold's hands settled atop hers. When she looked up at him, he watched her with a seriousness that had not been present only moments before.
"Allow me, Mrs. Hill," he murmured softly. Her humor suddenly absent, Marian merely nodded, her eyes trained on his until he looked away.
Harold's touch was gentle as he slowly undid each of the hooks that ran along the length of Marian's boots. He had first enjoyed the seductive experience of undressing his wife during their honeymoon, and although he knew she was quite capable of performing the task without his help, there was something wholly intimate about helping her undress. Even though they wouldn't be able to see their usual ritual through to fruition tonight, Harold was adamant that they at least be able to experience it in some part. As he slowly worked each boot off, he allowed his hands to slip beneath the hem of Marian's gown and caress her legs through the stockings she wore. He knew Marian enjoyed this, because she gave a little sigh as his hands traveled along the material. Harold only wished they could indulge in the rest of their usual routine. But realizing the need to practice restraint, he regretfully removed his hands and gave his wife an indulgent smile.
"Tomorrow night," he promised.
Marian nodded in understanding and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. When she pulled away, she cast a dubious glance at the coats beneath them and looked back at him, but he waggled a finger and cut her off before she could begin. "It's not up for debate, my dear little librarian. Besides," he murmured with a sly grin, "I'm sure I'll be plenty warm with you next to me. "
Although this had been intended to elicit a good-natured smack from his wife, Marian said nothing and instead cast a nervous glance to the doors down below. Harold quickly realized she was thinking about the unorthodox sleeping arrangements in which they had found themselves tonight. He mentally scolded himself for his blunder. He tried to think of something to say, but before he could, Marian lay down next to him and pulled the blanket tightly to her. Harold winced. He'd missed his chance. With a resigned sigh, the music professor followed his wife's example, his own head coming to rest against the hard floor as he contemplated their situation.
Although Harold knew there was nothing scandalous about them staying overnight in the library, he understood Marian's nervousness. They were married now, but people always talked. Even marriage didn't always change that. And Marian had always been sensitive to the townspeople's idle gossip. He couldn't blame her. But unfortunately, because of her history, she was hesitant to even embrace him, instead choosing to lay by his side; however, she must have realized there was not much warmth in that, because a few minutes later, she turned her back to him and allowed him to move behind her. Grateful that he was at least able to spoon with his wife, Harold slipped an arm over her waist to pull her closer to him for warmth, but also because he simply wanted to be close to his wife. As he did this, he felt Marian began tremble and heard her sharp intake of breath when his hand splayed across her stomach.
"Darling, we are married," he softly whispered, trying to reassure her. Harold knew his proper wife still carried old insecurities stemming from the days when she was viewed as a pariah. Although he couldn't change what had happened in the past, he was adamant that his wife would never be subjected to that stigma again. But here, in the library, alone together, he knew they truly had privacy and hoped she realized that there were no prying eyes to cast aspersions.
"I know," came her quiet reply. But Harold could still feel the tension humming through her as his chin rested against hair. Shifting, he lowered his head so he could rest his lips against the smooth skin of Marian's neck. His hand began to trace languid circles across her stomach, his fingers caressing her through the cotton fabric.
"Marian, what's wrong?"
Marian merely shook her head.
"Tell me," Harold murmured. He pressed open kisses along the line of her neck in gentle persuasion.
Marian released a soft sigh as her hand came up to cover Harold's. "I know you'll think me terribly silly, darling, but I can't help but think we're being awfully wicked. Doing this. Here. In the library. It seems… wrong."
Harold chuckled and tightened his grasp on her. "Oh my dear little librarian, we are far from wicked."
He was pleased to see a smile lift the corner of his wife's mouth. Lowering his lips, he proceeded to give her a few quick loves bites and was rewarded by her soft moans of approval. When he lifted his head, his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction.
"Naughty perhaps," he conceded, "but never wicked."
"Honestly, Harold," Marian laughed. "You're incorrigible." But the apprehension that had been present only moments before now dissipated with her giggles.
Harold was glad to see this. Truth be told, had they been stranded at his Emporium, he would have no compunction about making love to wife. But the library was Marian's domain, and even though she was now no longer a stranger to physical intimacy, he had a sneaking suspicion the library would always retain echoes of her maidenly virtue. Truth be told, he found the idea oddly comforting. He had fallen in love with Marian the maidenly librarian, and the gentle reminders of her tucked away within the library met him like old friends every time he entered. To make love to her here, even now though they were married, would seem like sullying those vestiges of innocence.
Of course, Marian had no way of knowing any of that. Before their marriage, Harold had never hesitated to squirrel away his fiancée to a dim corner of the library and steal a quick kiss when the opportunity afforded it. And toward the final weeks before their marriage, when the last patron had finally dwindled out, his stolen kisses had become somewhat lengthy.
But stealing kisses and making love were two entirely different things, Harold reflected as his hand resumed tracing circles across her stomach. Marian's blissful sighs delighted him, but as he continued to tease her, Harold realized he wanted to hear her throaty moans and his name whispered from her lovely lips. He wouldn't go too far, but surely they could indulge in a little canoodling before settling down for the evening. With that in mind, he trailed his hand higher. Marian turned her head to gaze at him questioningly, but her eyes soon slid shut when his palm closed over her breast, and he began to caress her in earnest. At first, Marian tensed up again, as if she was considering the idea of protesting his bold behavior. But then she seemed to think better of it and relaxed into his persuasive caresses, her hand rising to clutch at his arm. She moaned his name, slowly moving against him, her backside pressing into him as he continued his ministrations. Harold knew she felt his response to her movements, because a sly smile spread across her face and she continued to sigh in delight, ardently whispering for him to continue.
Elated at Marian's willingness to allow him such liberties in her library, Harold lowered his mouth to her ear and gently toyed with it, his tongue tracing the outline, his lips closing around her lobe and softly tugging on it in the way he knew drove her wild.
Marian didn't disappoint him. Her sighs turned into full-fledged moans and a moment later, she turned in his arms and captured his mouth in a heated kiss, parting her lips beneath his. Harold was taken aback by his wife's sudden change in demeanor, but never a man to pass up such an opportunity, he quickly recovered and returned her ardent embrace. As his tongue explored the familiar contours of her mouth, he resumed his blatant caress and traced the outline of her breasts through the soft fabric of her gown. Marian pressed against him again, and Harold moaned into their kiss. Impatient to feel Marian closer to him, Harold insistently pressed his thigh against her legs until they parted and granted him access. His other hand cupped her backside and pulled her to him so that she rested flush against his erection. He heard her sharp intake of breath when their bodies came in contact, but then Marian was kissing him again, her fingers feverishly trailing through his hair.
They remained that way for several minutes, Harold leisurely exploring his wife's mouth as his hand continued to tease her curves and his hips eagerly moved with hers, expertly mimicking the lovemaking they'd quickly become accustomed to during their few short weeks of marriage. When they finally parted to catch their breath, Harold grinned at his wife and was delighted to see her smiling broadly at him in return.
"Never wicked?" she challenged. Desire still shown in her eyes, but there was a trace of mischief dancing behind it.
A grin split Harold's face. Marian was certainly in a playful mood tonight.
"That wasn't wicked, my dear little librarian," he informed her with a saucy grin and lowered his head to her breast. He glanced at his wife, who was now gazing at him with genuine curiosity. "But this is," he murmured before nuzzling the fabric of her dress, his mouth opening and closing around the soft curve of her breast. When he added his tongue to the caress, Marian's breathing sharpened, and her hands instantly returned to his head, raking through his hair before they found the short fringe at the back his neck. That area having always been a particular weak spot for him – something Marian had quickly discovered during their courtship – Harold shuddered and moaned against her before increasing the intensity of his kisses. He could've sworn he heard Marian give a low chuckle, but before he could contemplate it further, his wife took the lead and pulled his mouth to hers for a passionate kiss. As they resumed their earlier explorations, Harold felt Marian's hand slip between them and lightly brush against the firmness in his trousers. At first, he wasn't certain whether the contact was intentional or not, but when her hand moved across him again, he broke their kiss and moaned in approval.
"Marian," he groaned in a ragged voice, slowly thrusting against her hand. He could feel her fingers through the fabric as they lightly trailed along his erection. It was heavenly – her hesitant touch toying with him. But when her hand closed around him and began to caress him in earnest, a strangled gasp escaped the befuddled music professor. Suddenly, Harold didn't care whether they were in Madison Public Library or not. Although he was a changed man, it still went firmly against his principles for such a generous gesture to remain unreciprocated.
Sliding his own fingers beneath the hem of her gown, which had settled atop his thigh, Harold's hand glided along the fabric until he was cupping her through her drawers. He could feel the unmistakable heat and dampness of her arousal through the fabric, and Harold smiled in smug satisfaction. It was obvious, that despite her earlier protests, Marian was finding enjoyment in their evening activities, and Harold was eager to give her even more. Moving his palm, he began to slowly tease her, lightly stroking her through the fabric, feeling her press down against him in response to his caress. Her delighted moans mingled with his steady groaning, and soon they were both panting, eyes steadily fixed upon each other as they explored one another while the storm howled outside.
As his wife maddeningly stroked him, Harold reflected he was both shocked and delighted at Marian's apparent willingness to contribute to such a heated moment. For all of his wife's Victorian sensibilities, she was certainly keeping pace with him tonight, and he absently wondered just how many liberties his lovely little librarian would allow. Before tonight, Harold thought he could never be so crass as to make love to his wife in her library – some things simply weren't done. But now that they were completely alone and unencumbered by the possibility of being interrupted or discovered, he found himself recalling the fantasy that had helped him find satisfaction many a night during his early stay in River City.
As Harold seriously considered the possibility of turning his imaginings into reality, Marian released a low moan and closed her eyes, her head tilting back, even while she increased the tempo of her caresses. Harold was desperately aroused by the sight of Marian so caught up in sensual pleasure. As his wife slowly made the transformation from maiden to woman, he had watched – with utter delight – as she discovered her own passionate nature. The final weeks leading up to their marriage had been full of shocking revelations – for both of them – and the realization that best intentions weren't always enough to halt passionate moments had led them to decide to move their wedding date up a month. Two months ago, Harold's restraint had been sorely tested – making him realize just how much he needed to make love to Marian Paroo as soon as he could arrange it. After five months of courting his maiden librarian, he didn't think he would last much longer. But now tonight, as she lay next to him, writhing in his arms, he suddenly realized his own passions could wait, even though he'd continued to want her even more after their wedding. If he wasn't able to find release tonight, so be it; however, he was adamant that Marian would.
With that thought in mind, Harold eagerly worked his hand through the opening of her drawers – once again grateful to whoever had the foresight to design them with such easy access. His fingers instantly found her silky wetness, and he began to tease Marian with feather-light touches along her softness, his efforts rewarded by his wife's breathy gasps. Her hand, which had been slowly caressing him, halted in its movement, but remained firmly closed around his erection – a fact for which Harold was immensely grateful.
After several teasing caresses, Harold finally slipped a finger inside Marian, followed by another and began to pleasure his wife in earnest with his skillful ministrations. He watched with satisfaction when Marian's head fell back and she released a long, wordless moan. Her hands reached up to clutch at his arm, and Harold marveled at the sheer eroticism of watching Marian in the throes of passion. It had taken his breath away the first time they made love, and he still found it just as amazing as he did that night in Des Moines.
Not for the first time, Harold wondered how he could have ever found the casual relationships of his past fulfilling. Before Marian, he had prided himself on his bedroom prowess, but ensuring his lover's long-term satisfaction had not been his primary focus. But as his love for Marian had blossomed, he'd discovered the unselfish joy of bringing her delight. And after their first tonight together as man and wife, when she had given herself so freely to him and loved him so honestly, he realized he had been missing out on so much.
Even now, Harold was still amazed at the sense of happiness that he found in giving his wife pleasure and securing her happiness. As his fingers continued to glide in and out of Marian's warm wetness and her cries became more vocal, Harold lowered his head to her breasts and resumed kissing her through the fabric, his teeth grazing the firmness there and eliciting an impassioned sob from Marian as she arched her back and pressed her hips against the palm of his hand. Harold heard his name fall from her lips over and over and then her hands were pulling him to her, her lips finding his in a kiss that left no question as to what she wanted from him.
His earlier admonitions fleeing from his mind, Harold groaned against her mouth and brought his free hand to his pants, fumbling with his belt buckle as he tried to work it free. Restraint be damned. Marian was practically offering herself to him, and Harold was never a man to say no to such an opportunity.
He felt Marian's hands brush against his, and then she was unbuckling his belt for him and unbuttoning his trousers. Her hand had just slipped inside the waistband and closed around him when the loud howling of the wind outside picked up and the nearby radiator began to loudly clank. Startled, Harold halted his caresses and lifted his head as Marian bolted up, one hand fluttering to her mouth in surprise. She was breathing heavily – as was he. They gazed at each for a long moment, the silence punctuated by the wind buffeting the windows and their shuddery breaths.
As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Harold realized the moment had been shattered. Although a part of him greatly regretted the interruption, the rational side of him realized he'd been given the opportunity to stop before he lost control and ravished his wife on her library floor – something he finally realized he did not want to do.
A twitch from below his open trousers protested this line of reasoning, but Harold merely scowled and chastised his wayward inclinations; however, when he turned back to gaze at Marian, who lay below him, her gown bunched around her waist and damp patches along the fabric covering her breasts, he almost lost his resolve. He could easily make love to his wife and no one would ever be the wiser. And perhaps she wouldn't regret it, after all.
His body reacted strongly once again, and he heard Marian's gasp as she felt him respond to such thoughts. His gaze met hers, and he was struck by the desire in her eyes. She wanted him. Harold was sure of it. He could resume their lovemaking in earnest right now, and she would welcome it. But the embarrassment that was slowly beginning to creep in behind her desire in her expression made his decision for him. Marian would welcome it now, but later, she would be filled with regret, and Harold did not want his wife to ever view their lovemaking with regret.
Giving Marian a loving smile, Harold bent his head to nip at her neck with tender restraint, while indulging in one final caress before reluctantly withdrawing his hand and restoring Marian's gown to its rightful place. A rueful smile crossed his face at Marian's sigh of disappointment, and he leaned up to indulge in a lengthy kiss that was probably more passionate than it should have been considering the dangerous ground they were treading. But Harold couldn't help himself. If he couldn't be with Marian tonight, he was certainly going to communicate his remorse to her about it.
When they eventually parted, Marian watched him as he rose to his feet and hastily secured the fastening of his trousers. He took a step forward, and then stopped, suddenly finding himself at a loss for words as to how to proceed. In the past, when he'd needed to wash up after a romantic rendezvous, he'd merely silently excused himself from the woman in question. Experienced lovers needed no explanation and innocent young misses were often in a romantic stupor having just discovered the true extent of sexual passion.
But this was Marian. His wife. Harold certainly owed her an explanation as to his sudden departure. But how did one do that without resorting to crassness, he wondered. Finally settling on the truth – sometimes still a novel concept for him – Harold smiled at his wife and nodded his head toward the restroom downstairs.
"I, ah, need to go … wash up," he explained, feeling an uncharacteristic blush creeping across the back of his neck. Marian, who was already blushing a furious shade of red, said nothing, but merely nodded.
Grateful for his wife's understanding, Harold made his way down the spiral staircase, all the while arguing with himself as to why it would be unwise to return to his blushing bride and finish what they'd started.
XXX
When Harold finally returned, he found Marian curled on her side, eyes closed. But her quickened breathing betrayed her. She was not yet asleep, although she apparently wanted him to think so. Wordlessly, he resumed his place behind her and slipped a gentle arm around his wife's waist. She didn't stiffen at his embrace, but Harold easily discerned the thread of tension coursing through her. Knowing his darling librarian had allowed him more liberties than she had initially planned, Harold wanted nothing more than to assure her of his honorable intentions. So leaning in, he placed a tender kiss behind her ear and snuggled closer, cradling her body with his.
"Oh, my dear little librarian," he whispered. "You are the most captivating woman I've ever known." His fingers trailed along her waist, tenderly caressing her, as he continued to speak. "You make me forget where I am, at times."
A faint blush spread across the back of her neck, and Harold smiled before running his lips along her smooth skin and bringing his hand to rest on her stomach. "I love you, Marian Paroo Hill."
Marian brought her hand up to cover his. "I love you, too, Harold," she murmured somewhat shyly.
Confident his librarian was sure of his honorable intentions once more, Harold briefly considered mentioning their passionate moment simply to see her lovely blush, but then reconsidered. There would be plenty of opportunities to resume that particular conversation once they returned home, and he assured himself he would. For now, that was enough. Content to let their heated tryst remain unspoken for the time being, Harold closed his own eyes, allowing sleep to slowly claim him.