After Words

Mary opened her eyes. She knew by the chill in the room that it was only seconds before dawn. A new fire had just been lit and its warm glow danced against the walls of her bed chamber. Lying on her back amid her rumpled bed linens, Mary savored her memory of yesterday's transactions with Matthew, beginning with his proposal. The tremors of her heart rippled down to her sex as she recalled the tenderness they shared. She reached up to touch her lips, still not quite able to believe the loveliness of it all. That they had been able to leave each other last night was the work of his better angels, not hers.

After she had accepted him, they had spent time making plans, putting off Matthew's reluctant departure. The late hour soon demanded that he return to Crawley House. They stood at the front door, both of them sorry to part company, holding hands like schoolchildren. She felt like such a girl when she was with him. That had never changed. His attention had always made her self-conscious, less composed.

Just before he was to set out, Matthew drew her to him for one final kiss. She sensed his longing in the force of his arms as he held her. She yearned to give way to him. "My darling...," he whispered into her ear, his lips gently caressing her lobe. Her appetite for him overwhelmed her. She pressed her hips against his. It was a signal that could not be misread.

Ever so slowly, Matthew lowered his lips to hers. "I have loved you for so long, Mary," he whispered. He lightly caressed her lips with his own and Mary held back a gasp in her throat. His lips were moist and his breath smelled of peaches. How delicious it all was. Her lips parted. Her heart was pounding. When she felt the lightness of his tongue between her lips, her knees grew weak. She draped her arms around his neck. She pressed her open mouth against his. They kissed with the passion of young lovers reunited after years of desertion. Mary hungered for more.

She broke their embrace and grabbed his hand. There seemed this sense of heated urgency that left no place for words. She led him quickly and quietly to the closest refuge, the north library. They sat down on the divan nearest to the entrance. Mary looked into his eyes. She could see his desire in the depth of his gaze. She placed her gloved hand on his thigh and raised her lips to his. He held her head in his hands. "Kiss me, Matthew," she whispered. Her lips caressed his, tempting him, teasing him. She saw him smile. She smiled then too, and pressed her hot open mouth against his. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, licking her tongue, her teeth, and the silken underside of her lips. She was astonished at their lust for each other.

Matthew's tongue reached into the back of her open mouth. It seemed impossible for him to curb himself. He pressed himself against her until she lay against the cushions of the divan. His kiss was impassioned, lustful. His hand wandered over her throat and down to her chest. He reached into the crest of her bodice. The fabric gave way easily. He grabbed at her breast. He felt the stiffness of her nipple and gasped. He began kneading her breast firmly, with purpose. His other hand grabbed at her skirt and began to pull it up and up. His hand found the narrow gap between her stockings and her drawers. He grabbed at the flesh of her thigh, spreading her legs apart.

Matthew raised his head in a temporary reprieve from his gentle assault. His voice was deep and breathless as he whispered desperately, "My God, Mary, you must stop me."

Mary had no such intention. She wanted him to have her. She reached out with her right hand and grabbed the back of his neck, drawing him slowly back to her. Matthew had never known such craving. His entire body ached for her and he laid his head against her breast, trying to still himself. He felt as if every point of his being was aflame and quivering. It wasn't human, this. He was a god. She was his sacrifice.

He knew she would be his but not now, not here. He sat up and reached for her. He pulled her to a seated position and held her close. "No more spells, my sweet Mary. You must let me leave you", Matthew chided softly into her hair. His breathing was rapid and low. Mary reached up and brushed a blond forelock from his eyes. She rose and then smoothed her frock. She drew her hair back in one neat motion. His gallantry only made her want him more but she knew he was right. "Your wish is my command," she said quietly, smiling.

He and she walked quietly towards the entranceway. Matthew touched her cheek quickly and with a soft-spoken "Goodnight, darling," he was out the door. Another kiss from her and he would never leave.

Mary remembered envying Matthew the cold walk home. As she padded quietly up the stairs, she knew it would take her forever to fall asleep.