Part 10

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It was weird how things readjusted themselves as the proverbial dust settled. In this respect, it amazed her that they were cuddlers now; it was official. In the days that followed the social consummation of their marriage, John would often rush up and suddenly hug Donna during the day; allowing himself to momentarily enjoy her physical company and reassure himself that she existed to fend off his loneliness. Or in less hurried moments, when the varying tasks of the day had been dealt with, he would pull her as close as possible to cuddle. These cuddles had no particular agenda or geographical place to occur. They would happen as they sat at the table, on the bed, out on the veranda, when she entered the workshop to announce a meal was ready, and any other time the mood took them. Naturally, it was John who began the habit, but soon Donna felt able to initiate a mutually beneficial cuddle too.

Cuddles were not the only physical contact she was gradually easing into. Tender touches and caresses soon became a much yearned for habit too; and with that, the freedom to express how she really felt about her situation was steadily attained. Finally, she was allowed to wallow in the loving attention of someone. In turn, he did not mind when she returned his attentions; in fact, he seemed to revel in them.

This was something she had never ever been allowed to even consider before in her life, since she had been wrapped up in stern protocols before her marriage. Gone were the previous social shackles that dictated her every emotion should be repressed; and now she had a man who offered a taste of freedom that suggested there would be more. It was heavenly to have such a free-flowing slowly building relationship. Things could not be better, on one level; and yet there was the whole matter of their sex life to contend with.

He too felt generally happy with his lot. Since they had consummated their marriage, despite the numerous faltering moments that occurred where John had needed to call upon Donna to assist his relief, they had managed to make love, in some form, several times. Every day they had tried to gain a full union again between them, but she was everything he could have ever wanted in every other way. His patience was tried, that's for sure, but he felt that the end result was worth the effort in letting her achieve this desired state on her own terms and in her own time.

So far they had followed the same pattern, depending on whether it was evening or morning. For evenings, he tried to be considerate and loving, letting his wife gain some pleasure first, by arousing her with kisses and intimate stroking, so that she reached a certain plateau first. Each time he encouraged her to also apply his 'little man' in a similar fashion, before he acquired his own satisfaction; always mindful to be gentle and patient. As yet, she had not attained penetrative orgasm, but his dream was to achieve that for her one day.

In the morning, things were a little more frenetic, unfortunately. His often expressed sorrow about exploiting her patience with his urgent need to have sex rather than make love was met by her insisting that she understood and had every confidence that he would be able to carry out his promise.

It was an uneasy compromise, this fluctuation between the desired and mere personal satisfaction but he was determined to create a loving environment for her she could relax into and eventually revel in. Fortunately Donna was prepared to take him in hand, quite literally and metaphorically, so he praised God for the chance to have such a woman in his life at every opportunity.

~o0o~

Talking of praising God, they had returned to the church a week later. It had been decided between them that they would do so once they had paid their respects to John's late wife and daughters, knowing this was an important step in their relationship. They had stood together by that single grave, reading the names marked on the headstone, and Donna's heart had broken for him.

"They were so young," she murmured sadly, politely ignoring the tears that shone in his eyes.

"Marie is… was the same age as you," he brokenly whispered. It was the first time he had dared utter her name out loud in years. "You would have been firm friends."

"I think we would, had we met," Donna agreed, trailing her arm from where it rested around his waist to curl around his shoulders, and hugged him tight.

He returned the embrace, needing it like he needed air. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into her neck.

"Hush now," she soothed him. "There is nothing to be sorry for."

He lifted his head away in order to closely regard her. "I should warn you, I am nothing but a fool."

"Then I am thankful you are my fool now," she consoled him, and kissed his cheek.

They would have held each other longer but someone could be seen to be making their way closer through the churchyard. So John changed their stance so that Donna's arm was once more wrapped around his own and greeted the newcomers. "Good morning, Mr and Mrs Caldecott."

Mr Caldecott eagerly returned the greeting, but Mrs Caldecott did little more than nod at John.

This in itself was unusual, but then the very same thing happened when they saw Mr and Mrs Brown before the church service. It had been agreed between the Smiths that their return visit to church had partially been so that Donna could hold her head up as a 'real wife' now. John had chuckled with delight at her attitude before they had set off from home, and had felt that he was merely entertaining her foolishness; but then Mrs Caldecott and Mrs Brown had later practically snubbed Donna again outside the church after the service, while the Rev McGregor spoke with their husbands.

John was not pleased.

"Please excuse me one moment, Mrs Smith," he had requested, and then stepped away from her to confront this problem.

"Gold digger," Mrs Brown had stage whispered to him when he had politely asked if something was amiss with his wife. "She will bleed you dry."

Shocked at the venom in her words, he had looked to Mrs Caldecott to see whose honour she would defend.

"It isn't right marrying someone so old," Mrs Caldecott had added. "She'll never be able to present you with the son you deserve."

"I beg your pardon!" he had haughtily snapped. "Mrs Smith is the finest woman I have ever laid eyes on. It is you, ladies, who have bled your husbands dry and failed to provide healthy offspring, so it is not inconceivable to determine why you are unable to speak even a kind word!"

"How dare you!" Mrs Caldecott had cried in response.

"I dare," he blazed, "because you have prematurely shrivelled up and died."

"And what say you?" Mrs Brown aimed towards Donna, who had edged nearer. "Have you enjoyed coming into our midst and causing such trouble?"

So they'd finally decided to acknowledge she was stood there, had they? She wasn't going to let this opportunity go in order to let rip. "I think you two are the biggest pair of two-faced, evil, conniving, old witches I have ever had the misfortune to come across. It must really get under your claws that my husband chose me and didn't look your way. Well, you can take your poxy double standards and stick them up your…!"

The final word didn't get uttered because John had clamped his hand over her mouth, and whispered, "Not in front of the house of God, Mrs Smith. But I condone your sentiments."

"Well I never!" Mrs Brown proclaimed, grabbing hold of Mrs Caldecott's arm and forcing her to flounce off.

Under the combined glare from the Smiths, Mrs Caldecott added, "Some people!" to her friend. But it was evident from their stance that they were deeply hurt by the unexpected retaliation.

The men around them regarded this drama with glee.

"Those two women are too self-important," one man remarked. "They had it coming."

That broke the frosty atmosphere that had descended the churchgoers, but Donna found that she could not completely relax, and yearned to return home at the first opportunity.

~o0o~

The journey home saw John using up his angry energy to row their boat as fast as he could along the river. But it wasn't until they were almost home when he noticed that Donna was still downhearted, so he slowed down and reached out for her hand.

"Are you still worrying about losing your temper outside the church?" he gently asked, offering a consoling squeeze. "Reverend McGregor assured me that he was not offended by the incident and that, in the circumstances, you were justified. He even went so far as to offer to take both ladies to task for their unchristian behaviour." He then released his hold on her hand and grinned genially.

"I suspected as much," she admitted, giving a small sniff, "but that isn't what troubles me."

"Oh, Mrs Smith?" He smiled encouragingly.

"Well, Dr Smith, I don't really know where to start. Both Mrs Caldecott and Mrs Brown have no children, you once said, and today you described them as prematurely shrivelled," she recalled. "Do you view every woman in exactly that situation in the same light?"

He carefully thought out her question. "I have never considered whether or not I do such a thing," he admitted after some moments. "Why?"

She nervously gulped and looked away. "I myself am barren, so am I equally shrivelled and unattractive?"

"Good gracious, no," he insisted. How had he even managed to imply such a thing? This needed to be rectified.

Fortunately the welcoming jetty of home beckoned, and he could distract her for some minutes as they clambered out of the boat. But the matter was obviously playing on her mind, so he wasn't exactly surprised that she returned to the subject when he later asked her to tell him what ailed her as she sipped the cup of tea he had made them both.

She sat cautiously hugging the cup of tea in her hands, letting the last dregs of the fire in the grate try to warm the cold press of doubt in her heart. "Do you mind terribly that I may never bear you a son or even a daughter at my advanced age?"

Setting down his cup, he garnered his thoughts carefully together and knelt in front of her to emphasise his words; laying one hand on her knee and grasping her free hand with the other. "I do not need nor expect you to provide me with anything but your continuing regard and companionship. Please let me assure you on this matter."

There was a faint nod in acknowledgement before she drew in a breath. Her voice was quiet and on the edge of tears as she asked, "But what if I became pregnant with your child? Would you hate me?"

"What? Never!" he vowed. "It would be God's will to grant us such a gift or not. If it happened, I cannot imagine the joy I would feel. But please believe me, Donna. Should we ever be blessed with a child, it would be a sign I have been forgiven for my past misdemeanours; not a victory over Mrs Brown or Mrs Caldecott. With you I am complete."

She trembled, still beset by fears. "Then you genuinely do not demand that I give you a son to replace your lost daughters?"

His expression went wide in shock as he stood to protest his innocence. "Why ever would you think such a thing? A son would not be like replacing the broken laces in my boots for new ones. I never even thought to remarry until you came into my life, yet I have no regrets. So come and join me in prayer and be thankful for the day I was blessed with you."

Blushing, she mocked, "A little overstated, Dr Smith."

"No, I will not have this formality between us when alone in our home," he complained; and brought her hand up to his lips, kissing it fondly. "Your modesty becomes you, and tugs upon my heart strings. For I declare, you are the handsomest of women, most precious, and worthy of my love."

It was the first time he had mentioned love outside the confines of the marriage bed and the act of consummation. "Worthy?" she queried.

"Most assuredly," he confirmed. "If you permit," he continued, drawing her up from her seat to stand with him, "I would like to demonstrate my full regard for you, this night."

This was finely tuned flirting, and she found the need to fan the hot flush that had appeared on her cheeks. Her heart wanted him to truly love her, but her head warred with how that regard would want to be demonstrated.

She gulped and then breathily suggested, "Then perhaps we ought to partake of a light supper before retiring for the night."

He could feel his blood heat up as it raced around his body, feeding his desire. Given a free choice, he would have bedded her then and there, to prove he was a man of his word; but that was neither his style nor true temperament. Instead, he wrapped her in an embrace that crushed her body closer in order to whisper a promise that had her shivering in anticipation. "Your wish is my command, whatever you ask of me."

His husky words turned her insides to jelly and if it hadn't been for his strong arms holding her around her waist she was sure she would have swooned in response. Her mouth moved wordlessly as she grasped for the right words to answer him. Fortunately her eyes had expressed the yearning within her, and he slowly but gently dipped forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss. All other thought was wiped from her mind to leave one clear wish: she wanted him.

He could not help but grin triumphantly when she murmured, "Let's forget about the food."

But she still yelped when he bent low and lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed; but only for a moment. It was a loving gesture that she truly appreciated.

As they traded kisses, jackets were flung aside; boots were hastily untied and kicked off, buttons unhooked, and laces undone. Every garment was fought over and removed unceremoniously. A spark had been ignited and they were determined to fan the flames. They were lightly panting with the effort by the time she was down to her bloomers and camisole whilst he had only his under breeches left to be removed.

Each time they got this far he had to stop himself from wondering if he would reach a more natural resolution or if she favoured only assisting him that evening. Such meanderings merely set his nerves on edge, and lessened his enjoyment of the proceedings; truth be told. It did not matter, he kept telling himself, because her well-being was paramount and she never let him gain nothing from their encounter. But he worried whether or not if she would be satisfied with their love making. Love was to be shared, not hoarded like nuggets of gold.

"Tell me what you want," he requested.