20
Reluctantly Charles released his wife, then hung her coat in the wardrobe. She unpinned her hat, set it aside hastily, then began removing her clothes.
Words had never come easily to her; she allowed her actions to speak for her. Hadn't their entire friendship been unspoken? What could she say? What could she ever have said? Stay. I love you. Don't ever leave me. They'd developed a means of communication, a very effective means, otherwise he would never have had the courage to take that final step, the dear man. But he had surprised her with his eloquence, particularly of late.
Her own heart was too full to speak on, so she must rely again on deeds.
When she was undressed to her shift, she hurried to the bed, pulled the covers back and lay back against the pillows.
Charles had stripped down to his undershirt and shorts. He walked to the bed, pausing only to turn off the lamp.
"Leave the light on."
She looked at his face, at the moment sporting an incredulous, yet delighted expression. She smiled back at him, hoping he could read what was in them, knowing that he could.
*CE*
His eyes roamed the places he'd mapped only with his hands, the tips of his fingers. Her skin was a marvel, creamy, yet with unexpected sprays of freckles dotted here and there. Her neck was longer than he'd thought, and her shoulders perfectly rounded; an image of her in a sumptuous evening gown of the style women wore many years ago sprang to mind, causing him to smile, even as he recalled the simple black costume of the housekeeper that could not disguise her loveliness.
She watched his face intently, closing her eyes only when his touch overwhelmed her. She wanted to look into his eyes as they moved together, to speak in that quiet language that only the two of them could understand. I love you. All that I have is yours. I will give, and I'll take what I can.
In the warm lamplight they looked, and they loved.
A/N: So sorry for the delay. I was too tuckered out yesterday to write a word. Happy Downton Day!