XX

They had fallen asleep in front of the fire. The duvet had fallen around Mary's belly, leaving her semi-naked in the glow of the hearth.

Matthew was awake. He had no idea of the time, nor did he care. He had gotten up to stoke the fire with some extra wood after pulling on the sweats from his luggage. And then he saw the sketch book peeking out of his smaller bag. The hardback leather drawing book was a gift from Mary. Made of good quality paper and larger than his previous pads, Matthew itched to get started using it.

He grabbed the book and returned to the living room.

Mary was still asleep. A goddess slumbering, Matthew couldn't help think.

She was so exquisitely beautiful.

He realized, taking a seat in the deep cushioned chair by the fireplace and pulling out the pencil and opening his drawing pad, he could sketch Mary every day for the rest of his life and he'd never grow bored.

He wanted to know her in all her moods.

An idea dawned. He opened a blank page and intently began to sketch.

Matthew's lip was pushed to the right side of his lip as he concentrated on getting Mary's shoulder just right. His eyes quickly scanned back and forth between his sleeping beauty model and the cartridge papered sketchbook. His graphite pencils at hand, he moved quickly to capture her while maintaining an eye to detail.

The curve of her shoulder.

The summit of her breast.

The shading around her nipple.

Her abdomen just beginning to show the rounded curve of pregnancy.

A flutter in his heart as his eyes witnessed that truth.

Their lives together, so fragilely begun, was about to change yet again. They had barely had time to get to know one another.

And now this.

Why wasn't he more nervous? He pondered that question as he sketched.

In regarding his sleeping wife Matthew knew why. His wife. Mary was his wife. They had done this crazy thing and there was no retreat from it. He had moved into a new phase of his life. One where he could not afford to indulge in wallowing over his past failures.

This needed to succeed on all cylinders. They needed to show no doubt. A united front that their life was theirs alone. To live as they see fit.

And that was the answer. He wanted to be here. Right here. He would be Mary's strength whenever she needed him to be. And in order to be that, he needed to realize Mary was his strength. There was possibly no way to excuse his past behaviour to his mother, to explain their presumed irresponsibility to her parents.

They really only had to understand it between them.

That whatever life brought them would not be beyond their love.

They would make it work.

Matthew's fingers hovered over the pencil marks indicating the strokes drawing Mary's belly, a fierce protectiveness overcoming him.

He'd do everything in his power to ensure the happiness of his family.

Matthew's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the delicacy of Mary's fingers.

He looked up to check his accuracy, and noticed that Mary's eyes had opened and were contemplating him, the warm glow from the fire reflective in her pupils.

She blinked slowly, a flirtatious move meant to distract him. She moved her head slightly upward.

Matthew's brow furrowed a tad in disapproval.

Mary moved her head back, saying nothing but lifted an eyebrow.

Matthew looked back with quiet regard, smiling as he blew some graphite off the paper. Then continued to sketch.

Mary remained still, letting him work. She watched him; feeling his eyes on her as he critically twitched his nose and manipulated his thumb against the image to create some shading.

She felt alive and deeply loved.

He had an artist's eye and a lover's reverence for her body. Not an object meant only to enhance and show off his skills, but joined together in the creative process. Mary felt connected to him in a way she had not expected.

To share this with him.

To know him in this intimate way.

It made her love him all the more.

She finally ventured an observation, "I feel quite like Kate Winslet in Titanic."

Matthew smirked and looked at her, "Does that make me Leo? Please no, as doesn't he drown?"

Mary shrugged insouciantly. "Only because Rose doesn't let him on that door in the water. I'm sure she could have saved him if she really wanted too…"

Matthew chuckled. "Maybe she didn't like his painting."

"I hope I don't have to do the same." Mary mocked.

"Oh no worries." Matthew's mouth twitched in amusement. "I'm a much better artist."

Matthew looked up, a more serious look on his face. "I do have a question."

Mary's unspoken request with her eyes met with a nod from Matthew. She sat up and put the quilt around her shoulders. "What?"

"I'd like to draw you every month or so during the pregnancy. A series if you will…so" He scratched the scruff on his face as he had yet shaved, "…to capture the changes in your body as the baby grows inside."

"That would be lovely." Mary said. "Would I have to be in the nude every time?" She said it quite seductively. "I might not always appeal."

He snorted lightly. "Of course you will." He watched Mary over his drawing book. "You do know that?" He gave her a long look, stating genuinely, "I will love you in all your incarnations. I'm not so shallow a man as that."

"I know." Mary assured him, but then admitted "I'm not so sure I will. I already feel tired all the time. I can't imagine how it'll be when I resemble a beached whale."

Matthew finished up the last strokes of his sketch. He closed the pad and moved down to sit beside Mary. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

You're glowing, you know," He said. "You're so very, very beautiful. But have all these trips been too much? I have an idea I'd like to suggest about your return home."

"Oh?" Mary snuggled closer. "I do need to keep tabs on the Stables."

"But you can do that using Face Time or something. Keep in contact with Jerry, but stay here. We have this place for the whole week. I have to go back to Vegas for the seminars on Thursday and Friday but you can stay here. Rest."

"Without you?" Mary was confused.

"No. I can fly back here each night." He said. "Then catch one to Vegas early the next morning."

"Why don't I just come back to Vegas with you then?"

"I prefer it here. Don't you?" He wrapped his arms around her. "We can do anything we like. In utter privacy." His lips were playing against her skin, making it tickle in delight.

"Matthew I have responsibilities." Mary stirred, suddenly restless. "The horses don't take care of themselves. I have staff. Deadlines."

He nuzzled her neck, "…And you need to rest. You know as well as I that the horses are in good hands with Jerry. You've made sure of that. You're not being a bad owner of your business by taking some time away."

"Maybe not. Indulgent perhaps."

"It's a time for indulgence." He tried to continue his attentions along the nape of her neck.

Mary stiffened in opposition though. "Because I'm pregnant? That's old fashioned. I can work and take care of myself." Mary twisted her head away from him.

Matthew sat up. "Of course you can," he agreed, adding softly "but very soon our lives will change forever. I'm looking forward to it, but right now I want to pamper you." He clasped her hand. "My first duty as your husband. We're the only ones who know what we've done. I want …." He swallowed, "I want to enjoy, to indulge every single moment of it." He reached out to her, but waited her response.

She looked at him, his eyes guided like a magnet to pierce deep into her own. Dark, possessive eyes. Hungry for her. His voice rich and deep, always seeming to catch her off guard. His words chosen carefully to reassure without the condescension she had felt from other men.

She could get very used to that. That both excited and provoked her. Had she left the clumsier attempts to control her life by Henry, only to be seduced by a man with better technique?

And there was no doubt the self-assured man before her had game. He pushed all her buttons, and some she didn't even know she had.

There'd be plenty of time to fight it. To show that she had plenty moves of her own.

But, as Mary accepted his protective arms again around her and felt her opposition melt away, not right now.

"You have the most ridiculously blue eyes. I can never deny them anything." She teased. "I didn't enter this marriage, though to be commanded."

"You can command me any time you want," tormenting her again with that beguiling dark tone. Matthew affixed the quilt back around her shoulders where it had fallen, sneaking a light kiss before doing so.

"I will call Jerry later today." Mary said. "Tell him I'll be back Sunday."

Matthew relaxed. "Thank you."

Mary yawned, languidly stretching against his torso. "What time is it anyway?"

"No idea…" Matthew laughed softly. He grabbed his mobile from the end table. " Going on 5am."

Mary moaned, "Well I'm starting right now in all the indulging. I usually get up at this hour to exercise and see the horses are fed. I'm instead going back to bed."

"Agreed." Matthew said, getting up and pulling her up into his arms. "I'll forgo finding a rowing club in Tahoe. It's rather cold anyway." He looked out the large glass window, overlooking Echo mountain. "I think it might snow."

"Will be snowed in?" Mary liked that idea. They made their way towards the bedroom. She paused, "Can I see the drawing?"

Matthew pulled the sketch book from under the quilt. His hand hesitating just ever so briefly before he handed it to her.

"Do you want me too?" Mary did not reach out to take it. "I understand if it's private."

Matthew's mouth opened then closed. It was private. The most private part of himself. He hardly ever let anyone look at his art. Especially the more intimate works. He remembered when they went to see Mary's horse purchase, not really that many months ago, a part of him was irritated she had looked inside.

He had first realized an artistic inclination around the age of eight. He had drawn animals at the zoo in a school project and his primary teacher took notice. They had been slightly off kilter and yet still life like. Matthew had been concerned about failing the project and told her he'd do it again, this time more accurately. Instead she had smiled, and told him he had real talent. After that he had been guided into art classes as extensions to his regular curriculum. One of his sixth form teachers had said he could segue such an interest into a number of different careers including engineering or computer graphics.

Matthew never pursued those paths. He had known even then his art was his own. He had no interest in using it to select a career or to sell it for personal gain.

But with that came the sense of proprietary ownership. It was his and his alone. His stress reliever. His creative outlet. Sometimes the doodling would engage his brain and allow him to find a different way out of a problem. Sometimes he'd draw a farcical caricature of a client to relieve the boredom.

He got to the point where he never let anyone see it. Perhaps because that client wouldn't like it. That another might critique his style or his decision to interpret a scene in such a way. He didn't want to hear anything about how or why he drew what he drew.

So the upshot was that he very seldom let anyone see them. Lavinia had been one of the very few to have access to them, and even then, she would ask to look. Knowing that it was important for him to know she understood his privacy.

As Mary was now doing.

Matthew had let Lavinia look at his drawings, but he never felt comfortable with her doing so. She knew it. Had resented it. Begun to call it jokingly his doodle pad to try to minimize the tension between them. She knew that his art captured the most intimate part of himself.

The part he never let her in. She tried. Hoping it would strengthen their bond. Their love.

It was for nothing.

Matthew wouldn't do it. Afraid to lose that privacy. To lose himself.

The last good part of his being. He had sold himself to his work, to the accumulation of money. He knew why he did so. To create a solid business. To maintain profits for his employees. To allow his wife to live a certain amount of comfort and splendour.

But he kept his art for himself. So he was not used to sharing that part of himself.

And look where it had gotten him? He had success. But he had not true happiness. As much as it pained him to know that, it was true.

He had not true happiness until Mary entered his life.

And now he wanted to share everything with her. He wanted to.

He let go the last of the barriers between them.

Matthew released the book. "I would very much love for you to look." He said in a subdued tone, a bare whisper.

Mary felt the frisson between them. He was giving himself completely to her.

She trembled at the implication of such trust. Was she worthy of it?

"I love you so terribly much." Matthew said.

She accepted the book from his hand. Accepted his gift. "I know you do."

Mary held the book close to her chest. She gripped it tight.

Matthew understood the gesture.

There needed to be no more words between them.

XX

Later, the sheets mussed and strewn about the floor, she felt him slip inside and quivered as each of the sensations exquisitely touched the most intimate parts of her body. His kisses lingering, blissful.

She gave herself to him.

He accepted it, knowing it was the most private part of herself.

She had told him once she doubted she had a heart. Instead he realized it was just that she feared giving it away.

He would never betray the trust she bestowed on him this night.

They had sealed their fate with these gestures. These unspoken promises.

A new life together begun.

XX

I know this is just a little interlude, but once I started writing it… I felt it couldn't be attached to any larger piece of the story. I hope you liked it.