Chapter Forty Nine
A Dream Within A Dream
"What are you thinking about, my love?" asked Sybil tenderly, gently ruffling Tom's thick blond hair with her fingers.
"What ... what it was ... that I could ever have done ... to deserve this moment" said Tom after a slight hesitation. He grinned shyly.
"My darling, love is something which we are given for doing nothing" said Sybil softly, kissing him gently on his lips.
"Nothing?" asked Tom quietly. "But surely…"
"Well, all but" said Sybil gently. "Remember how, in Ripon, all those years ago, you told me you loved me. I had, at the time, as I recollect, done nothing, if anything at all, to encourage you in your feelings towards me".
"That's very true" said Tom ruefully. He felt his eyes moisten with unbidden tears, blinked them back, at the very thought of what might never have been, had he, all those years ago, taken Sybil at her word. He would have been back here in Ireland certainly, but … alone.
"Well, then, my darling" said Sybil. "It's as I just said: love is something which we are given for doing nothing; only after we have been given it do we have to make ourselves worthy of it".
They had been married but scarcely twelve hours previously, had just made love again for the second time that night, and were lying naked, comfortably and closely entwined, snug in each others' arms, face to face, in the double bed in the front bedroom of the small house at Clontarf overlooking the sea; the sound of the waves breaking on the sandy shore below the house clearly audible through the drawn curtains and closed window.
"So" said Tom softly, gazing intently into Sybil's dark blue eyes, playing with a tendril of her dark hair "tell me, my love, what did you like most about today? Apart, that is, of course, from marrying me?"
Tom grinned at his young wife, who smiled back at him, recognising immediately the expression he now wore and the all but imperceptible change to the tone of his lilting, sensuous Irish voice; it was one of utter contentment. Indeed, Tom's self satisfied grin said it all. Sybil, too, was equally well satisfied, but not yet sated. Time, again, she thought, for a little fun.
So, at his heartfelt question, Sybil said nothing, merely tightened the hold of her encircling arms about her husband's neck, and brought her mouth up to meet his in a lingering, passionate kiss. When they had, albeit but only momentarily, satisfied the physical hunger each had of the other, Tom gently broke free of Sybil, rolled contentedly onto his back, linked his fingers together behind his head, nestled comfortably down on his pillows, staring up at the ceiling, waiting anticipatorily, hanging on the nature of her reply, a broadening smile playing around the corners of his delectable mouth.
For her part, Sybil rolled swiftly over onto Tom, straddled his naked body, by placing her knees one on either side of his firm chest and settled herself back on him. Gently, Tom reached up and began to cup and stroke her bare breasts, lightly squeezing her taut nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each of his hands. Despite the undoubted overt sexuality of the moment, the mounting intensity of the physical sensations now beginning to shoot through her body, and the ever growing arousal her husband's caresses were producing within her, for the moment Sybil simply continued to gaze down adoringly at Tom, ever so gently caressing the patch of fine fair hairs nestled in the middle of his bare chest, kneading his nipples with the tips of her fingers. God, how she loved this man.
"Well" said Sybil huskily, as, wrapping her in his strong encircling arms, gently, but ever so insistently, Tom began to pull her in yet closer towards him. Slowly, and with all but imperceptible resistance to the strength of his enfolding arms, thereby subconsciously heightening the intimate nature and eroticism of the moment, Sybil allowed Tom to draw her naked body down upon him.
They were now so close that they were but a whisper apart.
"Where on earth should I begin, my darling?" asked Sybil softly questioningly, almost wonderingly, in between covering Tom's soft lips with a smothering of gentle, warm kisses.
Sybil's long dark hair - "spun midnight" Tom called it - had fallen forward, enveloping both of them, entangling the two of them in a falling veil of silky dark threads.
"God, Sybil ... your hair ... it doesn't half tickle!" Tom laughed. "Begin wherever you want to my love; after all, I'm sure you have so many fond memories of today from which to choose". Tom grinned broadly, gazing up at her through the dark tresses of her hair; God, how he loved this woman.
"But of course". Sybil giggled. "Well ..." Somehow, she managed to contrive a pause. "I suppose ... I suppose it would have to be ..." Sybil stopped in mid sentence, changing her expression, she hoped, from blissful to sombre, as though she had just recalled something unpleasant to mind, something she would far sooner rather forget " ... although, after you promised to devote yourself to my every need, I have to admit that I was rather disappointed ..."
"Disappointed?" Tom cut in nervously. "Disappointed with what?" He sounded genuinely shocked. There was a sudden edge to his voice, keenness in his words which had not been there before; fearful of what it was he had done, or not done, and how it was that he had blundered, had managed to fail in keeping the earnest promise he had made to her all those years ago in Ripon.
"Oh, no matter. Besides which, Tom ... you wouldn't understand ... Anyway, I suppose I'm just being foolish" said Sybil. Her eyes shimmered and she gave a deep sniff; hoped that it had sounded convincing.
"No, tell me my love, please" said Tom, his eyes glistening. He had raised himself half up, resting on his elbows and was, at that moment, desperately searching her face for some sign, the smallest indication, of what it was he had done wrong. Sybil saw that Tom was watching her intently, as if the very fate of the whole world hung upon her spoken answer." If I've done something I shouldn't ..."
Sybil cut him off, silenced Tom's words completely with her mouth, and then said softly between kisses:
"No, of course you haven't my darling".
"Well then ..." Sybil heard Tom let out an earnest heartfelt sigh of relief, felt him relax noticeably beneath her, as she continued to brush his lips with gentle kisses; kisses which slowly and inexorably, grew ever more ardent, ever more passionate, demanding that Tom in turn respond to her obvious and renewed need of him. Tom felt his wife's gently caressing hands move from off his shoulders, slip to his chest, then lower to his hips, to his thighs, and finally reach up between his legs, where the insistence of Sybil's slow, soft strokes soon had Tom moaning and sighing with untrammelled pleasure.
"It ... was ... only ..."
"Only what?" whispered Tom.
"That ... my ... wealthy ... aristocratic ... English ... fiancé failed to turn up at the church. That ... I ... had ... instead ... to ... settle… for… marrying ... some ... poor ... lowly ... Irishman ... who… Well, who just happened to be passing by on the street outside the church door!" said Sybil in a rush and with a giggle.
Then, despite feeling beneath her the swelling proof of Tom's rising need of her, knowing how ticklish he was, knowing what the result would be, Sybil ran her fingertips lightly over Tom's bare chest and in a trice, quickly rolled herself off from his naked body, and back onto her side of the bed.
"Jaysus! Why you little minx" yelled Tom with an outraged bellow of a laugh. "Why, just for that ... Come here Mrs. Branson and we'll discuss the presumed failings, the shortcomings, of this poor ... lowly ... Irishman somewhat further!"
" Branson, I'd much prefer it if you came over here in person to discuss them, " said Sybil in the most aristocratic and commanding tone she could muster, followed by another provocative and sensuous giggle.
Aroused as Tom now was, Sybil did not have to tell him twice. For, apart from his desperate need of her, there was, thought Tom, a beguiling, sensual fragrance about her, which invited him, in fact positively demanded, that he seek out its very source.
"Very well, Milady". Tom chuckled. "Whatever you command!"
Tom was laughing again now, rolling swiftly over on top of her, nuzzling at Sybil's throat, burning kisses along the line of her jaw, kissing her chin, her lips, covering his face in the tossing tide of her dark hair, and at the same time urgently kicking away and thrusting off the entangling blankets and sheets, which fell in an un-regarded, disordered heap to the floor...
Later, much later, when they had finally sated their desires, had perforce remade the bed, and were again snuggled together, contentedly wrapped in each other's arms, Sybil's head resting upon Tom's shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair he asked of her the same question once again.
"So, now, my darling girl" Tom said softly, gazing down at Sybil, stroking her dark hair. "Tell me truthfully, given all that's happened today, what you did like best about our wedding day ..."
