A/N: Hello, dearest readers! Thanks so much for all your kind words and thoughts about this story. I can't tell you how much I love you all for reading.

Much love also to Maud and katherine-with-a-k.

Jx

Chapter Twenty Three

The night Gilbert left Avonlea, Anne excused herself after washing up the supper dishes, and went upstairs to her room, despite Edie and John's protests.

"You don't need to go, Anne," Edie said. "Why don't you stay and we'll have a cosy little sewing party together?"

"Yes, you women-folk can keep each other company," John said. "I'm just going outside for a puff on my pipe."

"I'm sorry," Anne said. "I'd love to help you with the sewing tonight, Edie, but I'm rather tired. Perhaps we can do it tomorrow night?"

Edie and John exchanged a glance. They could see how despondent the girl looked, but nevertheless they let Anne go.

Once in the spare room, even though she truly was feeling exhausted, Anne lay on the bed, and her mind was suddenly filled with memories of that heated kiss she'd shared with Gilbert on the platform that morning. After more than three weeks of nothing but aloof coolness, out of the blue he had just kissed her like that. And then casually boarded the train like it was nothing.

Anne's fingers drifted to her lips, which were still burning with the memory of Gilbert's mouth pressed to hers. She also remembered the unfathomable look Gilbert had given her afterwards, with something other than distaste seeming to burn deep in his hazel eyes. Something she couldn't quite place but that made her nipples harden and her pulse begin to race disconcertingly.

Her skin grew warm at the memory and the slow, ticking pulse between her legs was becoming difficult to ignore. Anne rubbed her thighs together, attempting to relieve the tension. She rolled onto her side, and suddenly found herself imagining Gilbert lying on the bed beside her, hazel eyes burning into her like they had this morning. Her breath began to quicken and the hollow throb between her legs became more insistent.

Anne huffed out a breath and rolled onto her back, folding her arms across her chest. Ooohh, it was maddening. Why was her body having such a reaction to thinking about Gilbert simply looking at her?

But Anne knew it wasn't only the memory of that scorching hazel gaze that was disturbing her right now. It was the kiss which had preceded it. Anne closed her eyes and remembered the pressure of Gilbert's soft lips touching hers, gently at first, and then with a fervour that took her breath away. When Gilbert's warm tongue slid into her mouth, Anne knew she should have been outraged, for surely no gentleman would kiss a lady in such a manner in public! Instead, Anne's skin prickled with heat and almost of their own accord, her hands had slowly moved upwards, her fingertips sliding along the hard curves of his biceps and shoulders until her arms were winding around his neck. Surely a lady should not respond like that either? And that Josie Pye of all people should be there to witness it all. It was too humiliating.

"Oh, it's no use," Anne said aloud as she flung the bed covers off and sat up. What could she do to take her mind off that disturbing scene on the platform this morning?

"Maybe I'll read for a while," she thought. She glanced uncertainly at the Bible lying on the little table beside her.

She knew if Mrs Lynde were here, that doughty lady would definitely recommend Anne should read a passage from that tome, and perhaps never stop reading because of her wicked and unchaste thoughts. Nevertheless Anne really didn't think that the Bible was going to help her right now. She needed a distraction from her thoughts.

Suddenly she remembered the books piled up on shelves in Gilbert's room, so Anne stood up and decided to select something to read from his collection.

The next moment, her bare feet hit the braided rug beside the bed and without bothering to put on her wrapper, Anne crept into Gilbert's room. Feeling like she didn't want to be discovered in there by his parents, Anne shut the door to Gilbert's bedroom soundlessly behind her. She turned and drew in a deep breath as she surveyed the neatly stacked shelves heavily-laden with books. Normally she would smile happily at such a treasure trove of reading, but Anne was suddenly extremely distracted by the spicy scent that was filling her nostrils.

It was so familiar, and Anne instantly recognised that intoxicating scent. Gilbert.

She breathed in again and almost fled the room. The captivating smell in the room only served to heighten the heat fluttering deep in Anne's belly. She needed to find a book fast and get back to the safety of the spare room.

As her eyes scanned the book spines, Anne's slender fingers ran along the titles. The New Text-book of Physics? Anne shook her head. The Mathematical and Physical Papers of George Gabriel Stokes? Anne wrinkled her nose. Definitely not. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea? Anne wasn't sure a story about sea monsters and giant squids was going to put her to sleep. Rather, she'd be terrified out of her wits all night.

"Ah, just the thing," Anne said triumphantly as her hand fell upon a book whose heavily creased spine proclaimed it to be a much-read volume. "A Tale of Two Cities. Dickens is perfect!"

She took the worn book down from the shelf, and then turned and flew out of the room with her prize clutched tightly to her breast.

Once she was safely back in the spare bed, Anne settled back into her pillows and opened the book on her lap to begin reading. As she flipped to the first chapter, she noticed a card apparently being used as a bookmark, which was poking out of the pages at the back. Hoping Gilbert wouldn't mind her using it, she gently slid the card out from between the pages.

As she turned the card over she stopped abruptly as she saw what it was. It wasn't a bookmark at all, but a photograph. Anne recognised it instantly.

It was a photograph of herself and Gilbert towards the end of their Freshman year at Redmond. That year had been a whirlwind of social engagements and academic achievements for both of them, and this photograph was taken at one of the many Redmond functions they'd attended together. It was the week after she had won the Thorburn Scholarship and Gilbert had led the football team to victory. She remembered that a photographer from the Redmond Gazette had asked them to pose together.

In the photograph, Anne's hand was tucked into Gilbert's elbow and she was smiling happily. He was leaning into her slightly with a mischievous grin on his face. Anne remembered that Gilbert had just told her some absurd joke, trying to make her laugh. They looked for all the world like a couple madly in love. No wonder every gossip in Avonlea accepted their marriage so readily now.

The photograph was certainly capturing a moment when she and Gilbert had been the very best of friends. Inseparable. That was a time when he was the one she rushed to tell first about all of her successes at Redmond and she sought his company above all others.

Her words from that dreadful day in the orchard at Patty's Place drifted through her mind. "I like you better than anybody else in the world, Gilbert." The look in his eyes when she said that still haunted her. She had been trying so desperately to salvage their friendship.

Anne's eyes turned back to the photograph and her heart ached a little at how happy they looked together. Then. Not now. As she ran her fingers absently over the picture, Anne wondered how Gilbert had come across it. He must have forgotten it was in there, for she was certain he would not have kept it if he remembered.

She sighed heavily. Would they ever return to their old camaraderie? Remembering Gilbert's avoidance of her these past weeks and the stern set of his jaw any time he looked at her, she doubted it.

For the next two weeks, Anne kept herself as busy as possible, helping Edie with the chores around the house and trying to ignore the dull ache in her chest. Why did she feel so bereft that Gilbert was gone? After the tension of the first few weeks of their marriage, Anne imagined she would be relieved. His terse stare was so far from the merry eyes she remembered glinting warmly at her in days of yore.

Gilbert's letters didn't help Anne's low spirits. When she received his first letter, her heart gave a quick, queer little beat of excitement and she raced upstairs to read it. Perching on her bed as she unfolded the missive on her lap, her pulse throbbed even more when Gilbert explained that he intended to write to Anne every day. Not because he wanted to, he seemed at pains to add, but because he was aware that Mrs Hiram Sloane would be checking for the frequency of their correspondence. Her heart fell at his cool words. The unembellished contents of his letter also caused a pang. Far from the breezy, funny epistles he'd sent her in the past, this was barely more than a note, describing his journey west and the barest facts about his working day. Only this and nothing more.

Nevertheless, Anne would always rush upstairs to read Gilbert's letters in private. At first, she would read them in the spare room and her eyes would eagerly scan his letter for some hint of warmth. After a few days, Anne found that she was inexorably drawn to sit in Gilbert's room to read his letters. She told herself this was because he had a chair positioned by the window for the best reading light. Never once admitting that she enjoyed breathing in that faint, spicy aroma which permeated her consciousness when she read his letters, or that it made her feel somehow closer to him.

In fact, Anne found herself drifting more and more often into her husband's bedroom each day. She told herself it was because the window had such a delightful view across the Blythe's orchard and when she sat in the chair, she could just discern the top of the roof of Green Gables in the far distance.

While Gilbert was away, Edie often insisted that Anne should go to visit Green Gables. Anne knew Edie was being kind, but far from comforting her, those visits seemed to fill her heart with a vague sadness. Of course, she was always heart-glad to see her family. Marilla, Mrs Lynde and the twins were always overjoyed to see her, but Anne could never quite shake the feeling that she would never return to live there.

The look of gratitude on Marilla's face each time she arrived at Green Gables made Anne hug the older woman that much tighter.

"Oh, Marilla, how lovely it is to be back," Anne said one afternoon. "I've brought a basket of cherries from Edie. She said we have so many this year. That is, the Blythes have so many. I mean…"

Anne's voice faltered as though she had betrayed Marilla somehow by saying 'we' about the Blythes. Her huge grey eyes searched Marilla's face uncertainly.

"I understand," Marilla said, squeezing her girl to her breast again. "Blythe farm is your home for now, and I'm so grateful to you, dear girl."

"I love you, dearest of Marillas," Anne whispered.

As the weeks dragged on, Anne found herself in Gilbert's room even more. It wasn't just Gilbert's letters that Anne read there, but she also wrote her replies to him as well. Since he had pointed out that they should be seen to correspond as newly weds, Anne in turn replied to him daily, using the same cool manner as his, but always taking care to spray a little of her favourite scented water on the stationery for the benefit of the Avonlea busybodies.

She had also taken to reading in Gilbert's bedroom in the evenings before she went to bed. After a fortnight, Anne had almost come to think of his bedchamber as a sitting room of sorts. She would curl up on the chair with Gilbert's well-loved book in her lap, but more often than not, she would become distracted by the pleasant tingling sensation on her skin that the distinct aroma of his room provoked.

Unbidden, images of him kissing her at their wedding before all of Avonlea would drift into her mind, until she quite forgot the Dickens tale in front of her. Sometimes she would close the book altogether, not even bothering to pretend to read it as she leaned her head on her hand and let her imagination wander back to that heated kiss on the platform the day he left.

Every evening the hollow ache between her legs would grow more distracting than the last. Anne would go to the tiny washroom and splash water on her face in an effort to cool her senses.

Until one extremely warm August evening, after Gilbert had been gone about three weeks.

The spare room seemed hot and stuffy, and Anne had thrown the window open in the hope of attracting any small breeze to cool her heated skin. She lay in bed with those arresting images of Gilbert filling her mind, trying to ignore her body's responses. Her nipples were so hard they almost hurt and her hands instinctively reached up to try to ease the aching tips. The rosy peaks grew even stiffer as her palms brushed them through her nightgown. She had already kicked the sheet off and finally Anne pulled her nightgown over her head in desperation trying to cool her skin.

Of their own volition, Anne's hands drifted back to soothe her aching breasts and suddenly she was imagining it was Gilbert cupping the soft mounds and kneading them in his large, warm hands as he kissed her. Anne's breath caught in her throat and her mouth went dry as she tried to picture him naked beside her. In the weeks he had spent working on the farm after their wedding, Anne had caught several glimpses of Gilbert's tanned and well-muscled torso beneath his work overalls. She had been fascinated by the light covering of hair that adorned his chest and was just visible above the bib of his dungarees. She would quickly avert her gaze, blushing furiously as she saw the muscles of her husband's chest glistening with droplets of water when he and his father washed the sweat and dirt off their bodies at the well. Gilbert would lift the bucket from the well, the muscles on his shoulders rippling as he splashed the cool water over his face and chest so that Anne also caught sight of that same dark hair at his armpits when he raised his arms.

Anne's hips began twisting as the hollow throbbing deep within her became more insistent. Thinking of Gilbert's gleaming body next to hers, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers lightly over her belly, imagining it was Gilbert's hands touching her skin. Her breath grew ragged and Anne bit her lip as her fingers roamed lower, slowly sliding towards the pulsing warmth between her legs. When she touched the slick warmth there she moaned softly, still imagining Gilbert's fingers caressing her. With one hand on her breast, her fingers brushing against her nipple, Anne began gently pressing and stroking her finger against the sensitive flesh, trying to relieve the pressure between her legs, and all the while envisaging it was Gilbert touching her there.

"Gilbert," she murmured as her fingers continued to caress the soft flesh between her thighs.

It was exquisite torture, and the pressure built until it became almost unbearable, her fingers gliding in relentless circles around the aching tenderness as she moaned softly. Anne's toes lifted off the bed as she rocked against her hand. She felt as though she were rushing to the edge of something, but she knew not what, until finally with one last heave of her hips, her body exploded with a dazzling sensation. Anne groaned aloud as she imagined Gilbert caressing her like this and finally her legs slowly drifted back down to the mattress as she tried to recover her breath.

She lay there panting for several moments feeling the last shudders of euphoric bliss trembling throughout her body.

Finally, sighing softly, Anne turned on her side, closed her eyes and almost immediately drifted into a contented slumber with a small smile curving her lips.

That night was the first sound sleep Anne had enjoyed since her wedding day.

Well, ahem. Soooo, that happened. Phew! What did you think about it? Please leave me a review and tell me everything.

Thanks so much for reading. Have a good week, darlings!

~Love from Jxxx