Chapter XII: Homecoming

Home at last! Satine exclaimed as she ran up to the front door. Christian lagged behind her with the luggage, watching her with a wide smile on his face. It had taken a little persuasion on Satine and William's parts to get him back here. When Satine had told him about Peter, she'd been truly afraid that Christian was going to run out to the harbor where Peter was departing and call him out then and there. Luckily, she'd anticipated that and told her husband only after Peter's boat was safely afloat in the frigid Atlantic waters. But they were home now. Home. Satine rolled the thought around in her mind, enjoying the sweetness of it.

Come on in, Christian laughed, his hand resting on her waist. Satine laughed and threw both of her arms about him. He tightened his grip, realizing afresh how close he had come to losing her so many times. He kissed her forehead lightly and they walked hand in hand up to their home.

Anne and the cook were waiting to meet them along with the new servant. Satine smiled happily at them as the young man--Henry--took the bags. Anne dropped a curtsy as Christian deposited his hat and coat.

I'm very glad you're back, Madam.

And I'm glad to be back, Satine said warmly, drawing off her gloves and hat. A light supper tonight, please? she said to the cook, who looked relieved at the prospect. Something nice and French, she added, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Tired of English food? Christian asked amusedly. Satine let out a puff of exasperated breath and nodded.

It's so heavy! she mockingly wailed. It will ruin my figure! Christian snorted and Satine frowned at him.

he asked innocently as she flounced off to the bedroom to unpack. What did I say?

Later that night, they both sat in the study. Satine was reading while Christian wrote on his typewriter. It reminded her of those days back in Montmartre. She smiled faintly and turned the page of her book. Christian sighed and turned away from the typewriter.

That's it, he announced to no one in particular. Enough for tonight.

Writer's block? Satine asked without looking up from her novel.

No, I'm just tired, Christian replied, coming to sit down by her. What are you reading?

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, Satine said absently. Margaret recommended all her books to me, and they really are quite good. This one isn't as sparkling and clever as Pride and Prejudice, but I prefer Marianne to Elizabeth. Does she marry Brandon?

I'm not going to tell you, Christian teased her. You're just going to have to get to the end on your own.

You don't remember, Satine said knowingly.

I do so! Christian cried.

Do not.

Do so!

Do not.

Do so.

All right, then, what's the name of Elinor's suitor? Christian raised his eyes up to the ceiling and refused to deign to answer.

Satine said triumphantly. You don't remember. Christian began to tickle her and she swatted at his shoulder with the book.

she cried between between giggles. Everett! You. Stop. Christian! she fell off the chaise with a thud. This minute! she laughed, trying to attack him back.

Some time later, Christian poked her head out of the study. It's safe, he announced, after peering down the hall in both directions.

Wouldn't it be safer to just get all the way dressed again? Satine grumbled as she unsuccessfully tried to hold her half-tied corset together and carry her clothes at the same time.

And to go to all the trouble of undressing again? Christian asked as he ran down the hall, followed by a beleaguered Satine.

Oh, no you don't, Satine said in, trying to balance her shoes and petticoat. I am going to finish this book tonight. I want to see who Marianne marries. She ran panting into the room and threw her bundle down on the bed.

Christian suggested, picking up Satine's dress and stowing it over her screen.

I did, Satine said matter-of-factly as she checked the lock on the door. But I'm not Marianne, as you should remember.

Uh huh, Christian replied, now examining her corset. Satine, I really don't understand the principle of this--thing. Your figure is beautiful already, dear. Satine sighed.

Help me out of this, will you? As Christian cheerfully complied, Satine threw a frown back at him.

How is it that you can undo one of these in record time, but you cannot tie one up to save your soul?

Christian said blithely. I'm good at subtraction, but I'm horrible at addition. Satine rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her husband. He ducked and handed her her dressing gown.

she said, giving him the book. Make yourself useful.

That's what I thought I was doing, he said, looking wounded.

No, you weren't. You were just hoping to get lucky twice in a row.

Was not.

Yes, you were. Don't even bother arguing, you're going to lose. Christian opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. Yes, dear. Satine smiled at him.

Now what am I supposed to do with this? he asked, turning the novel over in his hands.

Read it to me, silly. Christian obliged, and began to read. As he finished the last page of the book, Satine let out a soft sigh of contentment and closed her eyes.

Christian kissed her eyelids softly and she smiled sleepily.

Good night, Christian.

Good night, Satine.

It's wonderful to be home again, isn't it, darling? Satine said as she drifted off into sleep. Christian settled back down into the pillows.

he said as he blew the lamp out, plunging the room into darkness. It is.

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Author's Note: Same old ownership. I love every single person who's reviewed me! :)