Scene Thirty-Two:
The feeling that he had made an error in judgement by allowing his visitor to depart accompanied Elliott Marston as he climbed the main stairway. It was still with him as he walked down the hallway and only faded outside the door of his suite when he heard his wife's voice within. Then it disappeared completely.
Pausing with his hand on the knob, he could feel his heart beating rapidly. Dared he hope that tonight would - finally - be their wedding night? The exigencies of the past few days, Sam's grief after the death of her father, the boys' needs for reassurance in their newly orphaned state: all had combined to prevent them from embarking on their newly wedded life together.
He had not pressed for his marital rights. The needs of his new family came before his own and he did not begrudge them at all. It was an awfully big adventure they were undertaking. Only it would be wonderful to be truly, madly, deeply married in every way. He took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.
The room was dark except for two candles on the table, gleaming off the silverware and bone china. The aroma of an excellent dinner assailed his nostrils. Sam was nowhere to be seen.
He walked to the table. A bottle of fine wine stood beside one of the plates, still wrapped in the waiter's linen towel. The tiny flames flickered suddenly. He turned. Sam stood in the doorway to her room, clad in creamy silk and lace. She was mesmerizing.
Marston swallowed as he stared at the vision in front of him. She floated across the carpet soundlessly. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
"How did your meeting go?" She stopped in front of him, smiling warmly.
"What meeting?" He blinked. "Oh, that one. Not so good."
"Oh?" She frowned in exaggerated sympathy. "You poor darling. Take your coat off," She slipped behind him and slid it off his shoulders, tugging to pull it down his arms. "And sit down. I ordered a special dinner for us tonight."
"So I see." He groped for his chair. "Where are the boys?"
"They're all in bed. Miss Stone let them eat lobster and it was all Conn could talk about. I think they're starting to recover." Sam proceeded to the wardrobe and hung up his coat, pausing to run her hand slowly down the fine fabric of a sleeve. "Not that they're not going to miss Dad. But they've got a lot of sense and sensibility, and they know that it's important to remember the good times." She closed the wardrobe door and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.
"And you? How do you feel?" He watched her narrowly.
She looked up and smiled again. "Never better."
For the first time he smiled back. "Then come over here and let's have dinner."
He had almost forgotten the pleasure of just being in her company. The food was excellent but he knew he wouldn't remember the menu an hour later. They drank wine out of the same glass and fed each other choice morsels. He teased her into eating more filet mignon. She nuzzled him into sharing truffles with her. By the time the meal was over he knew all over again that he could search the galaxy, quest as he might, but he could never find the woman to equal her.
The candles guttered in their holders. The evening breeze lifted the window curtains gently. Still they sat at the table, not talking, sipping their shared wine and occasionally indulging in lazy kisses.
By turning their heads slightly they could see the immense king-size bed through the french doors. Down pillows like small foothills rested against the bedstead. White roses bloomed in vases on the side tables. The covers were turned back in warm invitation.
Marston placed the now empty wineglass on the table. Lifting his wife's hand, he bestowed kisses along each finger, finally turning to press his lips to her palm. She smiled at the tickling sensation of his tongue. He looked up and asked a question with his eyes. She answered in the same silent language. Then he rose swiftly, pulled her up and swept her into his arms.
She hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his neck as if suddenly shy. He strode through the doors and deposited her gently on the bed. With as much of his fast evaporating control he could muster, he began to disrobe. He fumbled with the buttons on his vest. She tried to help. Finally he took a firm grip on the points and pulled. The buttons went spinning through the air and landed on the carpet and the tables. Sam giggled.
He smiled down at her. Wanting to reassure, feeling as if he needed reassurance himself. The vest was tossed in the direction of a chair. He pulled his shirt free of his trousers, considered the number of fastenings on cuffs and front, then pulled it over his head in one fast motion. Sam laughed out loud. He grinned like a boy.
Marriage was a journey, he thought; they would sail on placid seas and explore many a dark harbor. But as long as they were together, it would be a great adventure.
The shirt joined the vest in short order. Sam moved quickly and placed her hands on his belt buckle. She tugged at the leather, freeing it from the loops on his trousers. He froze, closing his eyes in anticipation and praying for control. The belt slid through her fingers sibilantly. His breathing was shallow and rapid.
Sam looked up and licked her lips. Their eyes met and held. He took her hands in his and brought them to his trouser buttons, pressing her fingers firmly against the cloth. Her lips parted and her lids closed. She tilted her head back. He leaned forward.
And the still night air was rent by a passionate cry.
"Sam! My tummy doesn't feel good! I'm going to be -" The most expensive dinner available at the Royal Hotel abandoned the stomach of Conn Flanagan with considerably more speed than it had shown when entering.
Another voice rang through the hall. This time is was Niall. "THAT'S DISGUSTING!"
For ten long endless seconds husband and wife stared at each other. Then Sam was running for the door. Marston closed his eyes and fell face first onto the bed. He winced, then rolled over onto his back, his arm flung over his eyes.
For the next half-hour he listened as his youngest brother-in-law was cleaned up and tucked in for the night again. Niall offered brotherly commentary on the folly of siblings who ate too much rich food in a manner reminiscent of barnyard animals. Sam's voice was too low for him to make out her words but her tone of sympathy soothed Conn's abdominal anguish effectively.
In spite of himself, Marston chuckled. He was not about to give up. His confidence was strong and not about to die hard tonight.
The feeling that he had made an error in judgement by allowing his visitor to depart accompanied Elliott Marston as he climbed the main stairway. It was still with him as he walked down the hallway and only faded outside the door of his suite when he heard his wife's voice within. Then it disappeared completely.
Pausing with his hand on the knob, he could feel his heart beating rapidly. Dared he hope that tonight would - finally - be their wedding night? The exigencies of the past few days, Sam's grief after the death of her father, the boys' needs for reassurance in their newly orphaned state: all had combined to prevent them from embarking on their newly wedded life together.
He had not pressed for his marital rights. The needs of his new family came before his own and he did not begrudge them at all. It was an awfully big adventure they were undertaking. Only it would be wonderful to be truly, madly, deeply married in every way. He took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.
The room was dark except for two candles on the table, gleaming off the silverware and bone china. The aroma of an excellent dinner assailed his nostrils. Sam was nowhere to be seen.
He walked to the table. A bottle of fine wine stood beside one of the plates, still wrapped in the waiter's linen towel. The tiny flames flickered suddenly. He turned. Sam stood in the doorway to her room, clad in creamy silk and lace. She was mesmerizing.
Marston swallowed as he stared at the vision in front of him. She floated across the carpet soundlessly. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
"How did your meeting go?" She stopped in front of him, smiling warmly.
"What meeting?" He blinked. "Oh, that one. Not so good."
"Oh?" She frowned in exaggerated sympathy. "You poor darling. Take your coat off," She slipped behind him and slid it off his shoulders, tugging to pull it down his arms. "And sit down. I ordered a special dinner for us tonight."
"So I see." He groped for his chair. "Where are the boys?"
"They're all in bed. Miss Stone let them eat lobster and it was all Conn could talk about. I think they're starting to recover." Sam proceeded to the wardrobe and hung up his coat, pausing to run her hand slowly down the fine fabric of a sleeve. "Not that they're not going to miss Dad. But they've got a lot of sense and sensibility, and they know that it's important to remember the good times." She closed the wardrobe door and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.
"And you? How do you feel?" He watched her narrowly.
She looked up and smiled again. "Never better."
For the first time he smiled back. "Then come over here and let's have dinner."
He had almost forgotten the pleasure of just being in her company. The food was excellent but he knew he wouldn't remember the menu an hour later. They drank wine out of the same glass and fed each other choice morsels. He teased her into eating more filet mignon. She nuzzled him into sharing truffles with her. By the time the meal was over he knew all over again that he could search the galaxy, quest as he might, but he could never find the woman to equal her.
The candles guttered in their holders. The evening breeze lifted the window curtains gently. Still they sat at the table, not talking, sipping their shared wine and occasionally indulging in lazy kisses.
By turning their heads slightly they could see the immense king-size bed through the french doors. Down pillows like small foothills rested against the bedstead. White roses bloomed in vases on the side tables. The covers were turned back in warm invitation.
Marston placed the now empty wineglass on the table. Lifting his wife's hand, he bestowed kisses along each finger, finally turning to press his lips to her palm. She smiled at the tickling sensation of his tongue. He looked up and asked a question with his eyes. She answered in the same silent language. Then he rose swiftly, pulled her up and swept her into his arms.
She hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his neck as if suddenly shy. He strode through the doors and deposited her gently on the bed. With as much of his fast evaporating control he could muster, he began to disrobe. He fumbled with the buttons on his vest. She tried to help. Finally he took a firm grip on the points and pulled. The buttons went spinning through the air and landed on the carpet and the tables. Sam giggled.
He smiled down at her. Wanting to reassure, feeling as if he needed reassurance himself. The vest was tossed in the direction of a chair. He pulled his shirt free of his trousers, considered the number of fastenings on cuffs and front, then pulled it over his head in one fast motion. Sam laughed out loud. He grinned like a boy.
Marriage was a journey, he thought; they would sail on placid seas and explore many a dark harbor. But as long as they were together, it would be a great adventure.
The shirt joined the vest in short order. Sam moved quickly and placed her hands on his belt buckle. She tugged at the leather, freeing it from the loops on his trousers. He froze, closing his eyes in anticipation and praying for control. The belt slid through her fingers sibilantly. His breathing was shallow and rapid.
Sam looked up and licked her lips. Their eyes met and held. He took her hands in his and brought them to his trouser buttons, pressing her fingers firmly against the cloth. Her lips parted and her lids closed. She tilted her head back. He leaned forward.
And the still night air was rent by a passionate cry.
"Sam! My tummy doesn't feel good! I'm going to be -" The most expensive dinner available at the Royal Hotel abandoned the stomach of Conn Flanagan with considerably more speed than it had shown when entering.
Another voice rang through the hall. This time is was Niall. "THAT'S DISGUSTING!"
For ten long endless seconds husband and wife stared at each other. Then Sam was running for the door. Marston closed his eyes and fell face first onto the bed. He winced, then rolled over onto his back, his arm flung over his eyes.
For the next half-hour he listened as his youngest brother-in-law was cleaned up and tucked in for the night again. Niall offered brotherly commentary on the folly of siblings who ate too much rich food in a manner reminiscent of barnyard animals. Sam's voice was too low for him to make out her words but her tone of sympathy soothed Conn's abdominal anguish effectively.
In spite of himself, Marston chuckled. He was not about to give up. His confidence was strong and not about to die hard tonight.