"I won't be long," Victor promised. Then he disappeared through the doorway. After a moment Victoria could hear dresser drawers being opened and closed as Victor collected his nightclothes. She had to take a moment to collect herself enough to begin getting undressed. So she merely stood for a moment, one hand to her bosom. Her heart was still racing. After a few deep breaths, she felt calmer.

Victoria went to her wardrobe, and, after a moment's indecision, chose her nicest nightgown. She'd had it made for her birthday last year, and it was quite honestly the most immodest piece of clothing she owned. Well, it was only Victor who would ever see her in it, so that didn't really matter. It might even have been a good thing. In any case, Victoria thought it was lovely. The nightgown was floor-length, made out of silk. Tiny, lacy buttons went down to about the middle of her shin—the rest was open, leaving her ankles visible. The sleeves were loose, and bunched together with lace ruffles at the wrist. It was the neckline that made the gown so daring. Her everyday linen nightgowns had a short collar on them, covering most of her neck. But this one had a scooped neckline edged in lace, and an empire waist, and it showed the barest hint of the top of her bosom when she wore it. It wasn't even as high as the front of her corset. Victoria had only worn it twice so far—once on her birthday, and then on Christmas. And now for her and Victor's anniversary.

Once behind her folding screen, Victoria began to undress as quickly as she could. It took a while to work through all of the layers, especially wriggling out of her corset. She was about to slip her nightgown on over her camisole and drawers, as she always did, but then stopped to reconsider. Wearing something under this gown would spoil its effect, but to wear nothing...Oh, it was improper, she knew...but then she realized she truly didn't care. It was for Victor. And, perhaps, for herself. And so, blushing even though she was alone and behind a screen, she quickly took the rest of her underthings off. Just as quickly, she pulled her nightgown over her head. She had to admit, the feel of silk against her bare skin was lovely.

She didn't bother with her dressing gown or slippers. Stepping out from behind the screen, Victoria fully expected to see Victor waiting for her. But he was nowhere in sight yet. Odd. She listened for a moment, and could hear some faint sounds coming from his room. Whatever he was doing, he wasn't quite finished yet. So Victoria went to her bed and turned down the covers, then fluffed the pillows a bit. Still no Victor. She cast her eyes around for something else to do while she waited.

The door. She should lock the door. The children were grown past barging into a room without knocking, she knew, but one couldn't be too careful. She took the key from the night-table and made her way over to the door. On the way, she caught a glimpse of herself in her full-length mirror. Oh, dear, Victoria thought as she looked over her reflection.

All of the expectation, desire, and affection she'd been filled with seemed to run down out of the bottom of her feet. What in the world had she been thinking with this gown? She was nearly forty—this was something for a young woman, a new bride, to wear. Victoria no longer had the figure for this kind of gown. Frowning, and feeling silly, she brought her hands to her waist and turned this way and that, looking at herself in the mirror. She was definitely plumper than she had been when she and Victor had gotten married. Her middle was easily twice the size it had been—with her corset on it wasn't so noticeable, but without it...There was no way Victor would ever be able to span her waist with his hands again, the way he'd been able to twenty years ago. Her hips and thighs were bigger, too, even though they'd never exactly been slender. And after four children, the firmness of her bosom left much to be desired. Her breasts looked soft, full, and tired underneath that low neckline. The clingy silk gave everything away. Especially since she'd been silly enough not to wear anything underneath.

Holding the key tightly in her fist, Victoria leaned toward the mirror. Wrinkles were beginning to make themselves known. They were faint, barely noticeable, but they were there, especially around her eyes. And along her hairline and temples, right where Victor had kissed her so tenderly not ten minutes ago, were gray hairs. He'd been kissing gray hairs. It wasn't exactly fair—Victor didn't look much different than he had twenty years ago. His hair was thinning, and the lines under his eyes were a bit more prominent, but that was all. He was still pale and slender and handsome. Victoria let her shoulders slump a little. She did not look like a desirable young wife. She looked like what she was—a plump, forty-year-old mother of four. Victoria had always promised herself that she'd never become one of those women who were obsessed with their looks, and who fretted over every wrinkle and gray hair. But to actually be faced with those changes...

Quickly she turned away from the mirror, hiding her face with one hand. Then she looked down at the key. Should she even bother? She wasn't exactly feeling amorous anymore. Then she glanced over at the door between her room and Victor's. If he still wanted to, as he quite obviously had a few minutes ago, then she would. She didn't want to disappoint him. With a sigh, she made her way over to her bedroom door, put the key into the lock, and turned it. The door locked with a faint click. That done, Victoria still didn't move. She merely stood there, holding onto the doorknob with her forehead nearly touching the door itself. Vainly she was trying to bring back some of those lovely feelings from earlier. They didn't seem to be coming.

Suddenly she felt hands on her waist, then arms sliding around her middle. She jumped a little. She hadn't even heard Victor come into the room.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say. "Did I startle you?" He held her close, pressing against her back. Leaning down, he rested his chin on her shoulder and held his cheek very close to hers.

"Only a little," Victoria replied, trying to make her tone light. After a moment she caught a whiff of a pleasant scent. Ah, that's what had taken him so long—he'd taken time to clean his teeth and put on some cologne. Victor only rarely used any kind of scent, and when he did, it was for special occasions. Well, that had been considerate of him. Sweet, really. Victor hugged her again. Out of the corner of her eye, Victoria could see that he was gazing at her profile. She still couldn't quite bring herself to look at him, though. But then, she felt Victor gently push her hair out of the way to kiss the back of her neck. She had to close her eyes for a moment. The rush of sensation made her feel as though she were going to swoon. Taking a shuddering breath, Victoria turned around.

Victor had put on pajamas instead of his usual nightshirt. These were gray, with faint blue piping. And they were actually a bit too big for him—oddly, the way they hung on his frame, they made him look a bit bigger than he actually was. More broad. The illusion, coupled with the masculine smell of his cologne, sent Victoria almost to the brink of fainting again. Oh, did she love him, and she was always surprised at how very attracted she was to him. She could only hope, even with the way she looked now, that she made Victor want to faint as well. It was probably too much to ask for.

Though he certainly seemed interested enough, from the way he was running his palms over her shoulders, and from that same dreamy look from earlier that he was giving her. Feeling a bit heartened, Victoria slid her own hands around his waist, being careful not to tickle him. Victor was monstrously ticklish, so she always had to be mindful of how and where she touched him so that she didn't break the mood. For some reason that made her smile to herself.

With his hands on her shoulders, Victor stepped back a little. Victoria looked up into his face, and saw that he was darting little glances at her. Though definitely not at her eyes.

"You look...beautiful, Victoria," he said, almost shyly. "That nightgown is...my goodness, I...you look lovely." He was tilting his head and smiling a nearly sheepish smile. As though he were a little ashamed of himself for looking at her that way. Victoria focused on the buttons of his pajama top. He was such a liar. A sweet, well-meaning liar, but a liar all the same. But she would never say so.

So she merely said, in a low voice, "Thank you, Victor. You look quite handsome yourself." That made him blush faintly and look at the floor briefly before meeting her eyes again.

"Thank you," he said softly. Then he wrapped his arms around her slowly, gently pinning her upper arms against her sides. Leaning down, Victor kissed her forehead. It was a tender, soft, affectionate kiss. With that same slowness, he pressed his lips just as tenderly on the bridge of her nose, her cheek, and then her lips. Victoria was swept up in a wave of affection. Once again she felt warm and trembly all over, and even the tips of her fingers and toes tingled as she returned the kiss. She couldn't help sliding her hands up his back, holding him close. When Victor's tongue touched hers, just briefly, Victoria thought for certain that her knees had turned to water.

Finally she had to pull away—she felt much too close to swooning. Yet, it was still a lovely feeling. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her cheek against Victor's, her eyes closed, reveling in the warmth and intimacy of the moment. They stood that way for what felt like a long time. Victoria could both hear and feel how shaky Victor's breathing was. She was sure hers sounded the same.