A/N: Thank you to every for your lovely reviews and alerts and favourites. We appreciate it so much and we are SO sorry it has taken so long to post it. We had about 70% of it written and then simply never found an opportunity to finish it off somehow. Anyway, belated though it is, I hope you enjoy it!
P.S. Serious smut alert!
Passion flared between them instantly and Mary felt a rush of relief at his reaction. She gripped his hands as she tilted her head, smiling, to press her lips to his with more intent.
They were standing now, and Matthew's instinct was to wrap his arms around her and pull her flush against him, pressing closely as they had not been able to sitting on the bed. In her kiss he found acceptance, longing, and - for the first time he allowed himself to fully realise it - love. His hands roamed intently over her back, and... he realised within moments that there was nothing beneath her nightgown that was thin, so thin that he could feel the warmth of her body beneath it... Much as there was nothing beneath his own pyjamas. The realisation sent a sweeping pang of desire through him, so strong that he gasped into her mouth and drew back, looking at her with wide, startled eyes.
She felt it the same moment he did. Wrapping her arms round his neck and pulling him as close as he pulled her, she felt every inch of him through their thin, cotton nightclothes. He was burning and taught against her and she felt a strong stab of need. Her hands smoothed away from his neck, over his shoulders and clasped either side of his face. She stared back at him, feeling a pounding nervousness in her heart that was in addition to her desire.
"Are you - are you going to stay then?" she asked breathlessly, her lips twitching into a half-smile.
"I - God, I want to," he sighed, and rested his forehead against hers with a gentle smile. But stay for what? Hot blood throbbed through every vein of his body. He'd come to talk, he was going to stay to talk, but his head was swimming with desire and he began to wonder that if he stayed, he wasn't at all sure that he'd be able to leave things at talking. But he was tied, so dreadfully tied, and Mary loved him and really, did anything else matter? His sense told him it did, he knew that it did, but he could hardly think of it. "Mary, what am I to do?" he eventually whispered, his voice betraying a sense of helplessness.
She appreciated his dilemma much as it frustrated her. Though her mind purposefully darted away from acknowledging both what they were currently doing and what she had no intention of stopping happening if it did, she could not help being aware of his reaction to her, incredibly obvious considering their closeness. She knew she could simply pull him back to her and he would let her but she baulked from such a seduction. She swallowed as her thumbs stroked his cheeks and brushed over his lips. "I can't answer for you, Matthew." She moistened her lips and tasted him on them and blinked. "It's your choice - I think it must be. Only -" her expression softened and she could not help trying to persuade him even against what she knew to be sensible, "for me, to love you - it is the greatest joy of my life!"
Matthew shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to think rationally against everything she was doing, saying, everything she was making him feel... Think rationally? Oh, what was the point? No, he must... Must he? Lavinia was in London, Mary was here, and... Well, now he knew he must release Lavinia, for her own sake as much as his, it was not as though he could do so this very instant! And to leave Mary in the meantime, seemed the most unthinkable thing in the world. In his heart, he was sure. In his heart, he had released Lavinia and committed himself, already, to Mary. Surely that was what mattered? And if not - everything so far this night had been so utterly impossible anyway, did any sense really matter now? He sighed and brushed his lips to hers. "Of mine, too," he eventually whispered, as his hand traced over her cheek and slipped to the back of her head. "I love you," he breathed, overcome.
She watched him carefully, on edge with wariness and hope. When he finally spoke, she almost wilted in relief and her hands fell again to his shoulders. She returned his kiss, brushing her lips against his. But she could not quite give in to him yet. "The most?" she murmured against his lips, quickly kissing him again. She felt the heat swirling inside her and it was almost a source of excitement to force it down. "When you come back, will you have a fiancée?"
His hands fell to her waist and tightened there, unconsciously bunching the material of her nightgown as he considered her question. "I'm not sure I can answer that," he said carefully, stealing fleeting kisses between his words. "Only that - I intend to go to London on the morning train to release Lavinia." His voice trembled breathlessly, he could hardly comprehend what he was saying.
It was enough and her heart sang. Her grandmother had been right on one point - she could feel sorry for Lavinia later. Their kisses inbetween his words were getting heavier and longer and she had only time to say in a rush, "You could still have one if you liked," before she gave in to her anticipation and pressed herself more fully against him and kissed him back more lingeringly, not pulling away.
Her words sent a wave of anticipation, pleasure and promise sweeping over him, her kisses were intoxicating... His hands slipped around her back and hugged her even closer, the warmth of her body pressed to his causing him to flame with arousal. Her lips were soft, warm, moist, and so, so sweet, and the softest groan hummed in the back of his throat as he sank into the kiss, which seemed to deepen of its own accord.
Her hands curled round his shoulders, her fingers brushing over the soft hair on the delicate skin of his neck above the collar of his shirt. She tilted her head, opened her mouth to him with a smile of joy and release and passion, shivering as she felt his groan all the way down to her toes which curled in her slippers. She wanted him, he wanted her (God, he really did want her - not Lavinia, her - it was wonderful and triumphant and heartbreaking) and here they were and she could feel his hands on her skin through her nightdress and she did not want, could not bear him to stop.
He felt her lips part under his own, the beautiful intimacy of it seeming even beyond anything else at that moment. It was an invitation, an approval, and he responded without even thinking about it as his tongue glanced against hers, eliciting another quiet groan. Thought, sense, care, disappeared. It was too late, far too late for that; all there was, was her, and them, and this.
Heat flared all through her and she felt herself flush over her whole body, becoming acutely aware of her lack of those protective layers that had always been there when she had kissed Matthew before. Under this one loose piece of cotton she was completely naked. It was both liberating and terrifying. This kiss was deeper and more intimate than anything she had experienced before. Oh, technically, she supposed there was nothing new about it, but it was Matthew and they were here and she could feel him and he was all around her and she wanted him closer and yet could not imagine it and - and thought disintegrated as she wrapped her arms more tightly round him, exploring his back and his neck and his hair, every movement and shift of position aiming at even greater closeness.
Through the scrap of layers between them, Matthew felt her tension, felt her draw him in closer, and the realisation made him tremble. Everything else was slowly fading from his awareness as he allowed himself to focus on nothing else but her, the warm, taunting feel of her against him, his growing need almost painfully strong. All he could do was clutch her tighter, kiss her deeper, but none of it seemed enough.
Mary was lost in him, only his arms tight round her waist, bunching and smoothing the nightdress over her skin, were preventing her from falling. Her response to him was flowing over into uncomtrollable shudders. The kisses, however deep, however exploratory, only fuelled her desire for greater intimacy and her hands in their roaming over his back slipped under his loose shirt and clung to his bare skin. Unable to process the almost unexpected softness of his skin under hers, her hands reacted instinctively and stroked it with tingling fingertips.
As her cool fingers touched his skin, Matthew gasped aloud and drew back. His eyes met hers in a flash of desperate, intense desire before his head twisted, his lips dropping to the smooth, delicate skin of her neck. He kissed her skin there, sucked lightly at it, trailing hot kisses down and along her shoulder... raising a hand to tease aside the restrictive material of her nightdress to allow his lips to reach one more inch of her precious skin.
An additional sharp bolt of heat flashed through her as she caught a brief glimpse in his eyes of her own desire mirrored in him. Then her eyes fell shut again and her head rolled gently to the side with untaught instinct. The feeling of his lips on her skin... Soft as they were, she tightened strangely in response, for one moment, her nails pressed into his back and sucked in her breath sharply, the cold air as it entered her lungs contrasting with the drugged, oppressive warmth she felt all over.
He felt her head move to accommodate him, and he smiled indulgently against her shoulder, releasing a soft moan as her nails dug into his skin with a reassuring firmness. He eased the thin cotton further, it wouldn't reach all the way off her shoulder but almost, almost... and he flicked his tongue lightly over all he could reach. Trembling, he dropped his hand to her hip, flinching with a sharp shudder when his fingers skimmed over her breast as it fell.
She jerked against him as she felt his finger so briefly on her breast. He had not touched her anywhere so intimate - yet - and she reacted instinctively to it, her mouth falling open a bit and her head fell forwards again. Some combination of moving her own hands round his waist to his stomach and some combination of rocking forwards as her head landed and nestled in the crook of his neck unbalanced them and she grabbed at his shirt to steady herself, not that it would make any difference when her legs hardly supported her.
As she lost her balance and pulled him forwards, Matthew instinctively swept his arm under her, catching her and lifting her with ease. He'd lifted grown men before, hauled them over his shoulders and across battlefields; Mary, he found, seemed barely to weigh anything in his arms. He looked down at her, over her, seeing her flushed, breathless expression, and bent his head to kiss her again
For a second everything except the frantic pounding of her heart seemed to stop in the shock of his picking her up. How strong his arms were - through the haze of her feelings, she felt a completely separate pang, that it was the army that had made him thus. She met his eyes for a brief moment of delight at his gesture, at *him*, before her gaze flickered down to his lips and she leaned up to meet his kiss, her head tilted back and her lips already parted. She still clutched at the front of his shirt with one hand, the fingers played with his top button before undoing it, while her other hooked round his neck for security.
Matthew's head swam deliciously. She was so soft, so warm in his arms, and her kiss so eager, and when he realised where her fingers were coaxing he gave a soft, encouraging moan. As he dipped his head further, kissing her more searchingly, more deeply, he found himself stumbling irrevocably forwards until his knees hit her bed, and he looked up sharply. He stared deeply at her for a few breathless moments, before wordlessly lowering her to the bed and stretching himself over her, propped above her on his elbows. He could hardly think anymore.
She stared up from the bed, meeting his eyes. As she did so, a wave of joy and love rose up in her and burst from her in a smile of heartfelt happiness. To be here with him, to make love to him - she had meant it when she had said it was the greatest happiness of her life. For a moment, just being able to look at him and imprint the memory on her consciousness was a greater pleasure than any kiss. Then her eyes lowered to his chest and her fingers moved down to the next button, undoing each one carefully until she was able to push his shirt off his shoulders, her hands carressing his shoulders as she did so.
His eyes fluttered closed as she unclothed him, and he lowered his mouth to her neck again. "Mary..." he breathed her name softly as he trembled over her, distractedly clutching at her nightdress where his hand lay on her waist. All care or thought deserted him as he supposed himself to be in some wonderful fantasty of her, the reality of it only testified to by the warm firmness of her body beside and beneath him. As he gave in to this thought, his hand wandered over her waist, around her hip, before trailing up and coming to rest upon her breast with the softest of caresses. He was utterly lost in her.
Mary ran her fingers lightly over his chest, delighting in the different textures of his skin and faint blond hairs until he had lowered himself over her so completely that she had to extract her hand and explore his back instead. Sharp stabs and shudders, more acute than before, were flooding through her now as she could feel the length of his body against her. One of her legs lay between his and she raised it slightly, instinctively searching for a more intense friction, but when she felt his hand on her breast, for a moment she stiffened in surprise but then shuddered from head to toe, letting out an involuntary low moan.
Her soft moan only encouraged him, and he touched her with a greater purpose, enjoying the way the cotton slid between her skin and his hand, and her reaction to it. A sense of liberation flooded him, and he gave up any thought of caution, shifting onto his knees slightly so that he could press hot kisses all over her front, sucking at her with lips and teeth through the thinness of her nightdress. The progress of his lips was marked with quiet groans expelled in hot breaths against her, as he felt her writhe under his attention.
Once she had started vocalising her response to him she did not seem able to stop. When pulled back she hissed in disappointment but that soon turned to little gasps and groans as she felt his lips through the roughness of the cotton. There was something wicked, delicious, unexpected about it and it was almost too much to bear. She wanted – she wanted more. Stretching out her arm in little jerks that mirrored her trembling, she somehow found his hand and held it in a bruising grip.
"Matthew!" she cried, her voice breaking.
At her breathless cry, he paused. Slowly, deliberately removing his hands from her, he eased himself forward to lie above her, feeling the the friction of her nightdress against his bare chest. Hovering tantalisingly only inches from her face, with a wicked, taunting smile, he quirked one eyebrow.
"Yes, love?" he murmured, so softly his voice was barely a low thrum in his throat.
Oh, that was better... to feel him cover her so completely. She parted her legs enough to run each foot up and down his legs, rucking and pulling down on the loose trousers that he still wore, as she grinned helplessly back at him. Who would have thought it could be so much fun? She could feel him now - properly - and the unreality of what they were doing hit her once again. It was so utterly mad and wrong but she could not imagine ever regretting it. If they only had one chance to be happy, then she was through with prevarication.
"You know," she whispered back breathlessly and reached her other hand up to stroke his hair away from his face, her fingers hot and trembling. Then she added with her voice coming out quickly in little bursts, "Did they teach you this in the army, dearest, because you must have been a very good pupil!"
He chuckled deeply, turning his face to kiss her fingers before looking down at her once more, shifting his hips against her and grinning as it made her shudder.
"What, dear, teach me how to make love to a woman?" His low voice was almost a purr. He shook his head, allowing his eyes to linger pursposefully on her lips. "No, I'm finding it comes quite naturally with the right... inspiration."
Without allowing her time to reply, he bent his head and kissed her, so deeply but just for a moment, then drew back to kneel up over her. Tugging her up to sit, he grasped her nightdress and, with passionate determination, drew it up and over her head, tossing it carelessly aside.
He kissed her (and it seemed like a long time since he had) before she could make any kind of pithy reply. The "right inspiration" indeed? She would have to call him out on lines like that when she was more capable of, well, anything. The kiss was over too quickly; she leaned forwards to keep it going as long as possible before letting him bring her to her knees, holding his gaze as he pulled off her nightdress. She knelt naked in front of him, wondering if she ought to feel some embarrassment, but she felt none. She felt as if she were glowing and radient with her love for him and so she simply stared at him as he stared at her, until her eyes fell from his face. A moment later, she leaned forwards, brushed her lips against his as she did so, and placed her hands on his waist. Only at this point did her heart begin to hammer with nerves as she started to push down his pyjama bottoms.
Matthew could do nothing but stare mutely at her in the calm after his rush. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he'd ever thought, ever dared to think, and he could hardly dare to touch her again in case the vision should shatter. He shivered when she kissed him, so lightly, and raised himself a little to aid her task. He swallowed nervously at his exposure, with the silent understanding that they could not turn back now, if they ever had been going to - and he trembled with elation. The silence was heavy and electric, only intensified by the gently crackling flames and their heavy breaths as they knelt before one another, with all between them removed.
Mary's breaths were shallow but could be clearly seen in the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her eyes skimmed over him, the parting of her lips and a slight, impressed raising of her eyebrows her only visible reaction. Inside her stomach clenched with desire. However confident a person was about their attractions, and she was pretty confident, it was something quite different and awe-inspiring to see physical evidence of their effect. A warmth of longing mixed strangely with gratitude washed over her and her expression softened. She held out a hand to him and, just as she had earlier during the concert, gingerly touched his chest and raised her eyes to his with a question.
He couldn't help the shy chuckle, or the nervous lick of his lips, at her reaction to him. He was overwhelmed, by her, that they were here, like this... He couldn't think of anything else. Covering her hand on his chest, his eyes twinkled; he lifted it, kissed it, before tenderly easing her down to lie back. As he knelt beside her, he let his gaze track over her, indulgently slowly, then bent to press a soft, lingering kiss to the centre of her chest. He couldn't move, and remained for a second in breathless pleasure.
Her breath felt stifled. Everything seemed to have slowed down; only the continual tingling of her skin as he looked at her, as if he was touching her with his eyes, and the steady, dull ache of need remained. She blinked up at him, the feel of his lips on her chest lingering and said mischievously as she trailed one hand down his arm, "Well, darling, is that all?" Her voice was low and teasing but it concealed a frisson of nerves and anticipation that she could not quite ignore.
Without raising his head, he turned to look at her with parted lips, but then his only reply was to kiss her chest again with even greater deliberation. Her skin was so beautifully smooth, and he began to explore it, taking sweet tastes of her with hot, open-mouthed kisses, every one causing a greater shiver of arousal. He couldn't get enough... When he reached her breast, he allowed himself one fleeting glimpse before closing his eyes and drawing his tongue leisurely over her, kissing and tasting her and loving her. His hand was still clutched fiercely in hers, or he felt he'd lose himself, while his other rested with gently flexing fingers on her thigh.
Apparently not. She squirmed under his touch as his kisses swiftly fanned the flame of her desire back to its earlier peak. "Oh!" she exclaimed in something that was closer to a squeak than any other sound and sucked in her breath sharply as his lips explored her breast. Her mouth fell open and her eyes shut. She could not have imagined such pleasure. The grip on his hand was almost bruising and her other arm locked round his neck to hold his head in place, fingers possessively clutching at his hair. She writhed more, turning her body towards him. He was not close enough, kneeling there.
Mary's own, increasingly obvious, desire was stoking Matthew's own fiercely, and he wasn't sure he could draw out this delicious taunting of her any longer. He stroked his hand over her, from the warmth between her legs all the way up over the beautifully soft curves of her torso, to clasp her neck as he shifted and stretched himself fully over her. With a gentle, tender kiss, he brushed his thumb over her cheek as he settled between her legs, utterly on fire with anticipation.
She bit down hard on her lip as he positioned himself over her. In one brief, unexpected flash, she remembered, or her body remembered, her previous experience – so easy to forget when with Matthew – and her eyes widened and she stiffened in nervous anticipation of – there wasn't meant to be any pain after the first time, was there? But his kiss was so reassuring and she was so hot and she wanted him so much. Her lips trembled and she almost imperceptibly nodded.
The entire world around them seemed to stop. His lips parted and he watched her, fixed his gaze on every perfect imperfection in her face and her impossibly deep, dark eyes, gently clasping her cheeks as he eased his hips forwards, upwards... As he felt her tight warmth encompass him completely, his eyelids fluttered, lips parted further into an audible sigh of perfect completeness.
Her eyes remained open and locked on his with bright intensity and, the old wives' tales were true, there was no pain. A greater warmth and happiness than she had ever known washed over her. She raised her hands, needing to touch him more and stroked over his face – cheeks, parted lips, eyes, nose – learning him by touch, and she arched her back up towards him and wrapped her legs round him, accommodating him more within her, pulling him torturously deeper. It was perfect; he was perfect.
Such a feeling of utter satisfaction flooded him, the pleasure almost unbearably sharp as he held himself there, buried within her. For a moment he couldn't move, could only cling to her and feel her, surrounding him in every possible way. His head bowed to rest against her forehead, shifting a fraction until their lips brushed as he began to draw back, before thrusting deeply into her once more in a slow, taunting rhythm.
She wrapped her arms round his neck, keeping his head as close to hers as possible. Every time his lips brushed against hers mirroring the rhythm of his hips, she could not help releasing a small, anguished moan. Every inch of her was on fire and she shuddered and rocked against him, her pleasure in the friction between them almost painful. Everything felt tight and hot and him.
While Matthew desperately wanted to keep his head, to realise and appreciate and enjoy everything about what he still couldn't believe they were doing, it was impossible when she shifted against him so, when her soft cries of pleasure tickled his ear, when her hands clutched him just so and her lips brushed him just there... He couldn't comprehend it all at once, it was too much, he was lost in her. His hips jerked and he gasped in response to her shudder, her name slipping past his lips in a deep murmur as he arched his back to reach her breast again with his tongue.
Mary had no idea what she ought to be doing at this point, instinct took over, she could only feel and experience and clutch him for dear life as his rhythm began to jolt and change and speed up. As he latched on to her breast, she let out a low wordless cry and her breath began to come in rapid pants. She pulled him back down to her or raised herself off the pillow to meet him, she hardly knew which, her hands scrabbling over his back, shifting herself in an unceasing quest for something, and with every shift, sharps shudders of desire washed through her, building to almost unbearable, almost painful convulsions.
She was hot and sweet and perfect against him, around him, it felt as though she touched him everywhere all at once, and Matthew felt a delicious, taut, tension build deep within him. His back ached but he didn't care, his legs ached but he didn't care, he couldn't care for anything but her warmth and her body and breath that encompassed him. He dragged his lips from the sweetness of her breast and groaned against her neck, as the sharp, wonderful thrust of her hips against his became sloppier and faster, less controlled… She tightened around him and he cried out, clinging to her as his entire perception blacked out into everything and nothing, the friction unbearable and wonderful and devastating. Unthinkable throbs of pleasure overtook him as he shuddered within her and against her, and he felt a blissful lack of control over any of his limbs.
With a sharp intake of breath, everything seemed for one moment to stop and then he plunged into her again and with a cry, she knew not how loud or long or what she said, she was falling... falling... falling only she was under him so how could she fall? and everything was heat and bliss and the most perfect pleasure.
Matthew's arms had somehow wrapped around her and he held her as tight as he could, somehow only realising as they sank together into erratic, trembling shudders that it was Mary. He'd known it, of course he'd been almost painfully aware of it but... God, it was Mary and he'd broken to pieces in her arms and she'd cried out his name and... "Oh, God, Mary," he panted in hot breaths against her sweat-dampened skin. He couldn't say any more, couldn't possibly express what he felt, but it was overwhelming and beautiful and she was perfect, and so he only clutched her tighter and pressed trembling kisses to her shoulder.
She was shaking and hot when she came to herself seconds later and Matthew was a heavy, welcome weight on top of her. She felt almost detached from herself, floating above the thick, lethargic limbs she knew were her own. And him- her darling, beloved, living Matthew was there with her, holding her still and kissing her and murmuring her name against her skin like a strange, adult baptism. She certainly felt reborn. Her hands were... she became aware of them - her hands were pressed against his back and she moved them slightly, carressing his damp skin. She blinked up at the ceiling several times until she lowered her eyes to the top of his head, his hair completely mussed. She had never thought he looked better. Shifting slightly under him, if only to become aware of her own body, she realised he was still buried within her and her eyes closed again as she let out another, quiet, involuntary moan.
Matthew smiled into her shoulder, a low, humming sound of contentment reverberating through him in response to her. He twitched, shivered, and pushed up onto his elbows. Cool air flooded between their chests, though not unpleasantly, and he gazed down at her. With the back of his fingers he stroked her flushed cheeks, as he tried to memorise everything about her before he lowered his head to kiss her... Slowly, languidly, so sweetly... So gently. He shifted his hips a little, finding that little tingles of pleasure still flitted through him, and he felt so utterly peaceful and happy that he couldn't think to withdraw from her.
"Darling..." he whispered against her lips, "Thank you." He didn't precisely know what he was thanking her for, only that he felt somehow incredibly grateful for this.
She opened her eyes to see his looming above her, wide, beautiful, oh so blue, and her lips parted as an expression of the most perfect adoration and happiness settled over her entire countenance. She kissed him softly back, the action seeming almost impossibly sweet and simple after all that they had done.
"I love you," she whispered back as nothing else seemed worth saying, "so much." Her voice cracked away into nothing on the last phrase.
Happiness bubbled right through Matthew and he chuckled, brushing his nose against her own and her cheek then covering her face with the lightest of kisses.
"Oh my darling," he breathed, claiming her lips again. "I love you... Darling Mary." He couldn't stop kissing her, couldnt stop touching her, though he was so pleasantly exhausted.. He suddenly wondered what time it was. Oh, but he didn't care!
A sudden burst of laughter bubbled out of her, quenched immediately afterwards because too much effort was involved. She was so happy, so content, so completely fulfilled she did not know how else to express it save with laughter. Every place where his hands or lips touched her left a trail of heat and she welcomed it with a shuddering sigh as she met his lips again and again in soft, languid,
unhurried kisses.
While Matthew himself felt quite deliriously happy, the very notion that Mary seemed equally so was almost beyond him. As they kissed and carressed each other, clinging to the last vestiges of thoughtless pleasure, he felt as though he had barely lived, barely breathed, barely seen until this moment. Slowly, he became aware of the cooling sweat on his back as the fire was burned lower, and he ached for a closer comfort. With a soft little grunt, he eased off Mary, gasping as he pulled out of her, remedying the separation quickly as he managed to tug the heavy blankets of her bed over them both, then enfolding her in his arms.
"Sorry, I - was cold," he murmured into her hair.
She met his eyes quickly as they parted and she turned her head away, a characteristic movement even on the pillow. The first of many partings, she thought with a pang as she manoevered to help him pull the covers over them. As he spoke she rubbed his arms which were enclosed around her.
"We can't have that," she murmured and pressed back against him. What would they do? She didn't want to think about it, but he really couldn't remain here to be found by Anna in the morning! Or could he? Wildly she wondered if she would care very much if he was...
He shivered and smiled, hugging her tighter. Now that rational thought seemed to have returned (though had it, really? Was he capable of it here, like this?) he suddenly felt very aware of their... situation. Had they been very foolish? No - no, he absolutely wouldn't think that, he couldn't, not when he loved her so... But still, they... Oh, what did he care! Mary was silent, too. He sighed
gently.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, softly, as his hand rubbed warmly over her back.
She was silent for a while longer before she replied, telling him the truth. To say anything else to him now seemed absolutely ridiculous. He knew her far too intimately to be lied to even if she had wanted to.
"I'm thinking about the expression on Anna's face if she found you here tomorrow morning. It would be worth seeing, I'm sure of it."
He laughed aloud, shifting his legs as they tangled comfortably with hers.
"I wish I could be!" he chuckled, then said more seriously, "It would be better if I left, wouldn't it..." But he didn't want to! He wanted more than anything to stay here, in her arms... "Would you rather I did?"
She shrugged again and then shifted in his embrace so she could look at him.
"I have to say 'yes', don't I?" Her expression softened from anxiety to love. "But I don't want you to... I don't want you to leave at all."
She wasn't just talking about his leaving her bed and she knew he'd know that. It was selfish of her and when the time came she would be stoical because she had to be but for now - now, she wanted to regret him and linger over him and love him - and that he should know it.
"I know, darling," he said deeply. He shifted forward and kissed her again, fiercely, desperately, hoping that somehow she might understand everything he couldn't say. Finally he pulled back, breathing heavily. "I'm - going to London on the first train, and -" God, he didn't want to think of that now! "Then I shall be here until... Mary, I'm so glad we'll have this." He knew he must go, really, but his limbs made not the slightest effort to move from her. He couldn't.
She kissed him back with equal fierceness and then nodded.
"We will always have this," she replied intensely, her eyes bright and firm. She did not need to add 'whatever happens'. It was too obvious and she did not want to think it, not now. Anyway, her heart fluttered because he had said he would come back... Maybe he would be only gone a day! And then- She really shouldn't be thinking what she was thinking, but she knew it was in her eyes all the same.
"Always," he whispered tremulously, but firmly. His hand came to rest on her cheek as he looked at her, savoured her... He would carry this image of her, naked in his arms with blushed cheeks and dishevelled hair, so beautiful, with him wherever, whatever he faced. He kissed her, sucking gently at her lower lip, memorising the taste of her.
"I hope to be back by tomorrow evening," he murmured.
She licked her lips, savouring the taste of him on them and her eyes flickered up to his.
"And I shall be here," was all she said but in such a way that it conveyed so much more than the words themselves suggested. She would be here when he returned a free man but not, she imagined, a happy one, for breaking it off with Lavinia would be unpleasant however necessary. She would be here even if all he would be able to do would be to take her hand as he brushed past her. And she would be here when he next returned from the front. Whatever the circumstances. And return he would.
He nodded, smiled a genuine, appreciative smile, and drew her in closely against his chest, arms curling around her shoulders as his fingers twisted comfortingly into her hair. How could he ever let her go? Oh, it - wasn't going to be easy, none of it was going to be easy. But he was so entirely sure that this was right and true and he loved her, that... None of it mattered. He'd deal with
it. They'd deal with it. Somehow, together.
"Thank you, my darling." He pressed tender kisses into her hair, with a trembling sigh. "I love you," he whispered again, as though that covered everything else. It did. He loved her, and that was all of it.
Her lips curved into a gentle smile, never tiring of hearing him say it, now that she finally knew. It would be alright. It would all be alright. They would see that it was.
"I love you," she whispered back. In the end, it did not matter if he stayed or went that night, for now they were together, she felt sure they would be able to face any eventuality.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading. We hope you enjoyed. *cough* Yes. And any comments are most gratefully received.
OrangeShipper & Silvestria