The next morning, Harold descended the stairs with a spring that hadn't been in his step for quite awhile. And although Marian's back was to him when he gamboled into the kitchen, she definitely noticed.

"My goodness, Harold!" she admonished, looking up from the pan she'd been vigorously scrubbing. "You're as bad as the girls, when it comes to thundering into a room."

While there was a rather sharp edge to her voice, the corners of her lips were turned up in a smirk, which softened the effect of her scolding. Harold was a bit surprised that his wife's annoyance wasn't entirely feigned, but he was in too good of spirits to let this bother him. A delectable Sunday-morning breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast was artfully arranged on the kitchen table – Marian always insisted on cleaning the cooking dishes before sitting down to eat, and he had long ago stopped trying to talk her out of doing this unnecessary extra work – but although he looked forward to tucking into the meal eventually, he was never so hungry for food as he was for lovemaking.

Wrapping his arms around the librarian's waist, Harold purred in the low, velvety voice that never failed to make her melt, "Well, as I demonstrated last night, I'm very good at staying quiet when circumstances demand… "

Instead of flirting back, Marian let out a short, sardonic laugh, her busy fingers not even breaking their stride.

Still undeterred, Harold's hands meandered upward to cup her breasts. But he'd barely touched them when she tutted and twitched out of his embrace.

His hands fell to his sides. Although he was miffed by his wife's curt dismissal of his overtures, his pique was quickly overridden by concern – the only time she was this cold to him was when she was ill. "Marian?" he asked mildly, trying to keep the dismay out of his voice.

Her hands finally stilled, and she bowed her head. "I'm a little… tender in that particular area," she finally admitted, in a tone that was both repentant and filled with maidenly delicacy. "And I have a headache."

Relieved that her symptoms were nothing out of the ordinary – and surmising from them that her courses were due to begin any day now – Harold leaned in and gave his wife a gentle kiss on her throbbing temple. He recalled that she had been even more eager than usual for him to fondle and kiss her breasts last night, which only confirmed his suspicion, as they became particularly sensitive around her time of the month. But from long experience, he had learned that this boon was a double-edged sword – when she was not already aroused, she couldn't bear for him to even brush her breasts lightly with his fingers.

Still, with a little patience and finesse, he might be able to revive the romantic mood between them and give them both something delightful to anticipate for later this evening. Harold began by kneading Marian's shoulders and spine, and it wasn't long before she was leaning back into his ministrations and sighing happily. He'd already won half the battle of getting the librarian hot and bothered – it was time to make his move. Craning his head, the music professor began to softly kiss her neck. As she tilted her head to grant his mouth greater access, he progressed to love-bites, which only increased the intensity of her breathing. For his final coup, he once again traced his hands up her curves to cup her breasts. This time, his wife moaned and leaned forward into his touch. Normally, Harold would have grinned after having so adroitly achieved total victory, but he'd fallen just as thoroughly into his own trap – tightening his hold on Marian, he pressed his suddenly excruciating erection into her backside to show her just how much he wanted – no, needed – her. "We don't have to eat breakfast right this minute, do we?"

"Oh, but we really should," she gasped, somehow still managing to cling to reason even as her body hungrily swayed in time with his thrusts. But as Marian spoke, she turned in his arms to face him. At that, he propped her up on the counter and stepped between her thighs, which immediately opened to welcome him.

Still, even after Harold started kissing her breasts in earnest, she continued to demur. "I've still got the rest of the dishes to finish up, and by the time I'm done we'll have to start eating or we'll be late for church. We always have tonight… "

"I can't wait that long," Harold growled as he thrust against her, not caring how desperate he sounded or attempting to hide the naked pleading in his voice. He could feel the heat of arousal between Marian's thighs even as the layers of clothing between them inexorably prohibited more intimate congress. In the state he was in, he'd be lucky to make it fifteen minutes without scratching this itch – let alone all the way until tonight!

But not only did the Hill family have church to attend, Mrs. Paroo was hosting a family brunch afterward, which was sure to stretch all the way into suppertime. And even though the matron was always willing to look after her beloved granddaughters, they couldn't let Penny and Elly spend the evening because it was a school night, and they couldn't even slip away for a few hours later this afternoon because it would violate the terms of the girls' punishment.

However, Harold wasn't thinking about any of that. All he was thinking was just how easy it would be to make love to his wife right then and there – not only were her legs wrapped firmly around his hips, her arms had wound their way around his neck and she was holding him steadfastly against her. In their enraptured haze, both the music professor and the librarian had forgotten they weren't alone in the house. Harold's eager fingers were fumbling to brush the fabric of Marian's skirt and drawers out of the way – while skirts had gotten much shorter during this decade, drawers were no longer split-seam, which actually made illicit hanky panky slightly more difficult. But perhaps it was a good thing he had to work a little harder for it nowadays. The music professor's hand had just barely managed to brush silky wetness when two sets of footsteps came galumphing down the stairs; had the librarian been attired in one of her Edwardian ensembles of yore, his fingers would have been deep inside of her.

Their prelude rudely shattered, husband and wife immediately moved apart and smoothed out their disheveled clothing. By the time Penny and Elly bounded into the kitchen, clamoring for their breakfast, Marian was once again hunched over the sink, seemingly engrossed in getting the stubborn egg residue off of the pan, while Harold was sitting at the table as coolly and casually as if he'd been thus reclined for the entire time he was downstairs.

XXX

That night, Harold moved right in to kiss Marian the moment they were finally alone together. And that happened to be in the music room; he'd been perusing scores with Penny while Elly played a duet with her mother on the piano. Once the librarian sent the girls upstairs to get ready for bed at eight o'clock sharp, as she did every evening, the music professor took the seat his younger daughter had vacated and pulled his wife into his arms.

But his lips had barely touched hers when she laughed and shook her head. "I knew you were going to pounce on me right away."

Marian's tone was as indulgent as it was teasing, but it irked Harold. He didn't want to be indulged, as if he were a naughty boy angling for a treat that perhaps he did not deserve; he wanted his wife to be as impatient to make passionate love to him as he was to her. And he thought she had been waiting for tonight to arrive just as eagerly as he was – while she'd modestly avoided giving him so much as a handclasp in public, she'd been wearing her small, secret smile all afternoon as their family blithely chattered around them. It might have been easier on Harold if he could have escaped to the emporium for a little while, because at least he wouldn't have had to see his wife wanting him. During their heated interlude in the kitchen that morning, he'd already gotten his fill of more than enough of the librarian to tantalize and frustrate him in the long hours ahead. Having her right before his eyes and not being able to do a damn thing but watch her anticipation was maddening!

But now that it was finally tonight, Harold refused to be disappointed by Marian's underwhelmed demeanor. Being in her presence all day had made him absolutely confident their forbearance this morning had borne fruit. "Don't act like you weren't also waiting for this moment, my dear little librarian," he admonished in his most velvety voice, giving her a hard kiss on the side of her neck.

Marian let out that low, throaty laugh that always went straight to below his belt. "Ohh, Harold," she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning into his caresses even as she insisted, "I just don't think it would be a good idea to get too carried away before we're absolutely certain the girls won't interrupt us. Heaven forbid they burst in unannounced and see their parents pawing at each other like a couple of teenagers – oh!"

Heedless of her admonitions, Harold's hand had undone the pearly buttons down the front of her blouse and slipped beneath the fabric of her camisole; he was now tracing delicate circles on her nipple with his thumb. Just as he'd hoped, her breasts were still extremely sensitive; he'd barely brushed them with his fingers before her nipples grew erect. Having correctly guessed that this would be the quickest route to getting his wife into the spirit of things, he now reaped his full reward – the librarian's mouth enveloped his in the long, deep and hungry kiss he'd been waiting for.

But once again, the promising prelude between husband and wife was shattered. As they parted breathlessly and began to undo each other's fastenings, a loud bang reverberated throughout the house, shortly followed by a second crash.

Marian's exhalations turned irritated. "Penny! Elly! Stop slamming doors!"

A door swung open. "Sorry, Mom!" the girls chorused.

Clearly not in a mood to let anyone win, the librarian further scolded, "And how many times have I told you – don't shout across the house! It's not ladylike!"

Even Harold knew better than to grin at this blatant hypocrisy. Not that he was in the mood to do any grinning. It wasn't the first time they'd been interrupted by their dear daughters, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but it was more than he could take right now.

Still, the music professor figured it would do little good to argue. "On that note, you ought to go up and tuck the girls in," he said briskly, standing up and refastening his trousers.

However, moving away from the librarian only exacerbated his arousal; the sight of her disheveled curls and undone blouse made his heart even beat faster. But he refused to allow himself to get too excited, even as his wife remained seated on the piano bench and regarded him with bewildered eyes. "You'll probably also want to check the walls for new scratches," he suggested in a tone that came out sounding a bit more petulant than he intended.

He braced himself for the quarrel that would inevitably follow, but Marian blinked and then bit her lip, as if thinking. Harold's breath caught in his throat and hope began to bubble up in the pit of his stomach…

"I suppose you're right," she finally said with a sigh. "The girls have probably done quite a number on the woodwork!"

Harold's shoulders slumped right along with hers. But he managed to find a smile – his flashy showman's grin, but it would have to do – and pasted it on his face. "While you're seeing to the girls, I'll straighten up in here." He gestured at the surrounding stacks of paper broadly and expansively, which was appropriate when he was leading the band but a little too overdone for a husband attempting to convince his wife nothing was weighing on his mind.

A spark of alarm flashed through Marian's gaze. She blinked and bit her lip again. This time, Harold not only flattened that pitiful little fizz of hope, he attempted to coax his wife onward. "And don't wait up for me – I'll come upstairs after I put everything away."

But the librarian surprised him. "Stay here, Harold," she entreated. "After the girls are in bed, I'll come back downstairs."

Although both her voice and expression were alluringly come-hither, the music professor sensed that his wife's invitation wasn't entirely issued out of enthusiastic longing. While he didn't doubt that deep down, Marian wanted him as much as he wanted her, he didn't want an iota of her lovemaking to be driven by a sense of duty. But as much as Harold despised being relented to, he was beyond resisting even these paltry scraps of romance.

"I'll be waiting," he promised, and took a seat on the music room's only wingback chair to do just that.

XXX

When Harold came to, the faint, rosy light of a beautiful autumn dawn was streaming through the muslin curtains.

Without even realizing it, he'd drifted to sleep on his chair. Although his bowtie and a few of the buttons on his dress shirt had already been undone by Marian during their canoodling the night before, his shoes were still on, and no blanket was draped over him. Harold's miffed confusion turned into full-blown irritation once he realized he'd been lying undisturbed all night – apparently, his wife hadn't even thought to so much as peek in on him before retiring for the evening!

After stretching out his cramped muscles and massaging the crick in his neck, the music professor rose to his feet and tiptoed up the stairs. As he didn't particularly care to encounter the librarian this morning after her craven evasion – he would have much rather gotten a firm and straightforward no to his advances – his plan was to change into a fresh suit, splash some cold water on his face, and head right to the emporium. His office was well-stocked with razors, shaving cream, pomade and combs, so he could complete his morning ablutions more thoroughly there.

But when Harold crept into the bedroom, he was arrested by the sight of Marian sound asleep on top of their neatly-made bed. She'd removed her shoes and stockings, but otherwise, she was still fully clothed in the ensemble she'd been wearing the day before. Harold paused and frowned. This wasn't like the librarian, at all – no matter how exhausted she was at the end of the day, she never neglected her nightly toilette. Surveying the room for additional clues, he spotted her gingham dressing gown – and nothing else – draped over her vanity stool. Harold's heart constricted at the sight – clearly, she'd been planning to come downstairs, after all. The last of his anger ebbed away, to be replaced by deep concern; it appeared that in the midst of getting undressed, his normally robust wife had simply collapsed.

Removing his shoes, belt and dress shirt, Harold slipped into bed next to Marian. She didn't even fidget at the disturbance, which further alarmed him. How exhausted could she possibly still be, after conking out so early the night before? Torn between the possibilities of waking her with gentle kisses or letting her get some much-needed sleep, Harold reluctantly decided the latter course of action would be best. But as he shifted to climb out of bed, the librarian stirred and opened her eyes. When her unfocused gaze finally settled on him, she gave him a bewildered smile. "Hello, Harold."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Good morning, my dear little librarian."

"Morning?" she asked groggily. "Don't you mean evening, or night?" Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, Marian immediately popped up, aghast. "Oh dear, I was supposed to come down to the music room hours ago!"

Fortunately, Harold's reflexes were as lightning-quick as ever, and he swiftly moved back so as not to be beaned in the face by his wife's sudden shift in position. He even found it within himself to regard her with a tender smile as he observed, "You fell asleep."

"I'm so sorry," she apologized profusely. "After tucking the girls into bed, I came in here to change – but then I was suddenly overwhelmed by vertigo and had to lie down." She gazed imploringly at him. "I only meant to wait until the dizzy spell had passed, but – "

His smile curled into a smirk. "But you fell asleep."

Marian blushed and bowed her head.

Harold might have been inclined to tease his wife about her lapse, as the frustration of yet another missed opportunity lingered, but he was too concerned by this turn of events to go that route. He needed answers, and he wouldn't get them if he nettled her. "Well, there was no harm done," he magnanimously assured her. "As it turns out, I fell fast asleep, myself."

"Oh, Harold!" she gasped, appalled. "You spent all night in that chair? Your back must be twinging something fierce!"

The librarian reached over to soothe it, but he caught her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. "Never mind about my back," he said, regarding her with a level stare. "I'm much more interested in discussing the overwhelming vertigo that made you pass out."

Marian's eyes didn't quite meet his. "It's not as if I was expecting it – I was taken completely by surprise. That was the first time it's ever happened."

"Ever?" he asked skeptically, stroking her palm with his thumb.

She shrugged. "Well, in several years."

Harold said nothing else, but continued to gaze at her with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, stop looking at me that way," she said crossly, snapping her head up to face him at last. "I feel perfectly fine this morning. It's as if last night had never even happened!"

He remained silent, his expression unmoving.

Marian sighed. "Oh, all right! If it happens again, I'll call Dr. Pyne."

Harold grinned and planted a hearty kiss on her lips. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

The corners of the librarian's mouth twitched upward, and she swatted his arm with her free hand. "You are such a fusspot!"

The music professor burst into laughter. "Me, a fusspot?" He caught her flailing hand and nibbled on her wrist. "And what's this slang from our reining Grammarian, who rules all the utterances of the Hill household with an iron dictionary?"

Harold only meant to have a little flirtatious fun with his wife, as he felt like a brute for goading her into making love when she wasn't feeling well the night before – and despite her rosy complexion and protestations to the contrary, he wasn't entirely convinced she wasn't ill – but Marian had other ideas. Reaching out and seizing him by the straps of his undershirt, she pulled him to her and gave him a kiss that was deep and full of promise.

Still, after having endured such an inauspicious atmosphere for lovemaking the day before, Harold refused to get too carried away just yet, even as Marian reached down to undo the front of his trousers. "Your alarm is due to go off any minute, darling," he warned – though in a panting voice as his fingers eagerly unfastened the buttons on her now thoroughly wrinkled blouse in return.

With an exasperated sigh, the librarian reached over and smacked the switch. "Any further objections, Mister Hill?" she asked with a gleam in her eye, before pulling the music professor back to her and covering his mouth with hers.

But while Harold did not protest any further and wholeheartedly returned his wife's heated kisses, he was right to be circumspect. Marian's warm hand was just sliding beneath the waistband of his drawers when two sets of footsteps thundered down the hall, shattering the early-morning tranquility.

"No fair, Penny! You used the washroom first yesterday morning!"

"That's because you used it first two days in a row before that!"

There were sounds of a scuffle, a door slammed, and a vigorous pounding of fists on wood ensued. And then, as if signaling the end of round one for this unruly boxing match, the alarm clock on Marian's bedside table let out its shrill, ear-piercing ring, making the music professor and librarian both jump something fierce. Marian had been too hasty and missed the switch – but then again, that clock had always been a cantankerous device, even when one was more precise!

Both husband and wife knew there was no point in trying to salvage yet another failed tryst. With a sigh, they parted and got up to face the day. As Harold whacked the alarm into silence and headed to the armoire to don a fresh suit, Marian raced to the washroom to iron out their daughters' latest squabble.