XIII. – The Happiest Thought
The sun's light had faded from the brilliancy of mid-morning to the normality of early afternoon, and she idly wondered what time it was.
Then she laughed at the absurdity of such a thought, because time did not matter here, surely!
"What is so amusing, my love?" Her husband whispered in her ear in her native language, his warm breath tickling her skin and making the damp tendrils of hair flutter against her neck.
She shivered with delight and turned her head quickly in order to kiss his lips, relishing that warmth and the mere taste of him, while her little hands roved over his strong shoulders and into the spill of hair at his neck.
"Tis nothing, dearest," she whispered back, once she had parted from the heat of his mouth by a breath; enough to talk and enough to go back should she crave more.
He breathed a sigh and closed his eyes, his fingers splayed against her bare stomach as his head dropped to her shoulder in reverence. "Do you love me so much?" He sounded almost frightened.
"Yes, my husband." She gave him a soft smile and stroked his hair. "So much."
And as she settled against him, her breathing much slower now, she realized that when Anthony had first touched her, had first made her arch into him with sheer need, had first shown her true love, that the fear Pierre Adet had created with her so long ago had finally been vanquished. She had thought it had gone when she had sat with him in the coach, but no. Now, it was truly gone.
She could give all of herself to her husband, without reserve, without panic, without fear...and she had.
Such a thought was almost too happy to contain, and she wrapped her arms around him to make sure he did not leave her.
And that thought was almost as absurd as the time.