The notes continued. Anna loved every moment she spent with her husband, stolen between duties, and every second she spent wrapped into his arms outside in the courtyard, before the doors to the Abbey were locked for the night, but she had a special affection for the little notes that waited for her each day when she changed for the evening. Sometimes they were sweet and gentle. Sometimes they were so hot, she had to cool her face with fresh water in the bathroom before going to answer the dressing gong.
The most recent had been a poem.
My Lady's Hair
Gossamer threads of spun silk
sliding through my fingers,
smoothing across the calluses
of my life.
A veil of sunlight,
wreathing an angel's face,
Sweet as honey, soft as light.
Soft tresses,
scented with heather,
spread across my chest
as she rises above me,
in glory and grace.
By day, she restrains it,
guards her treasure
and keeps it trussed up,
tight and safe.
By night, it flows
and fills my dreams...
Tears spilled down Anna's face, as she read the little piece through twice more. What had she done in her life that was good enough to deserve the love of this romantic man, this poetic soul? Reaching for her clean handkerchief in the drawer beneath the dressing table, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and was struck with an idea.
Slowly Anna unpinned her hair, removed the little cap and let her long honeyed locks fall across her shoulders. She brushed it through, pulling a strand forward, while she rummaged in her sewing box for her small scissors. Carefully, she snipped lose the tress and laid it out across the table, hastily re-bundling and pinning her hair up again.
Running the lock through her fingers, she smiled, cherishing a small plan to repay her husband for the poem.
...
"I loved your poem."
John smiled down at her, a flicker of self consciousness passing over his features.
"It's been a long time since anything moved me to write poetry."
"It was beautiful."
"Not so beautiful as you."
"Do you ... do you really think of me that way?"
"In what way...?"
"You know..." Anna bit her lip as she blushed and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Rising above you... in glory and grace..."
John shivered inwardly to hear his words whispered back to him in his wife's voice, picturing her as he had known her in their one night together.
"I rarely think of anything else, when I am trying to sleep. You've always been in my thoughts late at night. I tried not to think of you that way, I liked you, respected you... knowing that you're just a few yards away from me now, when we're wed and we should be together, is almost more than I can bear."
Inwardly, Anna groaned, feeling a pressure of heat rise in her throat and sink deep into her stomach. Desire, pure and simple, beyond reason. Her voice slipped from her lips as she pressed against his shoulder. "Oh John..."
The sound of his name whispered in Anna's soft voice, laced with such raw longing, was more than John could bear.
"Oh my darling..."
He bent to kiss her, his lips finding hers in desperation and longing, inhaling her breath, almost drinking her in. Anna melted beneath his touch, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer into her.
The sound of the back door opening jolted them apart in a shock.
"Locking up now," came the familiar cry.
"Wait..." Anna caught John's hand, smiling up at him. "This is for you... at least part of me will be with you tonight." She pressed the small gift into his hand and with a swift kiss on his cheek and an impish grin, she was gone.
Looking down, John found a small loop of plaited golden hair, fastened at each end with neat threads. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed the small trace of his wife's presence, inhaling the musky remains of her scent. Heading back inside, he hoped against hope that the search for their cottage would be over soon.