Author's note: Thank you, ever so kindly, for all the reviews on the previous chapter. I hope this one is a satisfying read.
That night they lay in the hot, quiet sheets of her bed. There were fresh rose petals, flipped urgently from the covers, still lingering in some places. She had her suspicions as to who the culprits of such clichéd romance had been and, in fact, she lamented whatever beautiful roses had been sacrificed at Mia and Anna's hands to carry it out. He'd gone via the cellars and brought a bottle of brandy, perching atop his change of clothes for the morning. She wanted to tell him he'd need to move his things in, they'd need to make space for him, he'd need to be titled eventually.
But she found words were boring and inadequate. Actions were better. There had been so many words, over so many years.
She took a sip of the brandy and lay down again.
He scooped her against his body, his skin clammy with exertion and heat, and wrapped a tight arm around her middle.
His mouth was lazily nibbling on her shoulder, his tongue was quietly threatening her with the most delicious things now and then, and his mind was at peace.
She could feel it.
Below them, in the ballroom, the clean-up was already underway. They were already sweeping away the remnants of a day forty years too late for her, but wonderful for that fact it had happened at all.
"I wrote a list once," he kissed her neck, "Of all the things I loved about you."
She smiled wanly and nodded, "You told me."
"It went to five pages…both sides."
She laughed, "Where did you find the time?"
"You were paying me," he smiled and peeled a rose petal from her abdomen, "It was on your time."
"Lazy," she shivered as his fingers ghosted over the skin of her ribs.
"You like that?"
"Yes," she admitted, hardly thinking to be shy.
"Do you remember when I told you I wanted you to tell me what you enjoyed?"
"Mmmm, yes."
"The look on your face - scandalized."
"You enjoy embarrassing me husband, don't' you?"
He laughed, "Yes wife. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Very," she nodded, "Very wonderful. Joseph?"
"Clarisse?"
"I am sorry."
She waited for his rebuke. He pulled her tighter to him though, burying his face in her hair. Once she would have found this odd but she realised it offered him some comfort and it was romantic to her, in its way.
"Let's say it once more. Once more for everything, for everything we ever did that hurt each other, and then let's…"
"Release it?"
He nodded.
"I am sorry, Clarisse, too."
They were silent then, their older bodies as well attuned as their younger ones had been, understanding what was needed was time to stop being a secret.
"We can never let her tell the world," she said sadly.
"She doesn't want to," he assured, reaching for his own brandy glass, "She just wants us…she wants us to be like this."
"Well am I not glad she doesn't demand much?" Clarisse laughed.
"She is your daughter," he turned her round and she couldn't resist running her fingers over his goatee.
"Counting greys?"
"Reminiscing," she smiled, "And I do love your beard."
He grinned boyishly, "Do you?"
"Mmmm, I might write a list."
"Double sided?"
"Double sided," she assured.
He urged her on top of him then, pulling her face towards his for a kiss. She kissed his chin, his jaw, his mouth.
"Joseph?"
It came out more as a gasp than as a question.
"Mhhmmm, darling?"
"I want to go to Madrid for our honeymoon."
He seemed a little distracted.
"Alright."
Happy ending? One more chapter then we're done.