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The coffin maker was a strong man. He'd grown up hauling lumber, planing boards, learning to work with nature to craft absolute beauty. He worked with his hands daily, and there had yet to be a single obstacle too big for him to take on.
When the door to his cottage opened, and his eyes landed on his beloved wife, the coffin maker felt invincible. She was beauty and grace personified, her dark hair tucked up neatly around the back of her head, her ever-present apron stained with rich berry juice and dirt. She had a smudge of something dark across her cheek, and he wished to kiss it from her creamy skin.
A shadow moved behind her in the cottage, and for a very fast, very terrible moment, the coffin maker's heart froze. He hated leaving her alone, though he knew no one—man or woman— was more capable of protecting themselves than his beloved and spirited wife. Still, they received visitors from all over the kingdom, and he knew better than to trust most men.
The smile gracing his wife's face eased his heart, and he stopped, tying the horse to the fence before he moved through the garden gate. She was in his arms before the gate had swung shut.
He breathed in the deep scent of fresh herbs and earth on her skin, and he treasured her with all that he was.
"How was your trip?" she asked, pulling back and glancing over his shoulder.
He nodded, his rough fingers coming up to tuck strands of hair behind her ear. "Fruitful," he told her.
Her eyes met his again and she smiled. "You have a patron," she told him, tilting her head toward their cottage.
His eyes flickered up to the door and he nodded. He pressed a kiss to her hair, a silent prayer giving thanks she was all right in his absence. She stepped aside, watching as he straightened his tired back, heading inside of their home. She shouldn't go in and linger. It was clear that Mr. Reynolds wished for privacy when speaking to her husband. Only the knowledge that Edward would tell her of Mr. Reynolds's requests immediately upon his departure kept her from barging inside.
She instead turned, moving to the fence where the horse was still tethered. She reached out to the soft nose, patting her gently. A deep bark greeted her, and she smiled as she caught sight of Bear, their large brown dog.
She bent at the waist to greet the mutt, and he barked in delight, licking the side of her face. She laughed. "Welcome home," she said, rubbing the dog behind his large ears. "Did you do as I asked and keep your master safe?"
The dog barked as if he understood her, and she grinned, rubbing the top of his head. "A treat tonight," she promised him. Bear shook out his shaggy brown fur and trotted into the garden. She turned to the mare pulling the cart. "Come along, my love," she whispered, rubbing the bridge of the mare's nose. She untethered the horse, leading her and the cart around the back of the cottage, to her husband's workshop. She didn't unload the cart, knowing he'd prefer to do it himself, but she did set the stand, gently unclipping the mare from her bridle and harness. She brought the mare to pasture, where the stranger's horse was still grazing. "There now," she murmured, rubbing the haunches of the mare. "Take your rest."
When their animals were cared for, she returned to her garden. Gathering together a basket of vegetables harvested in the early morning hours, she brought them down to the small creek that ran behind their home. Bear barked as he joined her, sniffing the water's edge as she settled in. She washed the vegetables, rubbing them tenderly to remove the clumps of earth that still clung to them.
Early autumn provided a bountiful harvest, and Bella had a massive task ahead of her to store as much food as she was able for the upcoming winter.
The stranger was exiting the cottage when Bella returned, her vegetables cleaned and ready for their supper. She met his dark, guarded eyes as he stepped out into the fading daylight. "Will you dine with us?" she asked, hoping that he wouldn't.
He offered her a tired smile. "A generous offer, madame, but no. I must head back to the village before night falls."
She nodded, and her eyes shifted to her husband as he stepped out of the cottage as well. As always when seeing him, her heart swelled with a love so deep and fierce it almost frightened her.
He pressed a kiss to her hair again as he passed, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.
He moved on, helping Mr. Reynolds retrieve his stallion. Bella entered the cottage, setting the vegetables on their table. She got to work, preparing supper, carefully cutting the vegetables into appropriate bites for a simple stew.
She was adding the last ingredient when the door of their cottage opened and her husband came back in, Bear right behind him, barking his greeting.
It was difficult for anyone observing the coffin maker and his wife to determine which of the two of them held more passion for the other. The coffin maker was fearsome in his love, and all sensible men of every village within a day's ride of their cottage knew better than to make any advance toward his wife.
Rarely was it ever a problem though because the coffin maker's wife was steadfast in her utter devotion, and her fiery tongue and quick mind had been unleashed on several men, sending them cowering before word had ever even made it back to her husband of their advances. Everyone knew despite the coffin maker's strength, it was his wife who was not to be crossed.
When the coffin maker entered their simple home and caught sight of his beloved, he felt his soul shift within him, settling and finding peace, like a wary animal, curling up by the hearth after a long day.
In two strides, he was across the cottage, and he brought his wife into his arms, her small body tucking in against his perfectly. They had been carved of the same soul tree: two halves of one perfect whole.
His lips met hers, and she tasted of sweet and tart berries. He groaned against her mouth, ravenous for more of the meal she provided.
She matched his hunger, sweeping clear the table and shifting her skirts as she perched on top of it. Her husband stepped between her legs, his tongue lapping at her mouth, sampling her day.
He tasted of the bread and salty cheese he'd eaten on his journey and apples, Lord in heaven, how he tasted of those delicious tart apples.
She didn't know if her love of apples predated him. There was no time before them; they had always been.
As it always was between them, words were not needed as their bodies sought each other. His rough hands grabbed her hips, holding her to him as she settled on the table. It was indecent, to take her in this way, but for the life of him, he couldn't move them. She demanded from him with such urgency that he decided he wanted to be indecent.
His lips found her jaw, sucking and kissing her tender flesh, and her fingers tangled in his tunic, twisting the fabric to draw him closer to her. He felt her fingers start to sink lower and lower to the tie at his breeches, and he groaned as she ran her hands over him, his tongue flicking out to lick the dark berry juice from where it still sat against her cheek.
"You taste of summer." He moaned, his lips tickling against her skin sampling the sweetness that reminded him of long summer days berry picking with Bella when they were children.
She turned her head, her fingers pausing as her lips caught his again. "You taste of apples." She grinned against his lips. She felt his smile. She'd been telling him this since they were children, stealing kisses behind their parents' backs. She tugged at his trousers, and he stepped deeper into the cradle of her thighs. He brushed aside her skirts, wishing he could be rid of clothes altogether.
Later, he promised himself. Later, when the fire had died down, he would unwrap his precious wife and lose himself in worship to her.
"Edward." His name on her tongue was an ardent plea, and his lips captured hers again as he freed himself from his trousers. Their bodies met with a blind precision that comes from much practice, and both shuddered when they were joined. She shook in his arms, her heart beating so hard, she felt it in her throat, behind her eyes… She felt him everywhere. Her body ached, a desperate frenzy settling over her mind.
She directed him without words, and he answered her call every time.
It was divine, she thought, the way their bodies came together. The holiest of unions, their love was sacred, blessed by God himself.
She knew it by the pleasure that seized her, the overwhelming force of joy and love that flooded through her body as he drove her to peaks inaccessible to everyone but those lucky few who lay with their soulmate.
Two pieces, coming back together to make a single, precious whole.