The leaves that had already finally descended to the ground, decorating everything, as if covering the world with a blanket of colour. Autumn crept up unnoticed, in an instant painting everything in yellows and reds, taking all the body that was left of summer. The days gradually grew cooler and the rains came more often, so they all had to spend more and more time at home. Maria didn't mind, on the contrary, watching it all gave her some peace and tranquillity. It was as if nature was slowly preparing for a long sleep, and it was perhaps the most enchanting thing to witness it.
Right now she was sitting on one of the couches in her fiancé's study, a cup of warm tea in her hands, as close to the window as possible, so that sometimes the tip of her nose touched the cold glass. She began to find herself more and more often right here with him, in their little hideaway, as he liked to call his study. Almost immediately Maria had chosen her favourite spot, even marking a couple of chairs and paintings with her own. This was how their autumn days usually went, at least for now, Maria thought, smiling slightly into her cup.
He works, and she just sits looking out the window drinking tea or reading a book. The two of them waited for the children to come home from school. She didn't mind, just being in his company was reward enough for her. Sometimes he would get distracted and they would chat about everything. Sometimes, she'd read aloud to him. He liked her voice, he often told her so, and each time she felt her heart fill with more love for him.
Such sit-downs in his study were not new to them. During the time when she was just a governess and he just a captain, they had spent late hours in that room discussing the children, though more often than not the topic always changed and ended up going far beyond children's study plan.
It was here within these walls that she truly felt at home for a long time. That thought ran through her mind every day, as if it gave her some kind of invisible power. She felt that she was finally in the right place, and it made her feel happy, good, she would even say...
"So peaceful," Maria said in a low voice.
She'd been voicing her thoughts out loud a lot lately when they were alone together, not afraid to say the wrong thing. It used to seem silly to her, but usually she ran all her thoughts through her head, coming up with witty answers for herself. Afraid to misstep, afraid to blurt out too much. But it was different now. She always had one attentive listener and interlocutor. A man who was everything to her.
"Yes," he nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the papers on his desk.
Georg had once told her that they'd jumped into the older couple phase too quickly. She would have argued with him, remembering how her dashing captain had pressed her frantically against him, kissing every patch of skin he could reach while whispering obscenities into her skin. She knew it had taken a lot of effort for Georg to convince his sister to let them spend their time in his office (the door was still open, of course).
The children were still at school and the villa was unusually quiet. Georg managed to drag Maria into the library. It happened quickly, here they met in the hall, just standing and looking at each other, and then his hands and lips were everywhere, not that she minded. A couple of minutes and they were already behind closed doors. She answered his kiss fiercely, running impatient hands over his shoulders and hair. Without breaking the kiss, he miraculously managed to make it to the couch, falling onto it and pulling her into his lap. She giggled sweetly, snuggling up to him.
Georg pulled away for a second just to look at her. Her blue eyes burned with unconcealed lust, she was beautiful in her ignorance. He put his palm to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, so soft it was like it was made of wood.
"I love it when you do that," she said, looking straight into his eyes.
He noticed that each time, she began to talk more and more openly about her preferences. That's what he liked so much about her; gradually, in his presence, she was opening up, showing him new sides of herself, letting only him get to know her fully.
Maria leaned forward, pressing her lips gently against his cheek, then his nose, his forehead, that horrible scar on his chin that, for some reason, made her wildly curious, and finally their lips met.
Where Georg was firm and intolerant, Maria was soft and gentle. She was still afraid to take the initiative, but even when her shyness did recede, she acted carefully, though with great eagerness.
He ran his hands down her legs, slowly pulling her skirt higher up her thighs. She made the most wonderful sound, at his actions.
His little temptress.
His left hand slid a little further, his little finger grazed the tender skin on her thigh just above her stocking. She gasped and pulled away. He could feel her heart pounding frantically and was sure his own was pounding the same way. She lowered her head, staring wildly at his hand on her thigh.
"Oh, this, this is so..." she couldn't find the words, he found it wildly fascinating. Like a tempter's serpent he showed her all the new ways her body could know pleasure. He loved to provoke more and more reactions from her during these sessions.
"Does that feel good, Maria?" he shifted his hand a little more, his entire palm now hidden under the fabric of her skirt, and resting on her exposed thigh.
She opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out, all words seemed inappropriate, she had no choice but to nod, she raised her head, lifting her chin up, she looked at him with a mixture of fear and adoration.
"You're so adorable," he murmured, about to show her how much. Smirking, he gently began to stroke her skin. Watching every emotion that flickered across his bride's face, her eyelashes fluttered, her mouth opened, she was gorgeous. Slowly, he slid his palm to the inside of her thigh.
"Georg," she bleated.
It was at this moment of bliss that the door opened with a distinctive knock, and on the threshold was a very furious Hede, and an eerily happy Max, grinning like a cat that had found milk.
They had no more such ardent, as her fiancé would put it, encounters. After the incident, they were never out of sight, accompanying them almost everywhere, or watching from a distance like kites, ready to come running at any moment when they saw something remotely indecent. And while Max, in his undisguised love for Maria and Georg's wine cellar, made great allowances for the lovers, turning a blind eye to their antics, Hede was adamant. Even walks in the garden became awkward, each time Georg's hand travelled only slightly down her back as his sister's cough filled the air.
Their engagement had been protracted, to say the least, although according to Hede, some couples waited for years. The thought made Maria's stomach twist, now she was only waiting two months, and with each passing day, she was more and more afraid she wouldn't make it. She knew it was necessary to avoid rumours (which were spreading around Salzburg anyway), but she often caught herself thinking that she didn't care what people thought about her.
Georg needed it most of all, with his manic desire to protect her from any possible trouble. She wasn't the only one to suffer. The children were returning to school, and she, like her captain, couldn't bear the thought of what evil tongues might whisper in their presence.
She was genuinely puzzled how people could be so angry and blind. Could no one see how happy they were, could no one be genuinely happy for them, for him?
But if Georg was frightened that someone in his family would be hurt by mean words, Maria began to think more and more often: what if he gets bored with me?
These thoughts crept up unbidden in blissful, beautiful moments like this. He was busy, he always seemed so busy. He always had urgent business to attend to. Even at times when the many papers on his desk were running out. Maybe that's why she was worried.
No matter what he told her, she knew they were not equal. Even if they were equal in their love for each other, in status, no matter how much she wanted to, she could never catch up to him. He was more well-read, more educated, God, he knew six languages, six whole languages. Maria sometimes forgot her mother tongue. He could easily quote almost any book in his library, he knew art, he even painted. Oh yes, he reluctantly admitted that he painted, even showed her a couple of his paintings. They were seascapes, she wasn't surprised, I think she even joked about it.
He also played the piano, and in the evenings, after dinner, the whole family would go to the music room, where all they would listen to him play for hours. He played beautifully. His long, slender fingers skipped gently from one key to another, spreading whirlwinds of melody around the room. Maria loved watching him play. Sometimes she imagined he was doing it just for her. She closed her eyes and let the music envelop her.
But more than his game, she enjoyed listening to his many stories about his travels. Often she had to remind herself to close her sagging jaw to keep from looking stupid. Her tales were limited to a couple of stories from her university days in Vienna, and a couple of funny stories from the Abbey. That was it. That was her main fear. Not gossip, not how Vienna's high society would accept her, but the fear that he would realise that there was nothing special about her.
How could a man so brave, so intelligent, find in her anything interesting, worth his attention?
The thoughts weighed down on her, crushing her with such force that it drove her crazy. She felt guilty. Like she was ruining these blissful moments with such stupid, intrusive thoughts. Like she could ruin it all again. She bit her lower lip. Too hard, a metallic taste appeared on her tongue.
Eager to banish the taste, she took a sip of tea, then another. Carefully, she set the cup on the saucer, and there was a quiet clinking of china across the room. She had to reach for the small teapot that stood on the table beside her to fill the cup again. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the objects in front of her. She wondered if she had ever drunk from such beautiful crockery before coming to the villa.
At that thought, her gaze involuntarily slid to her ring finger, or more specifically the ring on her ring finger. She had been looking at that band a lot lately. It was begging, with a small stone resembling a star. A diamond.
"Georg," the name rolled off her tongue so easily, so naturally, as if she'd been calling him that all her life.
"Yes," he still kept his eyes on the papers. He frowned slightly, his glasses pushed down a little.
He looked so handsome in those glasses. She wouldn't have thought he wore glasses, he usually never did during their encounters back in his role as captain and governess. It was the part of him that seemed special to her, he let her know every part of himself and she accepted that knowledge as a gift.
She just remained silent for a while, watching him.
"Aren't you afraid you'll get bored with me?" the question sounded stupid even to her ears, she covered her face with her palms. What he must be thinking about her.
He lifted his head, just looking at her with that stony, unreadable sweetness. He must have been angry. There she went and ruined everything again. He abruptly got up from his seat and walked over to her. Sitting down next to her and taking her palm between his own:
"I don't know where you could even get that idea," he raised one hand touching her cheek, "you're the most interesting person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and the most stubborn," he tapped her nose playfully, she gave him a smile in return.
For a while they just sat in silence, George glimpsed at the watch on his wrist: "my beautiful bride, as much as I'd like to sit here with you all day, I need to get back to those damned papers," his eyes found the cup that Maria seemed to be holding in her hands as she arrived in his office today, "what are you drinking?"
"That tea Max brought over a couple of days ago," she could have sworn she heard him snort.
"May I?" he pointed to the cup standing peacefully in front of them.
She stared at him, not that she didn't want to share with him, she smiled awkwardly, "just a second, I'll get you a cup now and we'll..."
"Oh no, no, you shouldn't," he spoke in a mesmerising voice, as if lulling her to sleep. He quickly reached for the cup, taking a small sip, and with a strange smile he put it back.
Maybe she was too naive, but for some reason it seemed very intimate to her. Something only they shared. She smiled at him, a little nervously. Why was she nervous at all.
"Well, time to get to work," with those words, he kissed her chastely on the forehead as usual. All the way to his desk, he was still grinning.
They fell into a pleasant silence again, until finally her curiosity took over. All him with his smirks and those stupid glasses.
"Why are you smiling like that," she sounded slightly annoyed, though a smile still played on her lips.
"It's nothing," he adjusted his glasses slightly, scratching something on the paper, "it's just, you know, tea, it's like you, or rather it tastes like I'm kissing you" he lifted his head looking straight at her, "warm, sweet, like a spring meadow."
Maria felt her cheeks flush with colour and a bright smile blossom on her face like a flower: "Georg," she laughed, taking another sip from the cup. She was sure her cheeks were red, and would be for the rest of the day.
How could words alone ignite such a fire in her?
She was sure only her fiancé could speak like that. Only Georg could say something so graceful, so gentle, so beautiful. Words she would never have thought could fit her description. Through his words she had become: beautiful, sweet, divine, this he had especially whispered to her during kisses, controversially, of course, but she didn't argue with him at such moments. She also learnt that she was charming and passionate. She was drowning in his attention, and, oh, how she loved it. Whether it was vanity, perhaps, she tried not to think about it, especially not when he was saying all those nice things to her.
He always found something to say to her and make her feel special. It seemed to Maria that in a way it was his way of compensating, so to speak, for the physical intimacy.
Sometimes he would say something to her in other languages she didn't know, giving her a chance to guess what it might mean. Oh, she'd learnt countless weasel words in French, Italian and even a couple in English.
Somehow, magically, all worries and thoughts vanished. There was no place for fear or sadness. It was just her and him. The two of them sitting in their little hideaway, he working, she just watching, sipping her tea.
Warm, sweet, like a spring meadow.
She smiled into the cup again.
Hi, the last few days have been terribly busy, but somewhere in the midst of the hustle and bustle, this story was written in the notes on my phone. its just some little one-shot, but I hope you might like it. In a way, I'd say this story is a predecessor to my very first work, "if you could see yourself through my eyes."
In advance, thanks for reading, and as always, sorry for any mistakes.
Have a good day and a peaceful sky above your head.
I own nothing.