“Do you still resent me for taking you away from it?” Guilt bristled in his chest.
She shook her head. “It had already been poisoned by my cousin. The magic of it was ruined long before I married you.” She thought for a moment. “In truth, by being away from it, I can remember it the way I wish to. As it was. There is a gift in that. Like, if I were to return, it would be exactly as I left it, and my father would be waiting on the porch steps, bustling me inside, eager to hear of all my adventures.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts though Matilda leaned into him more deliberately, her hand still toying with his collar.
“I never met my mother,” she offered, out of the quiet. “She died bringing me into this world, but my father spoke of her so often that it always felt like I knew her. He never remarried. He loved her too much. Said he could never imagine sharing his life with someone else when he had already achieved paradise with her.”
He swallowed thickly. “He wouldn’t have approved of us, then?”
“I do not know about that,” she replied, peering down at him with watery eyes, lightly stroking his hair. “He would not have favored the method, but I think he would be relieved by… what we have become. And if it was my decision, he would have supported it. He always supported my decisions. Whether it was arithmetic or physics or botany or anything at all, he was my supporter.”
Her voice cracked and a tear beaded in the dark strands of her eyelashes, the loss she felt so potent that he would have done anything to take her pain away.
All hecoulddo was hold her tighter and tell her, “You don’t have to endure alone anymore. I’m here at your side, I’ll stay here at your side, and I swear I’ll support you in everything you do.”
“My books?” she whispered, closing her eyes as he brushed her tears away.
“Your books, your plants, and whatever else catches your attention,” he promised. “I might not understand things sometimes, but I’ll listen, and I’ll champion you.”
She held his face in her hands, stroking the fuzzy, short-cropped hair at the sides of his head. She gazed at him as if he were the most precious thing in the world, affection brimming in her beautiful eyes, sparkling even through her tears.
“I think I would like to kiss you now,” she said quietly.
He smiled, saying nothing more as he cradled her neck with his hand and bent his head to catch her mouth with his. Therewerethings that were easier to say with a kiss than clumsy words.
Matilda pressed trembling lips to his in a soft, slow graze. Her hand braced against his shoulder as she allowed herself to be fully enveloped in his embrace, her thumb caressing his neck. He let her lead the pace at first, the ebb and flow of their kiss reminding him of the idyllic dance they had shared together the previous evening, alone on the marble piazza.
His hand smoothed up her back, his finger sliding into the smooth silk of her hair as he cradled her neck. His other arm remained securely around her waist, letting her know that she was safe with him. Sitting sideways across his lap, she fluttered her feet a little as their kiss deepened. He smiled against her lips, charmed by the movement.
As he kissed her with a passion that he had not known he possessed until he met her, he forgot that he was not meant to be falling in love with his wife. Despite himself, he began to imagine a million moments like this gleaming ahead of them—a marriage of love, not of convenience, spanning the rest of their lives. Happy lives, side by side, with no secrets or mysteries between them.
His tongue grazed hers, and she paused for a moment, as if considering the sensation it conjured. A moment later, she kissed him more fiercely, echoing the brush of his tongue. Apparently, she had come to a favorable conclusion though he was certain she would write something aboutwhya kiss and the dance of tongues should feel as good as it did.
The thought made him smile again as he wrapped her tighter in his embrace, kissing her as if theyhadbeen a match of love and were now a couple reveling in the wonder of being married to their beloved. The freedom of it.
Indeed, he did not want the kiss to end.
A kiss doesn’t mean there has to be more,he told himself, as doubts began to creep forward, ambushing his joy.A kiss doesn’t have to mean heirs.
He hadnotchanged his mind about that and never would. And if there came a moment where he had to explain why, he knew that his wife would understand. But for now, a kiss with her was everything his heart desired.
A few contented minutes later, Matilda pulled back. “We have work to do. You are distracting me.”
“You don’t want to be distracted?” he teased, kissing her again.
She pushed against his chest. “Later. Right now, I have so much to write.” She paused. “An evening stroll to the beach, perhaps, when we are both done with our work?”
He relented. “I can think of nothing lovelier.”
“And you will be quiet until then?” She chuckled, getting off his lap.
“No, but I do need to tend to something in the house, so I’ll leave you to your work for a while,” he told her.
In truth, there was nothing he needed to do in the manor, but if he stayed in the summer house, he suspected she would not get a jot of work done. And as he had promised to support her in her endeavors, he thought she might appreciate having her peace and quiet back.
She smiled, sitting down at her desk. “Do not be away for too long.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Leaving his ledgers and dossiers where they were, he headed out of the summer house, whistling to himself.
