thirty-seven
Samuel woke up rested, happy, and with his beautiful wife in his arms. Perfect.
A ray of sunlight sneaked through a narrow opening in the curtains to light her pert nose. Her dark eyelashes fanned over her cheeks, and her plush lips were slightly parted as she breathed softly over his skin.
The maid had come at dawn, but Vivienne had kept sleeping, and he was happy to hold her in the semidarkness.
He caressed her hair, trying to disentangle her long tresses the night of lovemaking had messed up. As it had his thoughts.
She blinked her eyes open, twitching her nose as if it were tickled by the sunlight. “Good morning.”
He stroked her naked back, marvelling at the softness of her skin. He wanted to ask her how she was faring, but that would mean stopping caressing her, and he had no intention of doing that.
“It was wonderful.” As she buried her face in his chest, her voice came muffled.
He agreed. The best night of his life.
“Will you stay with me tonight? Every night?” She gazed up at him. “Forever?”
He reluctantly stopped caressing her to sign, “If you want me.”
“I do. And now I want a good morning kiss.”
He kissed her gently when loud thuds ricocheted off the walls. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, ready to bolt out.
“What was that?” she asked. “An intruder? It sounded like the shutters were being slammed hard.”
Footsteps thudded, and doors slammed.
“That woman is insane!” That was the captain.
“What’s happening?” Vivienne asked.
Samuel had a hunch.
“Stay here.” He kissed her and left the bed.
After he put on his nightshirt and dressing gown, he opened the door to find Bernard carrying a tray with tea, scones, and eggs. The scent of butter and vanilla teased his nostrils.
The butler bowed his head and lifted the tray, a serene smile on his face.
“Please serve breakfast to Lady Vivienne,” Samuel said, wincing as another bang boomed.
The butler bowed again, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding downstairs.
Dobkins’s and Captain Jackson’s voices came louder, overlapping each other.
He rushed down the steps to the hallway. They talked together, raising their voices, as if it were a competition on who spoke louder.
Potter stood in a corner, wiping his hands on his apron, and Mrs. Foster looked out of the window. William yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Richard was pale and shivering.
“Silence!” Samuel signed with no effect whatsoever. He waved and stomped a foot on the floor.
They ignored him.
Mrs. Foster stepped between the captain and Dobkins. “Silence, you two. Mr. Lyon is here.”
Silence dropped. Finally.
