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“Oh, I am more than willing, you tempting siren!”
He clambered into the bath, the two of them giggling as the water level rose and his large strong limbs struggled to find space amongst her lithe, soft ones. Then, almost as if their bodies knew their places, Marion lay her body atop his, the dark cloud of her wet hair floating and encasing their faces. Simon sighed, taking her mouth in his and she felt the firmness of his flesh find the softness of her, gasping a little at the tender flesh parting for his strong member and the warm water.
“Simon,” she whispered, as if his name was an enchantment that would protect them both. “Simon.”
“Come then, my mermaid,” Simon breathed, his hips lifting to chime softly with hers, his large hands gripping her tightly. “Take me to paradise.”
* * *
“It is as if we are on our honeymoon,” Marion confessed to Eleanor a week later when she went to visit her friend in her London town house. “I am truly astonished at the change in him—in myself, too!”
“So you talk together now?” Eleanor asked, her eyes wide. “You…are intimate with one another?”
“Oh, we are…intimate.” Marion felt a rush of secret heat at the thought of all the ways she and Simon had been intimate with one another since the first magical night they had slept together. Simon had continued to make it his business to educate his new wife in the art of love making, and had also insisted that they sleep together every evening, whether in her bedchamber or his own.
Marion had found that while Simon could guide her to heights of ecstasy that she never thought possible, there was a unique and holy pleasure in having his arms wrapped tight around her naked body as she drifted off to sleep.
“We also talk more,” Marion said, pushing away those thoughts of Simon’s naked flesh pressed against hers, lest Eleanor see evidence of it in her face. “We walk the park, and ride together, and - and I have been teaching him to play piano.”
In truth, their lessons in the music room had taken somewhat of a diversion when Simon had leaned towards her and whispered in her ear that he had an urgent desire to make love to her on the lid of the grand piano. Marion had become lost in his rapid, earnest kisses. Yet Simon had taken to coming and sitting while she was playing in the afternoon, content to close his eyes and listen, occasionally tapping his boot to the rhythm of the music.
He had also taken great pleasure in showing her all the secret walks and trails of the grand Reading grounds, particularly the quiet, hidden paths of the woodland where they had whiled away several hours in secret, amorous activities under the shady trees.
“How lovely!” Eleanor said, bouncing baby Jason on her knee as he gurgled merrily. Luckily, Eleanor was too preoccupied with her child to notice the suspicious flush in Marion’s cheeks as she spoke. “And do you feel like you have truly settled in now? As his wife?”
“I do,” Marion said firmly. It was true. Since becoming Simon’s wife in deed as well as word, she had felt as if every room in the Reading manor was her own to care for and love. She had even taken to reupholstering some of the more worn chairs in the parlour and music room, taking great delight in choosing fabrics with the help of Mrs Bolton.
The only room that she left untouched and never entered, despite Simon’s entreaty that she was most welcome, was the library. When Marion had questioned Mrs Bolton about the new covers for the chairs in the library, she had looked uncomfortable.
“What is it, Mrs Bolton?” Marion had asked.
“It is only that My Lord keeps the late countess’s chair there, in memoriam, if you like,” Mrs Bolton had said, looking awkwardly at her big, red hands. “No disrespect to you, of course, My Lady.”
Marion had felt a twinge of jealousy at her words, and she felt it again when she remembered the exchange in Eleanor’s company, but then she pushed it away.
What Simon and I have has nothing to do with his late wife,she told herself sternly.He has great affection for me, our marriage suits us both.
But does he love you like he loved her?a cruel, insidious voice replied.Would he hold such memorials for you if you were gone?
“That is so wonderful!” Eleanor gushed, interrupting Marion’s internal disquiet. “I am so pleased for you, my dear!”
Marion could see that she was. Eleanor’s eyes were filled with joyful tears that she blinked rapidly away.
“Oh, Ellie,” Marion reached for her friend’s hand, holding baby Edward close to her bosom as she did. “Your concern truly touches me.”
“Oh, it is only that I thought you might have given up,” Eleanor sniffed, squeezing Marion’s hand tightly. “The way you used to talk, as if no one would ever love you! I am glad to see you proved wrong.”
Eleanor’s words cut Marion to the heart. She knew that her friend was right—Marion had perhaps given up on the idea of love. She had consigned it to the pages of novels and to fairy tales that you might tell children, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t still holding back in some way. She accepted that Simon desired her, enjoyed her company, but could she imagine a world in which he loved her? Did she truly think herself worthy of his love?
“What is it?” Eleanor asked, frowning as she noticed the discomfort in Marion’s face.
“Truly, Ellie, I didn’t know this kind of happiness was possible,” Marion confessed, not quite ready to share her insecurities about Simon’s love with her best friend. Perhaps she was still afraid of what love meant for her in real life.
“I feel like the heroine of a novel, I truly do!” Marion joked, trying to divert attention from the serious content of their conversation. She looked down, gently stroking the soft hair of Edward’s head as he looked up at her with his big, blue eyes—so much like Eleanor’s in their shape.
Marion couldn’t help but suddenly wonder what her and Simon’s children would look like. Would they have her thick, black hair? His perfect stormy grey eyes? Would they have her darker French skin tone, or would they be as pale as swan feathers, like their father?
“You shall be holding your own child soon,” Eleanor smiled, reading Marion’s mind. “How beautiful they shall be.”
