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I could not sleep, the knowledge that she was so close and yet so far haunted me. I saw her face each time I closed my eyes and remembered how badly I desired her. To keep my mind from such thoughts, I did what I always did—I rose to clear my head in the night air. As if…as if we were blessed, there she was in the hall. Her brown, curly hair cascaded down her back, and she was wearing a long, dark robe with her arms hugged around herself. She tiptoed down the first few stairs, searching carefully.
“Aphrodite?”
At the sound of her name, she spun around so quickly she nearly lost her footing. Instantly, I caught her wrist, managing to steady her, her body pressed against my own. If ever I had willed my heart not to burst, it was at that moment. Her eyes held the warmth and curiosity of the whole earth. Her face was so close to mine that I could feel her breath upon my lips.
“Are you all right?” I asked, and she nodded, still looking upon my face. She inhaled, and I felt her breasts upon my chest, and it made me want to hold her tighter. I had to remind myself that I was not a beast but a man, and she was a lady. Also, I feared she might feel my desire upon her, so I moved to the step below.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Of course,” I replied, feeling my hands still stinging from the touch of her. “Were you in need of something?”
“No, I…” She trailed off as her stomach exposed her, growling loudly. Her eyes widened, and she quickly wrapped her arms around her midsection.
I grinned. “You are hungry?”
“I have not eaten since breakfast.”
“Well, we cannot have that.” I was about to reach out to her, but we were already breaking all rules of decorum. “Come, we shall see what is left in the kitchen.”
“I do hope it is not pork pie again.”
And I laughed. “Yes, this feels as if it was déjà vu.”
“I thought I could remember where the kitchen is, but I cannot,” she said, following after me.
“It has been many years. Do not blame yourself,” I said, checking to make sure no one else was in the hall before we moved forward.
“I do not seek to blame myself. Only it made me wonder why our families did not spend time together here.”
“After my mother passed, my father refused to open this house.”
“Why?” she asked as we entered the kitchen.
I did not wish everything I told of my life to be negative, but I feared she could sniff out any lie or deflection. “My mother died here,” I said, looking to see what food was left. “There is only bread, milk, and apples. Will that do? If not, I can call for the cook.”
“It is far too late to call for a cook. That is fine.”
I turned to her, holding what I had found. “But it is cold milk. You only ever drink yours warm.”
“You remember?”
I grinned, nodding, as I remembered everything about her. Or, at least, everything up to four years ago.
“I prefer warm, but those in need of charity should not be so particular, as my papa says.” She searched and found another glass and plates, setting the table in the center. “Will you eat with me?”
“For as long as you will allow,” I responded, sitting across from her.
And as she poured me a cup of the milk before her own and ripped the bread then cut the apples, sharing them between us, I could not help but wonder…would this have been our lives? Had we married four years ago, would we be like this? Could we be like this in the future?
I certainly hoped so.
“The intensity of your gaze is making me nervous,” she murmured, nibbling a tiny bit of bread.
“Forgive me.” I glanced down, eating quietly.
“And now the lack of your gaze is making me sad.”
“Then tell me what to do.”
