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His movements increased, his deep, low moans of pleasure igniting her own pleasure.
A few more deep, strong thrusts and his body tensed, and he pulled away from her, spilling into the bedclothes instead of her. He collapsed beside her.
Reached for her and nestled her against his chest.
His breathing slowed to a rhythmic sighing, like the noise of the sea, a soothing lullaby.
“I want you to know it’s never been like this with another, Mari,” he said.
“I’m glad,” she murmured.
“I’ve told you so much about my past. What of your childhood?” he asked. “You said it was repressive. Your father was a clergyman?”
The mellow warmth in her heart began to cool. She longed to confess everything. Tell him about the beatings and the harshness she’d endured at the orphanage. But how could she tell him about her past without fabricating more falsehoods?
“I’m so tired, Edgar,” she whispered, keeping her face hidden against his chest. “Can we talk in the morning?”
“Of course.” He kissed the top of her head. “Whenever you are ready.”
He drifted to sleep but Mari stayed awake. She didn’t want this night to end.
His heart beat in the steady rhythm of waves breaking against cliffs.
He’d told her his dark secrets. It was time to tell him hers.
No matter what happened, no matter if she lost everything. She could no longer live with this barrier between them.
Tonight she could dream in his arms.
Tomorrow she must tell him the truth.
Chapter 29
An idea pulled Edgar out of sleep; a thought tethered by a dream.
Something trying to rise in his mind, like the sun would rise soon outside their window.
Mari asleep in his arms. His children sleeping nearby.
A heap of beach rocks and shells on the bedside table. He picked up one of the purple sea urchins the children had collected, turning it in his hand, feeling the hard little bumps and the long ribboned ridges that formed its structure. So simple. So elegant. So...
“That’s it!” He bolted to a seated position.
“What? What is it?” Mari rose on one elbow, hair the color of sunrise tumbling around her shoulders.
He held up his treasure. “A sea urchin.”
“Yes,” Mari soothed. “A nice sea urchin. Now go back to sleep.” She burrowed back into the pillows.
“No. Mari.” He tilted her chin toward him. Her eyes drifted open. “Look at it. What do you see?”
“Ah...” She rubbed her eyes. “A little onion-dome for an underwater church?”
“Ribs,” Edgar said.
“Ribs?”
“Yes, ribs.” He lifted the delicate purple dome. “See here—how exquisitely thin this shell is, and yet it’s unbroken with no trace of the living creature that once inhabited it. How has it survived the vicissitudes of pounding waves and churning currents? Ribs!”
