“Is the light not dangerous?” she asked, her eyes feasting on the magnificence of his naked body.
“No one will be out to see it on a night like this,” he said. “And anyone who was out would have hishead down. Just once, Margaret, I want to see mywife as we make love to each other.”
She should have been horribly embarrassed. Her own nakedness often embarrassed even herself. She must besomething of a prude, Daphne thought. But there wasno embarrassment. She stepped forward and closed hereyes as the tips of her breasts touched warm body hair.His hands drew her the rest of the way against him andturned her chin so that his mouth could continue theprocess of arousing her. It would not take much toarouse her tonight. What they did would be done forthe pleasure of play rather than from the necessity ofpreparing her as it had been on their wedding night.
“Give it to me the other way tonight,” she pleaded as he lowered her to the mattress and came down withher.
“The other way?”
“Yes, please.”
“It is good for you that way?” he asked.
“Yes. Good,” she said. “Deep.”
Daphne did not know what Margaret meant, but she gave herself up with unashamed abandon to theplay that followed. She would not feel ashamed. Shewas both Margaret and Daphne. She need not feelashamed of making love with another woman’s husband. And she need not feel ashamed either of lyingwith a man when she was unmarried. Part of her wasmarried and there could be no shame in lying withher husband, giving and receiving love and pleasure.Some of it was repeated delights from the last time.Some of it was new and had her gasping with surpriseand pain and pleasure. The pleasures of sight as wellas touch and sound and smell and taste made theirlovemaking somehow more complete.
His skilled hands and mouth had her shuddering into release so many times and with such force thatthere seemed to be no more pleasure to receive andno more energy with which to enjoy it. Yet they werestill at play. He still had not penetrated her body withhis. And then he lifted her over him instead of movingonto her, drawing her legs astride his body, her kneessnug against his waist.
“Yes, this way,” Margaret said and Daphne understood.
“Beautiful,” he said, his hands moving up to caress her aching breasts and then feathering down her sidesand over her hips and buttocks and along her outerthighs to her knees. “I always want to remember youas you are now. Your eyes are more beautiful thanever when you are being loved.”
And his were, too. Blue and dreamy and heavy-lidded.
“Watch,” he said, and her eyes followed his as he spread his hands on her hips and brought her slowlydown onto him. She inhaled. Yes, deep. There wasno place to hide from him if she had wanted to hide.And of course there was after all more pleasure to betaken and more energy with which to give. This washer husband’s greatest pleasure. She would make sureit was complete. She clenched her muscles about him,closed her eyes, and dropped her chin.
He lifted her a little so that he could move in her, and she opened her eyes and watched his face. Hisown eyes, closed at first, opened, and looked back.They both smiled. She soon picked up his rhythm. Inmore than a week of marriage her body had learnedfamiliarity with his and with his various ways of making love, though each time there was something new.Tonight they could see each other, could watch eachother give and receive.
She rode him, watching his face until the frenzy of approaching climax made her close her eyes verytightly. She tightened every muscle in her body intoalmost unbearable tension.
“Come,” he said, his hands on her arms drawing her down until her mouth touched his. “You were toofar away. Now we can go. Together. As usual, love.Together. Now!”
They came with a shared cresting of pain, and descended together into the world beyond passion. Daphne was beyond thought except for one intrusiveand unwelcome one. It was for the last time, shethought. It was for the last time.
He hooked a blanket with one foot and drew it up over them without either uncoupling them or liftingher off him.
“Justin,” she said, “I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I would die if you died. Iwould not want to live.”
“Shh,” he said, his arms coming about her. “Shh. Sleep now for a little while. That was too good not tobe savored. We’ll talk later.”
He felt it, too, she thought, her ear over his heart hearing it gradually slow to its normal beat. He knew.But he was right. What was to happen need not behastened to its end. They had just shared a loving toend all lovings. They must have just a few minutes tosavor the sense of relaxation and well-being. Insteadof sleeping, she set herself to remembering the feel ofhim and the smell of him.
I love you so much it hurts.She did not speak the words aloud, though they were Margaret’s words aswell as Daphne’s. She did not think he was sleepingeither, but she was afraid to break the silence. She nolonger wanted them to begin talking. Once they begantalking, they would begin the end.
They held each other tightly and wordlessly when she was ready to leave, though she already held thecandle.
“I’ll slip out before it is light,” he said. She knew that he meant immediately, as soon as she had gone.
There was no point in remonstrating with him further. They had talked themselves out. And really she supposed he was being sensible. Perhaps the idea ofstaying for a day or two in the tower had been a soundone at first, but now matters had become too serious.The trouble was not going to go away merely becausehe could not be found. Somehow he had to force theissue.
But forcing the issue meant danger to him. And unbearable anxiety for her—even more than she hadsuffered daily with the knowledge that he was in thelast place anyone would think to look—Roscoe Castleitself. His leaving would bring heartache, too. Despiteeverything, this week had been magical. Now it wouldall be over.
She was thinking as Margaret, Daphne realized suddenly. His leaving the tower would be the end for Daphne. She could never hope to see him again afterhe had left.Ifhe left the tower. History said that hehad not, that he had died there.
But he was determined to leave before daybreak. He was going to go to Everett Park first of all to talkwith his brother, to break the news of his marriage,to plead his innocence of the charges against him.With his brother on his side matters might not lookquite so bleak. Then he was going to confront Sebastian and find out why Margaret’s brother was so loudin his accusations. Perhaps Justin could uncover thetruth, clear his name somehow.
Perhaps after all they would be able to live happily ever after. He had said that they would be free andhappy once he had cleared up a few matters. As ifthere was nothing serious wrong at all. But she knew he spoke with such confidence merely to reassure her.
