"Pneumonia," Martin said regretfully, "I'm so sorry- when you weren't at the service, I realized you'd likely, ah, not been told. Son, I'm so sorry."
"Thank you, Mr. Sotheby," James gritted out, "I appreciate your call." Hanging up while the man was still trying to offer his condolences, James sat behind his massive walnut desk with tears streaming down his pale face as he stared blankly out the window. When The Pastor returned home to his chilly mansion that night, it was to find the massive front door standing open and Sarah's grand piano gone. And after the old man finally passed, the final insult: a large, beautiful stone replaced the meager marker on Sarah's grave, reading "Beloved Mother."
***
Maura took a deep breath, sliding over to his shaking, sweating form. "Shh, James, hush..." she soothed, wrapping her arms around him. "Your mother is well; she knows how much you love her..." His groans continued, and she kissed his forehead, his eyelids, and cheeks. "Hush, dear one. Shh... you are a good son... everything is all right now...ceann daor,you're all right, "
His long arms suddenly wrapped around Maura tightly, James still shuddering but breath returning to normal. "Maura..." It came out in an exhalation of breath, but she heard it. "My Maura-girl..." Winding her body against his, she kissed his forehead and fell asleep with his dark head on her breast.
Chapter 25: There's Always A Plan, Darling
In which James is no longer a stupid bastard.
When James woke the next morning, it was to find they'd stayed wound around each other through the night. So tightly in fact, that he pondered which parts they'd need to remove to set the other free. He was warm from his contact with his wife’s soft, flushed skin. She always warmed him in a way that made it feel like something was thawing inside him. It took examining the intricate nature of their embrace for him to remember the night before. He initially recalled the nightmare about his mother with shame, but the feeling of Maura's arms around him and the gentle sound of her voice as she soothed him- somewhere in what O'Connell called his, "Cold, black heart," James felt something melt. Just a corner, perhaps, but a bit.
It must have been the shock of his colossal stupidity in nearly losing her yesterday that brought on the nightmare about the loss of his mother.Alone and sick, he thought bitterly,with no one but The Pastor to care for her.James gazed up to Maura from his comfortable rest on her breasts to see her eyes were open.
Clearing her throat, she managed, "Good morning?"
A slow smile broke over his face, and James began inching his way up her body. "Why does it always sound like a question when you say that to me?"
Maura shrugged; eyes still fixed on his intent face. "Because with us, the moment is always uncertain?"
"True," he whispered, then kissed her.
Maura would never admit to herself whether it was simply too difficult to untangle from each other, or the fact that it was clear James was genuinely shaken by her near-death yesterday, but she held the kiss, moving her lips over his.
Sliding her free hand through his dark curls, she gave a small sigh as his lips traveled down her neck, running over her breasts and latching onto a nipple. James slid his fingers along her center, stroking back and forth gently, teasing her clitoris awake and spreading her arousal over it. Maura was embarrassed at how quickly her legs spread at his urging, and he settled his narrow hips between them, rubbing her with his cock as he'd done with his fingers. "Beautiful..." he said appreciatively, feeling her open to him. "You're like a flower, darling, like the petals of a violet opening to the sun."
He pulled two long fingers from inside her and put them into his mouth. "And you taste like one, too." His azure eyes lit with a rare, unguarded smile as he watched her blush.
Her hand tightened in his hair as he leaned in to kiss her again, moving his mouth carefully over hers. It felt like they were underwater, she thought, everything slow, limbs sliding over each other smoothly. Everything paused for a moment as she felt him move over her again, looking into her eyes. She blinked, a little confused as they looked at each other until she realized that James - in his own way - was asking for her permission.
With a feeling of diving deep into an unknown sea, Maura wrapped her around his back, raising her hips in invitation. They were silent as he slipped inside her, gently stroking, pushing a bit deeper each time. The heat and hardness of James resonated through her chest, making it feel as if that part of him was penetrating everywhere inside her. Feeling the twitching of her thighs against his narrow waist, James worked slowly, using a smooth scooping and swirling motion, the way his hips moved while dancing that night in Algiers. Another sigh left her mouth as she remembered, and she whispered, "We're dancing..."
James paused for a moment, running his lips over her cheekbones, her eyelids, and the lightest feather touch over her mouth. "That's what it feels like with you," he agreed. The moment was so outrageously, absurdly romantic that with a gasp, Maura came. The heat and helpless clenching of her walls against him was too much, and he fell over the edge with her. Still twined around each other, sweating and shaking, she couldn't think of a moment in her life that she'd ever been happier.
Getting dressed much later - because the kissing and caressing from the appreciation of round one lead to round two - James looked at her in the mirror as she was buttoning her shirt. "We have to go back to Algiers tomorrow."
Maura's fingers slowed. "The coup?" she asked.
James nodded. She ran her hands over his broad chest, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt. This conversation was so completely unexpected that Maura didn't know how to respond. Was James actually discussing this with her?
"What’s your plan?"
He looked down, moving her long hair over one shoulder, fingers caught idly in a curl. "Fassell's created a major cock-up. I have to fix his mess and handle this campaign with a minimum of bloodshed."
Maura was still struggling with her floating sense of unreality, listening to her husband speak to her as a confidante. Even when James had relied on her hacking skills at the Corporation, it was always a matter of giving the minimum amount of information possible. "May I ask you something?"
James shrugged, still playing with her curls. "Of course."
"Mr. Sahnoun told me about your activity in his region," she paused, trying to think of how to ask. "Do you believe that the man you're placing in power is better than the one there now? Not just for your clients, but for the country?"
***
Looking at her closely, James felt the same level of disbelief from their conversation. The strain of speaking openly with Maura wasn't as difficult as he'd expected. There was a rush of relief that shocked him, to share something with her after a lifetime of guarding his secrets. She was watching him, listening with a complete and utter attention he'd never seen in anyone before her. A devilish smile spread across his lips. "Oh, yes. Yes, indeed." She gave a gleeful little giggle, which made him laugh, too. Seeing this side to his Maura, conspiratorial, playful made him wish he’d ever given her a reason to show it before this.
Running his fingertips up the smooth skin of her arms, James forced himself to speak. “My stupidity and selfishness could have killed you yesterday. There is so much more to say, I- there’s more. But I am sorry. For your terror, and your pain. I’m sorry, Maura-girl.”
