We faced each other, kissing. Soon, I rolled on top of him, his hands on my hips, mine on his chest, lips pressed together, my hair curtaining our faces.
I lifted my face and said, “You are the finest looking man I have ever seen.”
His brows drew together, doubt in his expression. “That is kind.”
“It is true. I have pined after you for much longer than I will specifically admit.” I was sultry and sated by his kindness and drunk on lavender. “I must ask, would you judge a woman by the number of men she has had?”
He blinked, shaking his head no. “Though I be a jealous man, I know your first husband was not good to you. So I bless any man who brought you some kind of pleasure.”
I closed my eyes at his compassion. “I would hope you do not judge me,” I went on. “I am a woman of thirty-nine who was on her own for some time. There have been men before you.”
“There were women before you.”
“I want you to know I cannot remember any of them when I look at you.” I did not care how much of my heart was unveiled. I loved him and this was my last day.
His eyes were widening, looking up at me. “Neither can I.”
Then I kissed him thoroughly. And I pulled up his tunic to run my hands over him.
He reached under my skirts to find my naked hips and thighs, sighing into my mouth.
I lifted up the front of my skirts to find the laces at his breeches.
“In a field?” he asked, a pretense at modesty, but I saw the heat in his eyes.
My fingers were occupied but I said, “Yes, in a field. You took me in an alcove.”
“Yes, I did.”
I returned my face to his and against his lips, I said, “In a field, in an alcove, on our bed, on our floor, at the base of a mountain, in the heart of a forest, at the edge of the sea, I will always want you.”
He did not know that ‘always’ had a different meaning for me.
I sat astride him for the first time in that position in I did not know how long, full of him and breathless at the raw pleasure of that feeling while the top of my sex was pressed against his stomach. I was lost to the sensation, confused at why I had ever denied it of myself.
He set to work on my dress’s and stay’s lacings, pulling down the neckline so he could touch my breasts. “I have longed for this,” he whispered, his hips in time with my own.
I placed my palms just below his chest and looked up and saw the sky around us, the trees and fences still out of sight, reminded again of that notion that we were the only two mortals in a landscape of otherworldly, purple beauty.
Though there were no more breezes, stalks of lavender, moving of their own accord on either side of us bent around and over our bodies, planting soft kisses on our arms and his legs and my breasts. I looked back down at him and my vision was removed for a moment, almost as if I was out of my body, as if I could see myself ride him and I understood that my goddess was showing me what she saw, that she was saying, look at yourself, see how this looks. And I did.
I returned to myself, my eyes mortal again. I reached out one hand, slightly behind me, my back arching, taking in as much as I could and I heard him catch his breath at my movement. I grasped a stalk of lavender and pulled at it, releasing a swell of that scent and I brought my hand to my face and inhaled.
“Thank you,” I said into my hand, meaning my words for her, not him this time.
Her crone’s whispers were gentle when they came.I have bestowed much wonder on you, girl. You arerichwith it.
Her voice and the lavender and the actuality of this perfect man beneath me, inside me, gave way to release. I cried out, my hands thrusting towards his own, my fingers lacing with his. I heard his whispers of ‘yes’ to himself as I crested the rush of it.
“I love you,” I sighed, seeing everything all at once around me, the gentle look on his face, the flourishing spring field around us, my hands in his hands, the sky brilliant blue above, the green of the grass against my knees. “I love you,” I repeated.
And he smiled.
Part VI. Crux
94. Wary
Grass-stained and tired, we rode Maggie home, me leaning into him the whole way. I had never felt closer to him than this day. In the saddle, as the sun set over Pikestully, the houses beside us becoming closer and closer together, he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I will not speak of it again. Unless you wish it. But I always think of what I should have said too late. And this is what I should have said to you yesterday in your despair.”
