Sixteen

Charlotte rested comfortably on her husband, her legs still locked around him, his breath slowing now, but still sounding a bit raspy in her ear. She shifted slightly, smiling into his neck at the feeling of his heart beating strongly against her. Who would have thought that such an intimate thing as his heartbeat in her womanly depths could bring such pleasure, such a sense of contentment that, she truthfully admitted, had less to do with the actual act than the fact that he shouted his love for her at his moment of climax.

She sighed, pleased that her seduction had worked, happy to see something other than self-absorption filling his eye.

His arm tightened around her as she moved again. “I’d like to, love, but you’re going to have to give me a little time. I’m not the man I used to be.”

She giggled as she realized what he was talking about, then stopped, appalled that she had lost control of herself enough to be giggling. She never giggled; she made it a matter of pride that she was not a giggler. “Lord, I’m silly today,” she mused, wiggling again on him. Deep within her, he twitched. She hummed with pleasure. He groaned as she circled her hips on him, another giggle building as the noise of their joining was clearly evident.

“I seem to be a bit more than moist now.” She dimpled. Dare gave her a shocked look for a moment, then slowly, very slowly, his lips curved into a smile that deepened into a wicked grin.

“You, madam wife, are incorrigible.”

“I know. But you love that about me,” she answered with perfect composure, or as perfect a composure as one could maintain while sitting impaled on one’s husband’s erected instrument. “Does this mean you’ve recovered? Are you going to stop moping around and get back to work on your engine?”

The dark glint of passion that had been building in his eye dimmed noticeably. With a bleak set to his lips, he gently pushed her off his instrument, helping her to her feet before setting himself to rights.

Charlotte took that as a sign that all was not yet well. She sighed as she tugged her gown back into place.

“Life, my sweet wife, is never as easy as it seems.”

She frowned as he turned his back to her, staring out the window at the busy street beyond. “Is that a quotation, or are you simply making an observation?”

He shrugged, but did not answer.

Charlotte saw red for a moment. A long moment, very long, long enough to relive the wonder of their joining, the fulfillment she found in his love, the joy that blossomed when she considered their future, but then the fury inside her turned to icy determination. “I have just spent the most marvelous half hour in your arms. We shared something rare and wonderful and important. I am willing to do whatever it takes to make you understand that my feelings for you have not changed since the accident, but now you are closing me out again so you can continue your destructive walk down the path of self-pity and misery.” She picked up the pistol he had set on the small table. “So be it. If you’re so desirous of obsidian, I’ll give it to you.”