Something Old

by Rebecca Connolly

  His eyes nearly crossed when the glove upon his hand slid off entirely, his skin exposed to the air and tingling in anticipation of it. His throat closed when his wife’s equally gloveless hand slid against his, their fingers locking as though designed to do so. He couldn’t bear the burning, fully consuming him and pulsing through every fiber of his being. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

  Lily sighed beside him, and he was done for.

  He turned in his seat toward her, his free hand going to her face and drawing her to him, his lips taking hers in a mad frenzy he had never experienced in his life. She locked her hand behind his neck, pressing with an urgency that ripped a growl from his throat. Her lips were generous and sweet, taking his with equal energy, taking in all he offered and sparing him nothing. Their joined hands rubbed against each other, caught between their bodies and lighting new fires that blazed brightly as the addictive friction went on and on.

  Thomas broke from her lips, tracing his lips and teeth along her jaw, moving to her throat as he layered attentions upon her, mad for every inch of skin and every taste of her. She curled her fingers into his hair, gripping the locks as though clinging for dear life. Her gasps and sighs drove him, fueled him, as he moved to the other side, cradling her face in his hand. She nuzzled against him, her lips grazing his skin, directing him back to her lips without a word, needing none to make her wishes known.

  He was only too happy to oblige, returning to her mouth without delay, exhilaration seeping into him as the taste of her found his tongue. She was sweet beyond reckoning, as though he had never tasted her before, yet he had kissed her dozens of times in recent days. Would each kiss be new as the day, a brilliant showering of sunlight and spring and all the comfort of honey? How could he bear such a thing?

  The carriage pulled to a stop, and they paused, lips touching, breath mingling, waiting for something…

  Thomas pulled back, his eyes searching Lily’s in the dark, his heart settling but not slowing. Clarity began to creep in, and it brought nothing resembling sanity. Not tonight.

  He leaned across her to open the carriage door and got out, his hold on her hand as firm as when she had first secured it. She followed without hesitation, and they wordlessly entered Pendrizzick at a quick step. He all but ran down the corridor toward the stairs, Lily’s pace beside him no less hasty.

  They could not slow now, they could not wait and breathe. If they did so, she might… he might…

  The stairs were there and they raced up them, she leading him now, though he needed no prodding. The corridor of bedrooms slipping by, one by one, until they reached their own.

  Opposite sides. Opposite ways.

  Thomas paused now, everything within him crying out for something he dared not express. He could not suggest it. Could not venture. Could not…

  He turned to Lily, helpless to keep from kissing her again and finding her just as receptive now as she had been in the carriage, arching into his hold with an urgency that humbled him. There was no hesitation on her part, and he could only wonder at his own.

  And yet…

  Lily pulled away without warning, sending Thomas off-balance and stumbling a little to follow. She slowly stepped back, her breathing ragged and shallow, her hair streaming from its once delicate hold, her eyes dark as obsidian. Another step back, then another, until their fingers were barely touching.

  He begged her not to part entirely, not to leave him like this, though his lips refused to utter the words, to give voice to them. He couldn’t bear to say…

  Then they were gone, and she backed farther toward her room, exhaling sharply as she turned for the door. She turned the handle, the creak of the hinges tumultuous in the dark and silent corridor as the door swung fully open. She glanced over her shoulder at him, not quite meeting his eyes, then stepped inside the room entirely, leaving the door as wide open as it could go.

  One heartbeat passed, then two, then Thomas was moving on a haggard gasp of breath, entering the room on long strides and shutting the door firmly behind him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Never had slumber been quite so restful, nor waking been so untroubled. Lily felt herself sigh as she awoke, surprised that there was no light in the room or through the windows. She was not a deep sleeper, but there did tend to be some semblance of morning when she awoke regularly.

  She rolled to her back, taking a moment to breathe softly and reflect.

  Gentle fingers brushed at her brow, making her eyelashes flutter and another soft sigh escape as she turned toward them. “I thought it was a dream.”

  “If it was, then I’ve had it as well,” Thomas murmured, his fingers trailing over her brow again and again, twisting in a tendril of hair and twining it about his finger. “And if it was, then I cannot say how I came to be here in your bed.”

  Lily smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek and his jaw, where the stubble had barely begun to grow and scratch. “That part, I remember well, so it must not be a dream after all.”

  He laughed very low, the sound rumbling against her hand. “No.”

  He leaned down and kissed her very slowly, her body curling toward his with a familiarity that startled her. How could it be familiar when they had never before shared something like what had passed between them? How could her body know what her mind did not? How could she immediately be brought back to what had spent hours, weeks, and years building within her?

  “I feel as though I am growing greedy,” she whispered when her lips parted from his. “With every kiss, I find I want more.”

  Thomas nuzzled against her gently, slipping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. “Oh dear, oh dear, whatever shall we do about that?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She exhaled happily and closed her eyes as she rested upon him, hugging herself close.

  “I daresay I shall.” He kissed her brow, his hands moving slowly up and down her back. “And you’re not alone in that, you know. I find it hard to believe I ever went without kissing you, now that it has become more and more a habit. I fear it will become my obsession.”

  Warmth coiled within her stomach, and she found herself pressing her lips to his chest beneath her, humming as she did so. “Obsession is not healthy, darling. Moderation is surely the key to satisfaction and happiness. Won’t you concede that?”

  “Perhaps,” he returned, his hand moving to her hair and threading within it. “But if you think I’m not making up for lost time in kissing you, sweetheart, you are entirely mistaken.” He grinned and tilted her chin up to brush his lips over hers in a shadow of a kiss, making her shiver with its delicious friction. “I intend to give you every single one that I missed.”

  Lily sighed dreamily and nodded at that. “I believe I might be amenable to that.”

  “Good.” He kissed her again, breaking off before she expected with a laugh, bunching her hair in his hand. “I don’t know about you, love, but I’m famished. Perhaps we should have stayed for supper at Helwithin.”

  Coughing a laugh, Lily propped herself up on an elbow beside him. “Stayed? You were bolting out of there as though the building had caught fire.”

  He matched her pose, raising a taunting brow. “Me? What about you? ‘Make haste’ has never had a more perfect example in the existence of the phrase.”

  “You were running your very own footrace.”

  “You were fleeing as though you had committed a crime.”

  Lily narrowed her eyes, the impulse to laugh bubbling up inside her, but she forced herself to contain it. “It would seem that we were both desperate to get away, wouldn’t it?”

  Thomas reached out and toyed with the end of the nearest lock of her hair, which tugged something in the center of her stomach. “Indeed. We were rather eager. Almost as though it had been building up all these years.”

  “I rather think it had,” she murmured, her fingers toying with the hair at his chest. “We were overdue.”

&nbs
p; “That is putting it mildly.” He leaned forward and kissed her brow for a long moment, sighing against her skin. “Right, I mean it now. I’m truly famished, and if I’m to be of any use to anyone, I need to eat something.”

  Lily giggled softly and raised her face just enough to brush his jaw with her nose. “It’s the middle of the night, Thomas. What sort of use are you thinking you must be?”

  He gave her a scolding look. “Now, now, wife. Focus your attention, please, and consider your wishes for food.”

  On cue, her stomach growled furiously, and she clamped a hand over it in embarrassment, rolling to her back as she laughed. “I think I must be hungry after all.”

  “One might say that, yes.” He chuckled a low laugh and loomed over her just long enough to kiss her deeply. “Wait here. I’ll go down and fetch us something.”

  “Mmm.” Lily smiled up at him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Make haste, husband. Any more of your kisses, and I’ll find myself too sleepy to eat anything.”

  Thomas quirked his brows, his grin crooked, his hair in adorable disarray. “I’d find a way to rouse you well enough. What an entertaining challenge that would be.”

  Heat raced into Lily’s cheeks, and she tugged the bedcovers over her face, which only made Thomas laugh more. She felt the mattress depress slightly as he shifted his weight and pushed up from the bed, heard him rustle about for more decent clothing, which made her cheeks flush further.

  She had no idea what clothes he had been wearing before or what he was wearing at the moment.

  Or what she was. Oh heavens, how had this happened?

  As though summoned by her thoughts, the events of the evening began to play in her mind again, the hue slightly rosy, the pace a little slower, lingering on key moments such as when they pulled each other close in the waltz and when she removed their gloves in the carriage. And when they returned home…

  She pressed the bedcovers to her face to muffle a wavering whimper, her legs rubbing against each other with a sudden burst of jitters.

  “Lily?” Thomas’s voice called from her adjoining sitting room, his tone rife with amusement. “Do come here and see this.”

  She paused, folding the bedcovers down from her face, staring up into the canopy above her. “See what?”

  “If I told you,” his voice came again, “there would be no need to see it.”

  Lily sighed with the familiar reluctance of any person not wishing to depart from their bed and sat up, sliding her feet over the edge and scooting down until her feet touched the floor. She stood quickly and reached for the dressing gown in its usual place on the chair nearest the bed. Sliding her arms into it, she padded quickly over to her sitting room, fumbling with the sash at her waist.

  “What is it?” she asked as she rounded the corner, forcing her hair out of her face, her fingers tangling on a pin that had somehow been missed during the removal.

  Imagine that.

  Thomas stood at the door of the room and only gestured to something out in the corridor. She crept closer, slipping between him and the door to glance out.

  A basket sat in front of the door, filled to the brim with exquisite food. Thick slices of ham, meat pies, biscuits, endless rolls of bread, an entire bowl of potatoes in sauce, pastries, a crock of butter, and several oranges. Beside the basket sat a full decanter of Madeira with accompanying glasses, as well as a letter.

  “I’ve heard tales of Cornish piskeys,” Lily mused, unable to keep from smiling at the sight. “Emblyn was telling me about them. I didn’t realize they delivered suppers, too.”

  Thomas placed one hand on her shoulder and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I think, my love, that supper is ready.”

  She glanced up at him with a wild grin. “Did you do this?”

  He returned her look incredulously. “When would I have managed it? Lest memory fail you, I’ve not left your side since the card room at Helwithin, and I hardly anticipated the events of the evening that followed.”

  Lily rubbed a hand over his at her waist, giggling merrily. “True enough, I suppose. I’ll get the Madeira, if you can manage the basket.”

  “I believe I can,” he scoffed playfully, patting her hip. “Come on, love. I’ll build up the fire.”

  As giddy as children, they gathered their goods and scuttled back into the room with the lot, setting the basket on the ground beside a small table and chairs that Thomas pulled closer to the fireplace. He focused his attention on building up the fire as promised, while Lily pulled items out and set them out, smiling when she saw the silverware and plates included as well.

  So they would not be eating with their fingers like commoners, then. Who had bestowed the basket upon them?

  Her eyes flew to the letter that had accompanied the basket, laying on the floor beside it, forgotten. She snatched it up and studied the hand, though it was not familiar to her. It was addressed simply, only the name Grangers with a short line drawn beneath.

  She turned it over, the wax seal as foreign as the hand. She broke it and unfolded the letter, a hand going to her mouth to cover an incredulous laugh as she read. “Thomas…”

  “What?” He rose at once, coming to her, the fire steadily growing in the fireplace. “What is it?”

  “‘Dearest friends,’” she read aloud, giving him a bemused look as her hand went to her throat. “‘It pains me to think of your leaving my home without partaking of the supper I painstakingly planned. My staff were troubled as well and have prepared a basket of the fare for you. As anxiously as you departed, I do hope you remember to keep up your strength and nourishment this evening, and I greatly look forward to our next gathering. Yours ever, Gage Trembath.’” She folded the page and clamped down on her lips hard, giggling despite the obstruction.

  Thomas’s eyes were round as he stared at the now folded letter. “The cheek of that bloody devil.”

  Lily burst out laughing, covering her mouth again quickly.

  His eyes darted to hers, a smile forming. “I suppose it was fairly obvious what we intended.”

  “Not the details, I should hope,” Lily protested indignantly, though she could not keep herself from the air of laughter despite that. “It is not as though we were tearing our clothing from ourselves as we departed.”

  “Now that would have been cause for comment,” Thomas allowed, nodding in thought. “But no, I believe Trembath had just enough of an idea when he saw a husband and wife leaving his home in such a way.” He grinned slowly at the food, shaking his head. “Peculiar sort of friend, I must say. But I am grateful at this moment.”

  “So am I.” Lily scampered to the chair and sat herself in it, unfolding a napkin and laying it in her lap. She beamed up at her husband as a sudden playful streak shot through her. “Come on, you did say you were famished.”

  Thomas nodded again, very slowly this time. “I did say that. And don’t mind if I do.” He started in that direction but headed for Lily instead of his seat.

  “What are you–” she began, though she was cut off by his mouth crashing down on hers. Any resistance faded, any shock dissolved, and only a desperate need remained. Her hands shot to his face, cradling it as she pulled herself closer, sighing into the wonder that was his mouth.

  He laughed against her and slid his lips to her cheek. “Sorry, love. Shouldn’t have started.”

  “I disagree,” she slurred, arching for his lips again.

  He pulled back, hands raised in either surrender or apology or perhaps to ward off the rather determined animal that had roared to life within her. “Steady, my love,” he prompted, laughing more breathlessly than she had ever heard him. “Steady. This is not a no, by heaven. This is only ‘let us eat before we continue’. Is that all right?”

  Lily narrowed her eyes at him before snickering to herself, her ruffled feathers settling of their own accord as the crackling sounds of the fire filled the room. “I suppose. After all, we’re in no hurry, are we?”

&nbs
p; Thomas’s smile turned sweet and adoring. “No, darling, we are not.” He sat and shook out a napkin before setting it on his knee. “Now, what will you have?”

  They portioned out food for themselves, each choosing different things and feeding each other by the forkful so the other might also try it. The cook at Helwithin was clearly gifted, for Lily was certain that she’d never eaten anything so delicious in her life. And she adored Mrs. Clare here at Pendrizzick, had no complaints with anything she had ever prepared. But this…

  Lily shook her head as she tore off another bite of roll. “I cannot eat another bite, and yet I will do so.” She shrugged as she popped the bread into her mouth, chewing without concern.

  “I entirely comprehend you,” Thomas groaned, leaning back in his chair as he peeled an orange. “And we’ve not even made it through half of the basket.”

  “I wonder if Mr. Trembath believes we have children,” Lily laughed, looking over at the contents. “It’s too much for any couple. Surely he knows it is only us two.”

  Thomas nodded once, sobering a little. “He does know.” His eyes fell to the orange in his hand and the bits of peel he was gathering. “Sometimes I do wish we had children.”

  A sharp pain lashed across Lily’s heart, followed by a burst of warmth that threatened to consume her. “So do I. Deeply.”

  “Tell me,” he pleaded softly, his voice barely reaching her as his eyes raised to hers. “Please.”

  She gave him a sad look, reluctant to share what she knew must pain him, given what they had shared tonight, what they had been lately.

  He nodded in encouragement. “Please.”

  She supposed it was time to share all, to let the dearest wish of her heart come to light in all its fervency. It was no secret, never could be, but the depth of it… the rawness… She exhaled once, very slowly. “If only you knew how my heart aches when I hold a child,” she told him, her voice steady, though it lacked volume. “When they smile at me, when I have to give them back to their mother… All I have ever wanted is in my arms for that moment, and then it is gone.” She swallowed hard, tears rising. “The reminder of what I lack.”