by Lia Lee
"If things go strangely, you'll be close," he said firmly. "Unless you have any actual disagreements, I think I am ready."
She knew he was, so around six in the evening, she bundled up a simple kit of essentials and slung Eva over her shoulder to make the trek to Marco's quarters. At her tentative knock, he opened the door wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that looked beautifully soft and worn. His smile was as bright as the sun.
"Let me hold her," he demanded, and she laughed as she passed their daughter into his arms.
"Are you going to be so eager when she cries if you put her down?" Briony teased.
"I have trouble setting her down at all," Marco retorted. "It's so nice to have her close."
Eva gurgled with delight and leaned into him, bonking up on his nose with her forehead. Briony knew from long experience how that could sting, but Marco only laughed.
After she set down the bag, Marco brought Briony to the small room close to his bedroom, where an identical crib to the one in Briony's quarters had been set up. He showed her how he had the same supplies she did and told her there was nothing to worry about.
"I know there's not," she said.
She had seen Marco enough with Eva to trust him at this point. The problem was inside her.
What was she meant to be doing right now? In some ways, this felt a great deal like what separated parents did when they were handing off their children.
God, I'm too young to be those divorced people, she thought dismally, but here she was.
Before she could excuse herself, however, Marco juggled Eva to one shoulder and took her hand.
"Why don't you stay for a while?" he asked. "I've not had dinner yet, and we could send to the kitchen for something."
"If you're sure..."
"Of course I am," he said with a smile. "I thought perhaps you might have made plans for your evening of freedom, but if you have not, I would like you to stay."
Not “we would like you to stay,” or “Eva would like you to stay,” Briony noticed.
"All right, I would like that too, I think..."
The evening passed by so quickly that later Briony half-wondered if witchcraft was involved. They fed themselves, and Briony watched as Marco fed Eva a bottle of warmed milk.
As they both watched over their tiny girl, Briony found the words coming easier than they ever had. She learned about Marco's family, distant even before they had died, and she found herself talking more about her childhood with Seanan, how she loved her sister, but sometimes the jealousy was intense.
"What in the world do you have to be jealous about?" Marco said, so befuddled that she laughed.
"Um, my sister is turning into a world-famous movie star. Don't you think that warrants some jealousy?"
"Not from you," he said simply, and she blushed.
The talk turned to other things, to her relief. Her meeting her future coworkers at the university and his business deals were safe topics, as were movies and books, their favorite television shows, and where they wanted to travel.
When Eva started to fuss, Marco scooped her up close. "Time for bed, little one."
Briony knew this was a good time to excuse herself. Marco had never had all that much time alone with Eva, and he might want to put her to bed for the first time on his own.
Instead, she followed him to the nursery and watched from the doorway as he prepared Eva for bed and tucked her in. He stood watching their daughter for a long time, and when he started to sing, it was so quiet that Briony thought she was imagining it at first.
For some reason, she could feel tears prickle briefly at the corner of her eyes. She stifled them down, wiping hard at her eyes. Why did she feel as if her heart was breaking? If Eva was going to have a father, this was the father that she wanted her to have.
She backed out of the room when Marco turned away, and she approved silently as he left the door cracked so he could hear any signs of distress. For a moment, they stood in the dim hallway, silently watching each other.
"I should go back to my own place," Briony murmured. She started to walk towards the door, but Marco caught her hand gently. That spark shot between them again, but by this time, she was almost ready for it. He would touch her, she would pull back, and he would do the same. They seemed to have tacitly agreed to ignore the attraction between them.
This time, however, she didn't pull away.
"Stay awhile," he said softly. "I've not had much chance to talk with you lately."
"We talked plenty before," she objected. "One thing about parents, we can grow surprisingly dull..."
"Then come be quiet with me," he said, and she surprised herself by nodding.
She had glimpsed his bedroom in passing. It was enormous with a bed at the very center of it. The bed was draped in black and gold, gleaming quietly and speaking of a sensuality that roused her. She had a momentary, guilty flash of what it might be like to be tumbled down in those sheets.
She was both relieved and disappointed when he led her past the bedroom back to the living room. Marco sprawled on the incredibly expensive couch as if it was nothing to him, and he gestured her to sit next to him. Once she was there, it was the most natural thing in the world to lean against him.
Their quiet together was perfect and gentle, soft with just an undercurrent of heat underneath it. His arm over her shoulder was a perfect weight that made her feel alert and sleepy by turns, and there was something about the smell of him that simply made her sigh.
"We're doing everything backwards," she after several long minutes. She wondered if he would be irritated by her breaking the silence, but he only raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh?"
"First we met, we slept together, and then we had a baby. Now we're...sharing custody, I guess? All without ever having had an affair or a relationship or being married..."
She sounded a little bitter, but she realized she wasn't angry. Marco looked at her with a surprisingly speculative glint in his eye. She started to ask what he was thinking when he spoke.
"Well, if you want to catch up on what we missed..."
She started to ask him what he meant by that, but then she gasped as he pulled her loosely into his arms. He didn't grab on to her, he didn't make her feel trapped. Instead, he simply brought her close enough to dip his head down and kiss her.
There was nothing hurried about the kiss at all. There was only a deep and endless heat spreading between their bodies and enveloping them as his mouth explored hers. Instinctively, she suckled on his tongue, her hands coming up to curl around his shoulders. It felt like more than passion, however. It felt as if she was welcoming home a missing part of her, and she held on to him tighter.
"I have thought of this so often since we parted," Marco murmured, smoothing his kiss to her throat. "I have longed to feel you again, to bathe in the sweetness of your body..."
From anyone else, it would have sounded like a line. From Florence's playboy prince himself, it was perfect.
She threw her head back as he kissed her throat, lighting a line of fire as he went. She had misremembered how good he was at kissing her, or she had grown more sensitive in the year they had been apart. It felt like the more he kissed her, the more she needed to be kissed. Her hands roved over his back, and soon enough, she found the hem of his sweatshirt. She tugged it up to feel the smooth, muscled skin underneath, and when she raked her nails lightly up his back, she relished his shiver.
"Perfect, perfect girl," he crooned. "My little Velvet..."
It was that name that woke her up as nothing else ever could have. She went hot, and then she went cold, and suddenly she was just Briony again.
She tugged away from Marco so violently that she nearly landed on the floor. She might have if he hadn't steadied her.
"Briony, what's the matter?"
"I...I need to go," she murmured. "I need to go back to my own quarters."
She started to move, but he wrapped his hand around hers, holding her still. "Please. I can't let you go
when you're like this..."
"This isn't me," she said helplessly. "I can't be.... I'm not Velvet, and that's who I act like when I'm with you like this. I'm just Briony. I need to be Briony."
She thought she saw understanding in his eyes, but then she tugged her arm away from him. Her steps quickened as she made it to the door, and then she was nearly running as she made her way back to her rooms.
She checked the crib before she remembered Eva was with Marco, and for some reason, that made the tears run hot down her cheeks.
"Oh god, I'm a mess," she whimpered.
She showered and changed into her oldest, most comfortable pajamas. She curled up in bed, and though she drifted off quickly, she dreamed all night of hearing Marco's step in the hallway, coming to find her, coming to touch her again and to bring that heat back to her spirit...
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Briony woke up to soft voices in her apartment. She would have thought that hearing unexpected voices would have startled her, but instead she nearly rolled over and went back to sleep until she realized she wasn't alone.
It took her another few moments to realize that it was Paz and Marco, speaking softly together in Italian. She blinked, and she would have stumbled out to see what was up if the idea of appearing in ragged pajamas and with morning breath wasn't too much to be borne.
Briony showered as quickly as she could and tugged on a blue dress that hung down to her ankles while leaving her shoulders mostly bare. When she ventured out to the living room, however, Marco was alone.
"Where's Eva?" She could have been more welcoming, but last night was still echoing in her mind.
"I asked Paz to take her," he said. "Right now, they're going for a walk in the southern garden."
"Oh." She almost asked what he was still doing here, but he saved her from that rudeness by speaking again.
"You were right last night, you know. We are doing everything backwards. Sex, then birth and now learning to care for a baby... We missed out on getting to know each other, dating, getting used to one another.
"Well, let's fix that."
She scowled at him, regarding him with suspicion. "What do you mean?"
"I know very well that you are not Velvet," he said patiently. "Velvet wore ridiculous ball gowns. You're much more sensible."
"There were more differences than that," she protested, but Marco shook his head.
"No, I'm not sure there were," he said with a grin. "That was your passion, Briony. Maybe you don't like to let it out much, or maybe you are embarrassed by it, but there is no reason to be. It is all you, and I want to know every part of it."
"How?"
He held out his hand.
"Come with me today," he said, his dark eyes dancing. "We have a lot of time to make up."
She took his hand. There was never any idea that she wasn't going to. The moment she did, she felt a sense of great wellness and peace come over her. It was as if she was where she was supposed to be, and all was well in her world. She ignored it, because today, she decided, she was just going to relax.
Marco squeezed her hand in his, gently drawing it to his lips for a soft kiss.
"What are we going to do?" Briony asked as they walked through the palace.
"Oh, what any couple getting to know each other does," he said easily. "Have some food, see the sights, enjoy ourselves..."
***
"Okay, this is not a criticism in any way, shape or form, but have you ever been on a normal date? Ever?"
Marco looked at her with a perfectly straight face. Behind him, the ruins of a once glorious castle reached up to a perfect blue sky. The road leading up to it had been deserted for miles, and now all Briony could hear was the chirping of birds and the drone of lazy summer insects.
"What, this isn't normal?" he asked, and she punched him lightly on the arm.
"You keep that up, and I'll believe you," she said, shaking her head.
He pulled a large picnic basket out of the back of the car and, giving her the blanket to carry, he walked them up the hill towards the castle.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "We're going out, we're having some food, we're seeing the sights."
"I genuinely did not expect the sights to be a castle that has been in your family for some four hundred years."
Instead of leading her under a tree or close to the nearby stream, Marco walked them right into the castle. They passed the toothy opening where the gates had once been, and through the courtyard as well.
"Once upon a time, there would have been dozens of people crossing this yard at any time, each doing their work, whether blacksmith, baker, guard or chatelaine, to keep the castle running..."
As Marco talked, Briony could almost feel the weight of the centuries drift away. If she just knew how to look, she could see the life that had once animated the courtyard, giving it a vibrancy that would never fade. She could see Marco there as well, dressed as one of the lords to whom all the rest paid honor, and she could see the line of his people stretching in front of him and before him. Was there ever a time when she would have found herself there as well?
Marco led her into the grand hall of the castle. She worried for a moment about unstable walls, but once they were inside, she could see that there was no reason to worry. Grass had grown where once there had been flagstones, and above them, the roof was entirely gone. They were surrounded by beautiful stone hewn centuries ago, and above and below them was nature.
They spread out the blanket, and Briony watched as Marco pulled out all sorts of delicate treats from the basket. All of the food was small, almost bite-sized, but there was so much that they could both have a full meal.
She was shocked at how much there was to talk about. Despite the wide gaps between their worlds, they were fascinated with each other, and more than once, the empty keep rang with their laughter.
After the food was cleared away, however, Briony fell quiet. Her mind buzzed, and to her irritation, it was with the same old question.
"What is it?" Marco asked, sensing her mood.
"I keep wondering if I'm...faking something when I'm with you," she confessed. "When I'm with you, I feel so vibrant and exciting. I feel as if everything in me is bubbling out, like I'm someone who doesn't have to hold back..."
Marco was still long enough that she wondered if she had offended him.
"I would never tell you who you are," he said. "You are the only one who can do that. But I can tell you who you are to me. More than just being the mother of my child, you are someone who came into my life like a comet, lighting up the night. I treasured how you were when we first met..."
"And now?" she asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
"Now I treasure you all the more. It is all you, cara mia. It's all you."
Briony could feel the truth of his words sink into her. Passion and practicality, it was all one, and finally, for once, they were united. They both urged her forward until she was in Marco's arms, leaning up so she could kiss him hard.
"Marco," she murmured, her voice a soft moan, and she heard a breathlessness in his voice that only aroused her more.
"I know, I know," he said softly. "You can be whoever you want with me..."
"Take off my clothes," she murmured, her voice heated, and she felt his body tense with desire.
It was almost impossible to keep herself still as his deft hands pulled her dress over her head, turning her to undo her bra and pull down her panties.
The moment she was bare, however, doubt moved in like a battalion. God, she had given birth just a few months ago. Her breasts ached even after pumping, her belly was soft and slack. It had only been a year, but it felt as if her body had undergone continental shifts since she had last made love with Marco.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered, reaching for her clothes again, but he stopped her, holding her against him and planting kisses across her shoulders, collarbones and throat.
&nbs
p; "No, no, never be shy with me, beautiful girl," he whispered. "Never, ever be shy with me. Your body delivered a beautiful little girl to me. Why would I ever look on it with anything less than care and need?"
When Briony still shifted uneasily, Marco snorted and took her hand in his. He pressed it between his legs, and under the layers of fabric, she could feel how taut and needy his flesh was. The undeniable proof of his desire sent heat flowing over her body, and he purred as she eased against him.
"Never doubt what you do to me," he murmured, and he laid her back on the blanket.
She wanted him enough that she could weep, but there was so much pleasure in his hands and mouth that all she could do was cry out softly at his touch. For what felt like hours, he was content to kiss her, one hand sliding up and down her body before gliding between her legs. He parted her thighs with just a little pressure, and she sighed as he cupped her mons with his hand. When Marco started to slip his fingertips along her slit, she moistened at his gentleness. He never budged from his pace until she started to buck against his palm.
"God, but you're beautiful when you want me," he said, lifting his head from a deep kiss. She could see that his lips were reddened with their passion, and knew that hers were just the same.
"I do want you," she murmured. "So very much..."
"Good."
She shifted on her side with Marco spooned against her back. He smiled when she pressed back against him demandingly, but he didn't stop touching her with the same languid grace. His hand came up to cup her breast, massaging just a little so that she sighed with pleasure, and then she was carried away by his mouth at the back of her neck.
The haze of sensuality was enough to transport her, but she couldn't stop herself from being aware of Marco's erection against her rear.
"Please, I want you so much." She knew there was a pleading tone in her voice, but she could also feel his fingers sliding along her body more freely. She could smell her own arousal, and that had the effect of arousing her even more. She needed this man in ways she could barely voice, and to her relief, he seemed to understand that.
"Good, because I'm not sure I can hold out much longer," Marco said with a laugh.
