"I miss the sun..." I said, absentmindedly as he worked the lather into my hair gently with his fingers.
"Excuse me?..." he asked, as if he didn't hear me.
"I dreamt of you...We were in the back garden, and there were wildflowers as far as the eye could see."
I could hear an amused chuckle escape his lips as he poured the warm water down my back.
"Did you?" He asked, through a soft smile.
"Head back please..." he said softly, as he cupped his hand over my forehead, keeping the water from flowing into my eyes as he rinsed my hair.
He was so attentive, so loving in the way that he wanted to care for me.
He dipped a wash cloth into the water and lathered it with soap before moving to the side of the tub. His eyes were focused as he took my hand in his, and cleansed every finger individually, delicately.
"And there were children..." I continued.
"A boy and a girl."
His eyes shot up at me, going from focused to solemn almost instantly.
"You know I can't give you that..." he sighed, working the soapy cloth up my arm.
"I know. T'was just a dream." I shrugged.
"You'll have children some day, and you'll be a wonderful mother." He said, with an absurd amount of certainty. How would he know? Even if I did leave, who's to say I could have children, or even want children?
He glanced back up at my face again.
"Would you like to have children?" He asked, seeming genuinely curious.
"August has always wanted kids..."
"No, I could give a rats, flea bitten ass what August wants. That's not what I asked you...Do you...want children?"
His question startled me at first. Nobody has ever asked me that before...Isn't it expected of me to want children? That's what's expected of me, right? It's what I'm supposed to want. What kind of a woman doesn't want children? I thought about it for a moment, eventually coming to the realization that.-
"No...I don't think I want children..." I said, almost in disbelief.
I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting him to say.
Without looking up from the cloth he gently rubbed along the base of my neck, he seemed to ponder my words thoughtfully.
"Well, what do you want, then?" He asked, his tone no more than a warm, soft whisper.
I leaned in close to him, smiling bashfully like a silly school girl.
He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch as I cradled his face in my palm.
"You know exactly what I want, Sir Thomas Sharpe..." I whispered.
A sad smile crept across his face, as he placed his hand over mine. He pressed his lips into my palm, longingly, as if to savor the moment.
"I know..." he sighed.
"I just wish I could be the man you deserved. I'm not sure I'm even considered a man at this point. The spirit, you deserve, I suppose." He added, with slight chuckle at the end.
I hated to hear him say such things, the way he spoke so lowly about himself broke my heart.
"You're more of a man than any I'd ever met." I replied.
His cheeky half smile never left his face as he looked up at me with those boyish eyes.
"Well, look at what you have to compare me to..." He rolled his eyes, obviously referring to August.
I shoved his shoulder playfully.
"You always have an answer for everything I say, don't you?"
His smile lines wrinkled around the corners of his lips as he stifled another chuckle.
It amazed me, how even in the darkest of times, we still managed to share smiles with one another.
How even when everything around us seemed utterly hopeless, the light that sparked between us always seemed to shine through.
"Come, let's get you dressed..."
He refused to let me do anything on my own. I can't deny though, that I really enjoyed the attention.
His tenderness was such a stark contrast compared to August's abrasiveness, that I welcomed the extra love in Thomas's actions.
The way he combed my hair, and slipped a soft, comfortable gown over my shoulders, the little kisses he would leave on any exposed skin that he'd come into contact with.
He was so intimate, so loving, that I can't help but wonder if it was a projection of the love he'd longed for in life.
He draped a large, warm, wool coat over my shoulders.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Lace: A Crimson Peak love story (Thomas Sharpe)
Paranormal*COMPLETED* Sybil McMichael was happy to accompany her husband, August, to the place his grandmother, Edith Sharpe, wrote about in her most famous Novel. Once there, she finds that her husbands intentions were fueled by more than mere childhood curi...
