A Life Together - A North and South Continuation

Chapter Twenty

John readied himself for bed, thinking over his plan. Was it really wise to take a honeymoon so soon after the reopening of the mill? His head was telling him no but his heart - his heart was telling him to savour this time with his new wife. They were newly married, when he was old and grey he would surely look back and curse his younger self for not revelling in Margaret while he could.

Margaret opened the bedroom door, changed for bed with her long hair brushed and down from its pins. She smiled, a little nervously he thought, at him. She practically dove beneath the covers, tucking herself in up to her neck.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes I am fine." Margaret said quickly. "I was just cold."

"It is July." John pointed out.

"I am still not used to the Northern summers. London is hardly exotic, but it is much warmer. Are you coming to bed?"

"Aye. How disappointing to not undress you, love." he teased her.

Margaret's face turned red almost instantly. It was quite remarkable how someone so seemingly confident could embarrass so easily. He had no wish to cause her any discomfort - and yet, the words seemed to escape him with little restraint, the few days of married intimacy they had shared tearing down the last of the battlements he had built around himself these past years.

"Dixon would feel quite redundant I am sure, if I implored you of your services every night." she replied with a smile.

John folded back the covers on his side of the bed - how funny that they had assigned sides of the bed without ever having had a discussion about it - and slipped in beside his wife. She found his hand with hers, holding it lightly.

"Goodnight, Margaret." he turned to extinguish the lamp on his side of the bed. The room went dark, save for the dying embers of the fire.

They lay in silence, hands entwined. John wanted to touch her, but stayed where he was. They had made love that morning, and the previous evening. She would think him a terrible fiend to keep making demands of her body.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and willing sleep to come. It did not.

"John?" Margaret whispered in the darkness. "Are you awake?"

"No." he replied in a low voice. "I am fast asleep."

"I cannot sleep." she replied, edging closer to him.

He could feel his heart racing as she draped an arm over him, her face resting against his chest. After a few moments, she shifted her body again to lie against him, her leg hooked over both of his. Her hand edged lower, to his considerable surprise, and pushed the hem of his nightshirt up. She rested her hand on his thigh.

"Margaret." he groaned, not daring to move. He did not want to scare her away; to have her touch him so intimately and so unexpectedly was a marvellous thing indeed.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't." she whispered, though her hand did not move.

"You should." he told her. "You should not feel ashamed to touch me, love. I am your husband. I will never think badly of you."

"I am just - curious, in so many ways." Margaret moved closer, her hand moving off his thigh and to safer territory of his arm. However, her body was half covering his. There was no possible way she could not feel his arousal; she was almost lying on top of it. "Tell me, what makes your body do that?"

"You." he replied instantly, reaching for her face and pulling her rather roughly to his lips.

He kissed her hungrily, his hands roaming her body. She ignited something within him. Every brush of her skin against his sent pleasure through him, even the most innocent of touches drove him to madness when they were entangled like this. The weight of her body atop his was something he had never considered before, but now she was there, it felt strange to imagine never having known her in this way.