A Blue Mountain Memory

XLV

For the next six nights, Cora and Henry carried out the same routine.

After dinner the pair prepared for bed in their own rooms, then Henry joined Cora in hers. Each night, she kissed him just once before placing a pillow between them and laying down to sleep.

Only, Cora did not often fall asleep right away, nor sometimes at all. In those moments, lying in the dark beside Henry as his body remained still and calmly asleep, Cora stared at the wall across from her. She would fix her eyes on the wallpaper's pattern, her mind trapped in ceaseless contemplation.

She felt relieved to have made progress as Henry's wife. Relieved that she now trusted him enough to share a bed with him. Relieved that she no longer viewed him as a murderer.

Yet something continued preventing Cora back from allowing herself to fully be Henry's wife. Perhaps, though, it was not something– but someone.

Part of Cora felt content with their current arrangement, providing one another with lifelong companionship, and herself with stability and safety. This same part of her was the one reluctant to move past the singular, conservative kiss, afraid that something would change for the worse if she allowed anything more. The other part, however, whispered with desire.

This devil on her shoulder reminded her of Henry's bare abdomen against the candlelight. It teased her with the tingling sensation that lingered on her lips after their one kiss each night. It tortured her with a peculiar ache, one that she vaguely recognized from years ago, but tried to suppress. Did she want him or not?

On the seventh night, Cora finally dared to allow more than one kiss. Tired of sleepless nights and the burden of ceaseless curiosity, Cora sat before Henry with a seemingly obvious worried look on her face.

"Is everything alright?" Henry asked with genuine concern.

"Yes..." Cora began, her voice trailing off as she contemplated her next words. "I have decided that you shall now kiss me twice... And hold my hand as we sleep."

An amused look illuminated Henry's face, partially out of relief that his wife did not have an ill-fated revelation, and partially out of pleasure towards her coy approach to their marital bed.

"As you wish, dear," he replied with an exaggerated, proper tone.

Cora leaned in and kissed him once, feeling the tingle set upon her lips immediately. When she pulled away, Henry did as well, measuring to see if she really would lean in once more.

And that she did.

Their second kiss lasted a bit longer, both parties lingering with the consent of the other. Cora, remembering her hesitations towards venturing past kisses, promptly pulled away and laid down– without erecting the pillow barrier between herself and Henry.

Henry laid down as well and a comfortable amount of space remained between the two. This time, however, Cora laid her hand flat against the duvet, exposing her palm to the ceiling. After a moment of stillness, Henry's hand gently slid into her own, locking his fingers in place between hers.

"Good night," he whispered.

"Good night," she returned.

Cora's hand felt alarmingly comfortable in Henry's, and instead of allowing her to fall asleep for once, the excitement that coursed through her veins kept her eyes wide open and focused on the velvet curtains that canopied over the four posts of the bed.

Cora did not remember falling asleep, but felt an odd, melancholic sensation when she woke in the morning with an empty hand. Henry appeared to have woken before her and left, for it was already mid-morning. Truthfully, Cora found herself frustrated with the fact that she longed for the feeling of his skin against hers once more. She considered this transformation in her feelings daunting and exceedingly aggravating.