The Journey Home

Chapter 54 A Shy Good Morning

  In the predawn hours he made love to her again, the flickering glow of the fire casting warm tones on his handsome face, as he studied her every response to his words, touches and kisses. They were cautious with each other, as each was still unfamiliar with the other's body, frequently apologizing over bumped noses and misplaced elbows and knees. After he climaxed, he held her to him, and then  they lay on their sides, his long body curled around hers, whispering his adoration as  sleep over took them.
Later in the morning, she awoke to find the room bathed in sunlight. She turned in the little bed to find that John was not there, his abandoned pillow  cool to the touch. She sat up abruptly gathering the blankets to her chest. "John?" She called out hoarsely, sleep still muddling her head. She heard the rustle of papers through the door and his swift footfall on the floor. He opened the door and peered in. "Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?" She felt relief knowing that he was near by, but realizing she was naked, she drew the blanket up higher, doing her best to cover anything that may be  exposed.   "Yes," she stumbled as she spoke.  "Quite well.  I can't seem to find my robe, do you know  where it is?" She looked about the room with uncertainty, and then discovered the sly look on John's face. Cheeky man! She held her hand straight out do that he could hand her the missing garment. "John, where  is my robe?"  She demanded.

He then left her so that she could dress.  Margaret went to the dressing table to arrange herself and looking into  the mirror she saw the tangled state of her hair and  puffy  eyes due  to very little sleep. She heard the clatter of tea cups in the other room, of course John would have ordered more tea. She thought back to the first time she served him tea, many years ago at her father's home in Milton. His large hands and long fingers were too big to hold her mother's dainty china cups by the handle. She thought him coarse as he stared at her, he seemed more interested in her bracelet than her conversation.
Now, she stood by the glass, indecisive as to what she should do next, feeling her passion  deep within at the slightest thought of him, but  hesitating due to her embarrassment after the intimacies they had shared. He had kissed her in places she never imagined a man would touch a woman.  She had boldly touched his erection as she explored what was the source of his pleasure, and the cause of the satisfying ache of  her own muscles that were unaccustomed to this wondrous act. 

"Margaret." He called to her.  She froze.    What if he thought differently of her? Despite the fact that intercourse was an acceptable act in marriage, she was still embarrassed by the act they performed - multiple times.  She moaned slightly, thinking of his passionate ministrations, his kisses, their coupling and his raw release.
"Margaret, my love, are you alright? Your tea will grow cold." He had heard her.  She heard the clink of his cup as he set it on the saucer.  Bother! She thought to herself.  She couldn't hide in the bedroom all day, and she was absolutely starving. She took a ribbon off the table and tied up her unruly hair.  She strode into the sitting room, her chin pointed high.
He looked up from the neatly folded paper as she entered.
"Good morning." She said as she stood in the doorway.  His face broke into the broad gentle smile that he would reserve for her alone all if his days.  He could see that she wore nothing more than her robe, feeling his own self responding to her glorious body.  "Good morning, love.  Come have your breakfast."   He stood and gestured to the chair that had been pulled close to his own.  Margaret quickly walked to the chair and sat, knowing that his attentions were on her every move.  She could not think what to say, and began to feel self conscious.  She looked up to confirm that yes, he was staring at her. She looked away quickly, blushing deeply.
"Have something to eat, love."  He demanded.  "You must be starving." Margaret avoided eye contact and smiled shyly, wondering if he was referring to the vigorous activities of last night. She began to take large bites of her toast and jam, and burnt the roof of her mouth  on a steaming hot gulp of tea.
"Yes, Margaret. I am referring to our nocturnal activities and the fact that you haven't eaten a bite since we left Milton."
She sighed and nearly choked on her food. "We are going to talk about this?" She spoke with her mouth full
"I do not feel the need to avoid talking about our relations.  Do you?" His voice was discreetly low, so that no one outside their conversation could hear him.
"Well, no." Margaret hesitated. "It was lovely," no, that wasn't right. It was amazing! Could she tell him that?  He reach across and cupped her cheek in his hand. "Margaret, you are a wonderful lover.  You stir in me a passion that I have never known. I never thought that I could love you more than the day I fell in love with you. Now I know that my love only intensifies every time we make love to each other."  He saw that Margaret was frozen in thought.
"Margaret?" She smiled shyly at her husband. "I must say, I did not expect to have such a frank conversation. " She laughed nervously. "I believe I feel the same way. I am yours, John."
"You will tell me, dearest, if something makes you uncomfortable?" His words were no louder than a whisper.
"Yes, of course.  Why are we whispering?" Margaret inquired.
"The servants.  They listen to everything, I'm afraid. "
"Everything?" She raised her voice.  He covered her hand with his to calm her. 
"I was thinking we should take a long walk by the ocean this afternoon.  After the tide has subsided a bit."  He stood and guided her  out of her chair.   He placed his hands on her waist and began to gently kiss her lips. Margaret placed her arms around his neck and returned his kisses.  "And in the meantime?" She asked.
"Yes." He growled as he swept her up in his arms and carried her back to bed.