Teasing Your Wicked Heart

EPILOGUE

Today is a Tuesday, and Tuesdays have only started to become more bearable, bringing a dull ache under her chest, not nearly as painful as when she was alone.

Their marriage had done her a good thing, she fell into a habit with a man who went about his responsibilities in the day, paid her enough attention and sometimes more in the evenings, and then formed a nice and warm friendship with him all days of the week. But what healed her heart, Sarah Jane surmised, was that she was surrounded by people who were going to be her constants.

Every hour of the future days is going to be filled with love.

Sarah Jane silently moved from the bed, her limbs heavy and creaking in annoyance as her body demanded rest. It had been weeks after she had married Anthony, and it had been weeks of daily and nightly tumbles that she thought Anthony might have gone mad.

Deliriously so.

She stood from the bed, stark naked and cold, immediately missing the comforting presence of the lightly snoring human who laid beside her. She picked a discarded negligee on the floor, shivering as the cold satin touched her skin.

Anthony had seduced her in the middle of writing a response to Anne. Anne was not surprised that she married Anthony, but the wedding happened so fast that when her friend found out about it, it was already over.

Quickly scribbling her thoughts with the quill, she heard Anthony stirring, the covers bunching and scrunching on the bed behind her as her quill dipped back in the ink well.

"Good morning," She greeted sweetly without looking back. The small hairs of her nape could immediately detect if he was staring at her.

"Why aren't you naked?" His voice responded gravelly and husky from sleep.

Her mouth turned up at the corner. Yes, her husband was still utterly mad and delirious. "I can't very well write a letter while naked."

"Why not?"

She heard his feet drop to the floor, his footsteps causing the floor to creak with his weight. His fingers reaching her, wrapping around her shoulders, and splayed warmly on her neck.

Sarah Jane sighed, she was also utterly mad and delirious for him. "If I was naked all the time, then you would seduce me all the time, and I would not have gotten anything done."

He kissed the top of her head, amusement dripping from his voice as he said, "Your clothes won't deter me from seducing you."

"You must get dressed, Monsieur Shawborne will be here soon to do your portraiture."

He groaned, that man is an imbecile. "Mr. Shawborne fancies himself to be French, but his last name will never allow him to succeed in this useless attempt." His fingers started to dip lower, bringing his hand gently resting on her chest.

Even as he detested this particular painter, Anthony had to concede that all the Shawbornes had talent. Almost all the Killsworth portraitures were done by Monsieur Shawborne's ancestors, but this particular French-speaking, two-left-feet waddling, Monsieur Shawborne had his talents still untested, and therefore absolutely questionable.

Maybe he could seduce Sarah Jane back to his bed and forget all about this portraiture nonsense.

Sarah Jane glanced back at him long enough to notice his thoughtful, yet devious, demeanor. She faced her letter resolutely, dipping the quill back into the well.

"And you will never succeed with what you are planning as I am most determinedly inclined to finish this letter."

An hour later, Anthony had found himself pleased to have been staring at Sarah Jane's coiffure that had loosened under his fingers. Her bunched-up skirts, and flushed cheeks surrounding him as he had succeeded in seducing her while the Monsieur was taking a break.