FORTY-ONE

 

"We should get out of these clothes, and inside, where it is warm and dry," Romein said.

Julia nodded, leaning on him as they limped toward the mill.

Once inside, Julia headed upstairs to get some blankets, while Romein built up the fire. He stripped off his clothes and hung them in front of the hearth, then accepted a blanket from Julia.

"You know, we could just take these blankets back upstairs, and start our wedding night early. I know of no law that says a man can only make love to his wife after the sun has set," Romein said.

"I do not know much about such things at all. Only that it is a wife's duty..." Julia closed her eyes. Her mother had called it a duty, but her brothers had called it a joy.

Romein took her hand. "Then I shall teach you what I know, and everything else, we can find out together."

She followed him upstairs, then climbed into the box bed after him, closing the doors behind them so that the only light was the flickering candle in a lantern, high up on the wall.

She opened with a kiss, as his lips met hers, until her tongue entered the fray, eagerly wishing to taste if Romein was as sweet as she remembered. Then his hands joined the dance, gliding over her skin beneath the blankets, until she had no further need of scratchy wool, for all she wanted to feel against her body was him.

Her pleasure at his touch started as slow tingles, bubbling beneath her skin like a breath blown out under the water, but it built quickly, turning into a raging torrent until she was overcome by waves so powerful, she was powerless to do anything but cling to him and cry out his name, until she surfaced from an ocean of bliss to take another life-giving breath.

Only to hear his own hoarse voice caress her name, a cry so rough and raw, and yet it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

And if they slept for a time, it was only to wake to the bloom of heat between them, as they made love again.