— Six Weeks Later —

It was very late and the dinner plates were empty but for the barest crumbs. They had stayed at the table talking and drinking wine. The past few weeks had been a lot of talking with James. It was almost like being courted by him again, with the exception that she was married to him. They had danced, gone for rides in the park, attended plays, and visited galleries, and at the end of it, always, she had returned to Harriet's house. She had been nervous of accepting James's invitation to dinner, and had put it off several times. But it had been quite wonderful, really, having him all to herself with no one to overhear or interrupt anything they might say — or observe what they might do. And now they had fallen into silence, and James had loosened his cravat and was staring into the distance as he twisted his wine glass idly in his hands. It was nearing midnight. It was probably time for Grace to go back to Harriet's.

"It's getting late," Grace said reluctantly.

"Right." James glanced at the clock. "I suppose it is. I lost track of time."

"I, uh, ought to be getting back."

James gave her a wry smile. "I'll call for the carriage."

He stood and, on his way to the bell-pull, stooped and kissed the top of her head. Grace's heart shivered at his touch. She watched as he went on to tug at the bell. She had thought he might try to seduce her tonight, or persuade her to stay, but he had given her no affection beyond a bare few kisses and the warmth of the expression of his eyes.

"Wait," Grace said. "I— I can stay a little longer."

James paused at the bell-pull. "Whenever you're ready then."

"Actually, I... I was thinking I could stay the night."

James tried to speak and choked on his own words. He coughed to clear his throat. "Beg pardon?"

"It would be a pity to disturb you servants to send me home."

"Indeed." James cleared his throat. "But they will have to make your bedroom up. Won't they?"

Grace's cheeks warmed. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Oh." James's own cheeks were red. "I— I'm tired. I'm thinking of going to bed now."

"It's probably time to turn in."

He helped her to her feet and when she was standing kept his hand in hers. Together, they went up the stairs to the second floor. On the landing, James pulled her close and kissed her, his lips tasting like wine.

"I just want to make very sure," he said. "Are you asking me to bed with you?"

She nodded and twisted her arms around the back of his neck. "I want you to... to make me your wife."

"You are my wife." He kissed her again. "I've been trying to avoid—" he kissed her "—seducing you into—" again "—forgiving me."

"Forgiving you?" She drew back and stroked his hair, trembling with sudden uncertainty. "James, I still... hurt. But I want this. I want to know what it is. I want you to show me."

"You do?" He looked searchingly at her eyes. "I'll show you. Come with me."

He pulled her down the passageway to his bedroom and led her to the bed, where he kissed the inside of her wrist and pushed her gently down on top of it. She lay back against the pillows, her heart racing with anticipation as his delicate hands removed her shoes and stockings and his kisses made their way up her calves to her thighs.

"James, what are you doing?" she asked, confused.

"Showing you." His breath was warm between her thighs and his hands were searching up beneath the folds of her dress, roving over her hips and waist like a pianist finding the right keys with his eyes shut. "There are many ways to begin, dear."

Grace had not known that. She also had not known kisses could go where his kisses were going. She gasped and twisted her hands around the bedpost to control the writhing impulse in her hips.

"James! Oh!"

He was occupied in a manner that prevented him replying. But she was incapable of intelligible speech anyway. She was incapable of anything more than gasping his name as his hands and mouth explored the most private parts of her and pleasure rose over her body. And then the pleasure reached a peak and broke, leaving smaller ripples of pleasure behind. Grace collapsed backwards into the pillows, her breathing coming in rags. As her heart rate slowed, James kicked off his shoes and stockings, slipped out of his coat, and crawled up beside her, one hand still playing under her skirts.

"James," Grace said confused, "am I still a virgin?"

"I'm not quite sure." His hand charmed its way between her thighs. "But I promise you by the end of the night you will not be."

He made good on his promise within the next hour, and then again twice more before morning. When Grace woke to the sunlight streaming in the window, she was sore and covered in the dried salt of their sweat, but strangely content. She prodded James until he woke.

"Mph."

"I need a bath."

"I'll come." He rolled over and opened his eyes half-way. "I'm very good at baths."

"You're still asleep." She poked him again. "I need a bath and I've got no clothes."

That woke him. He sat up slowly and rubbed his face.

"The no clothes part does not worry me," he said. "In fact, I find it very pleasant."

"James!"

"No, I am going to flirt with you." He gave her a crooked, sleepy smile that took her breath away. "I think I've earned that right. If I haven't, I am stealing it. How do you feel, dearest?"

"Dirty." She threw a pillow at him. "And naked."

"And yet you've never been better dressed." He pushed the pillow aside. "Grace. Darling. I'll call the servants and attend to things. But you can hardly rush off. It's barely dawn." He drew her into his arms and settled back on the pillows with her. "We've a matter to attend to."

Grace's heart quickened with anticipation. "What kind of matter?"

"Not that." He stayed her straying hand by closing his own over it. "That can be later. First..." He kissed her shoulder. "First I have to ask a question of my beautiful, charming, very naked wife."

"What question?" She nestled into him.

"The question." He met her eyes. "Will you live with me?"

She shifted a little, growing nervous. "I like living with Harriet, and spending time with you."

"I know. You have all the privileges of marriage, and none of the burdens." He smiled wryly and kissed her hair. "I won't push you, Grace. I'm only asking. I want you with me. In my house. In my bed. I want you to be my wife in every way, and one day the mother of my children."

"What if I need more time?"

"Then you have it."

Grace turned over so that she was lying on top of him with her face pressed into the crook of his neck and his flesh warm against hers. It was pleasant to hear that she was wanted. And if she were honest with herself, she wanted James too. And Harriet would no doubt be worried when she returned home because she had been out all night. There were certain inconveniences to living with Harriet. A lack of necessary privacy, for one.

"It might be a good idea," she said.

"Mmm." James stroked her hair. "And I've another question, Grace."

"What?"

"Am I allowed yet to speak of what I feel for you?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "That depends what you have to say."

"Everything I said last night, but with words instead."

She shivered and held him tighter. "Is that what it all meant?"

"That. And more."

"Then perhaps... perhaps tell me one more time — without the words — and maybe then I'll be ready for the words."

"Ah." James kissed her shoulder. "Then listen, my darling, listen."

The End

2022-08-20: A bit more bittersweet and unresolved than others, but I have hopes for James's and Grace's future together.