Winds of Fate [Books IV - VI]

Chapter 197: Back to Business

Their sleep does not last long. Pains woke them in the middle of the early morning, and they decided to eat the rest of their forgotten dinner and finish the exquisite wine... all while laughing and missing both Torkin and Poco, who would have loved the spacious room. However, once they rest on the bed, embracing each other, Eleanore cannot resist but bask in the soft solitude with Anton. They end up making love as many times as they could in-between the cold, quiet hours before dawn, that are many happier, more adventurous affairs than last night's.

However, last night, for her, was truly so important and treasured. Anton is a man of few words—he prefers to act swiftly and decisively—but he does speak to her and calm her whenever she is lost, afraid. His assurance, his confidence... are enough to give her anchor in the storm of her doubts.

And in the morning light, all the more does she believe in him and this love they have.

He has fallen asleep, face down on the pillows, exhausted and drunk. Eleanore smiles as she tinkers with her husband's chestnut ringlets of hair. She has not dressed, not even in the nightgown, and the blanket was long ago curled into a ball somewhere in their room. Every now and then, she would shower him with kisses and embrace him tight. Inspired, she snickers evilly and rolls on his back.

"Ay... no..." Anton startles at her weight and groans. "Why are you keelhauling me this early in the morning?"

"Why, you!" Eleanore laughs and sits up, making him wince even more. "How about that?!"

"Lenore—" He braces his elbows beside him. "Lenore, por favor... my back... I can't breathe... you will kill me, woman—"

She laughs again and falls on him, kissing his cheek. They tumble on the bed, nothing short of wrestling and tickling each other to death, but Anton prevails. He pins her back down, deftly evading her playful kicks, and chuckles when she frowns. However, he sighs once he catches glimpse of the bright morning outside showering them with soft, yellow daylight from the window and the veranda.

"What is it, darling?" Eleanore asks.

But Anton just knowingly smiles. "What are we doing in Havana again?"

They chuckle, and she sighs then too. "I know... if only we could..." Eleanore closes her eyes and feels his grasp on her wrists soften as he gathers her to him instead and rests against the wall. She caresses his chest and lays her cheek on his shoulder. "I would have stayed a whole week here just doing this."

"Sleeping and eating and..." He sneakily grins and raises a brow.

Her heart soars at the memory. Eleanore blushes. She props herself higher and tenderly parts his lips with hers; Anton wraps his arms around her waist, caressing her tongue with his so delicately that she is melting all over again, her heart beating so furiously in her chest. They stop and meet each other's eyes. "Making love with you," she whispers, smiling, "oh, I could do it all day."

"You have to be careful, challenging me like that."

"What if I do dare? Hm? What will you do?"

Anton snorts. He brushes her hair away, but his gaze is somber and pensive. She is about to ask what he is worried about, when he begins, "Then... I shall have to find ways."

"Ways?"

He caresses her cheek with his thumb, smiling. "I love you, tesoro," Anton still says, wincing as he does, "I can never say that enough." He lays a kiss on her lips again, and she pleasantly shivers with delight. "That thrills me... I have to be creative, you see. Sneak you away after a meeting. Hide you behind the guns. Lay you down the sand. Keep you against the rocks—"