Harry steps back, leaning against the wall behind him as if he requires the support.
"She is my blood?" he asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.
I nod, smiling gently at him. "She belongs to no other."
He stares, awestruck, and I hand her over. She puts her chubby hands on his cheeks, smacking lightly.
"Gentle," I murmur, touching a fingertip to the dimpled back of her hand. "Be nice to your daddy."
Harry's eyes fall closed, and he brings her closer so he can kiss her forehead.
"The night I nursed her with you near," I tell him, "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you every time you looked at her with fondness."
"Then why did you not?" he asks, turning back to me. "Every day I have had to struggle with the anguish of falling in love with her and believing she did not belong to me."
I step forward, sliding my hand up his arm, over his shoulder and around the back of his neck. "I am sorry." I stare up at him, so giddy that he knows that I cannot hide my smile despite how much he reels from this truth. "It is only that . . . she looks just like you. There is no mistake."
He blinks, looking between the two of us. I know he is thinking, Aye, she looks nothing like her mum. A smile tugs at the edge of his lips, but he fights it.
"Harry," I say, biting my bottom lip. "Can you not see how clear it is? How I expected you to know as soon as you saw her?"
He nods his head, letting the grin curl one side of his mouth. "I fear I am dreaming."
"You are very much awake."
Glancing toward the heavens, he murmurs, "I want to remember it all."
My heart droops. "Even if you remembered everything, you would still not remember her first few months. She was born while you were away at war."
I can tell how this affects him, and he wraps one arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. "I want to forgive you this instant for not telling me the first time I laid eyes on her," he whispers. "But it is not easy."
Nodding, I stretch to kiss his jaw. "I know. But you did not even remember me. What if you found me disagreeable or plain? And then to hear that you had lain with me?" I shudder dramatically, trying to make him smile. "How horrible that would be for you."
He laughs at this. But he has otherwise gone so quiet, so contemplative, that it causes my heart to twist.
"Are you quiet because you are cross with me?"
He shakes his head, but says, "Yes and no." He kisses my temple. "I am trying to imagine our lives before, and how it could possibly have worked. I do not think I like the way it would have played out, with some other man raising my daughter, some other man lying beside my wife."
"You did not like it," I agree. "Just as I did not like the idea of you lying with the Queen."
Huffing out a quiet breath, he says, "I am trying to imagine a life without you both near me all the time, and it horrifies me."
"My love," I say, "let us go lay down."
He nods, but doesn't move. He simply gazes at his daughter, kissing her palm when she reaches for his mouth.
It is a torture for me to feel that maybe some of the harsher realities of our life and the war should be kept from him. I do not want him to lose the sunshine that he has reclaimed. I do not want all of the inevitable truths still to come to weigh him down.
"Our life can be whatever we wish it to be," I tell him with quiet conviction. "You are King, and I am never leaving you. Anne will always be at your side. Do you hear me, Harry?" He nods. "Tonight is when we talk about it, and where we decide what life we want to lead. We have that choice, no one else need make it for us."
Harry turns to me, expression relaxing. "All right. Yes." He nods again and again, as if clinging to these words. "All right."
"Will you come to bed?" I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the shed. "I need to put her down for the night. And then we can talk."
Stretching onto my toes, I cover his mouth with mine, tugging at his lip with my teeth.
Finally, he responds with a low moan before leaning closer, deepening the kiss with near desperation. My blood turns to smoke.
"Cath," he rasps.
"We can talk," I repeat, opening my eyes to gaze into his, "and then I need to feel you."
~~
I find James and tell him we are going to the shed. I feel guilty for leaving him with the mess of the dinner to tend to, but he clearly does not mind. His eyes search mine, silently needing reassurance.
"He put it all together tonight about Anne," I say, as Harry fetches her little nightclothes from the basket near settee in the living room. "I believe he is a bit stunned."
"No doubt," James replies, putting a reassuring hand on my arm. "But he'll be all right."
Harry and I walk around the side of the cottage to the shed. I lead the way with the lantern, he follows with our child in his arms, almost as if he is unwilling to pass her off yet.
The door opens with a rusty squeak, startling the sleepy girl. I set the lantern on the small table, and fluff the blankets on the bed, before turning to look at him.
Silence ticks between us. Outside it is a roar of wind and crickets.
"I usually . . . nurse her to sleep," I tell him, my voice trembling a little.
The room feels loaded with everything we feel, everything we've yet to say.
"Oh," he says, realization making his posture jerk straighter. "Right." Harry walks over to place her in my arms. "Would you . . ." He cups the back of his neck. "That is . . . should I stay?"
"Of course," I whisper, letting out a nervous laugh. "Come on. We are both yours."
I feel self-conscious and clumsy, climbing onto the bed and scooting with Anne toward the pillows, lying on my side. Harry's eyes track my every move as I lie her down facing me.
I do not mind if he watches. I want him to watch, if he cares to, but he is so quiet, so still, that for the first time since he's been back, I do not know what he's thinking.
"Come closer," I tell him. "Please?"
Eagerly, as if he'd simply been waiting to be asked, he joins us on the bed, lying on his side facing me.
With shaking hands, I unlace the top of my dress. His gaze follows my hands.
"Are you all right?" I ask.
He smiles, looking at my face, and at last the dimples appear. "Yes." He reaches forward, stroking her small head. "She is a good girl," he says quietly.
"She is the best girl," I agree.
Anne searches, hungry and fussy, and I feel my blush as Harry watches her find my breast.
He has not seen me fully exposed yet. I close my eyes, struggling against the instinct to cover myself.
I feel his eyes on my face and glance up at him. His expression is dark with need.
"You are so beautiful," he tells me. "Why do you look shy?"
"I am nervous," I admit.
"Don't be. Watching you with our child . . ." he says, reaching forward to guide my hair back behind my shoulder. "I am just overcome, that is all."
His fingers trace down the line of my neck and over my collarbone, grazing across the swell of my breast.
She hums her little baby songs against me, slowly growing drowsy until her face goes slack.
"She is asleep," I say after I listen to her steady breaths for a few minutes. "Can you put her over there, in the small bassinet I've brought?"
Nodding, he pushes to sit up, reaching for her. I watch him carry her as if she is made of blown glass, and carefully set her down in the cradle, covering her with the blanket.
Taking several deep breaths, he watches her sleep.
And when he turns, looking at me, I know that we will talk later. His lips part as he stares at me on the bed, his body tensing with need.
He prowls across the room, climbing over me with eyes that never stray from my face.
"I need this first," he says, his voice a quiet growl.
I push up onto an elbow, reaching for him. "As do I."
As soon as it is within reach, I gather the hem of his shirt in my fist, pulling it up and over his head. My hands are starving for the stretch of smooth, naked skin, from shoulder to hip, and I touch it all with flattened palms, roaming. I've miss his body with an aching, hollowness. I need him bare.
His fingers are clumsy on my dress, untying it impatiently and creating a knot that we both wrestle with, fingers tripping over fingers as we laugh with our mouths pressed together.
"I am a savage," he says, giving up and ripping the top of the dress open wide enough to pull it down and off me without further effort.
"I also hope you are a learned seamstress," I say, watching him toss the ruined garment to the floor. "Because that is only one of two dresses I own."
"I am the King," he says with a teasing smile. "I'll have someone make you a better one."
His smile slips a little, and he bends, bracing over me with his hands planted beside my shoulders. "What I just said . . ." he murmurs.
I do not try to hide the tears that spring to my eyes.
"I brought you silks, did I not?" he whispers. "From my travels."
Stars explode in my chest. "Aye."
Staring down at me, he says, "I remember sitting with you beneath the tree." His eyes roam across my bare breasts. "I remember making love with you in the grass." He looks back at my face, eyes wide. "You were over me."
I nod. "That was the day you found out I carried your child."
"Some images return," he whispers. "You rocking above me. Your laugh and the arch of your throat. The sight of you on your knees, tongue sliding over me. Have I created this as fantasy?"
"No," I tell him, pulling his head back to me. "It is all truth."
He bends, kissing at my neck with renewed hunger and I work his trousers down his hips. When I struggle to reach far enough to get them off, he kicks them off with a laugh, nearly falling on top of me.
"Were we better at undressing then?" he asks when his elbow sharply meets my ribs.
"Usually not. We were always in a hurry."
This makes him slow, and he kneels before me, naked now, looking down at me only in my knickers.
"I do not want to be in a hurry," he says. "Ever again."
I give him a firm nod. "Then it shall be so."
His smile is a flirtatious thing, capturing his entire mouth. "I'll draft it into law at sunrise."
"For now, you have far more important work to tend to."
He reaches for my hips, slowly sliding the cotton down my legs, and tossing them carelessly over his shoulder as he stares at me.
I drink in the sight of him kneeling between my legs. "I rather enjoy you in this state of undress," I tell him, grinning.
With a low growl, he lowers himself over me and I bite back a sharp cry at the feel of his body as it slides up my thighs. His hips press flush to mine, his chest to my breasts, his length pressed against me.
As he kisses and bites his way down my neck and across my breasts, sucking and wild, his muscles shake beneath my hands; a colt held behind a gate.
He admits it: "I was wrong about wanting to hurry. I am unable to take my time tonight."
And I cannot deny that I feel the same: I am flushed and breathless, feeling my need for him like a heavy weight deep in my belly.
He is careful, reaching between us, and sliding himself across where I most need him. But when he begins to press into me, I flinch.
I am surprised at the pain.
I've had a child. Why does it hurt?
Harry notices, wincing and beginning to retreat. But I hold him close to me, kissing his jaw.
"Do not leave."
"It hurts you," he protests. "Why does it hurt?"
"It won't last," I whisper. "It has been a long time . . ."
He turns his face, pulling back so he can see me clearly. "You'll tell me if you need me to stop?"
He looks right at me,
and my heart stills.
Here we are starting over.
We are rewriting it all.
We are making a better history.
"I promise."
With a little nod, he moves forward, groaning as his eyes fall closed. "It is bliss."
It is.
He presses deeply into me, and pauses, turning to kiss my throat.
"Are you all right?" he asks, voice a tight rumble of restraint against my skin.
"I am," I gasp. "I need to feel you moving."
I keep my eyes open as he begins to rock inside me, hypnotized by the muscles in his shoulder dipping and rising above my body. I arch into his chest, relishing the slide of his skin over mine. With my legs wrapped around his hips, I pull him deeper into me. And as if he has not forgotten a single detail of my body, he brings me to the point of madness, holding me there with teasing words and slowing hips.
"You are so warm," he murmurs into my neck. "So soft around me."
"Please."
He lifts my leg, pushing it high up my side and speeding his thrusts.
"Are you close?" he asks, sucking at my neck.
When I nod helplessly, he rises over me, giving me every bit of him I need. As he watches with wide, rapt eyes, I come apart with a string of sharp cries, clinging to him.
Only then does he let himself grow wild and fast. His fists curl around the pillowcase beneath my head, his voice goes tight and hoarse as unintelligible words fall from his lips. With a shout, he follows me into pleasure, his back tensing beneath my hands.
I blink up into the darkness, pressing my mouth to his shoulder.
Harry stills over me, breaths ragged. His chest is damp from exertion, hair tumbling over his forehead as he pulls back to look at me. I push his sweaty hair from his eyes.
His smile could replace every one of the stars in the sky.
With a reluctant groan, he pulls from me, rolling to the side. His hand comes around my hip, pulling me to face him, and closer against his chest.
I hum, dragging my mouth along his warm throat to his jaw. "That was . . ."
"Aye. It was." His laugh is a quiet rumble, and he smoothes his hand up my waist, and forward, cupping my breast, thumb slowly stroking back and forth across the sensitive peak. Warm and slow, his lips slide over mine.
And then, so close like this, our eyes open in unison and I feel the bubble slowly dissolving.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly place a finger to his lips, begging, "Please. Do not let the outside world intrude just yet. Let me keep you, and this relief coursing through me, just a little longer."
He speaks from behind my fingers. "Cath . . ."
"This, right here, is perfect," I whisper. "We are exhausted from making love. Our daughter sleeps nearby. Just kiss me."
With a kiss to my fingertips, he reaches up, gently pulling my hand away. "I believe that is the point you made inside, after dinner, was it not?"
I stare up at his face.
"That this life is ours," he continues, "and there is no intrusion from the outside world which can change that."
With the flutter of wings in my stomach, I lean closer to kiss his chin, praying that it is really true. "It is what I hope for us, my Lord."
He smiles, but it is a little sad.
"Cath."
I close my eyes, pressing my face into his neck. "Aye, darling."
I know what he is going to say before he even speaks.
He strokes my back. "I am ready to hear about the Queen."