Tennyson She awoke with the dawn. The room was frosty, but under the covers, lying close to Nicholas, she was warm and comfortable. She closed her eyes and savored the closeness of him, the weight of his hand on her. He woke soon after she did. She felt his arms slip around her waist, pulling her closer. He put his mouth on the nape of her neck. Everything inside her quivered and melted at his touch, and she turned to him with welcoming, yielding passion. When she shifted a little beneath him so he could come deeper, he said in a voice she could hardly recognize, “Almighty God.” Two hours later she heard the sound of someone making up the fire. After the maid had left, she sat up. He reached a lazy aim and pulled her down again, but she strained against it “Mrs. Wade will be bringing Nicky to me to nurse any minute now. She’ll wonder whatever happened to me.” “Stay where you are,” he said. “I’ll fetch Nicky.” He rose, stretched before the fire like a giant cat, and put on his dressing gown.
