“I suppose,” the golden-haired girl sighed, “and I promise to give a tithe of

my pin money this week to help… someone. Now, can we please read something

prettier?”

“If you want something pretty, Miss Carlisle,” Cary replied, his voice warm

with attraction, his eyes urging her to notice him, “I have just the thing.” He crossed to the bookshelf and scooped up a volume.

“‘The Lady of Shalott', by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 'On either side the river lie/ long fields of barley and of rye…’”

From the first elegant lines, Miss Carlisle sighed with pleasure.

Katerina listened too. The sad, sweet beauty of the words washed over her,

making her smile. She gave herself over to it, loving the skillful manipulation of

words, the sound of James Cary's well-modulated voice as he attempted to woo

Miss Carlisle, the shivery pleasure of her husband's hand on her, stroking.

Such a lovely poem provoked silence rather than conversation, and at its

conclusion the guests began to drift away, drenched in images of the lovely lady

singing while she wove a tapestry.

“Ready to go, love?” Christopher asked as the scene faded from her

imagination.

“Oh yes, let's.” Katerina's smile grew wider. Rising they located their

hostess. “Thank you for the lovely evening, Mrs. Wilder,” Katerina said sweetly.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Bennett. Your apt comments were greatly

appreciated.”

“Mrs. Wilder, we will not be attending for several weeks,” Christopher

informed her. “We'll be taking a trip to Italy, starting in the morning.”

Their host beamed at them. “Well, I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Some

Italian sunshine in February sounds lovely.”

“It does,” Katerina agreed. “I'm looking forward to it.”

With matching smiles, they took their leave and headed outside. Apparently,

Katerina was not the only one who had been moved by the last poem. No sooner

did the hansom driver hop into his seat behind them, then Christopher pulled her

close, planting wet sweet kisses on her mouth, one after the other.

“Goodness, darling,” she said as his lips trailed the delicate arch of her throat. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh yes,” he pulled back and looked at her with glowing eyes. “I'm

impressed you commented back there. You spoke up in front of everyone. You're

doing so much better than I expected, love. Your courage is… very arousing.”

“I'm glad you find it so,” she said, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at him.

Then she turned serious. “I wasn't trying to be brave, you know. It just bothers

me how people try to ignore things because the thoughts are unpleasant while others are suffering and even dying around them. Bravo to Mr. Browning for making us look and think.”

“That's how I feel too. Before I read the poems, I must confess, such things

didn't occupy my mind as much as they do now.” He told her more clearly what

he meant by kissing her again. “Sweet lady,” he mumbled against her soft lips.

“I'm so very glad I married you.”

“Oh, so am I. You're a marvelous husband, Christopher.”

“Thank you. It's so nice having a wife; someone I can talk to and kiss and make love to whenever we want.” He nipped her lower lip.

She moaned softly. “It's all so good. Better than I ever expected.”

He seemed to take her words as an invitation and tongued the edge of her teeth, eliciting another soft sound.

“Kat,” he said, pulling away as though a sudden thought occurred to him.

Though the loss of his kiss made her want to pout, she focused on his words.

“Yes?”

“Um, have you ever heard any of the other matrons talking about marriage?”

He stroked one hand over her hip as he spoke, clearly trying to keep the mood on

their intimacy.