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Shelagh closed the drawer with a satisfying click. The small suitcase that she had brought from her lodgings was now empty. Her new clothing was placed in the cupboard and dresser drawers of what would soon be her bedchamber. The silk dresses, cardigans, and suits looked feminine and pretty hanging next to Patrick’s clothing. Shelagh was proud to begin to present herself to Poplar as ‘Mrs. Turner’ and wanted to look the part. Looking around the room, Shelagh smiled at the dressing table, ready for her use, and the one empty bedside table that she could easily imagine holding a book, hairbrush, or a pair of baby booties one day in the near future. Patrick’s housekeeper had been meticulous in readying the room -- not even a mote of dust could be seen in the circle of lamplight on the surface of the dresser. The tidiness and act of unpacking her luggage lead to a feeling of contentment the likes of which Shelagh hadn’t known in many years. This room was soon to be her sanctuary, a place private to only she and Patrick.
Shelagh’s cheeks warmed as she thought of her fiance and the space he would inhabit in the small room. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the bed. She imagined lying in the bed, sleeping there and… the warmth in her cheeks turned into a full burn. She stepped to the bed, fussing with the edge of the knit blanket, adjusting it until she felt it looked appropriate. She ran her hand over the fabric, a thrill running through her at the softness of it. Feeling a bit daring, she sat on the bed, testing the mattress. Finding it to be comfortable, she eased out of her shoes and sat back against the headboard, surveying the room from the position that would soon become familiar to her. There was but a week until the wedding and the first night she would spend in the bed in which she was now so comfortably ensconced. She turned to her side and looked at Patrick’s pillow, imagining his dark hair against the white case. He would be so close to her when they were finally together in the bed. The thought made her stomach clench pleasurably, and she couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face.
Distantly she recognized the rattle of the front door being opened. She looked at her wristwatch, slightly embarrassed at how long she had been sitting in the bed, daydreaming.
“Shelagh?” Patrick’s voice carried from the sitting room. “Are you still here? Timothy practically pushed me out of the ward so that he could spend his last night chatting with his friends.”
Before she could answer he strode into the room, stopping in the doorway as he saw her in the bed. “Oh,” he said, a smile touching his lips as he looked at her. “Finished unpacking, are we?” He removed his suit coat, hanging it from the door knob.
“Well, quite,” Shelagh said, cheeks flushing again as he continued to watch her. “I’ll just--” she started to turn to step from the bed, but Patrick came into the room and sat down on the very edge of it.
“No,” he said, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Stay. That is, if you want to. You look beautiful sitting there, and I’ve often imagined--”
“Have you?” Shelagh tried to meet his gaze but nuzzled her face into his hand instead.
“I’ve thought of so many things, my love.” He rubbed his thumb just lightly over her lower lip. “Now that your things are here I’m not sure I can wait another week for you to be here, too.”
“I’m here now,” Shelagh said, stilling his hand with her own, and kissing his thumb. Her eyes flickered up to meet his and she kissed him again, encouraged by the glint she saw there.
“Shelagh.” He broke his hand from hers and cupped her face again, leaning toward her but stopping just short of her mouth. “This will be the first time I kiss you in our bed.”
“Yes,” Shelagh whispered, a shiver running over her body. She pressed closer, clutching at his shoulder. He exhaled a shaky breath and gently brushed his lips over hers. He pulled back, but Shelagh murmured a protest, leaning forward to recapture the kiss.
His mouth softened, lips parting under her gentle caress. Shelagh sighed into the kiss, her lower lip catching against his upper as she tilted her head to draw him closer. Her hand traveled from his shoulder to play with the short hair at the back of his neck, as he dropped one of his own hands to her lower back. The kiss was almost chaste, lips only slightly parted. Shelagh pulled back to look at him, feeling bold as she looked into his eyes. His thumb caressed her cheek. “Are you ready for me to take you back to your lodgings?”
Shelagh’s body tingled from the kiss -- and the implication of his question. She knew that she could get up from the bed now, smooth her skirt, gently tease Patrick about the lateness of the hour, and that he would take her home, with the promise of their wedding night a warm thought between them. But the hint of his taste on her lips and the warmth radiating from his body tempted her. She shook her head. “No, Patrick.” She caressed his jaw, enjoying the feel of the roughened skin against the softness of her palm. “I want to stay for awhile.”
“I think you know that I want you to stay, too.” He smiled, eyes alight with amusement as he took his turn to nuzzle into her palm. “But how will we pass the time?”
Shelagh’s cheeks grew hot again, but she had to again force herself to tamp down a smile. She dropped her hand to the bed and turned as if she was going to stand. “I suppose that I could continue to straighten the room…”
“Oh, no,” Patrick said, looping an arm around her waist to keep her on the bed. “The room is neat enough. Your attentions are required elsewhere.”
Looking up and into his laughing face, Shelagh couldn’t continue to fight the grin that was trying to break across her own face. “Whatever could need my attention so desperately?”
“Your betrothed.”
Shelagh dimpled with a giggle. “My--” Her rejoinder was lost when she looked back into his eyes. The humor had gone from his face, replaced by a look of rapt intent. A breath shuddered from her lips as his eyes traced over her face, coming to rest on her mouth. She rubbed her lips together, wetting them, heart hammering in her chest as his head dipped toward hers once more.
His mouth slanted over hers and she immediately parted her lips, whimpering low in her throat. His tongue softly brushed along the tip of hers and she shivered, meeting his movements with gentle caresses in kind. The faint sounds of their kisses made her stomach flip pleasurably. She pressed closer, tilting her head to accept more of his fervour, inhaling deeply through her nose as they parted briefly.
“More?” His question was barely a puff of breath against her damp mouth.
“Yes.” Her hand fell to his leg, and clutched at the fabric of his trousers. “Don’t stop, Patrick. Not yet.”
A stuttered, low laugh escaped him. “I don’t want to, my love.” He looked into her eyes, hesitating for a moment before taking her face between his hands. His touch was light even as his fingers twitched slightly against her. “I want so much more with you.” He skimmed his lips over hers again, but didn’t deepen the kiss, instead trailing his mouth over her jaw and nuzzling behind her ear.
Shelagh’s fingers tightened reflexively on his leg as the shivers from his nuzzle ran down her body, tightening the tips of her breasts and causing her toes to curl. She gasped and tilted her neck, wordlessly inviting him to continue his exploration. The scratch of his whiskers against her skin drew a helpless whimper from her while his soft lips soothed the abrasions. Shelagh twisted her hand into his jumper, trying and failing to get closer to him as a pulsing heat began to spread over her body.
Patrick pulled back and looked at her with glittering eyes. He moved slightly and she realize he was toeing off his shoes. Her stomach clenched to realize that he was going to lie in the bed with her. He looked to the expanse of the bed and back at her. Shakily, she pushed up and back toward the pillow she had leaned against earlier. Her heart raced as he moved onto the bed and loomed over her. “Shelagh.” His voice was as soft as he leaned in to kiss her again, holding her in the kiss as he settled in at her side, turning her to face him. He slid a hand up her back and threaded his fingers into her hair, kissing her harder as their bodies met.
Shelagh arched as he again slid from her lips to trail his mouth against the column of her neck. She felt alive in sensation, lips swollen from his kisses, body thrumming. She was almost unbearably warm under her clothing, heat building as their caresses intensified. Patrick nuzzled at the collar of her blouse, bringing his hand to tug it down just slightly so that he could kiss her collarbone. She sighed at the feeling, watching as he brought a hand to the buttons of her cardigan. He fiddled with one and the damp twinge between her legs turned into an aching throb at the idea of him removing her clothing. She managed to grasp the buttons on his jumper in kind, removing one button from its hole. “Perhaps we should remove just our jumpers.”
“Yes,” he agreed, carefully pulling away from her to pull his over his head. Small beads of perspiration dotted his hairline and he ran a hand through his hair, causing it to flop untidily over his forehead. His dress shirt was damp, sticking to his skin, and Shelagh licked her lips, very aware of his body and heat. Her hands fell from unbuttoning her cardigan as she looked at him. She reached out hesitantly, grazing her hand over his shoulder. She looked at him before moving her hand lower. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she smoothed her hand down his chest, stopping over his heart to feel its rhythmic tattoo. His skin was warm under the shirt and she flexed her fingers, wanting to feel more of him. She toyed with the edge of his grey brace, sliding a finger under it to continue her exploration. Patrick’s breath caught and she shuddered, aware of her affect on him. She drifted her hand lower but Patrick stopped her, lifting the hand to kiss her palm. He exhaled and his eyes closed briefly. When they opened he looked at her partially undone jumper. “Now yours?” His voice was gruff and the sound of it sent another thrill through Shelagh. She nodded and he dropped his hands to the buttons of her cardigan.
Shelagh exhaled shakily, watching as he slowly eased the buttons from their holes. She twisted her shoulders to help him remove the garment. She dipped her head as she realized just how visible the outline of her breasts and their raised tips were under her silk blouse. Patrick’s gaze moved back to her face and he coaxed her into another kiss. Scratching her fingers through his hair, she rocked her body against him to relieve the pressure that now burned between her legs. He pressed forward and tangled his legs with hers. A cold flush turned hot with excitement as she felt his hard length pressed against her leg.
He broke from her mouth with a pleasure moan. He swallowed hard, and brought a hand to her breast. “Alright?”
Shelagh looked at his large hand at her breast. She felt bold under the onslaught of the husky sound of his pleasure, the scent, and feel of him. “Please.” His fingers trailed over the hardened tip. Shelagh held her breath at the feeling as he trailed back and forth over the tips, barely touching. Her breath came in small pants as he circled one tight bud before lightly pinching it. She couldn’t stop a small cry at the sensation, and the need for friction had her desperately pressing against his body, seeking relief from the exquisite heat.
Patrick moved with her, grasping her hip as he thrust his own hips and pressed his hardness against her again. He pulled back, breathing hard, and abruptly sat up against the headboard. Shelagh looked up at him, furrowing her brow as she tried to calm her own frantic breaths. “Dearest?”
“I…” he gulped a deep breath. “It’s too… I’m too close, my love.” He helped her to sit up. “I don’t want to—not yet…”
“I understand.” Shelagh tried to breathe, to think. The heat was overwhelming.
Patrick tried to smile, but his eyes were still sensual and dark. “Come here,” he whispered, pulling her until she sat astride his leg, her long skirt bunching around her thighs.
Shelagh rocked against his leg and couldn’t help the low moan the left her throat. “Patrick, I—“
“We can stop right now, Shelagh. I have to stop. But you—“
Shelagh surged forward. “Please,” she begged against his lips, understanding his intention. “I need…”
She trailed off as he grasped her hips and helped her to move against his leg. The heat and dampness, the love and the desire, coalesced with each forward motion until she felt something give way, pleasure suffusing from her center until it rattled her body with its release. “Oh,” she cried, “Patrick—“ She shuddered and fell against his chest, hiding her face in the safety of his neck as she tried to catch her breath.
Patrick ran his hand over her hair whispering to her, soothing her, as she pressed her lips together and enjoyed a pleasure unlike any she had ever known. She snuggled further into his neck, overwhelmed. Part of her wanted to immediately try and reach that peak again, but another part of her wanted nothing more than to lie quietly in Patrick's arms for the rest of the night. Suddenly seven days seemed far too long of a wait to once again lie in their bed with him. Relaxation fell over her like a wave has she settled her body more comfortably against him. As she did so he drew a deep breath and the hand at her back twitched. “Oh dearest,” she whispered. Her cheeks reddened once more. “What--what about… you?” She brushed her lips against his chin.
Patrick’s head fell back against the headboard. “My love,” he said, “I believe that I will need the rest of this night -- and a week of ice cold baths -- to calm down.” The hand at her back began to move up and down in a soothing caress. Patrick opened his eyes and look down at her a pained half-smile on his face. “Perhaps we could move the wedding to midnight tonight?”
Shelagh giggled. “I'd have nothing to wear!”
Patrick grinned. “That would suit me just fine, darling.”
“Patrick Turner!” Shelagh couldn’t help but giggle again, feeling sated and very much in love.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh.” He kissed her softly and pressed his forehead against hers as they both began to calm and relax.
After a time they parted, Shelagh moving off of his leg and awkwardly adjusting her skirt to sit next to him once more. Turning, she smoothed the damp wrinkles in his shirt and straightened his collar. “We’ll marry on Saturday,” she said, looking up to catch his eye. “Afterward we’ll come back here and I’m glad of it. I have fond memories of this room already.”
Patrick smoothed a hand over her hair and looked into her eyes. “Do you, Miss Mannion?”
Shelagh knew that he was masking a serious question behind his tease. “Very fond memories that I most look forward to… repeating.” She broke from his grasp and smiled brightly at him. “There are also new memories that I very much look forward to making.”
Groaning, Patrick stood from the bed to take her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. “If we stay in this bed much longer, or if you tell me what memories you want to make, we’ll have to move the wedding from midnight back to half-past nine and you’ll never make it back to your lodgings.”
Shelagh looked at her watch before dipping her head in a grin. “I have no set plans for the rest of the evening...”
Patrick laughed, tugging on her hand until she stood and embraced him. He kissed the top of her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
His voice was gentle and teasing. Shelagh grinned. She leaned against her husband-to-be and looked around the bedroom, imagining the future that she would share with him there. “Love me,” she whispered, burrowing into his embrace.
“I do.”
-end