Chapter 23 #2
Lucien paused because, truthfully, he didn’t know how to end the story. He hadn’t had a real plan for where it was going, and apparently neither had Marianne because she looked at him, and she too seemed stumped.
“The two sat together for a very long while,” she said, “until it was becoming night again.”
Lucien nodded. “Yes, it was becoming night again, and because the two of them had the same destination, they decided to ride together for a time. They decided that they would split the treasure once they found it. So they got on their horses and continued to ride, their eyes cast up at the sky, looking for another falling star that might drop in the same place as the previous one.”
“And they rode and rode,” Marianne said, “all night long, and then finally another star fell.”
Henry opened his eyes. “I know the end.”
“Do you?” Lucien asked.
“Yes. The star fell right on top of where they were. Because the real treasure was in finding each other so that they could go adventuring together forevermore, because they both wanted the same thing, and they would be great friends,” he said.
Marianne looked at Lucien, and he blinked at her. It was the perfect ending to the story. It wasn’t the ending he would’ve chosen. In fact, he had planned to say that at the end of the path, they eventually did find the treasure, but Henry seemed very pleased with his version.
“That is a very nice end to the story,” Marianne agreed. “The princess and the prince became great friends, and they spent the rest of their lives riding together, searching for falling stars and treasures all over the world.”
Henry smiled and nuzzled against Marianne’s shoulder.
She wrapped her arm around him, and eventually, Henry fell asleep.
Marianne and Lucien looked at one another, and he realized just how intimate the situation was they were in—the same bed with the little boy between them, both of them bound by a mutual love for Henry.
It was dangerous, he knew that. But right now, what mattered was Henry, what he wanted.
And he wanted Marianne here. And the truth was, Lucien, did too.
He cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, he saw that Marianne’s eyes had closed and she had fallen asleep.
He got up and maneuvered one of the blankets in such a way that she was covered, then he returned to bed.
He flung his arm across them all so that it covered both Henry and Marianne.
His hand rested on the small of her back, and the feeling was so tender, so beautiful that he decided to allow himself— just for one night—the pleasure of her company.
Marianne’s eyes blinked open. It was later, and she was a bit disoriented.
She did not know where she was at all. Then she felt it.
A hand on her back. Her eyes got used to the darkness quickly, and she remembered where she was—in Henry’s room.
The moonlight was filtering through the windows because they hadn’t closed the curtains.
The space next to her was empty. Henry wasn’t there anymore.
Instead, Lucien was there. He had moved into the middle and was holding her close.
It was a sensation that was beyond description, but it lasted only a moment because she realized Henry wasn’t there.
She sat up partially, Lucien’s arm slipping down to her waist. Then she saw Henry.
He was still in bed, but at the bottom of the mattress, curled up like a cat.
She gently moved Lucien’s arm and crawled down beside him.
She pressed the back of her hand on Henry’s forehead.
The fever had broken. He was no longer ill, or at least he was not gravely so.
She pondered pulling him back up between them, but he looked so peaceful and relaxed that she simply covered him with a blanket, placed a pillow under his head, and then returned to the spot where she had been sleeping.
What was the right thing to do, she wondered?
Should she return to her own chamber and sleep there?
But what if Henry woke in the night and was looking for her and Lucien?
What would it mean to him if she simply disappeared?
She had felt the closeness between them grow as they told the story, and especially when Henry had finished it for them.
She had seen the tenderness in Lucien’s eyes. And he had hugged her. That couldn’t have been a mistake. He couldn’t have mistaken her for Henry. He wouldn’t have wrapped his arm all the way around to her side of the bed if he had meant to simply hug Henry. Would he?
Marianne realized that if she got up and left, she would give up an opportunity. Something to really bring them together.
And so she crawled back to the top of the bed and lay down on the pillow.
“Marianne,” Lucien whispered. “Is Henry all right?”
“He is,” she whispered back. “The fever has broken.”
“Good,” he said. “Very good.” And then he lifted up the blanket to let her crawl underneath it with him.
He settled it gently over her and then placed his arm over her again, pulling her close.
Her chest was pressed against his, and her right leg slipped between his two legs as if of its own volition.
She wrapped her arm around his back, and he kissed her forehead.
A hot flush went over her as her hand curled, and she grabbed the back of his shirt between her fingers.
With his free hand, he tipped up her chin so they were nose to nose, and then at last he kissed her.
It was a gentle kiss, not one that demanded anything, but one that was still filled with tenderness.
She swallowed hard and let go of his shirt, placing her hand on his cheek instead.
She felt his stubble on the palm of her hand as he kissed her again.
It ended as quickly as it had begun, but he didn’t move away. He simply removed his lips from hers, but remained so close that she felt his breath on her cheek.
“You are wonderful,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “Thank you for being there for him. For me.”
“You are my family now,” she whispered, knowing that this was treacherous territory.
They weren’t meant to be a family, but still, it felt like it.
He pulled her closer and scooted upward a little so that her head could rest against his shoulder.
Before she knew it, his breathing was even again, his chest rising and falling against her head.
And she simply lay there for a few minutes, enjoying his nearness before she fell asleep.