Chapter 35 #2
She felt the urgency in his lips, the ardent passion that had been denied for so long.
This time there was no chance for either of them to step away, and the kiss was filled with such vibrancy that it could never be ignored or forgotten.
Lydia felt his hands cupping her face, and then his chest pressed against hers.
His heartbeat was so fierce, it thumped against her, and the sound of it reverberated into her mind, drowning out everything else.
Victor’s lips were firm and warm and sweet.
They crashed into hers, and the more they kissed, the more it felt as though misunderstandings and the hurts between them were being stripped away.
Things like propriety, things like hesitation, things like doubt.
All of these and more were being shed like autumn leaves.
She was exposed, vulnerable. All the deep aspects of her soul were being shown to him, and he was delving inside them, his feelings reaching where his lips and fingers could not.
They were breathless and trembling. Victor’s hand ran around the back of her neck while hers draped over his shoulders.
He squeezed tight, and she felt a great sense of relief as they kissed, for this love was a salve for her soul and was exactly what she needed after missing John.
It had been delayed, but as had been evidenced by Agatha and Theodore, love was always sweet even if it took a lifetime to arrive.
For a moment they broke apart to catch their breath. Victor’s hand was against her cheek. His breaths were hot and heavy, rolling against her mouth and cheeks, warmer than the Florence sun.
“I love you, Lydia. I want to give you everything you desire. I need you,” he said.
“I love you too, Victor. I’m sorry that things got so muddled between us.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. It was all my fault. I should have been more forthcoming, about Harry and Juliet… about everything.”
They kissed again. Victor’s hand fell from her cheek to join his other at her waist. They spun around and moved towards the bed. Lydia’s head was filled with a dizzying sensation, and her eyes sparkled, as though the stars had fallen from the sky and now resided there.
“Were you really upset about losing John?” she whispered.
Victor bowed his head and nodded. His forehead rested against hers. Their lips were barely inches apart.
“I was. I came to think of him as my own. I had visions of him growing up in our house, teaching him everything I know, and learning so much from him.”
“You were a wonderful father to him.”
“In the end,” he whispered.
Lydia smiled.
“And you were the most amazing mother. I’m sure that Juliet will adore him, but I would not have chosen anyone but you.”
“Victor… if we are to move forward like this, then you must understand that I want a family. Is that something you desire as well?”
“Yes,” he said without delay. “I have lived too much of my life alone. I have seen how grand life can be surrounded by a big family, and I would like to have siblings who can rely on each other as you rely on Charlotte and Edmund. I want to fill the house with laughter and joy and baby’s cries. We have enough room after all.”
Lydia bore a dreamy smile as he spoke the words that she had always longed to hear.
As she stared at him, she realized that the love she felt was far stronger than the love she dreamed.
This was no fancy, bubbling love affair that she read about in her stories but something deep and profound.
It filled all of her being and made her stronger.
It was a tangible thing, and it made her greater than she had ever been before.
All of her illusions about love had been dispelled, but they had been replaced by something superior.
Her romantic nature was still indulged, but she was glad she had something real. Victor might not have been the kind of man she would have chosen to love, but he was the man love had chosen for her.
“Then let us have a dozen,” Lydia said. Victor chuckled.
“I may need to purchase a new property,” he said wryly.
He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her temples, her cheeks, then her lips again.
It was a sweet, deep kiss which reached down to her very soul and gripped it in a fervor.
She trembled all over. Her toes curled, and she felt as though she was floating.
“That is if we even stay in Brighton or England. If you wish it, I will stay here with you forever,” he breathed.
“That will not be possible,” she replied. The color drained from his cheeks, and he looked bemused. Lydia felt guilty for being so devilish although she could not resist the opportunity. “We must return to London in six months at least. We cannot miss the wedding.”
Victor smiled then threw back his head and laughed.
It was a rich sound that flowed out redolently in the air.
His entire body shook, and because they were standing so close to each other, Lydia’s body shook as well.
She laughed too in glee and joy and relief, and in one fell swoop, all of the melancholy was swept away from her soul like the winter chill that was melted away by the spring sun.
Victor pulled Lydia dangerously close and then grazed her lips again.
“So, we have six months,” he whispered.
“Six months when I can show you how much I feel in here.” He touched his chest. Lydia smiled and touched her own chest as well, remembering briefly something her mother had said once.
Then all thoughts were driven from her mind as Victor hungrily kissed her once more.
He lifted Lydia in the air. She wrapped herself around him as his hands ran along the material of her plain skirt.
They spun in the air and fell onto the bed.
It creaked under their weight, and while the rest of the inn celebrated, Lydia and Victor claimed their marriage and each other behind their closed door.