CHAPTER TWELVE #3
Constance was aware of the rain before she was aware of anything else, and that awareness filled her with a sort of tranquil contentment.
She liked rainy days of their own accord; but she also knew that, so long as the rain went on, Isabel had an excuse to linger.
It promised an easeful, happy day, with no obligations other than the basic needs of their bodies.
She normally liked to linger in bed when she could, drifting drowsily between sleep and wakefulness - but now Isabel was here, and she had something to look forward to when she roused herself properly. She opened her eyes.
Isabel was lying next to her, her elbow resting on the bolster and her head propped on her hand, watching Constance.
Her eyes were soft with early-morning serenity, eyelashes brushing her cheek every time she blinked; but there was something deeper and sadder in her gaze, something Constance couldn't identify.
Constance rolled onto her side so that they were face-to-face. "Hello there."
A smile slowly unfurled itself across Isabel's face.
"Hello." She reached out, hesitant; it was only when Constance smiled back and nodded that she let her fingers trail across Constance's bare shoulder.
Constance shivered a little, squirming closer until she was able to hook her ankle around Isabel's and drop a kiss on her forehead.
"Mmm," Isabel said. She leaned into the touch and Constance felt as though her heart would burst. This was the same Isabel who had cringed away from her touch, had insisted she was too cold for pleasure, had been so hesitant to let herself feel joy - and now here she was, arching into Constance's caresses like a cat.
Just for that, Constance ducked down to kiss her mouth as well: only a brief brush, but she felt Isabel melt into it, and her soul sang.
"Is Walter up yet?" she murmured, this time brushing her nose against Isabel's, dropping soft kisses along the pathway of skin from her mouth to her neck. "Or Peter?"
"I - hmm - don't think so." Isabel shivered a little as Constance kissed her shoulder. "There's been no sound from upstairs."
Constance brought her hand up to trail her fingertips along Isabel's side. "So we may linger here awhile, then."
"But -" Isabel's objection cut off with a soft gasp as Constance's mouth found her collarbone and bit down lightly, just below where the neckline of her dress would sit.
She'd meant it, when she'd said she wanted to leave marks for Isabel to remember her by.
"Bu-uuu-ut, surely there's work to be done. "
"None that won't keep for another half-hour." The hand that Constance had been using to stroke Isabel's side, she now brought up to cup one of her breasts. "And this is work, don't you think?"
"I d- I don't -" Isabel was laughing a little, breathless. "Do you mean to call it a chore?" The pitch of her voice arched upwards on the last syllable, as Constance rolled a nipple between two fingers.
"No," Constance said, taking pity on her and gentling her petting enough to let Isabel think straight. "I mean to say, I take the task to be a serious one. And I mean to do it well."
"Oh, well," Isabel said, hiccupping a giggle as Constance lay featherlight kisses on her neck. "You've - hm - you've no cause for concern on that front."
"I’m pleased to hear it," Constance said, then drew Isabel more fully into her arms and kissed her mouth again.
This kiss was different from the ones that had come before: this was a kiss with intent behind it.
She knew Isabel could feel it, for she pressed even closer - so close there was not an inch of light to be seen between their bodies - and sucked on Constance's tongue when Constance slipped it into her mouth.
She was a marvel, Constance thought, and pulled back just long enough to tell her so before ducking to kiss her neck.
Down across her collarbones and to her breasts, where she brushed her mouth against Isabel's skin again and again, kisses that were too light to do anything but tease but worked wonders to make Isabel flush and squirm.
She was enjoying her task so much, she neglected to take notice of the glint in Isabel's eye, or the meaning behind Isabel's hand creeping up to her shoulder until it was too late; with a laugh, Isabel pushed her until she was flat on her back, then sat up and swung a leg over her hips, straddling her.
"Oof!" The sound was more for effect than anything else, although the sudden addition of another person's weight on top of her had driven the breath from her lungs.
She grinned up at Isabel, who looked entirely too pleased with herself.
"Is this my thanks, then? For taking you in -" She slipped a hand around to squeeze her rear, making her jump and squeak, "-feeding you -" She ran her fingernails lightly up Isabel's thigh and watched her shiver, "giving you a bed for the night -" She hadn't yet decided what she was going to do next, but she never got the chance: Isabel caught her wrist and pinned it to the bed before she could move.
"This is not to your liking, then?" Her voice was teasing, but Constance could hear a genuine uncertainty lurking underneath.
Well, of course there was: she'd never known teasing like this, done without any intent other than to amuse them both.
Constance wriggled under Isabel until she was able to work her way up into a sitting position, and kissed her shoulder.
Isabel sighed, going soft and pliable in her arms.
"Bare to the skin with a beautiful woman in my lap, you mean?" Constance murmured against her neck. "It's very much to my liking. Is there anything you would like?"
Isabel nosed along her hairline, saying nothing, and Constance understood: she needed to gather her thoughts.
The fact that Constance was still raining kisses on her shoulder and neck was probably not helping in that regard, but oh well.
Isabel shifted her weight a little in Constance's lap, and Constance felt her inhale to speak. "If you -"
Whatever she had intended to say, Constance would never know.
At that precise moment, their peace was broken by a clatter from the room beyond, followed by a series of distinct thumps and a high, childish giggle.
Isabel raised her head, her gaze sharpening.
"Wh- that can't be Walter and Peter, can it? "
"Walter, certainly," Constance said. Isabel was already moving, clambering off of both her and the bed and rooting around on the floor for her shift.
"But I can't imagine how Peter would have gotten down those stairs - he hasn't managed it in months.
Perhaps if Walter woke before him and went wandering -"
Isabel, already in her shift, tossed Constance's shift to her; she caught it one-handed and pulled it on over her head.
Isabel scrambled for the door, with Constance not far behind her.
When she flung it open, she skidded abruptly to a halt.
Constance nearly collided with her back, and was obliged to stand on her toes to look over Isabel's shoulder and see what had so captured her attention.
Walter was, indeed, up: he was sitting at the foot of the stairs, still giggling to himself.
More shocking by far was the sight of Peter sitting on the bottom step beside him, maneuvering his crutch - the crutch that had sat untouched in the corner of his room for months - under his arm, then using his hand to brace himself against the wall as he rose to his feet.
Constance couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him upright without herself or Jack there to hold him.
She was aware, distantly, that her mouth was hanging open, but astonishment had claimed too much of her brain to leave her any wherewithal to close it.
"Oh," Peter said, glancing up to take in his audience. "You're up. Apologies - I didn't mean to wake you."
Being woken was rather the least of Constance's concerns. "How . . . ?"
"Mama!" Walter, upon noticing his mother, lurched to his feet and dashed over to her, fisting both hands in her skirt. Isabel bent to adjust his flyaway coif and smooth his hair. "Mama, go bump!"
Isabel's eyebrows knitted together. "Pardon?"
"Bump!" Walter repeated, and shook off his mother's hands to race back to the top of the stairs.
Situating himself at the top, legs extended straight outwards, he pushed off the edge and slid down to the main floor, jolting up in the air each time he hit the edge of a step.
If it hurt, he hardly seemed to mind: he was yelping with gleeful laughter all the way, finally collapsing in a heap at the bottom for a moment before getting up and running back to his mother.
Isabel picked him up, her expression still faintly baffled.
Constance looked at Peter. "That's how you both got downstairs?"
"Bumped," Walter confirmed from his mother's arms, still giggling.
"Ah," Peter said with a faint grimace. "With somewhat less enthusiasm than that - but yes. I threw the crutch down before me - I assume that's what woke you?"
"We were awake already," Isabel said. She caught Constance's eye and blushed. Constance could no more have stopped the silly grin that spread across her face then than she could have taken wing; but she did wish Peter's expression wasn't quite so smug as he looked between her and Isabel.
Walter tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Now Mama bump!" Constance experienced a brief vision of Isabel sliding down the stairs the way Walter had, and was obliged to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud.
"Breakfast first," Isabel said firmly. "And your hair wants combing." Walter pouted.