Interlude - 6. Chapter 6

His hair smelled of spring rain as it fell forward over his eyes as he pressed his lips against mine. His tongue tasted faintly of the sweet red wine we had shared moments earlier. I slid my tongue along his, savoring that lingering taste as it combined with the even headier taste of him. I entwined the fingers of one hand in his hair. It was still damp from the sudden shower that had caught us as we had stood on the balcony, watching the lightning on the horizon. He had swirled me around in his arms, the two of us laughing like children as the rain drenched us both. Then, when the heavens opened up and the rain came in torrents, we had both run inside, discarding our wet clothes on the floor. We had sipped the sweet red wine in front of the fireplace, the wine warming us within as the fire warmed us without.

His hands were on my shoulders, his fingers gently kneading then caressing my skin. I caressed the back of his neck with my other hand and sighed against his lips. He pulled back for a moment and looked down at me, a slow smile curling his lips and lighting his eyes. They were green. Not the green of an emerald. Not a cliched green. They were a dark green, almost going to blue, but not quite. And as I looked up into them I felt myself falling into them, felt the world around me falling away.

He raised one of his dark brows quizzically and turned his head slightly, just enough so I would feel the tug where my fingers still tangled in his hair. I let go with a start, my senses returning to me. I hadn’t realized I had been holding his hair in such a death-like grip! His smile turned to a grin and he leaned down and kissed my nose teasingly. “If you keep doing that I am going to cut it all off,” he said softly.

I matched his grin. “Then how will I make sure you don’t get away?” He disdained any pretense at fashion and wore his hair long, unpowdered. A single ribbon was all that held his curls in check. That ribbon had long since been cast to the floor. I loved to play with his hair, to run my fingers through the curls, to wind them around my fingers. And in the heat of passion I knew I often gripped too hard, pulled on those soft curls. But he never complained, not once. He would just look at me with those green eyes of his and raise that one brow.

Those eyes… they owned me, owned my soul—as did he.

His smile faded and his face grew serious. He ran two fingers along the line of my cheek. He shook his head slightly and more curls fell over his eyes. “I could never get away—even if I wanted to. You are part of me, Desiree. As long as there is breath in me I could no more leave you than my soul could leave my body. Even in death my soul will cling to you until your soul is released from your body. Our souls are eternally linked, my love. Not even death can separate us.”

I felt tears slipping from the corner of my eyes. There was no way I would ever be able to comprehend most of what he said. He was a poet, a philosopher and I… I was merely his mistress. But I could feel the love behind his words, could feel the passion in him.

He kissed the tears from my eyes, his soft lips barely touching my skin. “Why the tears, my angel?” His voice was as soft as his lips.

I put my hands on his cheeks, feeling the slight roughness of his unshaven skin. I smiled, knowing that the reason he was unshaven was because he had spent last night and most of this morning in my bed. “Because I love you, Armand” I whispered, more tears slipping from my eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, and that same dark brow questioned. “And loving me makes you cry?”

My hands still held his cheeks, and my thumbs brushed over his lips—lips that seemed almost too soft to be real. I nodded. The love I felt for him welled up inside me, overflowing, taking speech from me.

He looked at me for a moment, looked at me with his green eyes. They were not the green of an emerald—no, they were not a clichéd green. They were a dark green, almost going to blue, but not quite. They searched my eyes, searched inside my soul. He nodded slowly, as if he had found what he had sought, had seen all that my soul contained—and now had perfect comprehension of me. “I understand, my sweet one. Only when one loves absolutely can one feel absolute fear. I, too, feel that fear, my angel. I fear that my happiness, my absolute joy must fly in the face of god.”

I caught my breath, because he had perfectly expressed what I was feeling. As usual, he had words when I had could only manage silence. I loved him more than life, more than God himself. And I feared losing him more than I feared death, more than I feared God. It was my love and my fear that poured from my eyes. And he had seen both things clearly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, looking for a moment much too serious, far more serious than I had ever seen him look. “I love you, Desiree. You must never forget that. And the day I do not tell you how much, the day I do not show you how deeply, will be the day that I will die.”

I slipped my hands around to the back of his neck as his lips met mine. His kiss was tender at first, but held a warmth, a heat that inflamed my body. I parted my lips slightly, offering him an invitation. His tongue accepted, slipping inside my mouth, hungrily seeking my tongue. I tasted only him now, and he was far more intoxicating than any wine.

I heard him moan slightly as he moved to cover my body with his. He pressed his lips against my neck and I could feel how hot his breath had become. My skin burned where his lips touched. His tongue moved in little circles as it moved its way from my neck to my shoulder.

I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his back, as I arched my back slightly, pressing my hips up against him. My body shuddered with desire for him, desired kindled by the scent of him, the feel of him, the taste of him… All my senses cried out for him. I moaned deeply as his tongue licked around the outside of my nipple. I closed my eyes and just let the heat spread through me as he took my nipple into his mouth and sucked softly. He chuckled softly as he pulled away slightly, his teeth tugging gently. He slipped his hand between my legs, massaging me gently with his palm. I instinctively parted my thighs, offering him unrestricted access to anything that pleased him.

He flicked his tongue lightly over my nipple then traced a path down between my breasts, over my stomach. I shivered and giggled slightly as his tongue tickled my skin—so light was its touch. He paused to run his tongue in a circle around my navel, each pass sending shivers up my spine. My fingers found his hair as he found that sensitive area between my legs. I gasped, my fingers winding themselves in his curls, as his tongue teased me to arousal. Waves of heat spread upwards through my body and downwards through my legs. I felt as though my entire body were being consumed by flames. I moaned deeply, and even to my own ears it sounded like it came from the center of my being.

“Desiree, my one and only love…” he whispered against my skin. His tongue slowly slipped downward, sliding gently inside me. I quivered with desire, raising my hips up, trying to push his tongue deeper inside me. He slipped his hands around me, his fingers kneading my bottom gently as he held me as he pulled his tongue from me and thrust it back inside me. My hips instinctively bucked up against him, trying to force his thrusts, but he denied me that… pulled his tongue from me completely. I heard myself whimper and heard him laugh softly. “My angel of delight… you are as sweet to my tongue as honey from the hive.” He kissed my lips, offering me a taste of that honey still clinging to his tongue.

I wrapped my legs around him, raising myself up to him, my body begging for what I knew was to come. Gently… more gently than I could ever imagine a man could be… he pushed his swollen manhood inside me. I caught my breath as my body reacted to the size of him. He was the only man I had ever known… but I had seen works of the great masters… I knew him to be generously endowed. But had I been completely ignorant, I would have known no less—for he filled me completely, touching every nerve ending, igniting each one as he slid inside me.

He let out a deep moan—almost a groan—as he began thrusting into me. The fingers of my one hand were tangled in his hair, the coolness of the damp curls soothing the heat within me that reached even to the tips of those fingers. My other hand pressed against the small of his back, providing me with leverage as I raised myself up to meet his thrusts. He leaned down for a moment, his lips brushing against my neck, moaning my name softly against my skin. His hair fell against my cheek, cooling, soothing, while his hot breath burned my neck. I felt my breaths matching his—short, hot, panting—as the pace of his thrusting increased. Every nerve in my body felt alive and hungry. I wanted more of him. I wanted him to bury himself deep inside me, wanted him to stay there forever, to become part of my body forever.

I felt my body tense then felt a wave of heat rippling through me, starting in my belly and spreading outward until it reached every muscle, every nerve. I could feel his body tense, his muscles quivering slightly, felt him thrust hard into me—then pause as his breath all but stopped, his body shuddering as he released his warm seed inside me. He all but collapsed on me, his body spent. I ran my free hand up his back, feeling the cool sweat on his skin. He withdrew himself from me slowly, as if he were reluctant to break that connection. I sighed deeply and closed my eyes. I could still feel him inside me. I could still feel his lips brushing my skin, could still feel his tongue massaging me. I could feel the ghost of his touch everywhere.

After a moment, I opened my eyes and saw him watching me, smiling, one dark brow quizzical. I smiled as my eyes met his. Oh, and they were so very green! Not the green of an emerald. Not a clichéd green. They were a dark green, almost going to blue, but not quite. I slowly untangled my fingers from his hair. “Ah, my poor Armand… by the time you are old and grey…”

“…I won’t have a hair left on my head—you will have pulled them all from me!” we both laughed as he finished my thought.

**

His hair fell over his eyes as he turned his head in his sleep. It was a fitful sleep, broken by the fever that consumed him. I leaned down and pressed my face against his hair. It was still so soft, though the black curls had long since turned grey. I inhaled deeply, catching the scent of spring rain that lingered in my memory. A tear came to my eye as I fancied I could almost taste the sweet red wine that had lingered on his tongue that afternoon.

So long ago… yet I could still hear our laughter, could still feel his tongue upon my skin, could still hear his words: “I love you, Desiree. You must never forget that. And the day I do not tell you how much, the day I do not show you how deeply, will be the day that I will die.” Today was the first day he had not said “I love you” to me. The fever held him so tightly in its grip, kept him silent, deep in unconsciousness.

My eyes brimmed with tears, and I let them fall, unchecked, let them fall upon his hair as the rain had fallen on us as he had swirled me in his arms. I touched his hair, feeling the dampness from my tears, remembering the dampness from that spring rain. I stood up and walked to the windows, opening them, stepping out onto that same balcony. The sun was setting. And soon the day would be done. “… the day I do not tell you how much, the day I do not show you how deeply, will be the day that I will die.”

“Desiree…” The voice was faint, barely audible. But I heard it…to me it sounded as clear and strong as it had when he had spoken my name for the very first time…

I hastened to his side, kneeling beside our bed, grateful for the new fashion that had done away with the cumbersome hoops. “Armand…” I put my hands on his cheeks, feeling the slight roughness of his unshaven skin. I smiled, remembering the many times he had missed his morning shave as he had lingered in my bed well into the afternoon.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me. His gaze was slightly unfocused, his spectacles lying carefully upon the bedstand. But they were still the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They were green. Not the green of an emerald. Not a clichéd green. They were a dark green, almost going to blue, but not quite.

And I could see them starting to dim. “Oh, my love, my Armand.” I gently entwined my fingers in his soft curls, tugging softly. “I will not let you get away, Armand.”

His lips turned up slightly… “…never get away… even if I wanted to.” He drew a ragged breath, and as that breath left his body I heard him whisper “Not even death…” I glanced at the window. The sun had set. The day was done. And my love was dead.

I closed my eyes and lay my head upon his still chest, my fingers still tangled in his hair.


A deep sense of sorrow filled me and I turned from it, tried to push it from me. But it surrounded me, isolated me from myself. I could no longer think or reason. I could only feel. Hot tears stung my eyes even as I felt a warmth surrounding me, even as I heard a voice whispering “Even in death my soul will cling to you until your soul is released from your body.” And I knew that soul clung to me now.