A THOUSAND THOUSAND TIMES, AND MORE

April 7th. Joimus smiled, looking at the calendar. It was the 4th anniversary of her and Maximus' wedding. She thought back over all they had been through in the three years before that, the places they had been, the things they had suffered. And since. Yes, it had not been easy since, either. Yet there was always the one thing that mattered. She loved him with her entire heart and being, as he did her.

He came up behind her while she was still lost in thought, sliding his arms around her waist, resting his chin atop her head. "Where were you?" he asked softly.

She settled her body back against his, enjoying as always the feel of his strength. "I was going through the years."

"The years?"

"Um hmmm. The years of you and me."

"Will you marry me?"

She laughed lightly, turning in his arms. "A thousand thousand times, and more." Pressing her face into his chest, she listened to his heart. "Since Alistair," she said quietly, "since all that Ahnna has been through this past week, I...."

With the side of his forefinger he tipped her chin so he could see her eyes. "I cherish you all the more," she continued. "All the more."

"I understand," he replied, his eyes roaming her face. "To come so very near to losing the beloved...."

Her arms went around his back, holding on. "You are everything to me, everything."

"And I am here and well and you are in the circle of my arms."

"Happy Anniversary, my love," she whispered, lifting her lips for his kiss.

His reply was to scoop her in his arms and carry her up to their bedroom, carefully closing the door behind them with his boot. Cort was out riding the fencelines. They were quite alone in the house. He lay her on their bed and stood a moment, looking down at her. It was late in the afternoon and she had just bathed after her day at the Greenery, was wearing a filmy white dressing gown, having intended on putting on something else shortly. The curve of her breasts, hips, thighs were clearly outlined as she lay quietly, her eyes on his face.

After seven years she still could not get enough of the way he looked at her and when he knelt and curved a hand over her thigh, she loved the look of his strong, tanned fingers against the white of her gown. He was completely, utterly male and all her femininity rose up her core as she beheld him. His hand moved, sliding up the hem of her gown, and she gasped at his touch. He smiled, resting his cheek on her stomach, looking himself as his hand moved up her leg, something in him still in wonder that he had the rights he did, smiling more as her thighs parted to welcome him. Lifting his head, he used his left hand to push the light material still further up, revealing her torso which he began to cover with his kisses, then tracing little paths across it with the tip of his tongue. Easily, the loose gown slipped entirely off and she lay revealed to him, his wife, his beloved. Still kneeling beside the bed, he loved her, his hands and mouth moving over every part of her as she arched and moaned beneath his sure touch.

Then she lay there, watching, as he stood and let his own clothes fall to the carpet. Soon he was beside her on the bed and they loved again as two will who know well the depths of passion and of sorrow, of joy and of pain, of togetherness and separation, of the nearness of loss and the unutterable happiness of being joined. They rested there a long while in that peace where words were too lacking to utter, where they had become unnecessary in the presence of such oneness.

After a time, he led her by the hand to their private bathroom and as he leaned against the inside of the large tub, she sat between his legs and he soaped her breasts and kissed her neck and loved her again.

They dressed together, just in comfortable slacks and shirts, then padded barefoot down to the kitchen where she had a dinner all prepared in the refrigerator that just needed sliding into the oven to warm. She lit candles, lots of candles, wanting only their light this evening. He poured wine, sitting at the table, watching her move about the kitchen, the candlelight reflecting on the curve of his glass and in his eyes.

Joimus lifted a package off a side table, setting it in front of him with a smile. "For me?" he asked and she nodded silently. The box was wrapped in metallic copper-colored paper and tied with a wide chocolate brown ribbon. He slid the ribbon off the edges without untying it and opened the package, lifting out an entirely unusual sculpture.

 

As he held it in his hands, turning it slowly, she explained that it was a mixture of bronze, crystal, and amethyst. "It was just so...different. I wanted something equine for you and this just caught my eye with its uniqueness." She smiled at him. "Unique...as you are unique."

"It looks like it is rising out of something, being formed somehow from the elements of the earth," he commented.

"That, too, made me think of you, of the way you rub the soil between your palms, as though you are creating the answer to your request from the substance of your reality."

"Thank you, my darling," he said, rising and setting the sculpture in the center of the table. He kissed her then went to a tall cabinet and brought back two packages wrapped in creamy yellow with white ribbons.

She sat down to open them, picking up the smaller package first. Inside lay an exquisite powder jar. "Limoges," she recognized instantly, for she was a collector of antique hand-painted china.

 

 

"!894," he said. "Not very old, really, but when I saw the yellow roses, I knew it must be yours."  He pushed the second, larger box closer to her. "Now this."

Inside was a plate, also Limoges, and older than the powder jar. "I cannot resist light yellow roses," he grinned, "not when they speak to me of you."

 

Setting the plate down, she came around behind his chair, sliding her arms about his neck. "Will you marry me, Maximus Decimus Meridius?"

"A thousand thousand times, and more," he whispered, pulling her around and down onto his lap.