Together on Ecarte Island

The Ache

Gilbert stood up, and felt feverish. He had never satisfied his desire with any woman that he could say he loved to any real degree. And now here was the one human that fulfilled all concepts of love for him, except for the one she asked from him now.
Violet was the girl at the opposite end of the spectrum, mute and illiterate girl who would stop at nothing to be able to speak and read just to enjoy his favorite boyhood novels, the girl who faced death for FOUR years by his side, only to be almost completely destroyed in that gods forsaken cathedral, and then refused to give up until she could return to his side once more. You do not deserve to be given her last vestige  of female innocence.  She has given you all else. . .oh gods, help me. . .
Violet stayed silent, staring straight ahead, no longer sobbing, but breathing shakily. She would wait right there forever for him if he demanded it of her.
Gilbert sat beside her, then said, "I am not going to reject you."
     Violet looked at him. "Thank you. I would not be able to bear it." she replied simply.
     Gilbert nodded, believing her at this point.  There was a hard lump in his throat he needed to swallow and couldn't. He wasn't even this nervous (not to mention excited) the first time he had ever been with a woman at the age of 2o, and that was with a girl who had loved Dietfried long before,  but was rejected. Gilbert had merely been the replacement, a rather poor one, at that. Who might be a replacement for him if he rejected her?  This thought brought a shock of possessive anger he did not realize was even there before.
     "Do you need to ask any questions about it?" Gilbert ventured nervously and almost laughed.  These were the same words he used while teaching her literacy, the same he used in the classroom now.  Oh, gods help me. . .
     Violet answered by standing and moving in front of him, between his knees. She silently removed his jacket, then nimbly opened the collar of his shirt, exposing the flesh at the precise area where he had kissed her in the schoolroom.  She dipped her head and laid her lips there and kissed. . . no, tasted him.  Every nerve in his body leaped, and his mouth watered.  Oh. . . gods. . .
     Violet then lifted her head, the light floral scent of her conditioning hair oil lingering on him.  She gazed down at his upturned face, as yet another tear escaped down her flushed cheek.   Gilbert  caught it on his lips in a kiss just before it dripped off her delicate jawline. It was warm and salty like the sea they woke up to every new morning.  How could he have denied this girl this simple comfort for so long? How could he have denied this pleasure to himself? 
     Gilbert then moved to her slightly parted mouth, and tasted her lips.  He was sure to go slowly so that she might learn this art which was unknown to her.  Just as he had taught her to speak with her mouth, he must now teach its use in the act of loving him.
It was difficult not to let passion just take over, but Violet was so trusting of him and him alone. Impatience leading to lustful vulgarity, simply would not do. Besides, Violet was no stranger to such vulgar assaults from men during the war. Such men met early ends, but not before another bit of humanity was ripped from this girl for payment.
After a long moment, Gilbert broke their series of soft kisses and the emerald brooch at Violet's throat stared at him. He remembered Violet choosing it among the other street vender's stones because of his eye color, which had enthralled her.
"As a gift, I'll get you a brooch with a REAL emerald."
Violet stepped away from him and clutched the brooch and adamantly shook her head. "No!" she cried, softly, her eyes wide. "This one is all I will ever want. No."
Gilbert smiled. "Alright, my darling. I will put it out of my mind completely, if you wish."
     Violet paused, but then let go of the brooch and reached for his left hand and held it lovingly against her cheek.  Gilbert's heart wretched, and although his body also ached as hers did, he knew that taking her completely as a lover would be a momentous task he certainly did not want to rush her into. He could always wait a bit longer until she was ready.
     "Marry me, Violet," he said softly, watching her face carefully.  "There is no use but to be completely mine now and for me to be completely yours."
     Her hands slightly tightened on his.  Her great ocean blue eyes shiny in the golden lamplight .
     "I will be truly yours as your wife?" she asked barely above a whisper.
     "Yes. If you will accept me as a very flawed man who cannot give you all that you deserve, nor take away the past, but will try to make you happy from this moment on."
     "Yes, I will be your wife, Gilbert Baugainvillea ." Violet answered, leaning in and kissing his mouth. She was learning very quickly.
"You need some sleep now." Gilbert said after a long time quietly holding her, stealing kisses on the top of her head, as if she were still a child, taking in her scent, finding comfort in her weight against him.
He made a move to leave her, but Violet's hold gently tightened. "Please." she pleaded, burying her face against his neck her breath catching. "Please, stay with me. I want to wake and have you at my side."
"Or else you fear it was all just a dream?" he asked against her hair.
"Yes," He felt her nod. "But more over. . . Being separated may not be safe for either of us."
Gilbert sighed and chuckled. Ever the practical Violet.