The Happy Marriage of Rosannah Winthrop (Completed)

Ch 17 - St Luke's

Copyright to VedaPettigrew

Rosannah woke up to Henry pulling her tightly against him and placing a kiss on the side of her neck. "Good morning my love. Six days to go," he murmured in her ear.

They had started counting the days until they departed to Amblethorpe. Henry had been working very hard to make sure that he would have nothing to keep him in London, desperately wanting some time alone before they were invaded by their guests.

"Hmmm," she agreed, not really up for speaking so soon after waking.

"I have a question for you wife. Nay, actually two questions," he lovingly stroked the riotous curls away from her face.

"Hmmm?"

"Why do you dislike Lady Enderly so deeply?"

Rosannah's sleepy nature abandoned her immediately. She was not expecting that. She turned and looked up at her husband, squinting against the morning light. How had she slept so late that the curtains were open already?

"Why do you ask that?" While it was true that she had spoken to him of an inability to warm to the lady, the full truth of it had remained within her.

He grinned down at her still stroking her hair, "I watch you."

Her mouth curved upwards of its own accord.

"I know you," he smiled smugly, still showing his pride of having 'caught the most outstanding prize in all the land' as he reminded her with regularity.

She tucked away her pleasure at being that prize, putting in her secret store that was full to overflowing, and focussed on the question.

"It is not that I dislike her..." she started to say but one haughty quirk of his brow made her stop, giggle, and then change her argument. "Very well, I confess I do not like at her at all." She pursed her lip and frowned a little, teasing her husband, "Does that satisfy Your Grace?"

He bent his head and brought his lips to hers, but not before she saw the curve on the outer edge of his lips.

He returned to his position above her, "Yes, I prefer honesty, especially in the marriage bed. This is the one place we can be free of all expectations and true only to each other."

She puffed out some air through her lips and rolled her eyes, "So serious Greyson. I know how much you value that, for I too feel that way. You do not need to remind me so often, I am not the old one more likely to lose one's memory you know," she teased.

He growled at her, making her giggle once more. "I am not that old, you fair-faced tormentor."

She smirked at him and lifted her hand to smooth out imaginary wrinkles, "There, now your face matches your words.

She tried to hold in her snickers as she dived under the sheets to hide from her husband, which of course was useless. He ripped back the sheet and loomed over her, holding her hands above her head and sitting gently over her hips.

"You are in serious trouble wife," he put both of her wrists in one hand. She tried to wriggle free but without any success which made his expression smug. He tutted, a smirk on his lips, "You delight in your teases, wife. Now it is my turn, but instead of words, I shall use my fingers."

With that he immediately started tickling her, which she both loved and hated. Trying desperately to escape while he made her breathless with laughter, she was glad he always seemed to know her limits, allowing her breath betwixt the assaults.

"I yield, I yield," she called when she could take no more. Immediately he stopped, looking down at her with one expectant eyebrow. "You are the vision of youthfulness and splendour," she said in mock serious tones. "I am sorry to have indicated otherwise."