The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Six

"Don't go," Philip groaned. "Stay with me."

Sarah swatted playfully at his hand as his arm snaked around her middle. She was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on her stockings, and Philip was being none too helpful.

"You know I must," she replied.

"It's still dark," Philip pointed out.

"Yes, and we must leave while it remains dark, or we shall be seen," she reminded him. As soon as the sun began to creep over the horizon, and the very faintest light appeared, others would be up and moving around the corridors. Before then, she would need to make sure her things - what little she had that could rightly be called hers - were packed for the move to Whitehall.

The bed creaked as Philip shifted to sit by her. As she bent to pull on her shoes, he bent to kiss the side of her neck.

"I adore you," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

Sarah exhaled shakily, trying not to let him see her shiver in delight. It would be all too easy to let him persuade her to stay, and that would be imprudent.

Sliding off of the bed, she turned to face her husband. Gently, she cupped his face in her hands. Sitting on the bed, he only had to look up slightly to meet her gaze, given the pronounced height difference between them. Sarah tried to find the comedy in the moment, but her heart was too full.

"And I you," she whispered.

Even in the darkness, her lips found his easily.  It felt natural now.  Never before had she felt connected to someone so perfectly, so completely. For the first time, she understood what the Bible said in Genesis: that husband and wife truly became one.

She was quiet for a moment, feeling too much to say. Philip's arms tightened around her waist as she stood before him.

"Come see me as soon as you may," he breathed. "Even if it's just so I might look upon you again. I shall count the seconds until I see you."

"Philip..." Sarah sighed, though her cheeks warmed at the praise. "Don't be sentimental." It would only make this more difficult.

"I can't help it," he said miserably. "You are my wife. 'T isn't natural for us to be parted."

Sarah bit her lip, and rested her brow against his. "Promise me you'll try to cheer up Bess," she said softly.

As intensely as she loved Philip, she cared for Bess just as strongly, only in a different way. After years of not seeing her family, she felt closer to Bess than she felt even to her own blood-sisters. She had tried not to think of how painful it would be to part from her.

"And I want you to remember everything funny that happens this week," she added, "so you can tell me the next time I see you."  He could always make her laugh, even with a story that would have been dull in anyone else's recounting.

Rubbing her back softly, Philip replied, "I will. I promise."

He helped her finish dressing. Sarah tried not to notice that his fingers were fumbling. A part of her didn't mind that he was taking too long.

Without needing to see it or think about it, Sarah plaited her hair and rolled it into a chignon. Philip helped her to find the hairpins that had been discarded and scattered the previous night. When her hair was secure, they stole a few more kisses, quick and firm, and full of promises that they could not bring themselves to say. Finally, Sarah pulled herself away. 

"Just stay a moment more," Philip asked, catching her wrist.  "Let us pray together."

Though Sarah was stunned and touched by this offer, she found herself nodding.  Tenderness and affection toward him swelled in her throat and prevented her speech.