Page 159 of The King's Man
He opened one eye and gave a sleepy smile. Despite her exhaustion, she felt a warm glow in the pit of her stomach.
‘You can sleep in the bed or on the floor,’ she said, ‘but not on top of the bed.’
‘In the bed sounds good.’
He pulled himself up and divested himself of the remainder of his clothes before sliding under the covers next to Thamsine.
The rain continued to lash at the windows as Thamsine curled up against her husband. She ran a hand through the soft hairs on his chest still not quite believing that he lived.
‘You keep doing that and I’ll forget how tired I am,’ he murmured sleepily.
‘You can’t even begin to imagine what I … how…?’
He laid a finger across her lips. ‘Please, Tham, there will be time enough for questions in the morning. Now, stop talking and either go to sleep or kiss me.’
She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, locking him to her. As their lips touched, the weeks of unspent grief and loneliness poured out of her. He held her close, kissing her hair, letting the tears subside before he turned her face towards him and they kissed again. Kit drew her toward him, and she fell asleep with her head in the curve of his shoulder.
Chapter 58
Rain still splattered against the windows in the light of a grey dawn. Thamsine woke with a start from a blood-stained nightmare and lay disoriented, trying to still her racing heart and remember the identity of the person in the bed beside her.
As memory returned she turned to look down at her sleeping husband. His unshaven face lay turned towards her on the bolsters. Even in the murky light, she could make out every feature. He seemed thinner, his eyes sunken. And if she had any doubts about what he had endured, the dark stain that still marred his neck told its own story. It had been true. They had hanged him. For a moment she thought she would be sick at the thought of the terror he must have faced.
With shaking fingers she touched the marks, letting her fingers brush the curve of his jaw. One eye opened and a slow smile twitched the corners of his mouth.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Just seeing that you were real and not some avenging spirit … ’ she said.
For a moment he didn’t move, just looked at her as she stroked his cheek and traced the curve of his mouth and the length of his nose.
‘I assure you I am quite real,’ he said, clasping her wrist and rolling himself onto his back, pulling her with him.
She kissed his nose, her lips travelling down his unshaven face, the bruised neck, down his hard, lean body.
‘Tham … ’ he murmured, but she silenced him with a kiss.
There was no urgency in the passion of the morning. No grief, regrets or pain to expunge. Just a love rediscovered and renewed.
As the house began to stir behind the closed door, Thamsine lay curled in his arms.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.
‘I was thinking that it was probably time we got up. Some matters need urgent attention this morning.’
Such as two corpses to give proper burials, Thamsine thought. She raised her eyes and touched the bruising on his neck.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’
He swallowed.
‘Thurloe kept his word but not until he had me on the gallows,’ he said. ‘They tell me if he had left it another minute I would have been dead.’ He took a shuddering breath and she held him closer. ‘It’s over now, Tham. As far as the Commonwealth of England is concerned, Christopher Lovell is dead.’
She looked away, fighting back the tears. ‘Too cruel,’ she said. ‘It’s been four weeks. Why didn’t you send me word?’
He stroked her hair. ‘You don’t die at the end of a noose and then expect everything to be as it was. I needed time to recover, and by the time I could function again, I had convinced myself that you were better off without me.’
She pushed him away and sat bolt upright, her eyes blazing.
