Hephaestus "entered Chloris' box" Burke (igni) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-02-14 21:00:00 |
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It took him a few good seconds to notice the candles. Rows between Mr and Mrs Burke were not unheard of, nor were they particularly unpleasant. This one, however, stung especially hard, for he was returned from unlawful incarceration and they were new parents again, yet -- in his eyes! -- Chloris seemed far more interested in maintaining the plans she'd fallen back on during his time away. This bothered Hephaestus. It bothered him that she had been putting so much time and effort into business (business! that one thing he'd wasted most of his life on, so his family wouldn't have to later on), and that she'd allowed it to significantly alter her schedule so that their children were left wondering why mamma wasn't coming to dinner, and her husband feeling as though the universe had played some mean-spirited joke on him. All this exasperated him, like some chafing wound whose sting would not let up -- all this, and that was without the added factor of Etienne. And so the past few days had been grey ones indeed. Grey weather, grey mood. The new-found energy that had slowly increased day by day by day since his return was suddenly gone, and he was left weary and silent and capable of only watching his sons as they took their beloved ponies around the corral. Today's routine would've been the same, only their grandmother had laid claim to them, and so the Saturday was a quiet one; not entirely restful -- for what husband could find respite in the guest suite of his own house? -- but dully, almost heavily placid. And it was maddening. It drove him to the stables, where he took over the grooming of several of their horses; to the nursery, where his daughters were rocked and whispered to; and later to his office, which he had barely set foot in since November, where he remained until early evening. It was from there that he returning from, the irregular pattern of footfall and the tap of his cane sounding louder than he thought was normal. Then there was silence as he came to a complete stop, brows furrowed as he frowned in brief confusion at the sight of candles upon candles -- candles that trailed each other, marking a path from... where? Chloris, he suddenly realized, she'd done this; and he turned and began to follow the flickering path. Chloris, consumed with all things babies and all things museum had, indeed, been neglecting her duties as the Mistress of Burke Manor -- most notably, those duties as a wife. Of course, due to the birth of their daughters she had been unable to attend to certain duties, but those others (such as time, honour, and other basic duties she gladly attended to) had fallen to the wayside. Having Hephaestus back had given her ultimate joy, but she had not had a chance to adjust to his presence once more because the girls arrived in a most rushed fashion. Not to mention the sheer shock of multiple girls. Their last fight, though, had shown Chloris much of the error of her ways. She began to seek out (through her associates) others to help take on the load of the museum. She avoided her husband, angry at him for being irrational about his jealousy of Etienne, but also ashamed because part of what he said was true. So, knowing Valentine's Day was nearly upon them, she began to scheme. She had to right her wronged husband. They were the Burkes. The fact that he was sleeping on the other end of the manor was unacceptable. The servants had begun to whisper... and Chloris, herself, desperately missed him. So arrangements were made. Agatha and the wet nurse were secured for the evening with the girls in the nursery. They were instructed not to leave the girl's suite. The boys were sent to spend some time with Thubana. That had taken some persuasion, but her mother needed the distraction being without her husband on the romantic night. A meal was prepared, and then the rest of the servants sent to their quarters, threatened with their week's pay if they left the servant's quarters. Chloris held only Felicity back, to help her into the red gown she had chosen for the occasion. She then sent the girl to set up the small meal (really nothing more than a few simple hors d'oeuvres) while she personally saw to the candles. The trail of small candles led from the guest suite where Hephaestus had been sleeping through the manor toward their own shared suite. It did not, however, go to their bedroom, but rather through their sitting room to the balcony Chloris had spent all afternoon charming to remain warm despite the late winter chill. By the time she got to the balcony, Felicity had done a wonderful job setting up, and Chloris shooed her away. She lit more candles to illuminate the balcony and looked out over the gardens. All she could do now... was wait. Not for long, however, as Hephaestus could soon be heard making his cautious, baffled way through the sitting room. At the beginning of the candlelit path, he'd wondered just what on earth his wife was up to, but then the significance of the date struck him -- and he'd actually stopped and stood dead still for a moment as realization dawned and a slow, slow smile spread across his features -- and by the time he reached the threshold of the balcony, years and doubts had been wiped from his expression. About to say something, he stopped, once more jolted into stillness, but this time by the sight of his wife. Chloris heard her husband's uneven step later than she should have; she had been absorbed into the beautiful starlit sky that stretched out before her and above her. She turned slowly, only lit by the flickering candles that adorned the balcony. She set her eyes on him, and her breath was taken away. Their small separation over the week... it seemed so much longer now that he stood before her. She had missed him, so much, and her longing had nearly become unbearable. "I'm sorry," she said softly as her greeting to him, "I love you." Balconies were significant to the both of them -- it was, after all, where they had spent the first public minutes of their engagement -- but their meaning brushed his mind, feather-light and fleeting, for this was now. Chloris stood before him, the softness of motherhood making her all the more radiant from the girl of fifteen years ago, and as she spoke, he suddenly realized how utterly absurd and pointless their fight had been. In the surrounding quiet, his voice sounded louder, coarser than hers, but genuine, emphasis on each of the three words. "I love you." Hearing him speak the words caused her to shiver, just as it had the first time he had spoken them. Her lips parted into a bright smile, and she extended her arm toward him. Her fingers curled to her palm as she beckoned him toward her, and she bit her lip in almost girlish excitement. They were fine. No, they were better than fine. They were the Burkes. They were great. "Happy Valentine's Day." He was beside her in seconds, her hand suddenly in his -- and then, with a sudden tug, he brought her into the embrace of his arm, gazing at her as though the sight of her face had to be relearned. "You'll forgive your idiot husband?" he asked suddenly. "Only if you'll forgive your thoughtless wife," she said. Glad to be in his embrace once more, her hand pressed against his chest and she could feel his heart beat underneath her fingertips. She studied his face nearly as intently as he studied her own, only distracted (could you call it that) by the feeling of being pressed against him again, "I hate being apart from you." "These are terms I can work with," was the reply, a hint of laughter in his voice. "And I you. This was miserable and stupid, my love; I'm afraid I'm getting silly in my old age." He flexed his arm as he spoke, brought her closer to him so that they were a hair's breadth apart -- if that. "Better?" he asked, meaning the distance that had grown between them and now the complete and utter lack of it. She swatted at him gently, "You are not old!" Her eyes were nearly joyous; she was glad for their easy rapport rather than the cold and heated words that had passed between them days before. She giggled when he held her even closer, reminding her just how strong he was, and nodded, "Much." Chloris drew quiet for a moment, her eyes on her husband, her breath caught in her throat, "nearly perfect," she said in a whisper, and her eyes flicked to his lips before they went up to his own eyes once more. His brows shot up in mock surprise. "Nearly?" he repeated, tracking the movement of her eyes and losing the battle between grinning and maintaining the facade of fake upset. No, no more playing the game of pretense; they were alone, in the privacy of their own home, and he'd be damned if he held out on kissing her one moment longer. And so he did just that: kissed her fully on the lips, cane clattering to the ground as he moved his hand to clasp her round the shoulder and hold her closer. Now it was perfect. Her arms slid around his neck, and she held herself to him tightly, their kiss all she wanted, and all she could focus on. The clattering noise of the cane went unheeded; Chloris' fingers found their way into his hair as she made no effort to limit her passion. She didn't care. They were alone, no one would interrupt them, and she had missed him with every ounce of her being. Her lips crushed against his, and she didn't want this moment to end. It didn't, not for a long time. The slight pressure of her fingers behind his head was enough impetus for him to tilt his chin, deepening their kiss as he dropped his hand from her shoulder and down her back, fingers running down the lacings of her gown until they reached her waist. Incarceration had robbed him of his strength and healing had been damnably slow, and where once he could have lifted her off her feet and carried her back into the confines of their bedroom, he now could only tug at her -- and tug he did, knocking his leg against hers so that she would place her foot on his before he began to walk them back inside. Chloris completely forgot about the food she had set out, and supported herself on his feet while holding herself lightly on his shoulders. Oh, how she loved him. And how she had missed him so terribly. She broke their kiss and smiled at him, tears dancing at the corners of her eyes, "I've missed you." She kissed him softly again and then kissed his chin, his jaw, his ear, his neck... she showered him with kisses, trying to make up for time lost. "Stop missing me." With every backward step, there was a corresponding pull on one of the fastenings of her dress, although both the journey into the bedroom and the attention given Chloris' gown were interrupted every time he stopped to return her frantic kisses. "I'm here now," he added a moment later, finishing the thought before he brushed his lips down her neck. She could feel the pop, pop, pop as the buttons down the back of her dress released. He'd gotten quite adept at removing her gowns and other fashionable attire over the years. She sighed and leaned her head back, giving him access to her neck, and she ran her hands through his hair. One of her hands slid into the back of his shirt, her fingers pressing into the strong muscles of his back. She leaned her head down and kissed the top of his head, "Oh, my love..." She sighed happily again, unable to think of anything else to say, lost in the feeling of his lips against her skin. And finally they were in the bedroom; the door was shut with a single shove of his hand, which then returned to the matter of the dress. Yes, he'd had more than enough practice with the tortuously taut outfits women so enjoyed wearing, but it had been so long since he'd been with Chloris like this that now, perhaps, he was a degree more impatient than usual. Not desperate, but fervent in his desire, and as the stiff fabric was taking too long to get through, the final buttons were opened not with a pop, but with the slight snap that indicated the threads that held them had snapped under the careful wrench of his fingers. He'd been tracing the contour of her neck with his lips -- and now he paused as he reached the jewels that Chloris had draped across her collarbones, pushing them aside as he took hold of the neckline of her dress and began to pull it down, mouth replacing the fabric. She gasped, out of both surprise and pleasure, and her fingers swiftly went to the buttons of his shirt. She didn't care about the dress, it had merely been a prop in her preparations, and she'd have it repaired (or buy a new one, for Merlin's sake)! It wasn't the first time, nor the last, that he'd ripped or taken apart one of her gowns. She was glad that the servants had been sent away, as she didn't need someone coming in to clean the ashes from the sitting room fireplace only to hear the master of the house having his way with his wife. She was sure it had happened before, of course, but she didn't want to have to think about it now when his lips felt oh so wonderful against her soft, full skin. Her fingers slid into his shirt and spread over his chest, and she made a whimper of longing. It had been so long! |