I was not, at the moment, actively suffering because she was forbidden to me, that even a kiss would have been unthinkable. I was remotely aware of her but there was no sexual element in it. I simply felt an intense and overwhelming love such as I had never known for anyone alive. I didn’t have to speak of it. I knew she shared it.
If I couldn’t have reached Marjorie’s mind I’d have gone mad with wanting her, needing her with every nerve in me. But we had this, and it was enough. Almost enough, and we had the promise of the rest.
I knew the answer, but I wanted to say the words aloud.
“When this is over, you will marry me, Marjorie?”
She said, with a simplicity that made my heart turn over, “I want to. But will the Comyn let you?”
“I won’t ask them. By then the Comyn may have learned it’s not for them to arrange everyone’s life!”
“I wouldn’t want to make trouble, Lew. Marriage doesn’t mean that much to me.”
“It does to me,” I said fiercely. “Do you think I want our children to be bastards? I want them at Armida after me, without the struggle my father had to get it for me….”
Her laugh was adorable. Quickly, she sobered. “Lew, Lew, I’m not laughing at you, darling. Only it makes me so happy, to think that it means all this to you—not just wanting me, but thinking of all that will come afterward, our children, our children’s children, a household to stand into the future. Yes, Lew. I want to have your children, I’m sorry we have to wait so long for them. Yes, I’ll marry you if you want me to, in the Comyn if they’ll have it, if not, then any way we can, any way you choose.” For a moment, a feather-touch, she laid her lips against the back of my hand.
My heart was so full I could bear no more. I had desired women before, but never with this wholeness, going far beyond any moment of desire, stretching into the future, all our lives. For a moment time went out of focus again …
… I was kneeling beside the cot of a little girl, five or six perhaps, a tiny child with a heart-shaped face and wide eyes fenced in long lashes, golden eyes just the color of Marjorie’s … I felt a strange wonder, pain in my right hand, dismayed, torn with anguish,
Marjorie whispered, “What is it, Lew?”
“A flash of precognition,” I said, coming back to myself, strangely shaken. “I saw—I saw a little girl. With your eyes.” But why had I felt so bewildered, so agonized? I tried to see it again, but as these flashes come unbidden, so they can never be recalled. I felt Marjorie’s thoughts, and hers were wholly joyful: It will be all right then. We will be together as we wish, we will see that child. Her lashes were dropping shut with weariness and, kneeling beside her, I looked into her face again. She thought drowsily, We should have a son first, and I knew she had seen the child’s face in my mind. She smiled with pure happiness and her lids slipped shut. Her hand tightened on my own.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, half asleep.
“Never. Sleep, beloved.” I stretched out beside her, holding her fingers in mine, my love encircling her sleep. After a moment, I slept too, in the deepest happiness I had ever known.
Or was ever to know again.
It was dark when I woke, the snow still rattling the windows. Kadarin was standing above us, holding a light. Marjorie was still deeply asleep. His glance at her was filled with a deep tenderness that warmed me to him as nothing else could have done.
And then, for a moment, I felt his face wrenched, contorted with rage … It was gone. He said softly, “Beltran sent to ask if you would come down. Let Margie sleep if you like, she’s very tired.”
I slid from the bed. She stirred, made a faint protesting noise—I thought she had murmured my name. I covered her gently with a shawl, picked up my boots in my hand and noiselessly went out, feeling her sink back into deep sleep.