Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(116)

“If that is another remark about me being a cowboy, you know I do not appreciate it.” He traced a shape on the swell of my breast above the neckline of my wedding gown. “Do you really want to take off your dress? You haven’t heard yet what I think of it.”

I rolled over onto my back. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea what you think of it already.”

He laughed and climbed on top of me. “Do you? You have a very high opinion of yourself.”

“Healthy. I have a healthy opinion of myself.”

He kissed me, laughing. “I think dresses like this are what you ought to be wearing all the time, Susannah. Although I suppose I’m lucky you don’t, or I’d be in the Monterey County Jail every night.”

“Ha! Are you saying I’ve finally done something of which your mother would approve?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, and kissed me some more.

A little while later the last slanting rays of the sun were creeping into the room, making bright gold splashes on the walls and wainscoting and occasional bare patches of skin—we’d been in too much of a hurry to bother to unlace the corset—and I was dozing in his arms. I’d discovered, after so many years, that I could fall asleep easily, as long as Jesse was in bed beside me.

Of course, I might also have been dozing because he was reading aloud to me from one of his innumerable ancient books, this one by the poet William Congreve.

“ ‘Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! my soul can fix upon nothing but thee; thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone.’ ”

I heard him close the book, then lean over me.

“Susannah,” he whispered. “Susannah, are you awake? We’ve been away from the party for too long. We should get back to our guests.”

“In a minute.” I reached to wipe the corners of my eyelids.

“Susannah.” He sounded pleasantly astonished. “Susannah, are you crying?”

“No,” I said with a smile. “It’s my allergies again.”

Jesse laughed and kissed me as the sun slipped beneath the sea.