Page 35 of The Tailor's Treasure

But she could feel another cough bubbling in the back of her throat, and so she drew back."Best not," she said, though the ghost sensation of Constance's mouth on hers still lingered."I may yet be ill."

"You may, at that."Constance's gaze dropped, looking at her with intent just as she had in the bedroom the previous week.Her voice, when she spoke, had grown husky."Shall I tell you what I would do if you weren't?"

The room, which had been mild up until that point, seemed suddenly hot and close.Isabel swallowed hard, her mouth having gone suddenly dry.Constance was still looking at her, and the promise in her gaze – "Yes," she said."Yes, I – please."

Constance reached out, her fingertips just barely brushing Isabel's mouth."I would kiss you – here –" Isabel's lips opened, almost of their own accord, her tongue chasing Constance's fingers as they withdrew."And down here –" She traced down the column of Isabel's neck.Her touch was feather-light, but that only made it more intense."Kissing all the way, kissing and sucking so you'd be left with marks to remember it by."

"You can't."Isabel could barely get the words out; the air in her lungs had evaporated."You mustn't."

"I know."Constance's fingers came briefly to rest on Isabel's collarbone before tracing further down."Not where anyone might see.I'd have to do it, here, wouldn't I?"She was cupping one of Isabel's breasts in her palm, now, teasing at a nipple with her thumb."So only you and I would know.So you could look at it later and think of me, the way I think of you."She was swaying slightly in her seat; forward, nearly close enough for their mouths to touch, and then back again as she remembered herself.Isabel understood.Isabel was near to doing the same, her self-control held by only the thinnest thread.She wanted what Constance was promising, wanted it more than her next breath.

"What do you think about me?"Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper that had nothing to do with her cough."Do you – when you think of me, are you –" She couldn't say it without embarrassment clogging her throat.

Constance brushed the backs of her knuckles against Isabel's cheek."Always," she said, in a voice that was not quite a whisper."For weeks, now.How could I think of anything else?"

Isabel had no idea what to say in response to that, and doubted she would have been able to gather her wits enough to speak even if she had.She sat there in stupefied silence, blinking at the mental image – it wouldn't be like it had been with her, Constance wasn't like that, she would have been enjoying herself, she would have beenhappy– to think ofher–

Her thoughts were interrupted by a series of muffled but distinctthumpsfrom directly overhead.They were followed by the sound of small, running feet, then a familiar shriek.That in itself wasn't cause for concern – she knew the sounds Walter made when he was hurt or upset, and that wasn't one of them – but all the same, she looked up and then back at Constance."Walter was with Peter, you said ...?"

"Last I checked."Constance got up from her chair."And they were both well enough when I looked in on them, but perhaps we'd better – make sure."

Going up the stairs took more effort than she'd anticipated, but she didn't pause to catch her breath at the top.She crossed the landing in two strides, fumbled the latch of the bedroom door, then stopped in amazement at the sight unfolding before her once she had it open.Constance came up short behind her, taking on an expression of bewilderment that Isabel was sure was reflected on her own face.

Peter was sitting in a corner of the room, his back leaning against the wall and both his legs extended out in front of him.In one hand, he held a crutch, which he was using to nudge a wooden ball across the floor.Walter was chasing it; whenever he came within arm's length of the toy, Peter would reach out with the crutch again and send it rolling in the opposite direction.Each time he did, Walter would scream with laughter, his face flushed with cheer and exertion.He was so absorbed in the game, he didn't even notice his mother's presence.

It was Peter who took note of them first."Ah," he said, pulling the crutch back in to sit beside him."I thought you were resting, still.Am I to assume you're feeling better?"

Isabel couldn't take her eyes off her son.She'd seen him smile before, of course, but she couldn't recall ever having seen this unbridled exuberance in him.If he made too much noise at home, the girls would fuss, or Hilda would scold; she tried to keep him as out of the way as possible, the better to avoid any interference from her husband's family.She didn't even realize Peter had spoken to her until he cleared his throat, and she finally turned to look at him."I, ah – yes.Somewhat."

"That's good to hear," he said, in a polite tone so far removed from the last time she'd been in this room, she almost laughed.Walter, meanwhile, had caught up with the ball: he grabbed it in both hands, then frowned, looking around to see why the game had stopped.When he saw Isabel, his eyes lit up, and he ran to her, still clutching the ball."Mama!Play!"

She knelt down beside him, smoothing the curls that had fallen into disarray in all of his pelting around."Like this?"She took the ball from his hands and set it gently rolling to the other side of the room.He clapped and shrieked, taking to his heels again to run and fetch it.Before he managed to, however, Peter reached out with the crutch and nudged it again, and the game was on.

Isabel stepped into the room, until she was able to sit on the floor beside Peter.Constance followed and sat on her other side, tucking her legs up underneath her."Thank you," Isabel said, pitching her voice to be heard over Walter's shrieks of glee."For entertaining him.He – he hasn't as much opportunity to play as he ought."

"Ah, well."Peter lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug."He's a good-natured little one, and easy enough to please.It's no trouble."

"Still."She glanced back at Walter, who showed no signs of tiring."You were not obliged to, and still you did.The thanks is well deserved."

Peter said nothing to that.On her other side, Constance was pressed against her shoulder to arm, a welcome warmth.The dash up the stairs had left her tired, and she longed to let her head droop onto Constance's shoulder.She watched Peter out of the corner of her eye, weighing her options, He may not realize what it meant, if she did – but if hedid, or if he suspected –

What was it Constance had said, that day at the mill pond?We were both free to pursue our own affairs.She hadn't said what sort of affairs they'd agreed on, if they'd agreed at all – but it stood to reason he knew, didn't it?If he didn't, he'd not only agreed to a marriage lacking love or fidelity, he'd agreed to the possibility of raising another man's children, something she doubted very much was in Peter's character to do.And Constance had seemed so unconcerned at the thought of anyone finding out – that must have included Peter, she lived with him.And she was tired, so tired, and Constance was so steady, and the temptation overwhelming.

She did not so much as put her head down as let her neck droop, and allowed nature to do the rest.Constance's shoulder was just as soft and warm as the rest of her, and Isabel thought it would be easy to fall asleep right here and now.Constance, for her part, seemed unperturbed; she only shifted slightly to accommodate Isabel's position, then turned her own head to drop a brief kiss on Isabel's hair.On her other side, she saw Peter glance sidelong at them, but his expression betrayed no shock or anger: on the contrary, he only seemed faintly amused, as if a long-held suspicion had finally been confirmed.

Well, that settled that.Freed from worry – at least momentarily – Isabel let herself settle against Constance with a small sigh, fairly snuggling into her when Constance slid an arm around her back.Peter seemed unconcerned with the both of them – but then, Walter was taking up most of his attention.Even with his happy squeals, the room felt peaceful.She let her eyes drift shut, enjoying the warmth of Constance's arm around her and the solid weight of her body and the knowledge that everything was - however temporarily - as it ought to be.

She wasn't certain how long she lingered there, but it wasn't until Walter's shrieks took on a pitch that she knew presaged tears in the near future that she roused herself.Constance let her arm fall away as Isabel stood and went to gather her son."Tired, are you?"she murmured as she picked him up.

He wriggled in her grip."No!"

"Oh?"She shifted him in her arms so that he was facing her."You want to go on playing, then?"

"No!"One of his flailing feet caught her in the side, and she shifted him again to keep herself out of harm's way."Well, what would you like to do?"

Another shriek of "no!"was all the answer she got, and all she had really expected.She carried him back over to where Constance had gotten to her feet and was helping Peter up beside her."I'd best take him home," she said, as Walter went on squirming and fussing in her arms."He's had a long day."

Constance's smile was wistful as she reached out to brush a stray bit of dust from Walter's shoulder."Are you certain you can't stay the night?There's a trundle bed there he could sleep in."