In Bed With Lord Byron

too,’ he said sharply. ‘Is that what this is all about?’
    ‘Yes . . .’ Well, it was close enough. ‘I just feel . . . I just feel I’ve been such an idiot in the way I’ve treated you and . . . ’
    ‘Sssh,’ said Anthony, smiling. ‘Ssh.’
    I smiled wearily. My tears had faded now and I simply felt tired and fragile, as though a layer of skin had been rubbed away, leaving my heart red and raw. Perhaps this was why my skin tingled
so as he stroked my cheek with his thumb. As he knelt down in front of me, I closed my eyes and felt his lips sweet against my eyelids, and then soft on my cheeks and then firm against my lips. His
kisses were slow and soothing. They were dreamy. They seemed to whisper:
I want to make you feel better.
And:
We’ve got all the time in the world.
And:
Why did we ever stop
doing this?
    He pushed me back on to the bed and undressed me with love in his eyes and his hands. Then he lay back and with shaking fingers I undid the buttons on his shirt, smoothing my palms across his
chest, the curved muscles of his arms. He leaned up to kiss me but I darted my head away, playing our old game, and he let out a faint groan and pulled me in tight, my breasts pressed against his
chest, his skin luxuriously warm against mine. I felt his body shudder and a thrill rippled through me in wonder at the effect I was having on him, at how much he wanted me and I wanted him. Then
he took my face in his hands and kissed me voluptuously, hungrily. He ran kisses all over my nervous body, breaking off to whisper how beautiful I was, how wonderful; with any other man it would
have sounded clichéd, but because it was Anthony, I knew that he meant it. I caressed him in the ways I knew he loved; everything felt familiar but fresh, and profoundly right, as though all
the nights we had made love like this were there looking over our shoulders, reminding us of how much we ought to be together.
    When he entered me, I felt a sharp shock of heat suffuse my body and a momentary pain. He stopped, still inside me, searching my face. His expression was so tender that I felt my heart uncurl
and open up to him; I felt a wild urge to bite him and draw him beneath my skin, to become utterly one with him. Then I smiled up at him and gently reached up to kiss him, and he smiled in relief
and happiness. We made love staring deep into each others’ eyes, and as he came, he buried his face in my shoulder, his stubble deliciously prickly, and lightly bit my skin.
    We lay in each other’s arms, trembling, sharing sweat, and he rubbed his cheek against my head and let out a long sigh of contentment. After a while I became uncomfortable and wriggled
away a little, but he didn’t want to let me go. I whispered that I was hot and he blew cool circles on my face. Then we lay and stared at each other, exchanging the odd peaceful kiss, and
there was no need for talk, for asking what the other might be thinking, for worry or analysis; we lay in the pure contentment of the present, listening to the noises of guests going to their
rooms, our eyes travelling sleepily around the golden light making shadows on the ceiling, the speckle of stars outside, and then inevitably back to each other’s faces, and each time, like
excited teenage lovers, we experienced a jolt of love and exchanged smiles so ecstatic we had to bite them back before they turned into whoops of joy.
    Then I felt my eyes closing, and I fell slack in the crook of his arm. The last thing I heard before I drifted into dreams was Anthony telling me he loved me and had always loved me and would
always love me . . .
    When I woke up the next morning, initially I felt a sense of peace. I was aware of Anthony’s warm arms wrapped around me, his soft breath buffeting the back of my neck,
the lilt of birdsong outside. I pulled away slightly from his embrace, rolled over and smiled at him dreamily, recalling and savouring every detail of our lovemaking. I closed my eyes, enjoying a
warm feeling of expectation. Anthony would wake up soon, and then we’d make love again, and perhaps go for a walk together, and then have lunch in a little pub somewhere . . . It was going to
be heaven.
    I became conscious of how heavy his arm felt on my rib cage. It hurt to breathe. I wriggled upwards so it rested on my stomach. I stared at his face, willing him to wake up. Minutes passed. I
tried to close my eyes and go back to sleep, but they kept popping open.
    I began to feel