Page 50 of The Work of Art

“No, I don’t mind.” He glanced at his cane. His mood instantly sobered. “But unless you think I can do it one-handed, we’ll have to sit down.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She looked about his room, her eyes finally alighting on his bed. It was a giant carved mahogany four-poster, not unlike the one in her own chamber.

Arthur followed her gaze, and after a few weighted seconds, he motioned toward it. “If you like.”

She went ahead of him and sat on the edge of the mattress. He sat down next to her and waited. After a brief moment of hesitation, she turned her back to him, untied her dressing gown, and let it slide off her shoulders and down to her waist. She then gathered up the bulk of her hair, holding it out of the way so that he could see what he was doing.

If she’d intended a more seductive scene, she couldn’t have designed one. Arthur could only stare at her: the graceful curve of her neck, her daintily rounded bare arms, and her slender fingers threaded through the mass of her thick hair. His blood warmed and his mouth went dry. Only by focusing with a single-minded intensity on unknotting the laces of her stays was he prevented from reaching out to her in some more intimate manner.

“I expect you had business to attend to this evening,” she said.

“Business? What business?”

“You’ve been preoccupied since we arrived, and you’re late coming to your room. I thought…”

His hands stilled on her laces.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You needn’t ask my forgiveness. You’re right, I’ve been preoccupied since we arrived, but it has nothing to do with matters of business.”

She asked him no more about it, and after several fraught seconds, he resumed his efforts to untie her stays. She was as quiet and immobile as a statue, only moving once to gather a few stray locks of hair that had escaped from her grasp.

“Are you making any progress?” she asked after another long while.

“By God, no,” Arthur muttered. The knot was so fast and secure that he couldn’t see where it ended and where it began. He continued to work on it for some time in a state of abject frustration. As he struggled, he was struck more and more by the utter absurdity of his situation. It was almost humorous. “Do you realize what this is, Philly? It’s a blasted Gordian knot.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder.

“I believe I’ll have to apply the Alexandrian solution.” He rose and went to his desk to retrieve a pair of scissors. “Do you mind if I cut through the laces?” he asked as he sat back down behind her.

“If you think you must.”

“I’ll be exceedingly careful.” He placed the scissors against the back of her stays and, with one sharp snip, cut through the knot. “There,” he pronounced. “I’ve freed you.”

Philly let her hair fall from her hands and slid her arms back into her dressing gown. She fumbled with the tie for a moment, cinching it tightly around her waist, before turning on the bed and lifting her eyes to his face.

Arthur met her enquiring gaze and held it, a deep well of longing pooling inside him as he looked at her. All the control he’d exercised while leaning over her knotted stays melted away. He could no longer stop himself from reaching out and touching a lock of her hair. It was glossy and thick between his fingers, shimmering with warmth in the flickering candlelight. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I met you.”

She swallowed. “Have you? I didn’t know you thought of such things.”

“With increasing frequency. Indeed, it’s been the source of much of my preoccupation since our wedding.”

“Your desire to touch my hair?”

“Amongst other things.”

“I had no idea.” Seeming to be encouraged by his boldness, Philly slowly reached up to lay a hand alongside his face. He went still as stone beneath her fingertips, ceasing to move or to breathe. “Is this all right?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” He spoke gruffly, but his eyes were fixed on her with extraordinary tenderness.

She stroked his cheek. “Your face isn’t as smooth as it was this morning. I should like to have felt it then.”

“I wish you would have.”

Amusement flickered in her eyes. “That would have been rather forward of me.”

“You’re my wife now. You can touch me whenever you like.”