Devere appeared in a daze again, as we gazed at each other in shock and awe.
‘It doesn’t work,’ we both concluded solemnly in unison, before bursting into laughter.
Although my wedding night was not all that a wedding night perhaps should be, it still turned out to be the best night of my life to date.
Until dawn, my dear Devere and I lay about on our bed talking, eating and getting intimately familiar with each other’s body. Although my monthly condition did not lend itself to marriage-night favours, that did not prevent my husband taking a very distinct interest in the rest of me. My breasts were a particular distraction for him, as he kept untying my chemise to admire and fondle them. The caresses of his hands and mouth were heaven to my senses, and something of a tease. Now I was the one cursing the bad timing of our wedding day, and yet Mr Devere made it plain that he was in no rush.
Something rather amazing that we did discover was that we both had the same birthmark, although in different places. It took the form of a small red cross: mine in between my shoulderblades and Devere’s in the middle of his chest.
It was hardly surprising that we slept away most of the carriage ride the next day, ate dinner with our hosts in Tunbridge, retired early and did the same thing all over again.
Upon arriving in Dover the next evening, after sleeping away the journey once again, Devere and I spent a third night wide awake. Had it not been for Nanny Beat, and Mr Devere’s faithful manservant, Mr Tibbs, dressing, feeding and packing us up, we would have missed the ferryboat to Calais.
I really enjoyed the passage across the Channel. The weather was fine and cool, and my husband and I were forced to be more sociable. Mind you, the couples we were with hadn’t been any more eager to socialise than we were. I couldn’t help but notice how well we all looked for our confinement, how content and happy. It was quite apparent that we had all made a good match and were very much in love.
The night we spent in the port of Calais was the evening Devere came to visit me while I bathed. He dismissed Nanny and stood gazing at me from the door.
‘What can I do for you, Mr Devere?’ I did not feel anywhere near as inhibited by my nakedness as I imagined I might be: the water was rather soapy, and due to Devere’s obsession with my breasts, I’d become quite accustomed to being half naked in his presence.
‘I’ve come to get you drunk, Mrs Devere, and to give you pleasure.’ When he approached I noticed he had two glasses and a bottle of Champagne. ‘When in France…’ he explained, as he knelt by the bath and placed the bottle and glasses aside on the floor.
‘That sounds wonderful, but I’ve told you, I don’t partake of impure substances.’
‘I’ll just move straight on to the pleasure then, shall I?’ He removed his shirt, tossed it aside and then kissed me gently.
Devere’s right hand caressed my breasts a moment and then diverted very directly to the one region of my body he’d yet to explore. The pleasure took me far away, not into Devere’s body but deep inside my own. I heard groans of pleasure, and was completely oblivious to the fact that they were emanating from me. Devere’s lips had left mine and were now enveloping my left breast, as his fingers continued to weave their magic between my legs. I’d never imagined that any feeling could be so overwhelming that I would lose myself entirely within. I have never been more in the moment, more content to be my own being; it was intensely delicious, intimate and empowering. When I thought I could stand the pleasure no more, my body rose and with a shuddering heave I collapsed into rapture.
I heard the sound of smashing glass close by, but even that could not draw my focus from within my being. I do confess that for several moments I could do little more than breathe and enjoy the revelation of liberation, relaxation and elation I was feeling.
Devere kissed my forehead and withdrew his arm from my bath. ‘Oh dear.’ He collapsed to a seat on the tiled floor, and gazed at the broken bottle and accompanying glasses shattered on the floor amid the bubbly liquid.
I sat up to view his distraction and was amused by it. ‘How did that happen?’
‘I’m not entirely sure…I spied it floating and then…’ He dropped his hands and spread his arms apart, wearing a delirious grin on his face. In fact, he appeared to be a little lightheaded. ‘Are you all right?’ I reached over and took his head between my hands, and kissed him with all the passion I could muster. ‘That was simply wonderful.’
‘I agree!’ He put a hand to the floor to push himself up to standing and he managed, albeit with a bit of a stagger.
‘Devere?’ I was concerned now, despite the grin on his face.
‘I’m good,’ he assured, squinting and then opening his eyes and glaring at the plant in the corner, ahead of squinting again.
I climbed from the bath and threw on my robe. ‘Tell me what is amiss with you?’ I carefully avoided the glass to get to his side.
‘That plant is glowing.’ He pointed to it.
I looked at the healthy specimen and saw that its light-body was very prominent. ‘Yes, it is,’ I confirmed, ‘but usually I would be the only one to notice.’ I walked toward the candlelight and away from Devere. ‘And what about me?’
‘Oh, my Lord.’ He shielded his eyes with one hand. ‘Colours! You look like an angel!’
He collapsed onto his knees, not out of reverence or awe but from lack of stability.
I rushed back to his side and knelt to address him. ‘I gather that this is not a normal byproduct of sexual relations?’ At this, Devere laughed and shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he was quick to say. ‘I feel amazing…as if I’ve connected with something divine within myself that I never even knew was there.’
I frowned, bemused. ‘But it was you who pleasured me.’ I might have understood this transformation had it been the other way around…or mutual elation?
‘I admit I am baffled. Each time we’ve kissed I’ve felt an inkling of an awakening. I have had lovers in the past,’
