Thoughts
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She breathes in and out slowly, her chest rising and falling, as she sleeps. The moonlight streams in through her windows and slides smoothly along her body, the silvery light darkening as it dips down the curves of her back. He watches her sleep, something he never does with his wife. Her bare skin looks as though it is dipped in silver, and if it wasn't for her steady breathing he would believe she was a statue. She is too beautiful, too perfect, to be real, he thinks.
She stirs in her slumber, her eyes opening. Fiona looks up at her lover and smiles drowsily.
"'lo, sweetheart," she says, her voice husky from sleep. "You're back."
He nods, his hand running down her back as he bends towards her, kissing her nose lightly.
"Why aren't you asleep?" she asks him.
"Why aren't you?" he retorts, and she chuckles quietly, moving closer to him.
"Mmm, I was," she murmurs, resting her head against his chest. She yawns.
"Good night, Fee," he whispers, and she smiles up at him.
"'night, Ralph," she replies, and, comforted by the feel of his arms around her, falls asleep.
He continues to watch her until the moonlight fades and the sun comes up, turning her body from silver to gold.
***
He cannot get enough of her. She has slipped under his skin without him knowing – he had first assumed that she will be a pleasant distraction from Deirdre, but no. She has invaded his mind, his heart, his soul...
***
She still does not know why she tumbled into bed with him that rainy afternoon in London. She is not that type of person.
She liked his books, and she was attracted to him, but there was something else – a sizzling passion when they touched, and, later on she knew him as an amiable companion. And, still later, she realised that she loves him – loves him! a married man!
But she cannot help herself – she loves him.
***
It is three weeks after his departure when she discovers she is pregnant.
She has never wanted to have children before but she wants to have Ralph's. She wants to call him and tell him the news but does not want Deirdre to overhear. So she does not call but decides to wait until he visits next.
She goes to the doctor's as she has a cough but is told that it is nothing. The cough persists but she ignores it as she decorates one of the many rooms in her house for their baby.
It will be wonderful, she believes, to have a child. At thirty-four years old she is lonely. But now she will have a child to love. A baby... Ralph's baby.
The only thing that spoils her happiness is her cough, which grows worse as the days wear on. But she ignores it.