Chapter 35

APRIL 9TH

T he next four days went by in a way Griffin hadn't expected. He and Annice had settled into a comfortable routine with no fuss at all. They shared a bed, companionably but without new forms of intimacy. He'd have been glad enough if they had. It wasn't the standard Christian practice. But Griffin held that one of the reasons for the prohibition against sex outside of marriage was conception. The other was that it created ties - magical as well as emotional - with the person you were with. Magic tended the first, and he wanted the second, if Annice did too.

The quiet intimacy of having someone there, though, was something he leaned toward more and more. When they woke in the morning, Annice usually put things together for breakfast, and they went off to their separate work. On Wednesday, they'd gone to see the Temple of Healing's spaces properly.

The night they'd gone, it had been rather quiet, and they'd been able to take their time walking around with one of the guides to the carvings and stained glass and all the individual shrines tucked along the long walls. Annice had relaxed there, in a way that Griffin hadn't quite expected, and he had been able to just soak in being in a space that was well-designed for purpose. It had given him - or rather one of the shrines had - several new ideas for his current work, too.

Then they'd come home. Home. That was the thing about it. Griffin enjoyed having someone about the place. He'd known, since he was in school, that he was someone who enjoyed having other people around, regularly, predictably. Not always right in his space - he got lost in his own work a bit much for that. But when he came out of it, he liked having someone to talk with over a mug of tea or a biscuit, someone to chat books with. And here and now, someone to share the day with.

He hadn't thought he'd ever get that. There was the chair, though he knew well enough from other people's lives that finding a partner who was fine with it was possible. But as he'd said to Charlus, what seemed like years ago, he worked a great deal. He could be tedious, and his standards around truth weren't always entirely comfortable.

Annice seemed to have thrown herself into her learning. As expected, Niobe had sorted out the talisman stones by Wednesday, and she'd written up detailed specifications. The three were indeed designed for protection, though in ways that Annice hadn't found entirely comfortable. Not that Griffin had pressed her to talk about it. She either would or she wouldn't. Niobe had promptly presented Annice with a contract for additional work, for as long as it took Annice to properly set the courtroom up. As well as the stones for what Griffin was planning. That was not an instant process. Annice had plans to go up to Whitby on Monday, to search for more jet that would suit. She intended to look not only from the beach, but at her grandad's workshop and Rob's and Cliff's discards.

They'd also made time to be sociable, though. Griffin had arranged for supper out with Mason and Witt on Thursday, letting Annice see how the two of them played off each other. Mason was all odd angles and unexpected connections, while Witt was far more logical. After, a bit to his own surprise, he'd invited them back home for drinks. They'd both stopped by a few times over the years, for a case, but they'd never come in and spent time. Seeing them together - and the way they leaned into that difference rather than it causing friction - always made Griffin feel better.

Annice had enjoyed it, too, though not as much, perhaps, as she'd enjoyed meeting Golshan and Seth and Seth's engineer friend, Ponyard. That had been Friday afternoon, when Golshan set up at the Field, the Schola club for Horse House. They'd put in a ramp for him, early on, and also hosted a number of the veterans gatherings in Trellech. Griffin didn't go terribly often - perhaps once a quarter at most - but he somehow needed to know those gatherings and people were there. The Fridays, though, that was just for whoever needed a hand, something outside what the structures and formalities permitted.

On Friday, they'd gone in right as Golshan wrapped that up, and Golshan had lit up to see Griffin. "And this is your friend, then? Mistress Matthewman, I gather you want to know more about how the chairs work?" He showed the various features of his, and let Annice see them side by side. He, of course, didn't get out of his. His injuries and paralysis made that much more of a production, and not easy to do unless he was sliding onto a bed or bit of furniture of the proper height.

Ponyard and Seth, between them, had been glad to explain what they'd done. It tied into what Annice was learning about stones, rather nicely, though they were doing it mostly in wood, and a bit in metal. Both wheelchairs had copper, more than would normally be used, for the magical conductivity. The woods had been chosen to suit Golshan and Griffin individually, both their magic and their physical needs. Annice had knelt on the ground between the two chairs, asking dozens of questions. She'd asked quite a few Griffin had never thought of, about the wear on the metal and the wood. But of course, she knew a fair bit about fishing vessels and mining machinery, as well as working with gemstones.

Now it was Saturday, and Annice was curled up on the sofa, reading, while Griffin had worked on some notes from a stack of books on his desk. Or rather, while he'd been trying to work on notes. He kept glancing over his shoulder to watch her. After he'd done it, oh, ten or twelve times, she looked up over her book. "You keep doing that? Is something the matter?"

"Something's very good. Just." Griffin swivelled the chair around slightly, wheeling slightly back and twisting to the right, so he could face her better. "How much I like you being there. Didn't mean to interrupt, though."

"You don't seem to have been getting much done. Bedroom?" Annice set her book on the side table and stood up.

Griffin chuckled. "Oh, always, if you're offering." He let her go first, then followed, doing the various bits of getting ready while she ducked into the loo, then switching places with her. He came back out to find her stretched out on the bed, up on one elbow, watching him. "Yes?"

"You haven't, um." She gestured at his side of the bed. What had become his side of the bed. "You haven't." Now she was blushing. "I like being with you. Maybe more things with you?" Now she was near beet red, and Griffin couldn't help grinning. He reached up to touch her cheek, running his thumb over the arch of her skin.

"I haven't wanted to press you. There have been a lot of new things. And, well. You've been willing to share my bed, but I didn't want to make assumptions about whether you wanted to save some things for marriage or what."

"Marriage." Her nose wrinkled up. Then she was giggling. "A little fast, sir."

"I wasn't suggesting it yet!" He was laughing now too, because honestly, this was a ridiculous conversation, even if it was also utterly lacking in discomfort. They obviously had a thing to talk out. He was confident they'd manage it in good humour and come to some agreeable decision. Granted, part of that was that there were a lot of ways this could go that he'd be fine with. Basically any of the options other than her storming out into the night.

She considered, stretching out on her side, head on one elbow. It meant less distraction, with fewer ways for their hands to wander, and a little more effort to kiss. "I said I'd done some things with other people. Mostly one. We were not really engaged, but we were sort of heading that way."

Griffin considered, then reached with his fingers to touch her hand, where it had settled between them on the bed. "What happened?"

"He found someone else, and also more prospects in York. Further inland. And I couldn't have left Whitby then, either. We went to bed enough times that I missed it. And it wasn't so good that I went out looking for more of it from someone who'd understand the, the, um."

"Living in a community where everyone knows everyone else's business," Griffin agreed. "I mean, I understand that part, even if Trellech's a bigger place."

"The amount of gossip people pass on, obviously." She had been aware all along that Griffin had been teased about her a number of times in the past fortnight. Most of it was kind enough, but not all of it had been approving.

He let his fingers tighten against Annice's for a moment, looking down at their hands rather than at her face for this part. "I haven't much since I came back. Enough to know I could, but never with the right person. A couple of people wanted to nursemaid me, do everything, assume I couldn't."

"That seems tedious." Annice leaned in slowly to kiss his lips. "I don't do that."

"You don't. I like that we're sharing it. You're faster in the morning. It does take me a bit longer. Sorting out clothing and washing and getting ready. It's nice to come out, and the tea's already steeping and there's breakfast. But I think I do my part."

"More than your part," Annice pointed out. "If I were in Whitby, I'd be doing all the work myself, and the cleaning and all the shopping. And all the laundry. I don't miss that at all, even if the charms help a lot." Here, it disappeared on laundry day, and reappeared the next, all folded. "It feels like a holiday, and it feels like…" Her breath caught, and she stopped, blushing again.

"I hope, very much, you'll be here for a long time. With me. In some form, and maybe that will change." Griffin hesitated for a second. "Would you like a bit more of the physical than we've done?" He hadn't wanted to pressure her, not when she was dealing with so many other new things and figuring out what she might want.

"Now?" She met his eyes, then she nodded once, cautiously. "What sort of things?"

Griffin pushed up a bit more on his right elbow, letting his left hand drift to settle in the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip. "It's Saturday night. We can take our time, not rush in the morning. A good time for a bit of exploration." He let out a breath. "Been a while for me, as I said. My arms are fine, my hips generally are. Anything that takes standing's obviously not a good choice for me. Maybe not being up on my knees, but I don't really know. You could be on top of me, if you like, but I don't know if that makes you shy. We might have to do some experimentation. And of course, I've only the beginnings of an idea about what you like." Her breath caught. He was absolutely close enough to hear it and feel the way it shifted her body. "You tell me what you'd like to try, and we'll go from there."

She shifted, then, onto her back, though one of her hands slipped down to take his, letting them rest on her stomach. "I'm nervous. It's a big step. A lot of other big steps, some of which I'm still not quite ready to think about." Then she was tugging his fingers up toward her chest. "You've been showing me how to love Trellech. Show me how to love you. Bumps and all. Show me what you know about me so far."

Griffin nodded. "A specific landscape, full of treasures." He considered his options, then said the phrase that would dim the lights, just enough for them to see each other comfortably. "So I, erm, know the scope of the explorations. Is there anything I should avoid? Anything you'd particularly like tonight?"

"I take a potion." It came out of her in a bit of a blurt. "Da taught me how to make it. You needn't, um." Then she was blinking at him. "I'd like to see the ways you're strong. The ways you think about doing this. Feel them. Can we do that?"

Griffin bent to kiss her, the sort of kiss that was gentle nips, then his tongue. He let go of her hand so he could use his better, while getting himself settled so his whole body pressed against her side. She could feel him, he was sure, that the idea of this was certainly arousing. He kept up with that for several minutes, letting his hips rock against hers, before finally she rolled onto her side, again, to get her hand down between them.

Between the kisses - now he was nuzzling more at her neck and the scent of her hair - she got her hand on him. "Do you like me touching you?"

"Oh, yes." It came out as a bit of a grunt. Her fingers closed around him, slipping through his pyjamas just as he started speaking. Her hands were strong as well as skilled. He should have expected that, given all she'd trained them to do. He couldn't think of anything else but the touch for a good dozen breaths. When he could think again, all he wanted to do was get his hands up under her nightgown, fingers touching and stroking. He began with it, then she realised what he was doing, and rolled onto her back, letting him concentrate on that. He pushed his clothes aside and off, glad of his ability to balance on one arm as needed.

Griffin had not forgotten these specific skills, but it was easier with her than he remembered. Annice didn't hide her reactions from him; she didn't cloak them in what was acceptable. She let him see the truth of what she was feeling, and that was perhaps the best compliment he knew. Even when, as he did once, he went a little fast, from two fingers to three, stroking inside her before she was entirely ready.

He took longer at the rest of it, before he pushed up on his right arm. "May I, then? Do you want that?"

Annice's hand came up to rest on his shoulder. She'd lost track of words, he thought, but she nodded, firmly. Then her other hand came up to his hip, nudging him in the right direction. It was only moments later that he was bracing on his arms, reaching to find the right place, and then pushing into her.

The first stroke or three were not simple. She was right that it had been a long time for her. Then she rocked her hips a little, and he found a better angle. Griffin wanted to take his time, but found all too soon that he couldn't. All he could manage was holding back enough to bring her along with him, most of the way. His own need boiled out of him before she quite found her own pleasure. As soon as he could breathe again, before he slipped out of her, he got his fingers between them. He managed to bring her off with her own gasp.

Griffin had just enough conscious thought and grasp of his magic to mutter a cleaning charm before he burrowed in against her, soaking in her warmth and presence. And he slept very, very well indeed.