Free Chloe by Lyn Cote

the semi-darkness, she began unfastening the row of small mother-of-pearl buttons down the front of her dress. Her every move seemed layered with new significance.
This is my husband. Being together like this is right and proper.
But her fingers fumbled with the buttons and her breath came out in shivers.
    Theran began humming some slow melody, something that reminded her of dancing at the honkey-tonk. The sound did things to the hairs on the back of her neck. A tingling coursed through her in cadence with her shallow breathing. A problem presented itself. Her mother still insisted Chloe wear an old-fashioned corset that laced up the back—she said it was the mark of a lady to need a maid to dress herself. But Chloe couldn’t call Minnie all the way from Harlem to untie her corset. There was only Theran. She tried to loosen the ties herself without luck.
    Like a naughty child, she tiptoed over to the side of the bed where he lay, facing away from her. “Theran,” she whispered, “I need you to loosen my corset laces.” Her face burned. She was afraid he’d say something bold and embarrassment would kill her.
    He said nothing. But the bed springs creaked as he sat up behind her. Then he tugged her gently and made her sit down on the bed, facing away from him. His nearness warmed her and she realized she was chilled. She felt him untie the laces and then slowly stretch them, crisscross by crisscross, his fingers brushing her spine. As her corset stays finally released her, she sighed as she always did at the sudden relief. Before she could rise, Theran kissed the back of her neck and drew her back against him. “Don’t go away, my sweet bride,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”
    She didn’t move, her breath suddenly difficult to find. Theran’s scent filled her head as he kissed her neck and held her spine to his chest. She felt their skin touch and she quivered with the sensation. Slowly, he turned her and drew her up beside him—so close she could hear his heart beating. Or was it hers?
    “Trust me,” he whispered and she put her arms around his neck and sighed with his kisses.
    In the morning, Theran in a shirt and slacks went out and brought in a bag of fragrant sweet rolls and coffee. She sat up in the brass bed, suddenly flushing to have Theran gaze at her even if she’d buttoned up her prim, high-necked nightgown.
    “My blushing bride.” He chuckled and bent to kiss her. Then he opened the bag and handed her a paper napkin and a sweet roll. “I’m hungry and you must be, too.”
    Thinking of how little sleep she’d had, she blushed again. He kissed her once more and sat down beside her on the creaky bed. With a grin, he poured steaming coffee into two chipped, mismatched cups on the nightstand, handed her one, and then settled back against the headboard. “We need to talk about practical things now. Then we can just concentrate on being together the rest of the day.” He gave her a private smile.
    Chloe blushed warmer.
    Theran chuckled and bit into his roll. After swallowing, he pulled out a small, black leather book from the nightstand drawer. “This is my bank book. I’ve already put your name on the account. It isn’t much, but it should help you out until most of my army pay starts arriving here.”
    “Will you have enough?” His matter-of-fact acceptance of his leaving for war struck her as very brave.
    He shrugged. “The army has to feed me and clothe me.” He looked suddenly almost boyish. “I know you’re used to the very best, Chloe. I promise I’ll be a good provider. This war will be over before you know it and I’ll get my career on track.”
    Chloe wanted to remind him that the “very best” had carried a price tag she’d run away from, but she couldn’t. Not with him talking about leaving, about the war. She leaned over and kissed him, hoping her lips could say what her voice couldn’t:
I don’t want you to go. We’ve just started.
    Theran rested a hand on her cheek,