It was dusk when we arrived. After a long drive across open countryside and through sleepy villages, we finally swept onto the gravel drive of the country hotel and into it's welcoming glow. As we left the car, the porter gathered our bags efficiently and disappeared inside. The crisp, cold, December air took our breath away and we made our way hurriedly up well worn stone steps into the warmth of the sumptuous hotel lounge.
As our bags were transported to our room, we dined simply then settled into winged armchairs either side of the flickering fire and sipped Irish coffee as we talked. We enjoyed a lovely evening, just relaxing after the journey and enjoying each other's company.
Our room was elegantly, yet comfortably furnished. Two armchairs nestled inside the curve of a large bay window, where the richly embroidered curtains had already been drawn. The bed looked inviting, with soft throws and cushions neatly arranged. The present owners had done all they could to lend an air of individuality to each room. It was easy to indulge in the fantasy that this was home, rather than an hotel.
After a relaxing bath we eventually went to bed. It was much later when we finally said goodnight and lay quietly, waiting for sleep's embrace.
It was wonderful to rest my head against you, my eyes lightly closed as we breathed the same rhythm. Your arm was wrapped around me protectively, warm and heavy, like a blanket and I lay still, hearing your heart beat beside me, your scent surrounding me.
Lulled to sleep, I slipped into a dream I had had many times. It was a little muddled, full of memories and yearnings but at the same time, strangely comforting. I could picture the two of us in an unfamiliar, darkened room, our heads resting on soft pillows, our entwined bodies covered in crisp sheets, sleeping soundly in the knowledge that only a fitful sleep and daylight would wake us.
I drifted gradually into consciousness. A few minutes passed before I realised I was no longer dreaming. I just lay still, listening to your heart, to your soft breathing. They were the only sounds that mattered. Your breath caressed the top of my head, ran through my soft, wavy hair, as your fingers had done many times before. A delicious chill of goose bumps came to me as I recalled your gentle touch, your caresses and soft, warm kisses. I turned my head to kiss your arm lovingly, the familiar warmth and softness of your skin lingering on my lips.
The early morning winter sunshine filtered into the room through a chink in the heavy curtains, and I blinked several times to allow my eyes to adjust to the light.
