Evening, Achtus 8th, 2711
The De Silver Manor, Outside Vienda
The heavy claw-footed tub had caught Uzoji’s imagination again early that evening, and Niccolette had not escaped him until her fingers were pruned and her stomach ached from too much laughter. The water had grown cool at some point, but the Bastian has not so much as noticed.
“Darling,” Niccolette was giggling, and she wrapped herself in the heavy men’s bathrobe without the slightest hesitation, even though it dragged on the (wet) floor, “Jean shall be here quite soon. We are to dress for dinner, you recall?”
“Yes,” Uzoji said, smiling. He rose from the water, slowly, and Niccolette watched. She bit her lip, then, and Uzoji grinned at her, stepping out of the heavy tub. He pulled on the lighter robe and left it hanging open, the faintest of stubble gleaming on his head.
Niccolette shifted, and tugged the bathrobe a little tighter around herself. “Stop that,” she scowled at her husband, and the word thrilled still in her veins, rushed through her and sparked a joy she could not quench deep inside. Her husband. The ring was strange and weighty on her finger still. Only occasionally it would start to become familiar, and every time she had to look to check that she still wore it, that these last few glorious days had been more than just a strange and delightful dream.
“Hmmm?” Uzoji asked, and his grin broadened.
Niccolette crossed her arms over her chest, the heavy soft fabric of the robe shifting against her skin. “You know what it is you are doing.”
Uzoji just grinned, leaning casually against the wall. “No, beloved, none of that. We have to get ready,” he said, and sighed.
Niccolette bit her lip, unable to scowl any longer, and closed the distance between them, swift and unhesitating.
In the end, it was a good while before Uzoji opened the door to the guest bedroom to admit Beth and Ernst. He grinned at the valet, and let the man take him back to the bathroom for a proper shave.
Niccolette sat in front of the vanity, wearing the ladies’ robe this time. She was brushing the tangles from her long dark hair, and she glanced up in the mirror at Beth as the wick entered the room. Her ramscott held bright and sharp in the air around her, and she flexed it ever so slightly at the brush of the wick’s glamour, almost reflexively, and the Bastian made the slightest of faces, but she did not stop her work on her hair.
“I shall wear the gold dress tonight,” Niccolette announced.
Niccolette rose, and shrugged off the robe, leaving it behind her on the floor. She made her way to the small chest on the dresser, and teased through it, fetching out the sapphire earrings and lying them out. She went to her chest next, and began the process of dressing herself, all lace and silk against her skin.
By the time Uzoji returned, head clean-shaven, Niccolette was sitting at the vanity, wrapping in a dressing gown over her underthings, Beth teasing her hair into place as Niccolette dabbed the brush into dark color for her lips.
“Beautiful,” Uzoji said, softly, pausing in the work of buttoning his shirt to watch her. He swallowed, hard. “Darling, you put the moon and stars to shame. You -“ his throat moved, and no words emerged, and Niccolette set the brush down hastily, because she could not keep from smiling.
“Apologies,” Uzoji said politely to Beth, and waited for her to shift out of the way. He knelt next to Niccolette, and she turned in her seat to look at him, smiling still. He took his hands in his, and kissed them, and then kissed the ring glittering golden on her finger, and looked up at her.
“I have not finished dressing, you know,” Niccolette said, clasping his hands.
Uzoji laughed, then, grinning at her. “How could I mistake it?” He rose up and kissed her, and Niccolette’s eyes fluttered shut for a long moment.
Niccolette was putting the finishing touches on her lips and eyes when Uzoji left the room, shrugging on his dinner jacket over the rest of his clothing. She heard him greet Ernst in the hall for final adjustments before the door shut behind him. No need for blush tonight, Niccolette thought, smiling, touching her fingers to the bright pink of her cheeks. She rose and turned to the wick, who was even now laying the gold dress out on the bed.
Uzoji made his way down the hallway and to the drawing room, still smiling to himself. He took a seat there, and waited for Jean, comfortable and easy, and with the broad grin that had lasted him three days so far, without the slightest hint of fading.