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Edward Sexby
((Continued from this))


He allows himself to feel ever so slightly smug at the brief look of astonishment on her face as the room melts into being around them, but it doesn't last long.  There is too much wonder in him, too much love and wild, disbelieving happiness in this moment; the two of them, both needing, come together by chance here in this strangest of places.  When Angelica pulls away, he lets her, watching as her fingers go to the lacings of her bodice.  It's a strangely familiar arrangement, with himself as the voyeur, watching Angelica from afar, taking in every movement, ever flicker of expression over her face.  But of course, this time, she knows he's watching, she means for him to watch, and that thought makes Sexby's breath shallow. 

'No,' he says after a moment- soft and rough, 'I would...'

What he would do is made clear when he steps forward, bringing his hand up to touch fingertips against hers, brushing her hand away from the fastenings of her gown.  Slowly, his gaze flickering between his fingers and her eyes, he unlaces her bodice, just faint pressure of his fingertips, and helps ease her out of the voluminous gown until she stands in corset and petticoats before him, delicate and pale.  Again, his fingers brush down over her stomach, careful and reverent, and he guides her to turn around, starting silently on the laces of her corset as well.  He would see her bared under his fingers, to touch and to hold. 

Leaning in close, he inhales the scent of her hair, her skin, and he brushes a faint touch of lips against her neck, just under her ear.  This place may not even be real, this may be nothing more than dream, but he wants truly to savour it whilst he can.