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With Her

Quil and Claire are married. When Claire becomes pregnant, what new difficulties will they face? In the series For Her. Sequel to Protect Her, Love Her, Hold Her, Keep Her, and From Her. In that order... I think.

Well, read the others first. I don't own this. By the way, sorry for the wait, but you took FOREVER with the reviews. thank pinkpoop/ alreadyinarithmancy and equuslover22 that this is posted at all. Love you guys!

1. Chapter 1

Rating 5/5   Word Count 569   Review this Chapter

With her. For the last twenty-five days, I had been Claire’s husband. Bound to her, in every way that counted, practically a part of her. I had spend every minute of those twenty-five days with her. It had been, by and away, the best days of my life. For once, I knew she was mine. Forever and ever and ever, until death do us part.

Even then, I held that death couldn’t have any power on us. Certainly, it was easy to believe she could defeat it when she smiled at me like that.

It was only for a second that her eyes met mine. We were at the theatre, watching a play at the Shakespearean Theatre in the town where he was born… pretty cool. The show was Macbeth. I would have preferred something more honeymoon appropriate… like not so death and destruction focused.

Tickets, however, weren’t easily come by, and beggars can’t be choosers.

It was good, though, really good, and if it wasn’t romantic enough, I could find something else to make it up to her.

It is the last week, though. There will be few more opportunities to prove just how happy I am to be permitted to make her happy. I will have to do something very romantic tomorrow, before we get ready to leave.

I am excited for that as well. Our home, back to our place, together…

It is a true start. This withdrawal from reality is lovely, but to go back to the real world and find her still by my side will be even better.

The action onstage was winding to a climax when I heard something that stopped my heart dead. I’d been too interested in Claire’s fascination to pay appropriate attention, so the words strike me with shock.

From this time forth, such I account thy love,

Art thou afeard, to be the same in thine own act and valor

As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that which thou esteemedst

The ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem…”

The actress’ voice was harsh and accusatory. The velvet rustle of her costume did nothing to dissuade the pain of those words. Her husband onstage froze at the same moment Claire did.

My arms went around her. She didn’t have time to look up at me in fear, to begin cursing herself for something that was over.

Man, are we ever angst-laden.

However quickly I embraced her, Claire still paused, whispering into my ear in a small voice that trembled, “I sense a parallel.”

I hoped to jolly her out of that line of thought, and so I gave my broadest smile and replied, “What? Have I tried to convince you to kill anyone recently?”

She rolled her eyes, but it was effective. Our attention returned to the golden world onstage. She was immediately reabsorbed in it, in the poetic words, in the luxury of the picture painted, in the delicious fear of the knives the dark-haired queen wielded.

It was quite a play. And it made her happy.

I would keep her happy. Just another free service we offer. It was the little I could do, and it was desperately important. So long as I was with her, she would never be alone.