The Marriage Bed (36 page)

"I think we did," he said. His voice was sure and hopeful, as if a union so perfect had to have produced a miracle.

"It doesn't matter," she said, no doubt surprising him as much as herself. "The truth is, I have everything I want right now. Everything I've always wanted."

He snuggled her closer to him, his contented sigh chilling her sweaty skin, a kiss warming it again.

"Still," he said, playing with her hair and teasing the skin on her arm with it, "I bet we did."

She twisted around to look at him and asked, "Does it matter so to you?" After the years of disappointment, she hated the thought that he might be disappointed again.

"Only," he said, seeking out her breasts and teasing a nipple, "that if I'm right, we've got ourselves one more child to love. And if I'm wrong . . ." His hand inched down her belly and found the still-moist curls of her womanhood. "We'll just have to try again . . . "

He kissed the top of her head softly.

"And again . . . "

His lips kissed her eyelids and moved down her face to find her lips.

"And again . . ."

Then he finally shut up and made good on his promise.

Author's Note

I found George H. Napheys's Book,
The Transmission of Life, Counsels on the Nature and Hygiene of the Masculine Function,
in a small antique shop in Cambria, California, a quaint ocean-side town where my husband and I spent our twenty-fifth anniversary. It was published in 1878 by David McKay Publishers, Philadelphia, and contained all sorts of interesting information, such as women's inability to enjoy the sex act, in addition to the fact that if a disabled man fathered a child, whether his disability was caused by an accident or not, the child might inherit the disability.

I'd like to challenge another of Dr. Napheys's claims—that a largely or exclusively vegetable diet would result in loss of sexual function. Being a vegetarian myself, I would like to go on record as disputing that claim along with nearly all his others!

I thank you for reading
The Marriage Bed
. It was a joy to write, and Olivia and Spencer now join my other characters as active members of my fictional family.

I would be very happy to hear from you. Your comments and suggestions are always welcome, and on more than one occasion I have been caught dancing and singing in my kitchen as I celebrate the receipt of an enthusiastic letter from a reader! Please write to me at
Stephanie Mittman, c/o MLGW, 190 Willis Avenue, Mineola, NY 11501.
Please enclose a stamped self-addressed envelope for reply.

STEPHANIE MITTMAN may not have been born in the nineteenth century, but don't tell her that. She sleeps with her hero of twenty-five years on an antique bed in a Victorian-inspired bedroom. Her nightgowns are high-necked, lace-edged vintage beauties. But while she used to be content to create stained-glass Victorian dollhouses, one of which is part of the permanent collection of the Museum of the City of New York, they were empty. There were no heroes and heroines, and worse still, no romance. And so, in order to people her houses, she began creating unforgettable characters on paper, characters who hopefully live not only in the last century, but forever in your heart.