Their bed, she remembers suddenly. It's still the heavy oak four poster bed he had built especially for their townhouse. Oh, the mattress has changed many times in the intervening ninety years, and the sheets more often than that, but it was still their bed.

His rough voice and deeply territorial language leave her a little breathless and she lowers her lashes coyly in response to his demands. "Yes, sir," she murmurs. "I'll do my very best to never stop doing that." She's deeply curious, though, as to what in particular has him so amazed, but it would be immodest to ask, so she doesn't.