Thankfully, Rory wasn't there to witness it. He was taking Bryony to ride her pony and didn't get back until the twins were changed, fed and being fussed over by their great grandmother.
I really don't want Rory doubting my sanity any more than he already is. A few nights ago, I pounced on him from behind a secret panel and forced him to kiss me, more than once. He enjoyed it, but it must have made him wonder if I were entirely sane.
I just wanted to be close to him, away from the kids. The only thing I really miss from the days before Bryony was born is being able to kiss, cuddle and make love anytime we wanted to and in any quiet corner of the estate.
I wouldn't dare sneak to the temple-like folly on the island now with Rory, because Bryony might be looking for sea monsters and mermaids with her "'noculars" and kissing in the seclusion of our own room always carries the risk of a little voice saying, "Kiss her again, Daddy, it's funny."
I know I should probably have my head filled with sweet mumsy thoughts all the time, but no-one has told my mind that and it keeps whispering, "Look at the gorgeous Irishman! Wouldn't you like to tear that shirt off?"
Sometimes, I just have to grasp an opportunity to kiss him. It means we kiss in weird places; in secret passages, behind doors, in the walled garden. I miss waiting for him in the hayloft. I can't do that when Bryony always follows me to the yard talking about her pony and these days, I can't leave the babies for that long.
The trouble is, I'm still in love with him. I don't mean the way couples are meant to be in love, but the way I was when we first kissed and I felt like he was the only man in the world. I look at him and my heart flips over.
Sometimes, at night, I lie awake despite my tiredness and just watch him, remembering all our wonderful romantic moments and wishing I knew how to hypnotise three small children so they'd stay asleep while he and I slipped away somewhere else.
Last night, he was awake too, so I said, "If we could get an hour alone ... "
"I know." he said.
"It's not that I ... "
"Of course not." he said, "It's just ... "
He kissed me and said, "There's always the cottage."
"But we'd have to take Bryony and the twins."
"Or leave them with Ana."
"What about feeding them?"
"To what?" he said.
"Rory!" I said.
"Well, you could express some milk, leave a few bottles. Ana definitely understands the technology."
"And leave them for an hour?" I said.
"How about for a night?" he said. He stroked my hair, "A night would be good."
"Bryony would feel abandoned."
"Bryony would love to spend a night with her beloved Princesses." he said.
I felt I should be more against the idea. After all, I am supposed to put them first, but he stroked me and kissed me and whispered that it would be fine and I longed to be alone with him and my body was saying, "Hey, I've given birth to them, I've been feeding them, now can we get back to the fun stuff?"
"When?" I said.
"Tomorrow night?" he said.
"Are we being selfish?" I said.
"You think occasionally making our relationship a priority is bad for our kids? You know how Bryony loves it when we're close."
"What if something goes wrong? Patrick is still very small."
I was about to say more when his lips met mine and he kissed me in a way that made me quiver. After what seemed like days, he backed off a bit and smiled. "Patrick will be in good hands and so will you."
After that, no more arguments against it seemed to make any sense, mainly because my heart was singing, "Rory loves me!" and my body was saying, "Don't mess this up, I need that man!"
"I suppose we could do it. If anything happened, Ana could call the cottage."
"And it's a two minute sprint back here." he said.
I kissed him and said, "I think I'm becoming a nymphomaniac."
He grinned and said, "Good timing. Hopefully you'll be all the way there by tomorrow."
He began to nuzzle my neck and I almost thought we'd go all the way right there. Then a soft voice said, "Mummy, what's a nimbymaniac?"