I GENTLY PULLED BACK MY VEIL and stood before him.

The act made me feel more naked than it had in previous moments. This act was different. This time was special. Matthew regarded me for a moment before planting his lips against my own. It was a shy kiss, a timid first act. "None of that," I whispered.

"I'm trying to be patient. This is the second time we've ever kissed."

"Third," I corrected. "And I don't want you to be patient." I kissed him back with a fervent yearning. Matthew returned the kiss with an impatient passion that earned a moan from my lips. Liquid heat coursed through my veins and sizzled in my core. I was drunk with the taste of him. The smell of sandalwood and shaving foam was intoxicating. We kissed desperately at the altar as if at any moment someone might tear us apart.

Matthew's kisses feathered down my neck, biting sensitive corners. Then his lips traveled to my breasts, which received ravenous attention. His hand pulled against my silken bust, exposing my nipples to the night air. I shivered. His mouth quickly enclosed around the right, licking and teasing. My hands raked against his auburn tendrils, and tugged from the pleasant touch. "Matthew," I breathed. After a few minutes of this heaven he moved to the left one and gave it the same delightful attentions. His tongue swirled enticingly, leaving mounting desire in its wake. I was slipping over the edge of sanity. All that existed were his kisses. His lips traveled back to my own, which met his with eager thanks. Suddenly, Matthew broke away. The act was so jarring, I nearly whimpered. His now black-blue eyes burned into me. "Don't stop," I pleaded. I was a slave to his touch now and I would do anything to have it.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he whispered against my lips. "I think it's time we move to a bed." The implication made my burning desire even hotter.

"Alright," I answered shyly. With a sudden swiftness, Matthew scooped me up in his arms. Realizing his intentions, I futilely fought against him. "You can't mean to carry me into the house like this." My breasts were still exposed to the world.

"These are how grooms carry their brides," he said. "You cannot tell me otherwise." He carried me screaming and laughing into the main house until we were in his quarters, where I was gently placed on the bed. The ardent kisses resumed, accompanied by a teasing caress. One arm of Matthew's draped around my waist, the other hand drew long lazy circles on my thigh, which climbed higher every second. His lips traversed along the length of my jaw, and settled near my ear. "Do you know how long I've dreamt of this?"

"Not longer than I," I said, and found that I meant it.

He lazily nibbled my lobe. "I've been dreaming about this since the first day we kissed," he whispered. The words made me shudder. "Holding you...touching you..." His hands moved to the back of my dress, expertly unlacing the strings in the dark of the room. "The thought of having you drove me mad, Rose." My dress fell in a graceful heap around me. He tugged it off impatiently. I was his, completely naked and exposed.

I busied my hands with undoing Matthew's shirt as his hands explored their newfound treasure. "I've burned for you Matthew." His cravat came easily. I moved to the buttons of his shirt. "You were right about that night after you kissed me, when I couldn't sleep." My voice quavered slightly. "I was positively starstruck." The buttons were loose now, and I couldn't resist trailing a hand down his chest before starting at his breeches. I hurriedly peeled them off, before reaching my prized undergarments, and ripping that away too. My knuckles inadvertently rubbed against his sex in the process, electrifying my fingers.

"Say that again." His voice was a little more than a grunt.

I leaned closer into him, straddling his waist. "I was starstruck," I drawled against his lips.

Matthew's body pushed against mine, and I fell onto the bed. His lips traveled to nameless parts of my body, kissing every part. "Beautiful," he muttered as he discovered each new fold. "Perfect." Usually, such praise would've been overwhelmingly humiliating. I wouldn't dare to believe one word. But under his lustful gaze, it was gratifying. I was beautiful, I thought drunkenly. Absolutely perfect. Why else would he devote such affection to otherwise insignificant parts of my body? His lips stopped meaningfully between thighs. Under standing his intention, I felt a brief wave of confusion.

"You cannot kiss me there."

He laughed throatily, the vibrations stirring my sex. "Why not?"

I didn't have time to give a response. He quickly began to praise my most intimate part, sending me into throes of ecstasy. "Oh God," I moaned before thinking the better of it. God had nothing to do with it, I decided. Something this carnal could only be born from sin. Delightful, base sin. Matthew's lips left my sex in a few short minutes, earning something akin to sob from me.

"Don't weep." There was laughter in his voice. "I'm not done yet." He lifted his body against mine, burying his face against the crook of my neck. "You must tell me if it hurts."

"Understood," I answered militantly, which earned a small chuckle from the both of us.

A very different type of worship began. It started with a tight pain and flowered into a pleasure that unmatched anything I'd experienced so far. Incomprehensible yearnings streamed from both our lips as the act progressed. When my our pleasure reached its climax, I was sure I would die. I only melted into bliss. Matthew rested on me for a few seconds, before falling on his side.

"How was that?" he asked.

I stayed silent for a few moments, pretending to consider his words. "I don't know," I lied. "Once is not enough to decide."

"How many is enough then?"

I smiled in the darkness. "We should start with an encore first, then go from there."

Matthew delivered a kiss to my cheek. "Encore it is."

🥀

I watched the sun rise with mounting devastation. It marked the minutes to our dreaded departure. My body was curled against his, my head fixed against his beating heart. Matthew's fingers stroked my scalp. I did my best to savor these precious moments, but my heart was heavy. Here he was pressed against me and yet a thousand miles away. Tears threateningly burned in my eyes as reality bled into the room. I already missed him. I already couldn't wait to see him.

"We'll leave at noon," Matthew said. His voice was enviably steady. I stayed silent, not trusting myself to speak. His eyes stared down at me. "Rose," he whispered softly.

"Noon," I echoed. My voice was the opposite of his own, quavering on the edge of tears.

"This is my fault," he said, more to himself than to me. "I should've controlled myself. I had no right."

"I wanted to."

"That doesn't matter. I'm a gentleman, and I knew I shouldn't have and yet—"

"Stop it," I cut in. "I'm not a child and I was not manipulated." I burrowed myself closer against him, closing my eyes. "I wanted this. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if the night had gone any differently."

"But you're on the verge of tears."

I opened myself and looked up at his unsure eyes. "I'm beside myself, husband. I want to cry because I want a hundred more nights like these but I know it will never happen again. These tears are not regret, they are desire. I regret nothing."

Matthew pressed a tender kiss on the center of my head. "I wish for the same," he whispered.

A silence followed afterward, pregnant with equal part sorrow and affection. My mind drifted to the conversation with my mother-in-law in the garden.

"Will you say the word?" she asked.

I'd stared at her, unsure of what to say. A truth that I'd given up caring about a while ago, drove to to the forefront of my mind. "There is one thing you might be able to do."

Mary stared at me impatiently. "Do tell me, then."

"Victoria consorted with many men while Matthew was away on business, according to my butler at Whitfield." I swallowed uncomfortably. "One of them includes my uncle."

Mary gasped. "Are you saying..."

"....that the baby might not be his?" I finished. "That the child might actually be my uncle's spawn? I think there's a real possibility."

"Why haven't you told him this? A matter like that doesn't even require my interference."

"Because he won't believe me," I said bitterly. The events of Victoria's faked hysterics would live in my mind forever. Matthew's dismissal of my accusations of his mistress' murderous vendetta was still fresh. "He is absolutely blind when it comes to her."

"You think this truth from a mother's lips will inspire more faith?"

"Goodness no," I answered abruptly. "It can't come from anyone directly, especially us. He'd have to fall upon the truth himself."

"How do you propose I arrange that?"

I idly spun a flower between my fingers. I didn't want to discuss this anymore. "I haven't the faintest clue, all I know is that this is the only hope. You wanted me to say the word, this is the word."

The decision to tell Mary seemed right at the time, but now I regretted it. It had fed a hope I now recognized as inane. There was no convincing my husband not take the woman he loved as his wife. I was only the woman he lusted. I listened to the slow beat of his heart longingly. For a crazed second, I considered spilling the secret myself. But the next second brought down the sobering truth. If I said anything, it would only ruin the moment. He would accuse me of lying to keep him from Victoria, and the little time we had together would be destroyed. This parting would splinter my heart, but Matthew once again believing me a malicious liar would break it. So I rested against him and resisted the urge.

A clock chimed in the hallway, signaling each hour. At nine o'clock, a servant knocked on the door. "Breakfast is in twenty minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield." Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield. So they knew we were together. Someone must've already checked my rooms.

"Tell Lord and Lady Thomas we won't be joining them," Matthew said. "You can bring it up."

"Is that wise?" I whispered.

"Do you want to leave?"

Not for a thousand years, I thought. "Not until it's time," I admitted. So we lay together still, until the clock chimed the eleventh hour. I needed at least an hour to get ready before we left. I slowly rose, taking a final glance at my husband. "Matthew." I love you. The thought rose suddenly in my mind with no provocation, and I quickly shook it off. He lay there unmoving, seemingly transfixed. I gently kissed his lips before pulling away. "Goodbye."

🥀

Matthew lay motionless for several minutes. His heart beat painfully in his chest, mourning the loss of his wife. He had a big problem. He had a terrible suspicion that he was falling in love with his wife. The thought had first nagged him during the wedding yesterday. For whatever reason, all his present thoughts rested on her, instead of nuptials enfolding in front of him. Odd, but not indicative anything stronger than infatuation.

Then there had been that moment at the altar. "Married under candles and fireflies, the maid and her love," Rose had said. Why had he wished in that moment that her words were true? He wished was married to her, truly married, without a looming divorce. Marriage wasn't something sane men men considered. Sane meaning men not plagued by the strongholds of love. That was the second time he questioned his feelings, or rather, his sanity. The third inkling had come during lovemaking. The thought of love had been easy to dismiss then. Passion bred hot feelings which often dissipated when the act was over. It was easy to believe yourself in love during intimacy.

The fourth occurred minutes ago, after Rose's goodbye kiss. The reality of having to marry Victoria and live the rest of his days without Rose made him want to vomit. He very well might've if he'd consumed a morsel of food or drink the evening before. Then it occurred to him why such a thought wasn't nauseating. It wasn't just because he was infatuated with his wife, it was because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. There was only one name for that type of feeling.

And it was called love.