The single candle left flickering on the end table, illuminated the bedchamber in a delicate glow. One that danced with a soft beam of rich citrine across the surrounding walls of deep burgundy red, while shadows of the night lingering on the other side of the clasped window, trailed behind the cast of light like climbing twists of ivy.

The atmosphere of the bedchamber was warm with a hint of humidity, a comfortable warmth that was welcome across the bareness of your exposed flesh. The heat that touched upon the air you inhaled in soft breaths, was not in part to the season, as the notion of summer had yet to even dance across the thoughts of spring. The late evening still captivated by a brisk chill, that in the early break of morning revealed itself in the softest drops of dew upon the petals of recently bloomed flora. Rain continued to wash over the cobblestone square in the late days of April, in hopes that it might bring forth more budding flowers in May. Spring was very much still in the air, but in the confines of the intimate and cozy bedchamber of Anthony Bridgerton's private lodgings, the darkness of the night outside the curtain drawn window concealed the season from your view. For it could be snowing in the streets and you wouldn't have the slightest clue.

Anthony Bridgerton's previously adorned "bachelor" lodgings, did not differ far from the picture you had painted in your head of such a space. For the walls that were saturated in the deepest shade of burgundy red, did not surprise you, but rather made you smile when your eyes fell upon the bedchamber walls for the first time. It was a masculine shade, a warm but undeniably strong hue that seemed to fit Anthony's personal taste. Along with the deep oak wood furniture scattered around the rooms, and golden accents that swirled itself in locations you were still discovering, the place and more specifically the bedchamber itself, spoke boisterously of Anthony. You hadn't a doubt that this temporary home was his own and that every inch of it was touched by his hand and keen eye.

Although Anthony had assured you on the coach ride over, that the living arrangements were only for the duration of your honeymoon and perhaps a week or two more, you found that you didn't mind much. For Bridgerton House was without a doubt lovely and you knew that the day you both moved in there, that you would be just as happy. Although neither yourself or Anthony had any rush for sweet Lady Bridgerton to move out, even as she objected and tried to explain that she must get out of their now marital space, Anthony hadn't a word of it. But as you prepared to enjoy your newly acquired marital bliss in Anthony's private lodgings, you rather preferred it here for the time being. For every inch of the place felt like him, and in turn, you felt strangely closer to the man you could now call your husband.

The night was nearly silent, as it bathed the city in a soft blanket of black that would surely dissipate at the first sign of dawn. The window was clasped shut, as Anthony worried for even the slightest wind that may leave you with a chill in the middle of the night, and loose linen curtains of a sheer white material covered the glass. The room was relatively small, a smaller space than Anthony had grown up in you were sure, but even as the four walls around you stretched in a wide hug of warming red, the space felt intimate. It didn't feel as though you swam within the structure, but rather you felt anchored in the large bed pressed up against the far wall. Resting comfortably against a pillow that smelled of his cologne, wrapped in thin white sheets that were warmed by the radiating heat of his nearby body and titling your head upwards a mere fraction, your eyes found him in an instant.

Sleep had found him quickly, as your passionate exertions of the hours before, had left him with a creeping exhaustion that curled itself around his bones. A slumber you were certain that you yourself would find just as easily as Anthony had, however when you went to close your eyes as the soft flutters of his stilled breath floated across the nape of your neck, you felt more awake than you were only minutes before. For as he fell asleep, leaving you the only soul in the room awake to your own thoughts, every transpiring event of the day washed over your mind as though they were a collection of your fresh memories, flipping at lightening speed over and over again in ever crevice of your conscious.

From the fresh break of dawn that woke you to your last morning in your mother's home, as a young woman standing on the threshold of marriage and a life far greater than you could ever hope to fathom, to the fall of the night. Casting over the building tops and across the streets, as Anthony Bridgerton clasped your hand tenderly in his own as he walked in tandem with your timid steps into your new and now shared bedchamber. It was a day of endless changes and chances, a day of anxieties and overwhelming joy, a day full of the love you had always envisioned for yourself should you be only so lucky to find it.

And you found it, residing right there in the beating heart of Anthony Bridgerton himself, and you couldn't help but begin to wonder how you ever lived without it.

Shifting slowly to lay on your side as you rested your left cheek against the soft pillow, feeling as the thin sheets pulled around your bare body, your eyes peered up at his sleeping form. Anthony rested still upon his back, the linen sheets that bunched around your chest fell lower against his own bare frame. Loosely sprawled across his lower abdomen in a nearly sheer curtain, as his chest lay exposed to the warm air that swirled around you and the steady rhythm in the rise and fall of his sternum was clear to your wandering eye.

It was the very first time you had the chance to witness Anthony's state of slumber and it took you by surprise at first, how utterly peaceful he appeared to sleep. For even as relaxed and affectionate as he was with you, Anthony Bridgerton was a man who was indisputably wound tightly. Stress and intensity wove its way into the faint lines against his face and the emotions he hid away from the world were worn right there on the sleeve of his arm, lingering just below the surface for any opportunity to appear in a burst of fervor.

But here he was, bathed in the delicate glow of the low flickering candlelight, sleeping as though the world itself had left him unscathed. For the creases that had begun to bend the skin in the corners of his eyes, smoothed as if they had never touched down upon his flesh to start with. The furrow that seemed to be an integrated foundation for his deep set brows, slacked and they were finally released from the tight and unrelenting bend. The stilled line that captivated his sculpted lips more often than not, were relaxed with the soft parting that flittered light breaths between them. And as you stared at the face of your peacefully sleeping husband, you swore the edges of his lips were curved in the faintest ghost of a smile.

Stretching your leg beneath the sheet, feeling as the pads of your bare foot grazed against the warm flesh of Anthony's calf, an unaccustomed ache soared through the lower half of your body. A soreness that resulted in an immediate rush of bright burning red into the swell of your cheeks. Your eyes shut tightly at the memories that instantly flooded back into your mind like a crashing tidal wave, as your face proceeded to roll further into the welcome downy feel of your pillow. It was not only the first time that you were able to witness Anthony's sleeping form, but rather your first time for everything.

Your wedding night was a notion that lingered in the air like an impending storm cloud, all throughout your season it hovered as a topic obvious across the horizon, but never once acknowledged. Not until the very night before you said "I do" did your mother finally broach the subject, with the softest hands and rather frightful apprehension. What she believed she could pass on to you as knowledge upon the topic, the things she thought you may need to know, never even skimmed the surface to the physical pursuits your new husband introduced you to. You were not as innocent as some debutants, with brothers who divulged things in moments they weren't aware your ears were listening, but knowing the ways of men and the acts that followed marriage, was in no way the same as feeling them for yourself. Staring up at him, as you peeked your eyes open and lifted them slowly from the safety of your pillow, the flush in your cheeks was relentless in it's strong burning hue of a beaming cherry red.

Anthony's eyelashes continued to flutter in soft bounds across the slightly tanned skin of his cheekbones, a minimal movement that perhaps spoke to the dreams that ensued in the deepest cavity of his beautiful mind. His neck twisted in the faintest fashion, as his cheek rested with the softest brush of his ear against his own pillow as his face overlooked in your direction. As though even in sleep, he was drawn to look at you. It was a position that was bound to leave him with an unwelcome kink of two in the crook of his neck, but you let him continue to sleep, not having the heart to dare wake him from such a tranquil slumber.

The flickering candlelight casted a timid glow against his skin, illuminating the softness that etched itself across his peaceful expression, a tenderness that somedays he so desperately needed. It wasn't always easy for people to see Anthony's heart, as his exterior appeared jaded and rather intimidating, but you had. It was a beautiful heart, one that beat for his family harder than any other heart could possibly beat. It bled for them, with emotions that were so deeply rooted in the very muscle, it was as though the emotions that were somedays too strong for his own good, were a very part of his foundation. It was a protective heart, generous and compassionate, but you realized today that your favorite thing about it, was that you now owned a piece of it.

Sometimes Anthony Bridgerton didn't quite seem real, as though the way he loved you was more than this universe could ever create. Today, appearing as the biggest example to such a notion. From the dawn that woke you to the moment you found yourself awake for now, as you rested in bed beside your husband, it felt as though you had strolled through the entire day in a dream. As though if your lashes were to flutter shut and the dreams Anthony dreamed beside you were to find you as well, that when you woke with the new dawn everything of this day and everything shared with Anthony would simply disappear.

Lifting your right hand that laid on top of the sheets nestled tightly around your bare frame, your fingertips abandoned the shadows and slowly entered the single beam of glinting candlelight. Feeling the slight growth of heat from the burning flame, as the pad of your index finger gingerly touched upon the illuminated skin of Anthony's cheekbone. The softest pressure you could muster, as though the very brush of your fingertips were that of a butterfly landing upon a freshly bloomed lily. Careful not to wake the man who slept beneath your tender touch, but unable to withhold your chary caress.

For you stared up at Anthony's sleeping frame and simply couldn't help but reach your hand out towards him. Perhaps, it was your way of reminding yourself that he was real and right there in bed beside you. As though by the timid touch of your fingertips grazing against his warm flesh, the dream like essence that Anthony had exuded throughout the day, would suddenly be solidified in reality by a single touch.

The softest smile slowly expanded across the curled corners of your lips, pulling the bottom one inward by the slight grasp of your teeth, beaming at not only the pure sight of your sleeping husband, but the way his face looked when your fingertips danced upon it. Anthony Bridgerton had ravaged your body in the low waning hours of the evening, as though an animal was unleashed from it's restraints. But now, as you watched the softest flutter of his breaths passing through his parted lips, as his eyelashes danced in faint movements across his cheekbones, it was as if he was suddenly the gentlest creature to ever inhabit the Earth.

As the soft pads of your fingertips slowly glided down his cheek, trailing down his smooth flesh and brushing against the thick nature of his soft sideburns, your thumb halted when it fell against the edge of his lips. Feeling the nearly imperceptible crease of a smile shadowing beneath the touch of your hand, as the pad of your thumb pressed ever so delicately against his full bottom lip. Allowing for the heat of his breath, that funneled through the parted crack of his softly tinted pink lips, to absorb into the skin of your thumb. The small ridges and chapped edges of his lips smoothed as you gingerly ran your thumb against the swell of his bottom lip, watching with an attentive gaze at your tender movements, in an effort to keep him from waking. Feeling the warmth of his lips and the fullness that had captured yours barely an hour before, made you ever the more aware to the burn that swelled beneath the surface of your own.

For as you released your bottom lip from your gently biting grasp, the fervor in which Anthony had kissed your lips, still tingled as though they were still there. The blood rushing with a strong thumping sensation, that made them swell with the similar shade of red still flooding throughout your cheeks. The memory of his kiss was seared against the surface of your lips, but the power of his touch was burned far below.

A low rumble startles you, shaking you from your thoughts that had slipped into the form of a daydreaming haze, as your eyes refocused on Anthony's face. Your thumb that had been pressed gently against the swell of his bottom lip, faltered but just as your hand was about to drop back down against the linen sheets, a much thicker set of fingers curled around your wrist. Halting it's quick paced abandonment, with the slow and steady guide of your hand down upon his chest. Anthony's fingers released their gentle grasp around your wrist as soon as the very tips of your fingers touched down upon the incredibly warm skin of his bare chest, relaxing his hand by gliding it across the top of your own, until your palm rested flat against the skin just above his beating heart.

You watched Anthony's face the entire time, never once seeing his eyes flicker open as he moved your hand with an almost second instinct. The only shift in his tranquil expression laid in the closing of his barely parted lips with a soft press, feeling the softest gust of an awakening exhale blowing across your cheek. It was only as the seconds ticked by like the thumping beats of his pulsing heart, as a comforting silence settled in the warm atmosphere of the bedchamber, that Anthony's eyes began to move. The soft bend in his brows returning as his lashes flickered with quick bounds, peering his eyes open one at a time. The candlelight was low as it illuminated the room, gentle rays of a burning citrine glow that became dimmer with each passing hour. But it was still enough light that when it grasped hold of Anthony's now revealed irises, that you felt the steady breath you breathed silently hitch.

The incandescent light of rich citrine, made Anthony's glisten as though they themselves were simply orbs carved from the most mesmerizing slabs of amber. For the shade of brown that captivated his widened gaze, was soft and rich as though it oozed with honey. A gentle swirl of sweetened amber amongst the strong burning presence of a deep whisky shade. And each time you gazed up into his brown eyed stare, you felt breathless all over again.

Anthony Bridgerton opened his eyes to the timid light creeping into the shadows of the bedchamber, but you watched as they looked downward immediately. Instead of taking a moment or two to accustom his eyes back to a small sliver of light, by gazing at the window behind your shoulder or perhaps the ceiling above, his eyes looked to you. As though Anthony's first waking thought would always belong to you.

You felt as Anthony's muscular arm snaked its way around you waist, coiling against the thin linen that concealed your bare frame from his view, but as his fingertips grazed just above the surface it felt as though his touch was right back against your naked flesh. His palm flattened against the small of your back, as his hold softly tugged your body closer to his chest, and the heat of his body overwhelmed you. For it seeped through the nearly useless bundle of sheets, straight through to your skin that soaked it up as though it was the warmth of fresh beaming sunlight. Your own palm flattened further against the swell of his chest, as he pulled you closer to allow barely a breath to breathe in between your bodies. The heat radiating against your hand, feeling Anthony's warmth seeping into the lines swirled across your palm, as your fingers absentmindedly traced gentle hearts upon the space where his own laid beating furiously underneath.

"You are so beautiful," Anthony mused in the softest breath, breaking through the void that had settled in the bedchamber since the moment rest had found him. His voice was husky with the sleep that lingered in the breath of his words, a low but incredibly sated tone that traveled upon a whisper as it fluttered across the blushing swell of your cheeks. His amber brown eyes that glinted with the softest flakes of something golden, stared intently down upon your red flushed cheeks. Feeling as his sight danced across your flesh, and you couldn't help but wonder if the remark he had whispered with his very first audible breath, was meant to be spoken aloud. But as Anthony stared at you with the faintest hint of a smile toying at the corners of his lips, you blushed harder as you knew it was exactly his intent for you to hear his words.

Anthony's soft smile shimmered bright in the honey glow of his gaze, as the grin itself turned rather boyish in nature as it spread with a glint of mischief and undeniable allure across his softly tinted lips. You knew he smiled in amusement at the sight of your face running red, watching with a sense of mirth as you wanted nothing more than to bury your face back into the comfort of your pillow, suddenly self-conscious underneath the weight of his scrutiny and the power of his softly spoken words. But Anthony didn't tease you, he didn't push you to unveil yourself like a butterfly, but rather lifted his hand and ran the pad of his thumb gingerly against your cheek. As though the gentle strength of his hand's pressure, could in some way expunge the bright staining hue from your cheeks.

Smiling against his touch, a slow but gradual curl of your warmed lips, you peered up at Anthony through your sprawl of gently fluttering lashes. Studying the cast of timid candlelight bathing over his face, as his whispered words echoed in the base of your mind.

"Is that what you tell all the women?" You smiled with a cheeky response, before pulling your bottom lip inward again with the harmless bite of your teeth. Your fingers continuing to trail vague shapes against the warm flesh above his beating heart, through the soft mess of dark chestnut curls that lined his bare chest, but they faltered as you began to feel the muscle beneath your touch tense and the thumping of his heart pick up an extra beat or two below your fingertips.