The ball was nerve-wracking.
First, something was going on with Silvio and Rio again. They didn’t get into a fight like they did at the twins’ birthday party, but they vanished after a muted and apparently heated discussion, followed by Belle, Arianna, Luke, and Silvio’s parents, who were in attendance for the wedding. There were more than a few curious murmurs among the crowd about it.
When they weren’t muttering about Theresa and Leon, that is. The second point of tension.
Maid or lady-in-waiting, Theresa was still a commoner, and she and I both knew the nobility wouldn’t appreciate her being a bridesmaid. She’d said from the start she would skip the ball and pack my luggage rather than raise more ire, but Leon must have talked her into coming, and she stayed for about an hour, dancing with him and his brothers.
Including Jin.
That turned out to be a larger problem than the grumpy nobility casting disparaging looks. The looks Leon gave Jin were decidedly unfriendly, and when he cut in on their dance to steal Theresa back, I feared the two would come to blows. Fortunately, Theresa left when that dance ended, and the silent animosity between the brothers vanished with her.
In better news, something much sweeter was brewing between Yves and Elise. I thought he was a much better match for her than Nokto had been, and even if it didn’t work out, I couldn’t imagine them having a disastrous break-up like the one I’d witnessed between her and Nokto.
Meanwhile, Nokto and Janet, a noblewoman chosen by Sariel to fill out the bridesmaid list, were well on their way to starting a relationship—or restarting one, if whispered rumors about a shared history had any grounds in truth. At the very least, I felt certain they would end the night in the same bedroom.
Then there was Nadia, the quiet woman paired with Licht in the wedding processional. She showed a definite but shy interest in him, hovering in his vicinity until he made his escape from the party. I had a feeling she would have left with him, had he asked her, but she was too meek to even approach him, let alone follow him.
The last bridesmaid and another of Sariel's picks, Regina, was a noblewoman with whom I had a passing acquaintance, as I did with Janet and Nadia. Regina had always struck me as a bright, bubbly, fun-loving type, so it wasn't necessarily a surprise to see her and Clavis were getting along. It was a surprise to see a glint of mischief in her eyes that matched Clavis', however, and suddenly, I was worried about the damage the pair could cause together.
I noticed all of this because the alternative was focusing my attention on Chevalier, the ultimate source of my anxiety. Just meeting his eyes was dangerous. He had the same intensity about him as he had on his birthday, increased tenfold, and while his refusal to allow any other man to dance with or even touch me probably looked like cute newlywed adoration to the well-wishers offering us their congratulations, to me, it was borderline frightening. He had always been a paragon of self-control, but I saw that control slipping, and I felt his impatience in every abnormally hot touch of his hand. My stomach was a bundle of tightly twisted knots by the time dusk fell and he whisked me away to the carriage waiting for us at the entrance.
The carriage door closed behind us, and his lips were on mine, as hot as his touch. I could taste his urgency, and far from bringing the warm fluttering of happiness, it brought a cold hand of dread tightening around my heart. But I kissed him back, because we were married now, and I’d made him wait nearly a year. Didn’t he deserve this? After everything he’d done for me, shouldn’t I give him tonight with a smile?
“Ivetta,” he murmured, his breath heating my lips even more when he broke the kiss, “relax.”
I swallowed hard and forced a smile. That was the second time he’d told me that today, and I didn’t want to worry him. “Sorry. I just didn't sleep well last night, and it’s been a long day.”
His crystal blue eyes studied my face in the fading light of twilight, and I realized with a sinking feeling I couldn’t hide it from him. I’d never been able to hide anything from him. He sighed, and I wanted to look away, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes, but he held me in a steady gaze.
“I love you, little dove, and if all that happens tonight is we fall asleep together, that’s enough.”
I stared at him in surprise. My heart pounded. Once. Twice. “But—”
He cupped my cheek in his hand and kissed me again, much softer this time. “I can’t enjoy it if you don’t.”
That was the second time he’d told me that, too, although the first time, he was talking about dancing. Now, I really felt guilty.
“Um…” I licked my lips nervously and immediately regretted it. Lipstick tasted awful. How had I never noticed that before? Why had he never told me? “Could we maybe rest until we get there, and then…maybe…?”
And then maybe I could work up the nerve. Maybe we could start with some heavy kissing, and then it would come naturally. That’s what Theresa had said, hadn’t she? That it would come naturally?
What came naturally to her didn’t come naturally to me, though.
Chevalier nodded. “It will be several hours before we arrive. Would you like to know where we’re going now, or would you rather I wait to tell you?”
He sat back against the cushioned seat while he spoke, and it at least felt natural when he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his side. Closing my eyes and resting my cheek against his shoulder felt natural, too. The comfort, familiarity, and overwhelming relief made all the anxiety drain away in an instant, leaving me with only the exhaustion I’d forgotten about.
“You can tell me now,” I decided.
“It’s a countryside chateau belonging to my family. Servants went ahead of us to prepare the place, but they’ll be gone when we arrive.”
“So, it will be only us?” I mumbled, feeling the effects of the gently rocking carriage.
“Yes. Would you like a blanket?”
I snuggled closer. “No, I’m warm enough.”
And then the carriage jolted to a stop. Suddenly, I was waking up, my neck stiff from hours of being in an awkward position, and there was a blanket on my lap. On our laps. Chevalier was waking up, too, the flames from the lantern hanging outside the carriage window dancing in his blue eyes as they met mine. He kissed me before I fully realized where we were, waking the butterflies in a groggy flurry of sputtering wings, and they were still bumping into each other in their awkward flight when the kiss ended and he opened the carriage door. The cool evening air of spring hit my face and snapped me back to full awareness. The chateau. We had arrived at the chateau. For our honeymoon. And Chevalier was holding out his hand to me.
All the anxiety came rushing back.
I took his hand, but my foot had barely touched the cobblestone path before he scooped me into his arms.
“Chevalier, you don’t have to—”
“It is traditional for the groom to carry his bride across the threshold, is it not?” he replied, the moonlight playing across his smirk and catching in his eyes.
As nervous as I was, I had to admit I liked the sight. “Well, yes, but you could just pick me up at the door,” I replied.
His long strides ate up the path. We were at the door, and then we were inside the door, but he was still walking. The butterflies were getting tangled in the knots in my stomach.
“You can put me down now,” I said hesitantly.
“Not yet.”
Candlelight took over where the moonlight left off, bringing a warm glow to his skin and gold highlights to the pale blonde fringe falling over his face, and the confusing mix of feelings stirring within me made me look away—just as he stepped into the bedroom. He stopped, and I gasped at the sight before us. The luxurious furnishings were typical of any aristocratic bedroom, but the overabundance of candles was not, nor was the side table set with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a tray of chocolates. The clear central focus of the room, however, was the bed, covered in red rose petals that spilled onto the floor and added their perfume to Chevalier's cologne.
My face lit on fire, and my stomach did no less than three somersaults.
“May I?” Chevalier asked.
I looked up at him and nodded. He crossed the room and pressed me into the blankets, the heat from his body radiating through his clothes as he kissed me with impassioned urgency. His hands cupped my face, but when they slid down my neck to my collarbone, I couldn’t stem the rising panic anymore.
“Chevalier, wait,” I gasped, pushing him away and climbing out of bed. “I—wait,” I said again. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, but I fumbled with the earrings and necklace, setting them on the nightstand.
Breathe. In, out. Hair next. How many hairpins had Yves used? Not enough.
“Let me,” Chevalier said softly, his deft fingers finding and removing each hairpin far too quickly.
I swallowed hard and dropped my hands to my sides. The luggage stacked in a corner and recently lit candles said the servants must have left only recently, but I knew with certainty they were gone, and we were alone. I was alone with him. And he was brushing my hair away from my neck and kissing it, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against him.
“Ch-chevalier, the dress,” I stammered, unable to formulate any other words.
“I’m getting there,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive in my ear. He spun me to face him and kissed me again, his hands pushing at the small of my back, pressing me into his bare chest. His jacket and tie were gone, his shirt open. My heart was pounding out of control. I couldn’t do this.
“What’s wrong, little dove?” he murmured, his breath hot on my lips.
“I…I don’t…”
My chest tightened painfully; I couldn’t breathe. His fingers slid under my chin and tilted it up so I had to look at him, and the unmistakable concern in his crystal blue eyes felt like a physical blow. This was supposed to be our first night together, something he’d been looking forward to for so long, and I was ruining it.
“I’m s-sorry, I-I just…”
“No. Don’t apologize.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling into my hair as he held me in a tight embrace. “It’s fine.”
“N-no, it’s not,” I whispered. My heart actually hurt. “M-maybe if I have some wine—”
“No. I don’t want you to drink yourself in submission,” he said firmly. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest, his skin feverishly hot against my cheek. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Theresa said it would come naturally. Why wasn’t it coming naturally? Why was I so scared?
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again.
“Stop apologizing.”
I winced at the frustration in his voice, afraid to look up at him. He sighed again and scooped me up.
“Ch-chevalier—” I started, a fresh wave of panic washing over me.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft as he sat down and cradled me on his lap. “I won’t do anything.”
“I knew I’d disappoint you,” I said miserably.
“Ivetta, look at me.”
I really didn’t want to, but there was something pleading in his tone, something that tugged at my fragile heart. I could do nothing but look at him. The intensity of his blue eyes made my heart throb painfully in my chest.
“You haven’t disappointed me,” he reassured me, gently brushing the hair back from my face.
My stomach did another somersault. I shook my head. “Not…not yet.”
“Not ever,” he insisted. “Is that what you fear? Not the act itself, but my perception of you?”
I stared at him, uncertain. Was that it? I hadn't realized, but now that he stated it that way…
“Ivetta—”
“You’ve been waiting, and—and I don’t know what you’re expecting, and—I have these scars,” I interrupted him, the words caged inside me tumbling out in a rush, only to trail off at the disbelief in his eyes. It added to my uncertainty, a reaction I hadn't expected, the confusion compounded with his sudden fervent kiss. My heart twisted, butterflies bursting in a cloud like fireworks in my stomach.
“I know about your scars, and I don’t care about them,” he said, cutting off any reply with another kiss. “I don’t know what to expect.” Another kiss, another burst in my stomach. “I just want you. Please, Ivetta.”
For a moment, just a second, my pounding heart stopped. He never said “please,” and he never asked me to go further than my comfort allowed. But I’d never felt this strange heat in my stomach before, either, and I didn’t know what to do with the feeling. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just foreign. And then I realized his bare chest was right in front of me, the firm, steady strength I felt in every embrace defined in candlelit relief before my eyes, fueling the flush in my cheeks and that strange feeling brewing within me. I bit my lip nervously, and his teeth displaced mine in an instant, tugging at my lip and surprising a gasp from me.
“Ch-chevalier…”
“Please,” he repeated, moving down to my throat, every touch of his lips and tongue and teeth blending a definite pleasure with the sensations I couldn’t name.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as his lips traveled down my neck. “I-if I tell you to stop…”
“I’ll stop,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Just tell me what you need.”
This. Whatever he was doing. My hands moved of their own accord from his neck to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his bare skin. I opened my mouth to reply, and a moan came out, adding embarrassment to the rush of feelings. Was that really me? I couldn’t even think anymore, much less be afraid, not when he was kissing me like this, not when his hands were so persistent but gentle.
His fingers teased the laces at the back of my neck. I didn’t pull away when the first one came loose.
He already knew how to kiss me and touch me in a way that elicited a physical response from me, how to use that tone of voice that felt like a purr thrumming through my spine, and combining that with reassurances and more professions of love than I’d ever heard from him stoked the confusion and heat into a blazing fire that matched his. When the dress fell away and the fear threatened to return, his words and actions washed it away in a certainty of passionate, unadulterated desire. He couldn’t get enough of me, and I couldn’t help but submit to his touch.
“Chevalier…”
“You like that, do you?”
It was a wonderful, frightening, lovely, nerve-wracking, exhausting night.
But it was purely wonderful to awake in his arms.
He lay there beside and underneath me, the bright sunlight of a spring morning streaming through the windows and dancing across his features, seductive by candlelight and striking by daylight. I shifted up to whisper in his ear, “Good morning, Chevalier.”
His sleepy blue eyes opened lazily, taking their time to focus on my face. He brushed my hair back behind my ear and kissed me. “This is a good morning.”
“You’ve said before there’s no such thing,” I teased, even though he’d wished me a good morning on the occasions when we’d slept together previously. Just slept together. Not…
Warmth flooded my cheeks before the corner of his lip turned up in a smirk.
“I hadn’t made you mine yet,” he said, pulling me on top of him and kissing me again. Skin to skin, body to body, heart to heart.
“Was it worth the wait?” I asked shyly.
His fingers traced lightly down my back, sending a shiver through me. “What do you think?”
I blushed deeper as I looked down at him. There wasn’t a trace of disappointment in those blue eyes.
“I think it’s time to make breakfast,” I said, rolling off and away from him to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Any requests?”
He grabbed me from behind and pulled me back down, pinning me beneath him. “Stay here,” he said in that low voice that made me melt, silencing any further protest with a hungry kiss.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡltSqi5wWm7
