The next month was the longest and most agonizing month of my life. The night before the wedding was longer still. Morning found me wide awake, my sheets and blankets disarrayed from hours of tossing and turning. There was no point trying to sleep in. I couldn’t even sleep. I got dressed and went to the stables, where a stable boy was returning Blade to his stall after light exercise.
“You’re up early,” Licht commented across the way, grooming his bay stallion.
I didn’t respond as I curried the sweat from Blade’s coat. The rhythmic motion gave only marginal release to the tension in my muscles. Less than eight hours until the wedding. Then the reception, the dancing, the carriage ride, and the chateau. One week there without any servants. She was more than capable of handling the cooking, and she was looking forward to it.
I was looking forward to something else entirely.
“Nokto told her,” Licht said.
I glanced over at him, his eyes fixed on his horse, his face as blank as always. The only people with that knowledge were Nokto, Ivetta, and me. I hadn’t talked to Licht about it, and if Ivetta had, she hadn’t told me. I should be pleased that Licht and Nokto had finally talked about it. But right now, I couldn't care less.
“I know.”
He was silent again as I rubbed Blade down with a dry cloth. A morning ride may be just what I needed to distract myself. The ceremony was in the early afternoon. I would have plenty of time to clean up and change into my suit. That was the extent of my preparation.
She would take all morning to prepare. I found myself wondering what she was doing right now.
“She doesn’t treat me differently,” Licht said hesitantly.
“Why should she?” I asked, swinging the saddle over Blade’s back.
“You know what I did.”
“It needed to be done,” I replied, cinching the straps snugly. “Although she should have been stopped well before that point.”
I opened the stall door and led Blade out into the aisle.
“You can leave after the ceremony,” I threw back over my shoulder.
He was a groomsman, as were the rest of my brothers, with Leon as the best man. There was no need for him to attend the reception and be miserable in front of Ivetta. Nothing was ruining this day for me.
The countryside was blossoming with all the signs of early spring, I’m sure. I didn’t notice any of it. This was just a distraction, something to keep me from pacing in my room until it was time. But it didn’t distract me at all. Less than seven hours until the wedding. Less than six.
When the countdown reached two hours, I handed Blade over to a stable boy and went back to my room to bathe and change. A white tuxedo, silver shirt, gold tie, and I was ready. With less than an hour to go, I met Leon on the way to the church.
“Here,” I said shortly, handing him the rings. His ex-slave jeweler had performed excellent work. The two wedding bands were made of gold, mine dotted with small garnets on one side, hers encrusted with them in the formation of a rose surrounding a diamond dove.
“Loosen up, Chevalier. You’re getting married, not going to a funeral,” he teased, pocketing the rings.
I didn’t reply. My stomach was twisting into knots.
“Wow,” Yves greeted us when we stepped into the foyer. “Just…wow.”
Leon laughed. “I take it she’s looking good.”
Yves grinned. “Good isn’t the word for it.”
Less than an hour.
The rest of my brothers arrived, dressed in white tuxedos, as did the bridal party. Belle was the maid of honor in a gown of gold with silver accents; the bridesmaids were six noblewomen chosen by Sariel, wearing silver with gold accents; and the youngest daughter of John Stotts, Ivetta’s neighbor in the village, was the flower girl dressed in gold.
“Oh, my gosh, it’s finally happening!” Belle squealed, her big brown eyes as bright as her smile.
“Settle down, Belle,” Jin said, laughing at her exuberance. “It’s not your wedding.”
The guests took far too long getting seated. The organ music took far too long to start playing. My feet were forced to walk far too slowly as I made my way down the aisle in my appointed position of the procession to take my place at the center of the altar with the priest. Belle and the bridesmaids fanned out to my right, Leon and my brothers to my left. The church doors closed again. The seconds were endless. Then the music changed to the bridal processional, the audience stood in their pews, and the doors opened.
Yves was right again.
Ivetta’s face was just an indistinct shape behind the long veil that rested carefully on top of her hair, the gauzy material blending into the flowing sleeves covering her arms, continuing down to the full skirt merging into the long train, bunched up at the door behind her. Maids in silver let the length of white fabric out as she walked over the red and white rose petals the flower girl scattered in front of her. Lace roses climbed from the floor around her skirt until they reached her waist, at which point a single stem emerged to bloom across her chest. Her hand rested lightly on the doctor’s arm, his wrinkled face creased into a deep smile as he led her toward me.
She was a vision of beauty, and I couldn’t even see her face.
The doctor handed her off to me, her hand warm in mine, and the priest began. He was too slow, too long winded. It took too long to get to the vows. The cold metal of the ring I slid over her finger was a shock to my system, followed quickly by another shock when she slid the ring over my finger. I finally lifted the veil back over her head, captivated by her shining green eyes, her shy blush, her radiant smile. Her long black hair was piled atop her head, her ears and neck were decorated with silver and pearl jewelry, and I finally kissed her, my wife.
The thunderous applause was an immediate annoyance.
I cut the kiss off far before I wanted to and turned her back to the audience. The pews were filled with visiting royalty, prominent nobility, and one very out-of-place family in the front row: the Stotts family. Ivetta had made only a few requests of Sariel regarding the ceremony, and that was one of them. Sariel acquiesced without question. Ivetta was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, something he well knew. Not that there was anything angry about her now. She was bright and smiling, holding tightly to my hand while her maids pulled her train to the side of the aisle, clearing a path for me to lead her out of the church and across the lawn to the balcony above the outer court. The people down below cheered and threw hats and other nonsense up in the air when I kissed her again, first my wife, now my queen, and I took her back to the palace, back to my room.
If only her maids didn’t follow us in.
I stepped back, waiting impatiently while they removed her veil and her ridiculously long train. Her shy glance in my direction, her nervous blush, made me want to chase the maids out and lock the door. Forget the reception, the carriage, the chateau. We were here, now, in my room, and I couldn’t care less about the rest of it. Just her.
But I let the maids shoo us out into the hallway.
“Ivetta,” I said quietly, leading her to the ballroom. A single word, and we would bypass it completely and go straight to the carriage.
“Just for a little while,” she said, her blush deepening as she looked straight ahead.
And so I took her to the ballroom.
I allowed nobody to cut in during the dancing this time. She was mine, and I was not sharing her with anybody. Her shy green eyes couldn’t hold my gaze as we danced, though she handled all the well-wishers and congratulations with her usual grace and poise. I wanted to make her look at me, kiss her full lips until I saw the half-lidded, heated look in her eyes that matched what I felt, but I held myself back and forced myself to endure the passing hours. Darkness fell, and with it my remaining patience. I led her off the dance floor, out the door, down the hall, toward the carriage awaiting us at the front gate.
The weariness I glimpsed in her eyes as I helped her into the carriage reminded me of my own exhaustion. I took my seat beside her and pulled her close for a soft kiss.
“There’s always tomorrow,” she said nervously.
“I told you I wouldn’t wait forever,” I replied. “But it will be well over an hour before we arrive. Get some sleep.”
She at least needed to relax. I was tired of waiting, but I wasn’t going to force her into anything she didn’t want. It was a relief when she rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.
“You should sleep, too,” she mumbled.
“I intend to.” I rested my head on hers, closing my eyes and breathing in her scent of lilacs. The lace embroidery on her bodice was rough under my fingers compared to the soft, silky material of the main gown. The gauzy layers of the skirt were scratchy against my knuckles. I wrapped my other arm around her waist, pulling her as close as possible without moving her onto my lap. She nuzzled into my chest, her breathing already slow and steady.
For the first time all day, I finally relaxed.
The carriage jolted to a stop, and I was suddenly wide awake, even with less than two hours of sleep. She was still cuddled up to my side, though she, too, was awake, staring past me out the window at the chateau. I leaned in for a quick kiss and opened the carriage door. The servants had already come and gone, leaving our luggage inside and lighting candles in the windows and the bedroom. I alighted onto the cobblestone path and turned back to offer her a hand. Her green eyes were nervous again. Rightfully so. The cool evening air was in direct opposition to the sudden heat pooling in my stomach. But she took my hand, and I barely let her touch one foot to the ground before I scooped her into my arms.
“Chevalier, you don’t have to-”
“It is traditional for the groom to carry his bride across the threshold, is it not?” I replied, smirking down at her in the moonlight as I carried her up the path to the chateau. The white of her gown seemed to glow, the red in her cheeks was clearly apparent, and my anticipation grew with every step.
“Well, yes, but you could just pick me up at the door,” she said, giggling nervously.
We were already at the door. I pulled it open and didn’t bother shutting it behind me. The warm candlelight showed the way I already knew.
“You can put me down now.”
She was getting more and more nervous, but I knew how to handle this. She always melted under the influence of my kisses. I’d start there, in familiar territory, and when her green eyes held the same heat as mine…
“Not yet,” I told her - and myself.
I carried her to the bedroom and pressed her into the blankets, cupping her face in my hands as my lips met hers. Sweet, soft - but hesitant. The feel of her underneath me was intoxicating. It took everything in me to restrain myself to heated kisses. She was mine, my wife, my queen, and I wanted all of her. I needed more.
“Chevalier, wait,” she gasped, pushing me away and climbing out of bed. “I - wait.”
I took a deep breath and shrugged out of my jacket, unabashedly allowing my eyes to travel up and down her as I undid my tie and moved on to unbutton my shirt. The curve of her neck, the laces traveling down her back to her slender waist, the widening of her hips enhanced by the full skirt - but her hands were trembling as she undid her earrings and necklace and set them on the nightstand. I needed to slow down. We had all night, after all.
All our lives.
I had the rest of my life to acquaint myself intimately with every part of her.
She was removing the many hairpins Yves had used to hold her updo in place. I came up behind her and took hold of the one her fingers were currently struggling with.
“Let me,” I said softly.
She didn’t say anything, simply dropping her hands to her sides as I found and removed each pin, watching the silky black locks of hair fall freely across her shoulders. I combed my fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her neck and kissing her soft skin. The way she trembled at my touch sent a shiver up my spine. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her back against me, kissing up to her ear, savoring the taste of her.
“Ch-chevalier, the dress,” she stammered.
“I’m getting there,” I murmured in her ear. One last kiss to her earlobe, and I spun her to face me, kissing her full lips, applying pressure to the small of her back to bring her closer. Her heart was pounding against mine, but something wasn’t right. She wasn’t responding to my kiss the way I expected - the way I wanted.
“What’s wrong, little dove?” I murmured, pulling back just enough so my lips didn’t brush hers as I spoke.
“I…I don’t…”
Something in my gut twisted at the sound of her small, trembling voice. I caught her chin and tilted it up to face me. Her face was pale, her green eyes wide and frightened.
“Ivetta,” I said, but I didn’t know how to continue. She was absolutely terrified.
“I’m s-sorry, I-I just…”
“No. Don’t apologize.” I sighed and wrapped my arms around her waist, nuzzling into her hair as I embraced her. “It’s fine.”
“N-no, it’s not,” she whispered. She was shaking uncontrollably. “You’ve wanted this for so long-”
“I’ve wanted you. Not this,” I said firmly. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in my chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.
“Stop apologizing,” I said, wincing at the frustration in my voice. This was not her fault. I sighed again and scooped her up, carrying her back to the bed.
“Ch-chevalier-”
“It’s okay,” I said, softening my voice as I sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her on my lap. “I’m not going to do anything.”
“I knew I’d disappoint you,” she said miserably.
Where did that come from?
“Ivetta, look at me.”
She did so, reluctantly. Her color was returning to her cheeks, but her green eyes were…ashamed.
“You haven’t disappointed me,” I reassured her, brushing the hair back from her face.
She shook her head slightly. “Not…not yet.”
“Not ever,” I insisted. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”
She nodded hesitantly, opened her mouth to speak, closed it again.
“Ivetta-”
“You’ve been waiting so long, and - and I don’t know what you’re expecting, and - I have these scars…” Her unbelievable words tumbled out in a rush, trailing off as she stared up at my obvious shock.
I shook my head and kissed her fervently. She gasped in surprise, but this time, she tentatively returned the kiss.
“I don’t care about any scars,” I murmured, kissing her again before she could reply. “I don’t know what to expect.” Her hands slid from my neck to my shoulders, fingers digging into my bare skin. “I just want you. Please, Ivetta.”
She pulled back to look at me, and there it was - the look I wanted, her green eyes half-lidded, full of longing. My fingers wandered to the laces at the top of her back unbidden. She trembled, but didn’t pull away. I kept my eyes on her, holding my breath, and then she bit her lip.
That did it.
I leaned in and chewed at her bottom lip, her soft gasp the sweetest music to my ears.
“Ch-chevalier…”
“Please,” I repeated, kissing down to her throat, the first lace undone and my fingers moving to loosen the next one. She tilted her head back, offering me more to kiss, more to taste, and I had my answer.
“I-if I tell you to stop…” she breathed.
“I’ll stop. Just tell me what you need.”
Her skin was flushing under my touch. This was what I wanted. Her, willing and eager, wanting me as badly as I wanted her. I pushed the loosened fabric off her shoulders, exposing her collarbone, and her soft moan as my lips touched her skin was the point of no return. There was no thought anymore, just heat and passion and emotion. I couldn’t get enough of her, and she offered no resistance, inviting me to continue my conquest with impossibly delicious sighs and moans.
“Chevalier,” she gasped.
“You like that, do you?” I murmured, noting with pleasure her fingers curled tightly into the sheets underneath her. She was beautiful, she was sweet, and she was mine, finally mine. Not just in word or in promise, but in deed and action, heart and soul, mind and body. The candles burned down and burned out before my exploration of her was anywhere near complete. When exhaustion finally took over, I fell asleep with her in my arms, at my right side where she belonged, her cheek pillowed on my chest, her silky black hair cascading across both of us.
And it was her sweet voice in my ear that awoke me the next day.
“Chevalier,” she whispered, “Good morning.”
Opening my eyes to see hers, shy and bright, only inches away from mine on the pillow, was the height of bliss. I leaned in to give her a soft kiss.
“This is a good morning.”
“You said before there’s no such thing,” she teased.
“I hadn’t made you mine yet,” I replied with a smirk, pulling her on top of me and kissing her again.
“Was it worth the wait?” she asked shyly.
I traced my fingers lightly down her back, sending a shiver through her. “What do you think?”
She blushed, as if she had anything to hide from me anymore.
“I think it’s time to make breakfast,” she said, rolling off of me and sitting up. “Any requests?”
Her long black hair fell down her bare back, hiding far too much of her tantalizing skin. I pulled her back down, pinning her beneath me.
“Stay here,” I said in the low voice that I’d found to be particularly irresistible to her. She made no protest, happily allowing me to silence her with a hungry kiss.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhLs4BOjN8d
