((Contains material of an adult nature, and a lot of corn!))

Eighteen long months had passed since an innocent young woman had stepped from a 19th century clipper from Earth onto the myriad shores of Rhy'Din, and met a young man from just a few short decades into her own future. A year had gone by with growing friendship, and shyness that kept them from sharing that friendship beyond. A beautiful day at the end of summer had brought with it declarations of love and promise of marriage, and though the winter had kept them from keeping that promise, the coming of spring had finally opened the doors to wedded life. On a bright morning in May, seven months after they had made their pledge to one another, Corporal William Taylor took Miss Jessamin Stewart to be his wife before God and man ....and the formidable Mrs Middleton, his landlady.

The ceremony was simple, the vows short and sweet. The bride was radiant; youthful at twenty and made beautiful with the love that she nurtured for the handsome pilot who slid his ring onto her finger. The guests were few, friends that had been made by both over the months they had made their home in Rhy'Din, each invited personally and each as happy to be there as the bride and groom themselves. The sun shone brightly on the newly wedded pair as they stepped from the church, unaware that a certain landlady had paid the carriage driver a pretty penny to give them the most scenic route of the city he possibly could. After all, she and the other guests had a few preparations of their own to make still, back at the boarding house.

Lifted into the carriage by her new husband, Jessamin laughed happily as she waved to those few who had witnessed their vows. There was a little sadness, yes, that her aunts had not been there, unable to reach Rhy'Din by any means, though they had searched long and hard for a way. But in truth, none of them had expected to see one another again, and just to know that Jess was married and happy was enough for Cecilia and Margaret. Their young niece settled into the open carriage beside her husband, turning her shy, loving eyes to him tenderly. Her husband. My Will.

The waiting had been hard for them both, especially for Will who had been anxious to make Jess his wife for what seemed like a very long time. Despite his impatience, he had insisted on doing things the right way, and the right way meant waiting until they were both settled and he could earn enough money to provide for a wife and a family. Even so, it had been Mrs. Middleton who had finally stepped in and told him that if he insisted on waiting until their circumstances were perfect, they might never get married. It wasn't that he'd had cold feet - there was no doubt in his mind that he loved Jessamin with all his heart and had for a long time. It was just that he wanted to make sure he could give her the life he thought she deserved, not realizing that all she really wanted was him. It had taken an older, wiser person to finally make that clear to him. Once he realized and understood that, things moved pretty quickly. He'd saved nearly enough for a ring, and Mrs. Middleton insisted on loaning him the rest.

It was no secret that she'd become quite fond of the young couple, and without a family of her own, had taken them under her wing and into her heart. The war was long over, yet Will chose to wear his uniform to the wedding, his squadron and rank plain to see on his lapel and shoulders. Though he no longer belonged to the military, he wore that uniform with pride and honor as befitted any military veteran. Oddly, he had felt more nervous saying his vows in front of the small crowd gathered than he had his first day in the pilot's seat, but like that first flight, this was their first step on the road to a new life together.

Now that the vows had been said and the ceremony was over, Will had finally relaxed, settling himself into the carriage beside his new bride and taking her hand as they waved to the happy onlookers and well-wishers gathered around. At last, they were off, and he turned his happy smile to the young woman at his side, his heart feeling as light as a feather, as if it had wings. Today was, without a doubt, the happiest day of his life, and it was all because of this lovely young woman beside him - his beloved, his wife, his Jess. She was a vision, the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. Somehow, it seemed she grew lovelier by the day, and each day that passed only found him falling more in love with her than the day before.

As the carriage pulled away, the horses trotting to take a turn around the city in the tradition that had not yet died when Jessamin had left England, the well wishers scattered to their own transports, hurried on by Mrs Middleton. There was a wedding breakfast to have ready by the time Will brought his bride to the boarding house where they would begin their married life; they could only hope the progress around the city would give them time a-plenty for it. Within the carriage beneath the warm sun, Jessamin was silent, unknowing quite what to say or do now she was a wife. Her gaze lingered long on Will's face, tenderly admiring of not just his own kind of beauty but the handsome soul contained within. Until a thought occurred to her quite suddenly, and she gasped, twisting to look back down the street toward the church. "I didn't throw my bouquet!"

Will couldn't help but laugh, his heart light and happy, amused by her lapse of memory. He glanced over his shoulder at the small crowd that was dispersing behind them. "You can throw it when we get to the boarding house," he suggested, not very knowledgeable about the various traditions involved in getting married and obviously not very concerned about it now that they were married. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. He was married. She was Mrs. William Taylor. Mrs. Jessamin Taylor. Mrs. Taylor, his bride, his wife, the love of his life, and suddenly he could wait no longer. Whether it was polite or not, he touched her cheek to turn her face toward him and caught her lips to offer a tender, loving kiss.

Hadn't she said when he'd first fallen to his knee in the autumn that she'd been taught it was a man's right to kiss his sweetheart whenever he wished" Surely that applied more so to a man and his wife. However impolite it was, Jess offered no protest but her blush as her husband kissed her, young love that promised to grow old with him rich in her eyes when he drew back from her. Her smile was wide as they swayed together with the motion of the carriage, curling her fingers softly to his cheek, sweetly conscious of her bare neck and shoulders beneath the sunshine. "Are you happy, Will?" she asked him, her voice lilting through the cultured tone she was never going to lose. "I know you wanted to wait a little longer, but ....I'm so happy, I feel I could burst!"

His lips lingered against hers for what was definitely longer than a polite amount of time, but she was his wife now and he loved her and he never wanted to stop kissing her, no matter where they were or what they were doing. "'Course I'm happy!" he replied with a grin, a slight Texas accent coloring his words. He brushed the fringe of bangs back from her forehead, for no other reason than he could. "You're the prettiest bride I ever seen."

She laughed, the sound flowing so much more easily from her now than it had when they had first met. She still could not believe that their second meeting had occurred purely because she had fainted in an overcrowded marketplace, embarrassed by her weakness and pleased by it, too, for it had caught his attention to her and begun the friendship that had brought them to this point. "You, sir, are entirely untrustworthy in that opinion," she informed him through her joyful smile. "I am your bride, you have to say that. And untrustworthy or not, you will always be the best man I have ever known." She leaned into him, soft lips brushing the corner of his mouth to seal her words, innocent enough still to keep her boldest kisses for privacy.

How could he possibly argue with that' She was good for his ego, even if he knew her opinion was biased. He knew he wasn't perfect, but she had always seen the best in him, even when he'd felt less than worthy. As for himself, he knew she was perfect. "It's the truth, Jess," he insisted, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I never met anyone prettier than you." Not that he'd met or known many girls during his short lifetime, but of those he had, not one came anywhere close to his Jess.

Her smile softened, faltering just a little. She knew he had known other girls, that he must have known at least one in his time. He had lived through a war, and though she was naive, she was not so naive as to think a young man stayed celibate when every night might be his last. Her fingers linked with his as she blushed once again, dropping her gaze to their joined hands, smiling to see the sparkle of his ring on her finger. "I hope you still believe so in the morning."

Oh, he'd been with a few girls - women, rather - but not as many as she might think. His first was little more than a drunken memory - dragged to a brothel by his friends to lose his virginity before going off to war. It had been an awkward encounter at best and one he'd sooner forget. He was no experienced lover, and the thought of taking her to bed both excited him and made him nervous. "I hope I don't disappoint you," he replied, a shy, nervous smile on his face.

As their lips parted, he looked back in wonder at his new bride, feeling the same rising tide of desire that he sensed was stirring in her, but there wasn't much time to think on it now, surrounded as they were by a small crowd of well-wishers. He flushed scarlet at the thought, embarrassed by the cheer that went up from that small crowd. He couldn't wait until they were alone and could relax in each other's company, but until then, he would have to be patient a little while longer. He turned a slightly embarrassed smile toward Jess at the crowd's encouragement. "Shall we?" he asked, releasing his hold on her waist and offering his arm. He knew all eyes were on them, and he didn't want to embarrass himself or her further.

All a-glow with a warmth she no longer had to keep quite so painfully hidden, Jess wrapped her arm through Will's, hugging close to him with a soft smile. "We wouldn't want Mrs Middleton to come out here and find us herself, would we?" she laughed quietly, rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek, part of her wishing fervently that the helpful old woman could have left well enough alone and let them have their wedding day quiet and private. They led the gathering at their backs into the boarding house, where white and blue cloth had been draped at the windows, orchids and roses set in vases. The dining table had been extended and set with enough places for everyone there, delicious smells wafting from the kitchens. "I should go and ask if she needs any help," Jessamin fussed quietly. "She's worked so hard."

It was true, they both would have been happy with just a simple, quiet ceremony, but neither of them wanted to disappoint the elderly lady who had done so much for them and who wanted to make their day special. "No, I suppose not," he replied. A soft smile curled Will's lips as she kissed his cheek, and he turned to lead her and their small entourage into the boarding house, surprised to find all the trouble his landlady - who had practically adopted them - had gone to to complete the celebration. The smile faded a little as Jessamin's remark, his forehead crinkling in thought. "Jess, this is our day. I don't think you're supposed to help." He wasn't too sure, but he he had a feeling they were supposed to be the guests of honor here.

Her lips twitched into a faintly guilty smile as they approached the table, exquisitely laid with Mrs Middleton's best, set with centerpieces fashioned after those Jessamin was familiar with from her own time. She squeezed Will's arm fondly. "You mean my only job today is to adore you?" she murmured, hoping that the friends milling around them couldn't hear her as she added in an even softer tone, "Because surely I could do that better in private."

He arched a brow at her, wondering what had gotten into her. Was she flirting with him, after all those months of trying to resist each other and remain chaste" She couldn't mean what he thought she meant, could she" Not his shy, quiet Jessamin. He leaned his head toward hers, lowering his voice to match hers. "We can't just leave when she's gone to all this trouble," he pointed out, looking around at the table settings and adornments, his stomach grumbling as the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen reached his nostrils, reminding him that he needed to eat.

He seemed to have forgotten that the only thing that had really kept them from breaking their celibacy with one another during those long months had been their keen awareness that she had a reputation to maintain, something so thoroughly trained into her that even the thought of lying with him, despite their love for one another, before she took his name was appalling. Now she was his wife, Mrs. Jessamin Taylor, and there was nothing to keep her from flirting with him without fear. "I know," she conceded softly, if more than a little reluctantly. "I am hungry, too. I couldn't face breakfast this morning."

A laugh sounded from her other side as Amy thumped herself down into a chair. "You should have seen her," the girl informed Will with playful glee. "One sip of tea, and I swear, I thought she was gonna hurl."

Will was about to say something when Jessamin's friend Amy, who Will barely knew, plopped down in a chair nearby, diverting the conversation. "Hurl?" he echoed, with a puzzled look. It took a moment before he sorted out her meaning, which brought a wince as he imagined her "hurling". He hoped he wouldn't have to ever witness that. "I couldn't eat either. Too nervous," he admitted, though Mrs. Middleton had eventually managed to get him to nibble on a slice of toast and half a cup of coffee.

Mortified that Amy had decided to share that piece of information, Jess blushed furiously, averting her eyes as she pinched her friend's hand under the table, earning herself nothing more than a louder laugh. She lifted apologetic eyes to Will. "I wasn't nervous about marrying you," she promised him fervently. "It ..." She glanced sideways at Amy and leaned closer to Will, lowering her voice. "I don't feel decent in this dress," she whispered, giggling in gentle embarrassment. "I like it, but I can't help feeling as though I'm not properly dressed for company."

And since she had mentioned the dress, he couldn't stop his gaze from drifting over it, admiring not only the dress but the young woman who wore it. "It's lovely," he murmured appreciatively, unable to guess how much work had gone into the making of the dress. "You're lovely," he added in a softer tone, reaching for her hand beneath the table and giving it a light squeeze, resisting the urge to kiss her with her friend so close at hand.

Oddly, Jess felt no such compunction toward propriety. If her sole purpose today was to love Will, then she saw nothing wrong with showing that love, regardless of who was nearby. "You are biased," she teased her husband fondly, her body tilting to his as her lips brushed against his mouth. "You love me." She ignored the low groan that announced itself from Amy, breaking the kiss only when a familiar voice summoned all helpers to the kitchen to begin serving the meal.

He smiled against her lips, not denying his bias, but there had been a time when he hadn't known her very well yet, and he had still found her lovely. "First time we met, I thought you were the prettiest girl I ever seen. Pretty as a flower," he told her with a soft smile and a faint blush. He didn't think he was very good with words, not very poetic, but somehow he always managed to get his meaning across well enough.

She giggled softly, blushing once again. "I remember," she nodded, the memory of their first meeting burned into her mind.

There was a crash from the kitchen door, making her jump as a procession of willing and not so willing helpers came back into the dining room, bearing with them dishes to set on the table. Thankfully, Mrs Middleton had decided to forego a full many course meal, bowing to the simplicity her adopted son and his bride preferred, and had instead prepared a mixture of cold cuts and salads to sate the appetites of the guests invited to this pretty little wedding breakfast. And finally, the landlady herself made her appearance, taking her seat on Will's right hand side. "Well, don't just sit there looking hungry," she told the politely waiting diners. "Eat up!"

Startled by the crash coming from the kitchen, Will squeezed Jessamin's hand a little tighter and jerked his head in the direction of the noise, relaxing when he realized it was only the servers coming in with the food. There were times when he was a little skittish of loud noises and he had warned her that he was prone to nightmares from time to time, but the tension went quickly out of him as the servers came in with the food. The reaction was so brief, it was hardly noticeable, except for those who knew him well or were very observant. He frowned a little as the food was passed around, worrying his landlady had gone a little overboard. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble," he told her quietly.

"It's no trouble, William," she told him fondly, one soft hand on his cheek as she smiled at the young man who so reminded her of the son she had lost so long ago. "In any case, how else am I to know you two will have the strength to last the night if I don't feed you up now?" As Mrs Middleton laughed at her own somewhat ribald joke, Jessamin's blush deepened, mild scandal painted in her eyes for a moment as she stroked her palm over Will's knuckles.

Will smiled, both at Mrs. Middleton's remark and Jessamin's blush. "We know where the kitchen is," he reminded her, presuming they were staying the night at the boarding house. It had taken months for him to save up enough money just to pay for a ring. There was no money for a proper honeymoon or a house of their own, just yet. They were making ends meet, but if it wasn't for the generosity of his landlady, it would have been far more of a struggle.

Their shared assurances were overheard by those sitting near them, and finally Mrs Middleton took pity, chuckling as she clapped her hands. "All right, then, ladies and gents, it's time," she announced, producing her keys from her pocket with a decidedly mischievous smile.

Will was so distracted by the quiet, returned declaration from his new bride that he hardly noticed what Mrs. Middleton was up to. He smiled back at Jess as they brushed noses and took a deep swallow of wine, as opposed to her sip. He'd grown accustomed to the taste of wine during his tour of duty in France and thought nothing of it. It was the clapping of hands that pulled him out of his thoughts and he glanced up at their hostess with an arched brow. "Time?" he echoed, curiously.

There was no answer to his curious echo but the quiet yelp of surprise as Jess was pulled up from her seat by several grasping hands. Others reached for Will, and in a whirl of movement, the bride and groom were on their way into the foyer and toward the stairs, wrapped about by their teasing, laughing friends. Mrs Middleton marched in the fore, singing something that could have been a little objectionable, had anyone actually been listening to the words.

Will just barely had time to drain his glass before he was yanked to his feet and half-dragged toward the foyer and the stairs, along with his bride. Once he realized what they had in mind - and caught a few of the ribald lyrics to the song their leader was singing - he laughed, a warm, happy sound that bubbled up from somewhere inside him, a rare event, but one that was becoming more commonplace everyday, mostly due to the two women he had become so fond of and who had filled the emptiness in his life and his heart.

All around them, kisses and embraces were being handed out to the nervous bride and groom as the rowdy but good-natured crowd drew them up the stairs and over the landing toward the set of rooms Mrs Middleton had been holding for them since before the turn of the New Year. The landlady had insisted that a married couple should have their own bathroom, and though there had been a little resistance from certain others who lived at the boarding house, she had held her ground, preserving the rooms just for William and Jessamin's pleasure when they finally wed. She now made a great show of unlocking the door, removing the key from the keyring and pressing it into Will's hand as he and Jess were teasingly nudged toward her.

"One last blessing before we part ways," she said, and though her voice was low, it carried, quieting the group all around them. "May you never lie, steal, or cheat. But if you must lie, lie in the arms of the one you love. If you must steal, then steal away from bad company and sorrows. And if you must cheat, cheat death for as long as love lives in you." She smiled warmly, taking a hand in each of her own to pull both bride and groom close into her embrace, murmuring into Will's ear. "And if you must bring this bawdy group into my house, the least you can do is carry her over the threshold and give them something else to celebrate once the door's closed."

Will weathered the hugs and kisses with good-natured friendliness, if a little embarrassment. He'd never had anyone make such a fuss over him before, except his mother, but then, he'd never gotten married before either. Will closed his hand around the key, touched once again by the older woman's generosity and kindness. He hugged her back warmly, as she pulled them both close, touched by her blessing and smiling happily at her suggestion. It was not him who had brought the group there really, but he was not about to argue the fact. He knew the celebration would go on without them, while they were occupied with a celebration of their own in private. Turning to Jess, he reached for her hand to pull her toward him and kiss his bride once again, allowing those gathered to witness just a hint of what they assumed would soon be happening before closed doors.

Caught up in the merry celebration all around them, nonetheless Jess was relieved when Mrs Middleton quieted the gathering for a few moments, hugging into the older woman's embrace with deep affection. She, who had never known her own mother, had grown very fond of Will's landlady over the months, more grateful than she could express for the care that had been lavished on them both. "Thank you," she murmured into the woman's ear as they stepped apart, surprised to find herself drawn back into the circle of Will's arms and kissed once more to the raucous accompaniment of teasing cheers.

Will didn't bother to express his gratitude as he'd already done so countless times, and filled with excitement at the prospect of finally making Jess his wife in every way possible, he just plain forgot. Distracted by the cheers of the crowd, not to mention Jessamin's lips, he lost himself in that kiss for a moment before remembering Mrs. Middleton's instructions and breaking away to sweep his bride up off her feet and into his arms.

The group gathered around them could have been so much smoke and mirrors as far as Jess was concerned. Whenever Will kissed her, the world faded, and somehow it was different now, more intense, more all-encompassing. Sweet and shy still, she was a wife now, soon to be a woman, and the fluttering rise of butterflies deep in her belly were a testament to how imminent that taking and making truly was. Her fingers caressed his cheek as he broke away from her, her lips parting in a laugh as she found herself swept up and into the cradle of his arms, her own looped about his neck as the door was pushed open for them. Nerves made her smile brighter, her eyes sparkling with tender anticipation as the last of the good wishes were called out to them.

With his arms full of his sweet wife, he could not very well wave to the onlookers and well-wishers, and even if he wanted to take a moment to thank them, his words would have more than likely been drown out by the cheers and catcalls from the crowd. If there was any waving to be done, it would have to be done by Jess, as he wasted no time in escaping the crowd and lifting her over the threshold of their new home and kicking the door closed to give them some privacy at long last.

Perhaps she should have waved, but the time for being the center of their friends' attentions had come to an end for the new bride and groom. Jessamin's attention had focused upon Will, her gaze fondly greedy as she devoured his profile, the flushed handsome face that was hers to wake up to for the rest of her life. As the door closed, shutting out the worst of the noise left behind them on the landing, she gazed into his eyes, nervous and loving, and very slowly burst into giggles, hugging his neck as she pressed her face to his shoulder. "Oh, thank goodness that is all over!"

He hugged her close, cradling her against him as he turned to look around at their new surroundings with her still in his arms. She felt as light as a feather, compared to the laboring he'd been doing all winter. He smiled as she giggled, her laughter infectious, in complete agreement with her sentiments. He heard the murmur of voices outside their door grow quieter as the crowd dispersed and returned to their celebration without the happy couple. "Thank God. I thought it would never end!"

"Well ....well, it isn't completely finished yet," his bride stuttered softly, her blush wonderfully brilliant in contrast to the dark fall of her hair. Raising her head from his shoulder, she lifted her eyes to look about the room they had finally been allowed into.

It was a large comfortable space, separated into two areas purely by the placement of furniture - a table and chairs by the curving bay of the window, a small couch and armchair by the fireplace, dressers set against the walls.Set against the opposite wall was the bed, a fine sturdy wooden frame in deep mahogany, the mattress and pillows lovingly laid with the fresh linens that formed a part of Jessamin's trousseau. A door beyond the bed stood half open, an invitation to their own private bathroom. Their nightwear had been laid across the end of the bed, and a bottle of wine stood with a pair of glasses on the table. Evidently Mrs Middleton thought they were going to need a little more fortifying before they managed to consummate their marriage.

The room was bigger than the previous one, large enough to easily accommodate two people, at least for now. It was much smaller than the farmhouse he'd grown up in, but it would do for now, until they'd saved enough money to buy a house of their own. The room was, in fact, warm and cozy and comfortable and afforded them more privacy than his previous room, in part due to the fact that this one included a private bath, which seemed almost like a luxury to Will these days. Satisfied with the room, his eyes settled on the bed momentarily before turning back to his blushing bride with a blush and nervous smile of his own. He had butterflies of his own to contend with, wondering how they should begin. "I, uh..." he started, glancing around again, noting the wine and the nightclothes.

"Harpsichord!" he echoed with a chuckle. He wasn't a modern man by any means and he knew very little about art or music, but he believed in her, even if she didn't believe in herself. "Jess, I'm not talking about copying the masters. Who cares about the masters?" He wasn't even sure who the masters were. Rembrandt, maybe? Michelangelo' Da Vinci" Who wanted to copy them' "I'm talking about painting what you want to paint, just for the fun of it." And as far as a harpsichord went, who played one of those anymore" "Have you ever tried the piano?" he asked, prodding her further. Now that the fire was going, he'd run out of things to do, and the nervousness was starting to set in again. He thought about taking his jacket off and getting comfortable but debating against it for now.

"No," she giggled softly, setting her comb down finally, drawing her fingers through her long hair. "I can read music, but I never know if what I am playing is what is actually written there." Her smile saddened for a moment, knowing he wasn't going to like hearing what she was about to tell him. "I never did anything just to enjoy it before I met you." She held his gaze for a long moment, lovingly tender in her soft way, before once more returning her gaze to the mirror. Her hands rose into her hair again, beginning the task of braiding it for the night.

"You don't....you don't have to do that, you know," he told her a little uncertainly as she started to braid her hair, wondering if she'd ever - just once - broken any of the rules that had been set down for her during her short life. "I-I kind of like it loose." He watched her from the fireplace, admiring the soft cascade of dark hair that fell over her bare shoulders and down her back, and there was that odd feeling in his stomach again that he recognized as desire. It would start there and slowly spread unless something was done to stop it.

Her hands stilled, a softer shade of rose painting her cheeks as a tiny smile tugged at her lips. He'd never told her what he liked about her appearance, or what he would prefer, and to hear him offer just one small preference made something flip over inside. "Then ...then I will leave it loose," she ventured softly, letting her hair fall back over her shoulders as her eyes strayed toward him once again. The flare of desire in his eyes was not something she could miss, triggering her own desires to rise, quickening her breath as she gazed at him, longing written deep in her own eyes.

"Just for tonight," he told her, though he certainly wouldn't mind if she wore her hair loose all the time. Her hair, he thought, was one of her best features, but it was her soft brown eyes he liked best. "I, um..." An awkward, nervous tension seemed to hang in the air between them. Anticipation, excitement, a little fear. "Would you like some wine?" he asked, extending a hand toward the bed, where a bottle of wine and two glasses awaited them. Maybe a glass or two of wine would relax them.

"Every night," she promised him, her shy smile reigniting itself gently. "I'd forgotten, until you mentioned it. My Aunt Cecilia told me that no man should ever see my hair unbound, except my husband." She laughed, just a little, sweeping her hair back from her face as she turned toward him, just a little fear flickering in her gaze as his gesture took in the bed, relief arising when he mentioned the wine. "Oh! I ..." She hesitated again, biting her lip, feeling her breath quickening once again as she pressed a hand to her waist. "W-would you mind awfully if I ....if I change" I-I think my corset was laced too tightly today." Not that her breathlessness had anything to do with her corset, of course.

His gaze met hers if only for a moment, the shared desire easy to read in the dark depths of their eyes. He felt the urge to go to her, to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless, but instead he found himself nodding his head and maintaining some small semblance of propriety, if only for the moment. "No, of course not," he answered, trying not to imagine what that corset must look like beneath the lace covering of her dress. "I....uh....suppose we should both get changed."

Her smile was gently relieved, apologetic for her uncertainty as she turned toward the bed. Her eyes fell on the nightdress and robe laid out there, and for a moment she faltered. Then, with a whirl that tossed her hair about like a dark curtain, she hurried to Will, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss him tenderly. She was nervous, yes, but even she knew that it was only nerves. "I love you," she whispered to him fiercely, stroking her fingers against his cheeks before her hands fell once again. "I-I won't be long."

What could he say to that, other than returning her declaration of love" He was for the moment, speechless, lost in the warmth of her kiss and the promise of her love. He reached for her, settling his hands lightly against her waist, as his lips met hers, her fingers stroking his cheek. He only nodded mutely, his face flushing hotly with desire.

Her fears were allayed by that single kiss, though her nerves blossomed into something far deeper, far darker as he gazed down at her, knowing that look in his eyes for the desire it was. Desire for her, desire they had both been suppressing for months. Her fingers trailed down his chest for a brief moment before she stepped back. "I ....I think a glass of wine is a lovely idea," she managed softly, blushing brighter than ever as she turned away, sweeping the armful of silk and lace from the bed and rushing into the bathroom.

He would have liked to have undressed her himself or at least watched her undress, but they were both still too shy for that. Sooner or later, if they were ever going to really be husband and wife, they were going to have to get past the nerves one way or another. He watched as she slipped away from him, the pink blush lighting her cheeks prettily, taking an armful of nightclothes with her. Once she was gone, he blew out a breath, unsure what to do next. He glanced at the bed and the nightclothes Mrs. Middleton had laid out for him. Should he change out of his uniform' He was going to have to do it sooner or later.

Thankfully for them both, Jessamin was well accustomed to dressing and undressing herself, even with a corset to consider, having never had a ladies-maid to help her make herself presentable. And though it was always awkward, she could at least remove her clothes without hurting herself or damaging anything else in the immediate vicinity. The accumulation of rice in her bodice gave her pause, necessitating a brief wash with water from the tap just to clean her hot skin of the confetti that had been thrown liberally over them both at the church and when they had arrived here. When she finally paused to take stock of herself in the mirror, though, she realized she was regretting changing at all.

The nightdress had been a gift from Mrs Middleton, white silk and ivory lace, cut in a style the woman had insisted was only thirty years ahead of Jessamin's own time. But her arms were bare, the gown hung close to her skin, and as for the position of the lace ....well, it was positively indecent. What on earth would Will think of her, dressing like some scarlet woman just to go to bed? Still, it was too late to change her mind once again, and at least there was a long-sleeved robe, albeit sheer and buttoned close beneath her breasts. She was definitely going to need that glass of wine.

By the time she was finished in the bathroom, he had already changed out of his uniform and into the nightclothes his landlady had provided, which consisted of a black and white checkered shirt that buttoned up the front and matching pants. It wasn't the most attractive thing in the world, but it was sort and warm and comfortable and beat the long johns he usually wore to bed. There was a pair of slippers to keep his feet warm, but he didn't bother with them, leaving his feet bare. His uniform was neatly folded over a chair for the night, and he was found standing near the bed pouring them each a glass of wine.

Barefoot herself and infinitely shyer now than she had been before she'd slipped out of sight, Jess drew open the door, hugging her clothes to her chest. Her eyes swept the room, lighting on Will with her familiar soft smile, glad to see he had changed his clothes as well. She didn't think she could have borne it to be in this ridiculous garb and he still in his uniform. Drawing the door closed behind her, she moved almost silently to the window, laying her gown carefully over the back of a second chair, and turned to face him, her fingers playing in and out of the robe that swayed about her.

His gentle instruction brought a giggle bubbling up from her lips as she considered that what was coming naturally in waves was a conflicted urge either to hide in a cupboard or thrown herself onto the bed like a wanton. "I'm yours," she reminded him, her hands creeping once again to cradle his cheeks as she leaned into him. "I'll do whatever you want me to." And since he had told her to kiss him, that was precisely what she did; slow, tender kisses that peppered his lips, unconsciously inviting the fire within them both to flare to life once more without fear of damping.

He heard himself sigh against her lips, nearly a moan, all the months of denying himself this - both of them denying the primal urges that were part of their nature, despite their fears and their shyness with each other. He hoped that once they were past this first time, things would change between them. They would slowly grow more at ease with each other, more confident, until there was no fear, no hesitation, no worry. "Do you trust me, Jess?" he asked, between peppered kisses as his hands wandered to settle against her waist. Corset or no, she was just as desirable, just as lovely.

"Yes, I ....yes!" The word was a gasp from her lips to his, borne from the tantalizing shock of his hands at her waist, separated from her skin only by thin layers of gossamer sheer and slippery silk. Her eyes snapped open, gazing up at him with deep desire stormy in her dark eyes, close to overwhelming the fear that was only natural for this first wedded night. Her hands tightened on him, gripping tenderly into his hair, the collar of his pajamas. "I couldn't trust anyone more," she promised him in a voice more breathless than whispering, slowly gaining the courage to touch, just enough to show him that it was not him she was afraid of.

He smiled, sensing the desire in her that matched his, almost but not quite overcoming the fear. He reached for her hand again, drawing her with him closer to the bed, leaning over to pull back the blankets. The lights were already dim, the fire warming the room and creating flickering shadows that danced off the walls. The drapes had already been pulled closed to offer a sense of privacy, even if the only thing outside the window was that of a moonlit starry sky. They could not be more alone if they tried. Even the voices beneath them had died down, people departing the house and going about their own business, now that the happy couple had been escorted to the marriage bed. "You must tell me if I'm hurting you," he instructed, taking that part very seriously.

She barely hesitated, her gaze focused entirely upon him as he led her to the bed. The tremble in her could not have been more obvious, both from the gentle shake of the hand he held in his, to the tremor of the hand she pressed to the small collection of buttons that held her robe closed. But it was anticipation more than anything, an innocent understanding that after tonight, everything she knew about herself would be changed. "I will," she promised him, barely expecting there to be anything but pain. Her aunts, for all their vague explanations, had been quite strident on that point - a woman was not supposed to enjoy being bedded, they'd insisted. Quite how her maiden aunts knew that, Jess couldn't guess, but she had never argued with them.

If Will had known, he couldn't have disagreed more with her aunts' opinion on that - and that was all it was, because neither had ever experienced it for themselves. He wanted Jess not only to be comfortable with him, but he wanted her to enjoy the experience as much as he did. Despite her aunts telling her that to be a good wife, she must please her husband, Will was not a selfish lover. He wanted to give as much pleasure as he received; he only had to learn how. The first step, of course, was getting out of their clothes, and he thought maybe he should be the one to lead her in that. Perhaps it would help ease her own fears if she saw he was unafraid to bare himself to her, even if deep down he was as nervous as she was. "We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to," he continued as he worked the buttons of his shirt loose. "We can stop whenever you want."

The storm of her gaze could not linger on his, however much she tried to make herself watch his eyes. The movement of his hands between them drew her eye, and he was presented with the sweetness of her blush rising as each of his buttons came loose, the hunger in her matched only by the hunger in him. Innocent she might be, shy she might be, but Jess knew that this was theirs to share, whatever happened to make it whole. Her hand twitched toward him, startling her with the urge to sweep the cloth aside and touch his skin with her shaking fingertips. "I don't want to stop," she heard herself whisper as her fingers brushed the cloth of his shirt, her eyes finally returning to meet his gaze. "I trust you, Will."

There was a certain amount of pressure in that trust given, a certain expectation from her, perhaps, that he wouldn't disappoint or harm her, but whatever doubts were in his own head were overshadowed by his love for her and the desire he felt matched his own. Though he had her permission, he was prepared to stop at a moment's notice if she was feeling any doubt. Her fingers brushed the cloth of his shirt and he felt his heart leap at that simple, innocent touch. "I love you, Jess," he replied to her statement of trust in him, needing her to know it was love that spurred him onward. He shrugged the nightshirt away from his shoulders, exposing a torso that was slim and yet corded with muscle that had come from months of hard work. His body was slowly changing, becoming more like a man and less like a boy's.

The fierceness of desire in her eyes softened as he repeated his love for her, the gentler swell of her feeling for him sweeping to the fore once again. And perhaps strangely, it gave her new confidence that the frightening wash of passion had not. The backs of her fingers brushed against his skin, tracing the corded muscle he had developed over the year, warm and gentle and barely trembling any longer. Then her hand retreated, and she lifted her fingers to the buttons of her robe, brushing her hair out of the way to undo the sheer fabric and let it fall open, revealing the sweet indecency of the lace that made the bodice of her nightgown.

He dropped the nightshirt aside on a chair and turned back to find her matching his action and working her own buttons free. He lowered his gaze to watch her quietly, almost reverently, as she started to free herself of the robe, still covered by the gown, but revealing more of her than he'd ever seen before. He felt his insides curl into nervous knots of tension, more from desire than fear now that they'd taken this first step together, his heart beating a little faster in excitement and anticipation. She was so beautiful she almost took his breath away, and as she slowly revealed herself to his loving eyes, she only seemed to grow more lovely.

Jess found she couldn't take her eyes from her husband, her Will, even when he turned away for those scant moments it took to set his nightshirt aside. Under his gaze, so tumultuous with loving and longing, she felt beautiful in a way she could never have thought possible. She thought her mouth too wide, her nose too prominent, her figure not slender enough to suit the fashion of the time to which she had been born. Yet none of that seemed to matter to the man who had made her his wife. In silent reverence, she dared to let the robe slip from her shoulders, baring her arms in the soft firelight as she drew the luxurious fabric away. It felt like an eternity, the time it took to force herself to turn and place that robe to one side, and yet she realized she could not quite gather the courage to turn back and face him. Her head turned toward him, lighting her profile in the dim light from the hearth, longing for him to touch her, and lift her out of this strange limbo between maiden and woman.

"You're so lovely," he told her in a quiet voice, barely aware he had said it. She was still not bare to him, but he could see enough of her to know he spoke the truth. "I want you, Jess," he continued, the ache in his heart and body betraying him, unable to deny the need of desire much longer, though he would deny himself forever if she asked it of him. "Please..." he said, not wanting to plead or beg, but wanting her to know just how very much he needed her.

Her eyes closed as he spoke, feeling the rising need in him more than she heard it, knowing it was echoed in the staccato flip and sizzle that swelled through her own body as her fingers flexed against the back of the chair. Drawing in a slow breath, she forced herself to turn back to him, and suddenly there was no slowness, no nervous anticipation left in her. With two steps, she was in his arms, the shock of feeling his skin under her touch not enough to prevent the kiss that sought his lips, wanting to be overwhelmed once more.

He suddenly found her in his arms once again, the desire overcoming the fear, the love overcoming the timidity, and he opened himself to her, letting her feel his passion. He dared to deepen the kiss, throwing caution to the wind, becoming more passionate, letting her feel the love and the longing, his actions speaking louder than words. And as his lips plied hers and he explored the sweetness that was her kiss, his hands rose to her shoulders, very slowly and gently peeling away the last layer of thin cloth that kept them from each other.

As always, his kiss calmed the restless thoughts in her mind, drawing her out of herself enough to respond to his affection with a slow softening of her tense limbs. Her fingers twitched to touch him, still wary of doing the wrong thing, even as his touch slipped down over her shoulder, along the length of her arm, setting her skin burning in his wake. She shifted, a new restlessness making itself known, and finally her hand came up from between them, daring her own fears to stroke her fingertips against his arm as the slow kindling of her passion drew a tender sigh from her throat.

Encouraged by her reaction to his touch, he dared to go one step further, his fingers grazing the soft rising curve of her breast, exploring her slowly with a trembling hand, hoping to not only learn her, but show her that there really was nothing to fear from him. He was a patient lover and he longed to give her pleasure, almost more than he wanted it for himself.

She could not have hidden her reaction to his touch even if she had wanted to. As his fingers grazed the tender swell of her breast, she gasped, stealing his breath from his kiss as her body arched, pressing that soft flesh into the curve of his palm. Her hand tightened on his arm, loosening almost immediately, and her other hand rose, too, smoothing her fingers into his hair as she offered a kiss in return, shuddering beneath his touch. A virgin she might be, but she was his wife, and she loved him. And now she knew what the source of that elusive heat was that had plagued her for months. It was a longing for this, to share this with him.

He let himself explore her slowly, touch her, discover her with gentle hands and a warm mouth, trembling with pent-up desire of his own. He went slowly at first, tentatively, gauging his next move by her reactions, warming her slowly to his advances and his ministrations. It wasn't until he was sure she was ready that his fingers strayed for that sweet place that lie at the center of her being, that place that would offer the most pain and the most pleasure. He was awkward at first, but gentle, his touch tender and loving, never forceful, hoping that if he kindled her desire further, what came next would be less painful.

And as he explored her, she could not help but respond, torn between shame at her own eagerness and tender longing for it never to end. Her hand covered her own mouth to stifle the sounds of her pleasure at his touch, still aware in the back of her mind her aunts' insistence that she should not be enjoying any of this. Yet her other hand, encouraged by the way he touched her, dared to touch him in return even as she writhed, stilling only once as his gentle fingers found the burning center of her desire. And even then, it was only to muffle the sound of her delighted cry in both her hands as she panted and arched, succumbing to the passion he was teaching her.

Encouraged onward by her reaction, recognizing her desire and wanting to fulfill her own needs, as well as his own, he moved over her, covering her body with his, well aware that by doing so he could no longer hide the effect her body was having on his. He was warm against her, more warming than a blanket, heart beating hard in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps between breathless kisses. They had come so far it was almost too late to stop now, and yet he waited, letting her feel the heat of his need so close to her own. "I need you, Jess," he whispered raggedly, his breath warm against her neck.

He needn't have feared that she would say no now. His patience had rewarded him as much as her; caught up in the tender glow of unexpected delight, she had forgotten her shyness, the strange need to muffle her voice. Her body rose toward his, acutely aware of the warmth of him, the strong jut of his own passion against her as he settled himself into the cradle of her trembling thighs. Her arms wrapped about him for a brief moment, embracing him with the fierce passion she would no doubt come to embrace in herself in the weeks and months to come. His ragged whisper brought another slow, throbbing whimper to her throat as her lips brushed tentatively against his shoulder. "Please," was all she could muster for him. "Please ....don't stop ..."

This was the point of no return - the moment where she would pass completely from child to woman, giving herself, trusting herself to him completely. He hesitated a moment, fear gripping his heart. He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew he has no choice. It was either that or never consummate the love and desire he had kindled between them. There was no turning back - it was now or never. He captured her lips again, thinking he'd distract her with the deepening of his kiss, even as he guided himself inside her, slowly, wincing just a little at the resistance he felt there. He wondered for an instant if he should force his way past it and be done with it. It would be painful for her, but only for a moment, and then he hoped pleasure would follow.

How could she possibly describe the sensation of being taken for the first time" The strange fullness, the tender throb, the unexpected ache ....the sharp pain as she felt him reach her maidenhead and pause. Clinging to him, Jess opened her eyes, the fear returning as her body tensed beneath his, expecting the pain to replace all she had experienced at his hands.

"Trust me?" he asked, pulling away from her lips for just a moment to ask her permission again, loving eyes meeting hers in a tender gaze. "It's going to hurt, but only for a minute." At least, he hoped so. It's what Mrs. Middleton had told him.

As though he needed to ask. She loved him; she'd given her life into his hands irrevocably. There was no question that she trusted him to the ends of the earth and beyond. But she was still a product of her time, still at once stronger and more fragile than the women who had come after her, and more afraid of the thought of pain than of pain itself. "Make it quick," she pleaded with him softly, hardly daring to breathe in steady rhythm as she held herself braced for something that would not be even a fraction of the pain she imagined.

That was all he needed to hear, just that little bit of reassurance, the permission from her to finish what they'd started. It would never be this way between them again. The first and hardest step was taken, and soon the pain would be over, and all would be pleasure. He caught her lips again, kissing her hard, before pushing past the resistance, past the pain. It became easier after that, as if the floodgates had been opened, and he moved inside her with a steady pace and a rising heat between them, until he could hold himself back no longer. He had been with a few women before, but never like this. There had never been this kind of sharing, this kind of loving connection as if they belonged together, and he felt a rush of emotions overcome him, even as he melted against her and inside her, filling her with a warmth unlike any she'd ever felt before.

That moment of shattering brought the pain she had expected, the hardness of his kiss smothering her cry as her body tensed in the grip of that sharpness, knowing she was no longer inviolate. She was a woman, and a woman should know her place. Yet ....who had ever told her that there were compensations for that first burst of pain" Not a word had been spoken about the tender change in that intimate ache, away from pain and into something that built with each press of her husband's form to hers. Despite the tears that escaped in that first breach, she was not still for long, clinging to him as he taught her to move with him, to share this satiation of desire with him. There were no thoughts of England in her mind at all. In that moment as love and longing and strange, sweet desire came to a blistering head, all her thoughts were for her husband, his name on her love-swollen lips. "Will!"

Will clung to her, holding her close as their passion crested and broke in almost perfect time with the other, shattering them both in unexpected waves of pleasure. "Jess," he whispered against her lips as she called to him, that singular pronouncement of his name making his heart swell with warmth and affection. He had never felt like this before in his life, this kind of sharing, two hearts, two souls, two bodies joined as one, if only for this one sacred moment shared between a husband and wife. He sighed contented, looking down at her with adoring eyes, brushing the tears from her cheeks with a gentle fingertip. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, frowning with worry and heartfelt concern.