Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Hetty gazed out the window of the carriage, feeling as if she were in some kind of trance. The landscape had changed; they had been on the road for hours, now, heading through England, towards Scotland. The hills were not so green, here; almost tawny brown, in colour, and rocky. So very different to the verdant green of her home county in southern England.

Louis leant close to her, peering over her shoulder, out the window. "We are almost there," he said in a low voice. "We are just about to cross the border into Scotland, from Northumberland." He paused, gazing at her steadily. "Not long now to Gretna Green, my love."

She felt a low thrum of excitement building within her at his words. She had heard of Gretna Green often, over the years, of course. It was the place where lovers fled to, to marry, without their parents' consent, if they were underage, or did not have permission, for whatever reason. The name of the town had always had a slightly romantic, dangerous ring to it. When she was younger, she could not imagine why anyone would do such a drastic thing. She hadn't understood, then, how desperate people in love could become.

She understood it now.

She sighed, nestling into Louis's shoulder. She knew that if he could have, he would have given her a full church wedding, with all the trimmings, surrounded by family and friends. He wouldn't have made her flee to Scotland to marry over the blacksmith's anvil, in secrecy. She prodded her feelings gently, surprised to discover that there were no residual feelings of shame about this. That, in fact, she was so very pleased that they were taking this trip together, and that it would only be the two of them when they finally exchanged their vows.

She had once had the full church wedding that had cost her father a small fortune. She had been dressed in an expensive wedding gown, and there had been over a hundred people at her fancy wedding breakfast. And look where it had ended up. A proper wedding did not mean that the marriage was going to be good, at all.

She much preferred what was to come, as long as this man was by her side.

She gazed out the window again. They were just about to cross the border into another country. And she felt as if she were crossing another threshold, as well. The threshold between her old life and her new one.

***

She sat in the corner of the old inn, in Gretna Green, waiting for Louis, who was speaking to the blacksmith, arranging their ceremony. Even though it was dark, now, and they were both weary from the journey, he told her that he could not wait for morning. They would be married, this night, even if he had to pay double what was normally the rate for the services of an anvil priest.

She sighed, peering out the window of the inn. She could not see much of the town in the dark, but what she had seen surprised her. It was so very small, only a few shops and houses scattered around. Somehow, because the town was so notorious, she had expected it to be bigger.

She squirmed impatiently. Louis was taking longer than he had told her. Was something wrong? Perhaps he could not find a priest to perform the ceremony, so late into the evening. Perhaps they would have to wait until morning, despite his best efforts.

She smiled slowly. Even though she was as eager to marry him as he was to marry her, that would not be so tragic, after all. They had waited a long time for this chance to arrive. Another night would not mean anything in the end.

And there was another pressing reason why she would not be too disappointed if they could not wed tonight. She knew that despite their weariness after the long journey, that he would want to take her immediately. He had vowed that he would wait until their wedding night to fully make love to her, and she knew, by the hungriness in his eyes, that his patience in that regard was wearing very thin.

She trembled with that old fear. As much as she wanted to make love to him, just as much as he wanted to make love to her, she was still a maiden, and she did not know what to expect. Her mother had intimated to her the night before her first wedding that she should expect some pain the first time. But she simply had no idea how painful it would be. Would she cry out and push him away, instinctively? She desired him so much, but would it be different at that pivotal moment?

She knew that it must happen, but she was apprehensive. If they had to wait another night, she could compose herself, just a little more. She hadn't been expecting this today, after all, and hadn't had time to prepare herself. Perhaps it would be a good thing if they were forced to wait.

But at that moment, she saw him walking quickly out of the blacksmith's shop. She saw, by the spring in his step, that he had secured the priest.

Her mouth suddenly went dry. They were about to be married. The time had finally arrived.

***

Hetty gasped as she ducked her head, walking into the blacksmith's shop, gazing around in sheer wonder.

It was clearly a working blacksmith's shop. The brick walls were blackened with soot, mostly surrounding the hearth, in the centre of the room. There was a multitude of tools, hanging from hooks, and many horseshoes secured to a rafter. Everything that she would have expected in such a working environment.

But what she hadn't been expecting was the transformation that Louis had obviously undertaken to complete before she stepped into the shop. There were white candles everywhere, all lit, glowing, in the darkness. He had even managed to find some flowers, which were strewn over every available surface.

Her eyes filled with tears. It was so very beautiful, almost ethereal. How had he managed to do it in such a short time?

Briefly, she recalled the expensive, intricate decorations at the church, where she had wed Frank. The hours of preparation that had been put into it. But it was as nothing, compared to what Louis had done, here. It could not compare at all.

He was standing next to the anvil, waiting for her. The priest looked tired and a little grumpy. Two witnesses – a man and a woman, who Louis had found at the inn, and paid for this service – were standing to the right of them. They both looked rather weary, too, as if they wanted to be anywhere but here, on this dark, cold night.

She thought of her bevy of bridesmaids, led by Annabelle, at her first wedding. She smiled. Even though she loved her friends, she would not wish them here. These weary strangers seemed an integral part of this whole, new, magical experience.

She blinked back the tears. It was perfect. She wanted to remember this scene, forever.

Louis smiled, holding out his hand towards her. She took a deep breath and stepped towards him, towards the anvil, and this new life, with him by her side for all eternity.

***

They walked into the small lodging room, at the same inn, hand in hand. They had not spoken a word to one another since they had completed their vows in the blacksmith's shop and kissed beneath a garland of wild heather that he had picked from the fields.

Hetty gazed around the room, her heart thumping. It was very small. The bed in the centre of the room seemed to dwarf the space; there was barely room for any other furniture. Her mouth went dry. It would be on this bed, with its threadbare quilt, that they would finally consummate the love between them.

He turned her to him, gazing down at her, intently. "My wife," he whispered, almost in wonder. "At last. You do not know how much I have yearned for this moment, my one and only love."

She blinked rapidly, gazing up at him, her heart overflowing. "My husband. I have yearned for this moment, as much as you have." She shuddered. "I feared it would never come …"

He brushed a hand over her face, softly, his eyes full of such love that her heart somersaulted over in her chest.

"I feared that it would never come, either," he admitted. "I knew that you would never consent to be with me if your marriage to Blackmore was not dissolved." He took a deep breath. "I knew that I was on the brink of losing you forever if we weren't successful."

She shuddered again, leaning into him. It could so easily have gone the other way. It was only by the grace of God that it hadn't. So many applications for divorce were denied.

She squeezed her eyes shut, offering up a silent prayer of gratitude.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you for giving me this man. Thank you for seeing fit to let me live again.

"It is time, Hetty," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm. "Are you ready?"

A frisson of nervousness swept through her. But as she gazed into his face, seeing the love and desire there, it suddenly started to dissolve. Anticipation of what was to come replaced it. He was her husband, now, and they were going to become man and wife in the true sense of the word.

She took a deep breath. "I am ready."

***

He undressed her slowly, peeling off her clothes, layer by layer. Her gown fell to the ground, and then her undergarments until she was standing there naked before him, illuminated by a single ray of moonlight shining through the crack in the curtain.

She shivered, repressing the instinctual urge to cover herself. And then a fierce blush rose up over her body, flooding her face. What would he think of her?

He didn't say a thing. He just kept gazing at her intently, his eyes taking their fill. They started at her face, and then slowly swept down, taking in her breasts, the dip of her waist, the spread of her hips, to the dark triangle of hair between her legs. He let out a strangled moan.

"You are far more beautiful than I even imagined," he whispered in a voice thickened by desire. "The most beautiful of women …"

She shuddered with pure delight at his words. He walked slowly around her body so that he was behind her. She jumped slightly at the feel of his hands on her hair. Slowly, gently, he undid it, taking out the pins, so that it fell, undulating in waves around her shoulders, and down her back.

She could barely breathe, feeling his breath on her neck. And then, his arms snaked around her, taking her breasts in both hands. She moaned, closing her eyes, leaning back into him as he kneaded them, tweaking the nipples until they grew hard and swollen beneath his touch.

She did not open her eyes as his hands slowly dipped lower, skimming her waist and her hips, stopping at her buttocks. She heard his strangled breath as he caressed them, firmly, his touch strong and sure. She was in an agony of desire, feeling sensations sparking through her as if her skin was on fire.

Without warning, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her gently upon the quilt, his eyes never leaving hers as he quickly undressed. Suddenly, he was as naked as she was. Her eyes widened in shock. She had never seen a naked man before.

He was beautiful, built like Adonis. His shoulders were broad, and his chest, with its smattering of dark hair, wide. Her eyes travelled down over his stomach to the nest of dark hair, and the evidence of his manhood standing proudly to attention. Her eyes widened further. It was hard and long. So very big. She simply had no idea that a man could swell to such proportions. How on earth was it going to fit within her? A flickering of alarm swept through her.

But before it could blossom into full blown fright, he was upon her, caressing her again, murmuring words of love into her ear. His lips found hers, and they kissed, long and deep. She relaxed again, beneath the onslaught. The heat was growing between them, once again, to a fire that was threatening to consume her, entirely.

His lips found a nipple, suckling fiercely. She arched her back instinctively, seeking to draw him closer, filled with a wild, urgent need. Tentatively, her hands caressed him, as he nipped and sucked, sweeping over the broad expanse of his back. His skin felt like velvet beneath her touch. She had never imagined that the skin of a man could be so soft.

His lips journeyed down her body, hot, brief kisses, over her stomach, until they arrived at her centre. She strangled a moan as he gently pulled her legs apart. And then, he was kissing her again, burying his face deep within her moist folds, his tongue like a darting flame, within the depths.

A hot wetness flooded out of her as he continued licking and sucking, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy. Waves of it crashed over her, again and again, each one stronger than the last. She felt a sweat break out over her entire body, her body consumed by this agonising fever. She heard herself moaning as if from far away.

But suddenly, he broke the contact. She could barely open her eyes. In her delirium, she watched him, kneeling between her legs, gazing down in hunger at her centre point. She didn't have the strength to move a muscle as he positioned himself. And then, there was a hot, searing pain, as she felt him enter her for the very first time.

He was still, for a moment, gazing at her. She felt the strange fullness, within her, expanding, second by second. And then, ever so gently, he started to rock against her, his pelvis thrusting, bit by bit. She cried out in bewilderment. It felt so good. She wanted him to keep doing it, never to stop.

His movements quickened to the point that he was slamming against her, widening her legs with every thrust. For a moment, she thought that it was impossible, that she would split in two, that he could not go any deeper than he had been. But every time, her body seemed to accommodate him, flowering open beneath him until she thought that he was about to climb inside her, entirely.

Those wild sensations were blossoming to life, once more. The brief pain was gone, replaced with this delirious pleasure. With every thrust, it intensified. She started moaning again, tossing her head, from side to side. He looked like a dark angel, raging above her, delivering her in shackles to the foot of heaven itself.

Surely, it couldn't build to any greater height. And yet, it did. Suddenly, she hovered on the brink, in a frenzy of sensation, before it crashed over her, again and again. She cried out, twisting beneath him, almost unable to endure such ecstasy. Feeling that she would surely die or melt clean away.

Suddenly, he gripped her, his face contorted. With a long groan, she felt him release himself within her. The sensations that had just been starting to taper off within her gathered again, in one mighty burst of light.

It was done. With one final cry, one last twist, he fell upon her, his body bathed in sweat. Her heart slowed down as she gathered him in her arms. A delicious lethargy was consuming her, now. Little aftershocks of pleasure, slowly diminishing, second by second.

So, that is what it is all about , she thought, in sheer wonder . I am a maiden no more. I could never have guessed, in a hundred years, that it could be so beautiful.

His breath was slowing down. He looked at her, his green eyes glowing in the darkness.

"My dearest love," he whispered in a strangled voice. "It was worth the wait. I feel that I am reborn in your arms …"

"As I am, in yours," she whispered back, a lump forming in her throat. "I never imagined that it could be so glorious. That you could do those things to me, make me feel so alive in a way that I have never felt before …"

He smiled. "I told you we were meant to be together, Hetty. It just took an awfully long time for us to finally be with each other." He paused, looking like he was struggling for words. "I will never forget this. I will never forget the first time that you came to me. That you became mine for eternity. My one, and only, love."

The next moment, he was abruptly asleep, his eyes closed, still hugging her tightly.

She smiled. It had been an awfully long day. Weariness was sweeping over her, too, dragging her away. But she fought it for just a little while longer, staring at the window, beyond the bed, and the thin sliver of moonlight shining through it.

She was a married woman once more, and a duchess, this time. She raised her left hand, staring at the new circle of gold on her finger, replacing the one that she had thrown away. The one that lay abandoned in a field at her parents' home, just like her first marriage had been discarded. As if it had never existed at all.

It had all been worth it, every agonising second of it. The journey to get here. The journey that had led her here, to be laying in this man's arms, replete with love. She couldn't imagine now, being locked away in a convent somewhere, bitter and despairing of life itself.

She couldn't imagine how she had ever thought it a possibility. Nor could she imagine still being married to her first husband. The stranger, who had betrayed her and could never have given her the pleasure that she had just felt, nor be the husband that the man who lay so sweetly in her arms was going to be.

She was exactly where she was meant to be. As her thoughts started to scatter, and she closed her eyes on her second wedding day, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would be awakening tomorrow far differently to how she had awoken after her last wedding night.

It would be a new day. A new life. And with this man by her side, it could only get better.