Chapter 23: The Wedding Night, Finally

"Begin it again," I said. "From the door."

He smiled.

It was a real one, slow and crooked, and it did something terrible to my knees.

"You were wearing white," he said, "the first time."

"It's in the wardrobe."

"Then put it on."

I went behind the screen with my heart going like a drum.

The nightgown was exactly where Hester had hung it six months ago, with the tissue still folded around the lace.

I pulled it over my head, and it slid down my body.

When I stepped out, he had not moved from the window.

He looked at me for a long, quiet moment, and his eyes went from red to a deep, glowing crimson.

"You are my wife," he said.

"I know."

"You were my wife for one hour, and then I left you."

"You didn't leave. You were stolen."

"I would like to be forgiven for it anyway."

"I'm thinking about it," I said, and crossed the carpet, and put my hands flat on his chest.

"How long will you think?"

"Until morning, probably."

He laughed, low in his throat, and picked me up.

He laid me down on the new white sheets and stood over the bed for a moment, just looking.

"Take off your shirt," I said.

He took it off.

I got up on my knees and put my mouth on his shoulder, and his collarbone, and the scar that I'd never asked about, a thin white line over his ribs.

"Two hundred years ago," he said. "A duel."

"You won."

"Obviously."

I pushed him back onto the bed, and he went, with a look of astonished pleasure.

I straddled his hips and bent over him in the white lace, and I kissed him until we were both shaking.

"This is mine," I said, with my hand on his chest.

"Yes."

"And this."

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