The morning sun shone through the windows, stirring Anne awake. She opened her eyes slowly and took in the unfamiliar surroundings for a few moments before remembering where she was with a blush.
Hearing a noise behind her, she turned. Frederick stood nearby, pulling on a pair of trousers. Already awake for two hours, he had first stayed in bed watching her peacefully sleep, but eventually felt restless; loath to disturb her, he decided to get dressed for the day. When he noticed her watching him, he cast her a look of utter adoration that brought a blush to her cheeks.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth."
Mrs. Wentworth. Anne Wentworth. A thrill ran down her spine as she repeated the names to herself. She unconsciously ran her thumb under the gold ring that sat on the fourth finger of her left hand, announcing her status as a married woman. Decorated with delicate floral engravings, the ring was elegant yet simple, perfectly reflecting her own style.
Yesterday, she and Frederick had married at Kellynch church. Once she accepted his second proposal, they had not delayed in the wedding preparations. They only waited for Louisa and Henrietta to celebrate their double wedding in April, then followed soon after with their own ceremony. At the conclusion of their wedding breakfast, they travelled by carriage to the Three Cups Inn at Lyme, the first stop on their month-long bridal tour which would also take them to Pinny, Charmouth, and the Isle of Wight.
"Good morning, Frederick. How long have you been awake?"
"Since sunrise, a consequence of my many years in the navy. I planned to go downstairs to see if we could have an early breakfast."
Her stomach rumbled in agreement; between the excitement of the wedding and the nervous anticipation of the wedding night, neither of them had eaten much the previous day.
"I thought we could walk along the cliffs out to the east of town today, and go to Pinny tomorrow to see the forest trees and orchards," he continued.
Anne chuckled softly as his naval background shone through in his methodical planning.
"I should like that very much."
Sitting up in the bed, Anne savoured the scene before her as Frederick moved around room still wearing his night shirt; the neckline flowed open and she flushed as she recalled the smell and feel of his warm skin underneath. When he pulled his shirt off, a contented sigh escaped from her lips as she admired his well-defined, muscular body in the bright morning light. He heard her and turned to her with a roguish grin, guessing what was on her mind, but then saw her appreciative look change to one of concern.
"Is something the matter, Anne?"
"Oh, I just… I noticed your scar." She could not be surprised that he had sustained injuries during the war, but seeing the proof on his body unsettled her as she wondered how much pain he must have endured.
He walked over to her and sat down at the edge of the bed. "I have several scars, my love. Which one troubled you?"
Reaching out, she lightly touched her fingers over the raised skin near his rib cage.
"Oh yes. I got that one from a splinter in the year thirteen. A French gunshot hit our hull and the oak flew everywhere. I was lucky that I only got a small piece."
She furrowed her brows in concern. Raising her head, she discovered another scar, more faded, at the top of his left arm. He followed her gaze and said, "That was from a cutlass. We boarded a privateer in the Caribbean and her men did not surrender easily. The wound was not deep and I had an excellent surgeon on my ship."
"Do the scars still hurt?"
"No."
"How many times were you injured while at sea?" She feared his answer.
"I am not sure," he replied honestly. Attempting to lighten the mood, he added, "But not all of my wounds are from battle. See this one here?" He pointed out a fresh cut under his chin. "Self-inflicted from shaving yesterday. I was too excited about the prospect of marrying you and did not pay attention." He took her hands into his own and squeezed them reassuringly. She laughed slightly, but he could see that she was still uneasy.
He moved his right hand to her left cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb as he earnestly gazed into her eyes. "Anne, all of my injuries combined are nothing compared to the pain I felt a few months ago, when I thought I had lost you forever. I am the luckiest and happiest of men to have you as my wife."
Her pulse quickened. Not only did he have a way with words, but she was suddenly very conscious of his shirtless state as he sat beside her.
"I love you, Anne Wentworth."
She smiled. Anne Wentworth.
"I love you too, Frederick."
He tipped her chin up and placed a tender kiss on her lips. When she returned the kiss, he moved his arms around her to pull her in closer, revelling in the feel of her body through her thin nightgown. He felt her hands come up to his chest and he shivered as her palms pressed against his skin, sure she could feel the wild beating of his heart.
Drawing back to look at her, he saw the desire coursing through his body reflected in her eyes. With a mischievous look, he whispered,
"Perhaps breakfast can wait."
She chuckled. "Yes, breakfast can wait."
Once he found her lips again, he deliberately leaned forward, causing her to lose her balance. She broke the kiss with a shriek of laughter as she fell back onto the pillows, and he quickly followed after her with a smile.
THE END