Credit, as always, for characters ect. to the wonderful Stephanie Meyer; your stories have made my life that little bit happier.

I wrote this last Friday after the Royal Wedding (but forgot to post it), and it's set the night before Bella and Edward's wedding. Enjoy! Please review, even if it's just a few words, your opinions really matter to me!

"Esme?"

Her eyes didn't leave her blueprints. "Mmm?"

"Esme."

"Carlisle."

"Look at me."

She sighed, and glanced up from her desk at her husband in the doorway. He was wearing a crisp new suit, white shirt, cream waistcoat and matching cravat. She smiled.

"Tell him he looks great," came an order from the floor above. "Or else."

"Alice," Esme laughed. "You look dashing, darling. Really, you do." She stood up and walked over to him with a smile. "Just one thing." There was a pot of cream roses on a shelf beside them. With quick and nimble fingers, Esme snapped one off and threaded it through his buttonhole. "There. Now it's perfect."

"Esme," Alice called down the stairs. "It's your turn."

"Wish me luck," Esme smiled as she passed Carlisle. She took her hand and kissed it quickly, sweetly, with a cheeky grin.

She glowed.

Upstairs, Alice's room was a mess. There were bags, hangers and boxes everywhere as the house was overturned for Bella and Edward's wedding the following afternoon.

"Right, Esme, this is your dress." Alice flung a shimmering teal gown in Esme's general direction, and she had to skit to the side to catch it.

She was changed in moments. "How do I look?"

"Hmmm," Alice frowned as she surveyed her.

"What? What's wrong?" Esme fretted. "Is it the colour? We could dye it? Or the cut? I have time to go to town to get a new one if I'm quick!"

"Esme, you stupid woman, it's not that. You look fantastic. Like, seriously fantastic. I'm worried you'll look far too good for the groom's mother." Alice bit her lip.

"Oh." Esme let out a laugh of relief. "I thought it was something bad!"

"It could be bad! Oh, I'll have my work cut out tomorrow," Alice started darting about the room, flinging clothes bad and forth, calling for Jasper amid her frantic mumblings.

"Esme, come downstairs so I can see you," Carlisle called.

"Sweetheart, you're okay, aren't you?" Esme asked tentatively.

"She will be," Jasper assured her quietly as the blur of Alice moved around them. "By the way, Esme. You look beautiful."

"Thank you, dear," Esme beamed, and kissed his cheek before gliding down the grand staircase.

Carlisle took in a sharp breath as he watched his wife float down towards him. She could have been an angel.

"What do you think?" She gave him a twirl, spinning into his waiting arms.

His lips captured hers for a moment as he savoured her. "You are stunning," he breathed, resting his forehead against hers. "Esme, I don't tell you enough. I adore you, every cell in me loves you more than you could ever know. And at times like these, when you are your most beautiful, I can hardly believe how lucky I am."

"You mean when I'm in a fancy dress?" she clarified.

"No," he chuckled. "When you're surrounded by the people you love. When there is nothing but affection between your family and friends. When you really are the mother. That's when you're the most beautiful thing in this world. And you look phenomenal to boot."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, my darling," Esme winked. "I love you, though. And it worked, by the way. Do you think Alice would mind us disappearing for a while?"

"You're not going anywhere!" Alice cried from upstairs. "I need to go fetch something now, so you two need to hold fort."

"Great," they heard Jasper groan. They also heard a thud – Jasper's punishment sounded like a fist in the gut. "You're awful powerful for a short little madam," he grumbled.

"Yes, yes I am, now come on, let's GO," she ordered as she flew down the stairs. "Oh, and whatever you do, keep the clothes safe and intact, okay?"

Carlisle led the way upstairs, caressing the fingers in his hand as he went. Esme bit her lip.

Their suite door was ajar, letting out a chink of evening sunlight that poured in through the wall-sized window. The large white bed was neat; the pillows were plump, the duvet cover fresh and tucked in under the mattress.

They stood still in the doorway for a moment, taking in the smell of fresh linen and wet grass.

Esme turned to her husband. Without saying a word, she slowly unknotted his cravat and folded it on a chest of drawers. She placed a light kiss on his lips. He was still. She eased his jacket off his shoulders, and went to hang it in their wardrobe. He quivered slightly when she wound her fingers into his hair and reached up on her toes to stroke his lips with hers, but didn't move. The waistcoat was unbuttoned and folded over the back of a chair. This time, he moved. He leaned down to Esme and pressed his lips onto hers and parted them. She ran her fingers down the front of his shirt, down onto his belt and reached for the zip, letting her hand press the trouser material firmly. He pulled back with a gasp at her contact.

She looked him straight in the eye. "Moving too fast for you?"

"Never," he grinned. Pulling her back to him, Carlisle ran his fingers down her sides and found the dress' zip. He pulled it down, and pushed the dress to the floor. She stepped out of it, watching with relish as her husband's eyes roamed her naked form. He lunged for her passionately after a moment, but she was too quick for him. She was in the wardrobe before he could see where she'd gone, and took her time hanging it up. When she emerged, Carlisle was putting his shirt on a hanger. She sauntered towards him. He was facing away from her, and felt her soft hands run up his back. She stood up straight and smiled over his shoulder at her.

Esme leant forwards and kissed his spine, tracing her tongue down towards the top of his trousers. Her hands began on the outside of his thigh, and slowly wove to the front of his legs. She relished the moment he let out his first moan.

In an instant, she turned him to face her and grabbed his neck, pulling him towards her. She backed onto the bed and pulled him on top of her in a rough embrace. Carlisle bent his head and kissed her roughly, openly, pressing his tongue against hers. Esme's hands worked quickly, and soon his trousers were on the floor.

She rubbed her hand quickly over his stiffened member and he moaned loudly into her mouth. His fingers rubbed against her nipples, ran down her torso, and between her legs. He quickly ran his fingers over her heat and pressed against the bundle of nerves there.

"Carlisle," she groaned, and pulled his hand away, begging him to enter her.

He thrust inside her, again and again, and she felt a knot in her stomach. His hands squeezed her breast and his lips never parted hers. She felt her walls tighten quickly, she cried out his name with every thrust, every squeeze and her vision was clouded over with memories.

He was like music to her; she heard him, felt it move her deeply. She heard it every time she looked at him, and as they became one, she could hear a majestic orchestra ring in her ears.

Her walls clamped down, and she cried out his name. He spilled out inside her with the same elation, gut-wrenching pleasure that spread right to his toes as he collapsed on top of her.

"Carlisle," Esme murmured after a moment's silence. "Who needs Mozart when I have you?"

He chuckled in response, and rolled off her. He slung an arm over her and began tracing lightly on her stomach. "I don't know, but feel free to play my music stick any day."

"That was an awful joke. You just ruined my buzz."

"Guess we'll just have to take it from the top then." He grinned, and pressed his lips onto her smiling mouth.