A/N: The fragments are intentional. This should read like a poem. Each chapter will be another snapshot of detail of their life together.
The sheets crinkled deliciously beneath her warm skin, absorbing the morning light and covering only her feet. An arm around her waist anchored her in place, smooth forearm on bare hip, and she moved only the slightest bit to feel the pressure of it. It amazed her, the way these tiny details filled up her mind and her heart and stamped into reality the meaning behind the word marriage.
Marriage.
Being in his arms all night long with no shame.
Finally staying warm through the early spring chill in the drafty house.
Smiling for no reason.
Lips swollen with kisses.
(Although truth be told, they were swollen before the wedding, too).
And sweetest of all, the snuffle in her ear of his breathing, fitful now as he neared consciousness. The promise that he would awaken and press a kiss behind her ear, on her shoulder, in the curve of her neck, until she shied away in a ticklish frenzy.
The dash around the room to find undergarments before Anna came in to stir the fire.
Lying in bed for no reason at all other than that it was expected, that they were allowed, to be there and to be together and to endure the indulgent smiles from Cousin Isobel (never Mother Isobel) when they emerged mid-morning with bags under their eyes and entwined fingers.
Altogether, they were fragments of a sweeter life than she could have imagined.
Marriage.
