She was wondering how she got here to this very moment.
Emma Woodhouse – no, she's married now. Has been for two days – Emma Knightly, was lying on a very strange bed in a very strange room with her husband sleeping on the floor.
Everyone had been surprised when they announced their engagement. Surprised but happy for them. Jane most definitely warmed her manner towards Emma after the announcement. The wedding had been lovely and it made her smile to think of how happy Mr Knightly was as they said their vows. He made her happy by simply taking her to see the seaside.
The happiness suddenly died when she entered the hotel room to find that there was only one bed.
He had immediately offered to go down and ask for another room. To give her the space that she might need. She refused. She did not want strangers knowing there were marital problems, that she had problems, that she could not bring herself to touch her husband in such a way.
So there they are. Her lying on a bed alone while he slept soundly on the floor beside her. She did not want this. She wanted to be a good wife. She wanted to lean into his touch and bring herself to touch him without this...resistance. This fear. This never-ending nightmare of a memory that refuses to stop haunting her.
She rolls onto her side and takes a sneaky look at her husband. He was handsome in a way she had once never thought possible. His eyelashes were long and elegant against his cheekbones and his lips were parted slightly and there was a light pink flush on his cheeks. He was innocent and yet more desirable than ever.
She has an urge to touch him just to see if he was real.
Slowly she reached out and brushed his cheek with her fingers. He was so warm and strangely enough soft for a gentleman that enjoyed riding out with the sun and wind on his face.
She sighs and rolls back onto her back.
She wishes more than ever that she was a normal bride.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
"I think we should share the bed tonight."
It was their final night by the seaside and they were planning an early night simply because they needed to rise early the next day and begin their journey back to Highbury and to a very worried Mr Woodhouse. For the past fourteen days Mr Woodhouse had written to them five times with advice to keep warm and evade illness and accidents. The sooner they were home, the sooner Mr Woodhouse would be at ease.
With the knowledge that their honeymoon was coming to an end Emma finally voiced the thought that was plaguing her since their very first night.
"Pardon?"
If the matter was not so serious Emma might have laughed. Mr Knightly looked adorably confused and she was certain that she had never seen him look so bewildered since she had known him.
"I wish...to try...just sleeping...together," she struggled to get her sentence out. Why did this have to be so difficult? "I should...be...a proper wife to you and yet I have failed! I wish to resolve this problem as quickly as I can, and it is just a small step, I need to feel comfortable in sharing a bed...I..." she moaned in frustration. "I am sorry. I am making a mess of things as usual."
He took her hand into his and gave it a comforting squeeze. "No, you are not," he murmured. "My dear Emma, I do not wish to push you at all, you should feel no obligation in fulfilling any wifely duties that you have no wish to do. If it is your express wish for me to share your bed in a platonic way then I shall but do not feel the need to do so if you are not ready."
Taking a deep breath Emma said the few words that she hopes to say again in a different context altogether in the future. "I am ready."
She falls asleep with a smile on her face as she rests her head on Mr Knightly's shoulder and has his warm arm wrapped round her waist. Her father had always insisted on her wrapping up at nights so she would never catch a cold. No blanket or shawl could ever compare to the warmth that Mr Knightly radiates.
She was very content with the step she had taken.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
When they arrived back at Highbury they began a small domestic routine. Every night they would kiss one another goodnight before sleeping in the same bed. In the morning Mr Knightly would kiss Emma good morning before doing his daily business before having lunch with Emma and spending the afternoon and evening with her and Mr Woodhouse. It was comforting.
This routine continued for months and everyone was vaguely aware of it. It was hard not to with Miss Bates being a close friend of the newly wedded couple and chattered endlessly with Jane Churchill and Mrs Weston about the amount of time Mr Knightly spent with the new Mrs Knightly and how romantic it was.
What everyone, especially Miss Bates and Mr Woodhouse for that would be a nightmare itself, did not see was the development of the sexual relationship between Mr Knightly and Emma.
During the harvest celebration held at Donwell Abbey Emma experienced her first kiss in the French style and instead of flinching away she had clung onto her husband tightly. A few weeks later during another heated kiss in the morning Emma found her breasts being touched intimately gently and herself craving for more than a gentle touch. By mid-November they had done everything but the deed.
This sexual development was a slow and peaceful journey for Emma. The memories of almost a year ago were faded and all she could see was this bright possible future with her Mr Knightly. A loving, tender, yet exciting marriage with the man she had always loved in one way or another throughout her life.
Apart from a few fears that will not stop growing in the back of her mind she was content. Apart from her nervousness at the idea of finally consummating her marriage and being able to smile knowingly as the other new brides in Highbury. Apart from the occasional nightmare of being back in that carriage with Mr Elton's sweaty paws on her. Emma Knightly was content.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
It was a cold December afternoon.
Emma had taken the clear cold blue sky as an opportunity to walk instead of using a carriage when visiting the heavily pregnant Mrs Harriet Martin. She had worn her many layers to appease her father, who would have never forgiven her if she were to catch a cold, but that did not stop her from feeling the chill. By the time she arrived home she was beginning to shiver.
"Emma!" Mr Knightly cried out as she entered Donwell Abbey. "You look frozen! Come sit by the fire and warm up. Your father would never forgive me if I let you fall ill."
She allowed him to lead her into the library where he had been working and therefore had a fire roaring in the fireplace. He called for some tea and they sat together recollecting their day while drinking their tea. Once they had finished Emma found herself leaning against Mr Knightly as she listened to him reading John's recent letter about making plans spend Christmas in Highbury. John complained often about the trip and how it was unfair that Emma, Mr Knightly, and Mr Woodhouse could not make the sixteen mile journey to London instead of John, Isabella, and their five children.
After laughing at John's childish complaints Emma kissed Mr Knightly sweetly. "I am very lucky that I have married the understanding and patient brother. I do not think John would handle both mine and my father's impossible ways," she said.
"I do believe your sister is equally impossible therefore my brother must be as understanding and patient as I am," Mr Knightly smirked.
They began to banter over who had the better sibling which quickly turned into a childish fight through tickling and poking one another. Somewhere along the line they ended up on the floor and his lips were upon hers. It was all soft, gentle, light-hearted, and wonderful. When she was a young foolish child she had been quick to say that Mr Knightly was not the romantic sort.
Oh how wrong she was!
He may not romance her with poetry and sweet nothings but he was the most gentlest lover and caring husband. In his own way he was incredibly romantic. There was something to be said about how romantic making in love in front of a fire was.
She did not know when the increasingly less innocent kissing turned into love-making but she did know that not a single thought of her nightmares haunted her. She was focused on his soft touch despite the roughness of his hands, the ticklish feeling of his hair against her neck as he kissed her collar bone, the quiet but uncharacteristic noises he made, and the way he whispered her name.
Neither realised how far they had reached until there was a sharp pain and she felt tears pool in the corners of her eyes.
His eyes widened in shock. "Emma!" he cried out. "I-"
"Don't stop!" she said interrupting his apology with shameless begging. As if she was an urchin or worse a 'Lady of the Night' as Miss Taylor had once disdainfully called them when Emma was a very young girl. "Please George, don't stop!"
His face softens as his fingers gently wipe the corner of her eyes. "Emma I do not wish hurt you."
"You won't," Emma murmured, "please George; I need you to continue..." she kisses him reassuringly. "I just need you."
He kisses her back and slowly, so very slowly, he begins to move.
It was beautiful.
Emma could not find any other words to describe it. It was soft, gentle, loving, and he was the most attentive and loving lover any woman could ask for. He sought to erase any trace of a bad memory from last Christmas before seeking out his own pleasure. He held her firmly but gently enough so that she could pull away if she wished. It was the closest to perfection Emma could find.
Moments later the reality hit Emma and she could not help but giggle.
"What is it Emma?" Mr Knightly asked.
"How very fortunate we are that Mrs Hodges or anyone else in fact has not yet entered the room. I believe we would scandalise the whole of Highbury."
Mr Knightly laughed. "I would never be able to look at anyone in the eye again. What a bad influence you have become, Emma." They laughed for a short while before he studied her intently. "Are you happy, dear Emma?"
"I am," she hummed, "I am the most happy."
She was more than that. She was far better than happy. She was content and at peace with herself. She has finally overcome the last obstacle that she had thought impossible once.
She was fully mended.
Author's Note: I must admit that this one was a tough challenge. I went through about three writer blocks and kept cringing at my attempts to write an m-rated scene. I've only done it twice before and they're dreadful. Please give me your thoughts on this one because they are very much wanted.