I suppose this is pre-Fair Scarborough. Just had to throw in my own wedding night fic for Batwings79 and kouw 's challenge.
Disclaimer: I do not own them but pride myself that JF must have been trolling fanfic before this Series.
He twisted his neck in his collar. Goodness it was tight. His hand went to his tie of his own accord, but he dropped it. Somehow, he was resistant to disrobing any more, at least before she returned from the washroom. They'd always been equal. He felt deeply that they should start off this next phase of their life in the same way.
Kneeling to check the fire again, he looked at the washroom door over his shoulder. What was taking so long? He thought she just wanted to 'wash off a bit of the train'. Surely she should have been out by now. Maybe he should check on her. She hadn't eaten much at their wedding breakfast, and she'd confided to him on the way to the school house that she'd only been able to drink a half cup of tea before. What if she'd passed out from hunger? He should have insisted that they have a bite at the station or on the way to the hotel. What sort of husband didn't make sure that his wife ate? That was that. He decided he would go down and fetch something. Tea or maybe wine or perhaps sherry. And biscuits. She should definitely have biscuits. Or maybe she would prefer a sandwich. Or some fruit. He should probably get some fruit. Berating himself for his thoughtlessness, he rose from in front of the fire and was striding toward the washroom when the knob turned and the door swung inward.
She stepped out of her haven to see her husband gaping at her in astonishment. Taking advantage of his speechlessness, she took a moment to examine him. He'd removed his jacket but still had on his waistcoat and tie with his sleeves rolled up. Her eyes were drawn by his forearms; an expanse of skin that she'd felt but never seen—like the rest of him. They were strong arms, with dark, curly hair that she longed to touch.
"You've changed," he said and caught himself when he realized that his voice had raised an octave. Clearing his throat, he shut his eyes to gather his thoughts, because there was certainly no thinking when she was standing there in that.
"That is," thankfully his voice dropped back to its usual timber, "I hadn't realized you intended to change. It's early yet, and I thought… I didn't…. Would you like a biscuit?"
"You brought biscuits?" Her mind seized on the simplest thing, and her eyes darted toward his luggage.
He rolled his shoulders and rubbed the top of his ear, "No. I just realized that you ate very little at our breakfast despite the groaning tables, and I thought I might go down and fetch you something. Of course, I didn't know that you meant to change to your nightdress."
She blushed, and his heart warmed to see the faint tinge of pink in her cheeks that was only ever there for him.
"I know it's early yet, but I didn't think we meant to go out again tonight. I thought perhaps it might be nice to be comfortable, and, well, it is our honeymoon," she said, searching the floor momentarily for a hole to drop into before looking up to meet his eyes. There was no place for embarrassment. Not anymore. Not between them. There was no censure in his eyes, only love and devotion. For a moment, she wished she could see herself as he saw her and realized that perhaps it was something akin to the way she saw him.
"It is at that, Mrs. Carson," he said, and a smile broke through, the smile that had been teasing his lips all day.
She nodded and watched as he took a step toward her. "I see you've built a fire. That's good. I wouldn't want to catch a chill on our wedding night." She cursed her voice for squeaking.
He was standing directly in front of her now and looking at her with adorably imploring eyes. "I believe that it is now my privilege and duty to keep you from ever catching a chill."
She realized what he wanted and took a step toward him, putting her hands on his chest and lifting herself toward his lips. He bent to bring his lips nearer, and she closed the distance to kiss him gently. One of his hands went to her back to draw her closer while the other held her cheek so that he could explore her mouth more carefully.
He felt her ending the kiss to his great reluctance but relaxed his hold on her back to let her fall down on her heels. She leaned her cheek into his chest, and he gladly wrapped his arms around her drawing her tight against him. Realizing that a barrier that had always been present between his hands and her form was missing, he let himself trace the contours of her back.
"Why do you always do that?" she asked, her own hands finding the line between his waistcoat and trousers.
He cleared his throat, worried at being caught out, "I've never held you without your, um... I just wanted to feel…"
"Not that," she admonished, "That's quite nice. I mean why do you always wait for me to kiss you?"
She didn't mind? She thought it was quite nice? He smiled to himself. Then he realized she'd asked a question, and he struggled to focus.
"I don't want to force you Elsie." He was rewarded by a tight squeeze at his use of her proper name. "You know that I want everything with you, but I'm not an animal. I won't force you. I don't want to hurt you."
"As if you ever could or would," she scoffed but still touched by his words. "You're the kindest and gentlest of men."
He smiled at her compliment and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I wasn't always. I was a clumsy boy, and I got into my share of fights as a young man."
"But never with a woman," she said, and he was gratified that there was no hint of question in her words.
"No, but…" he hesitated. Was this a story to share on his wedding night? Then he sensed her interest. Once begun, best finished.
"Once, during my 'Cheerful days'", and she knew they were anything but cheerful. He continued, "I was a little worse for wear one night. A man bumped into me and had the audacity to spill his beer on my shoe. I hit him. I didn't stop hitting him until three men pulled me away."
Her hands stilled in their pattern on his back.
"I could have killed him Elsie, love," he said hoarsely, "All for a bit of beer on my shoe. I left soon after that to come back to Downton. I hope I've damped my temper since then."
She lifted her head from his chest to look in his eyes. "Kiss me, Charles," she whispered. "Don't wait for me. I trust you."
He bent and with the barest hesitation pressed his lips to hers, pouring all his love and desire into the kiss. He moved from her lips to kiss along the line of her jaw to a spot just behind her left ear and nuzzled her there with a renewed urgency.
"I've waited for you my whole life," he whispered against her neck.
She enjoyed his kisses as much as she was enjoying the feel of him against her, all of him. Reaching between them, she began to finger the buttons of his waistcoat.
He lifted his head to look at her and started to step back. "Perhaps I should go to the washroom to change into my pyjamas. If we're in for the night, that is."
Her eyes studied his for a moment, and she found a boldness she didn't know she had, "No." At his look of disappointment, she rushed on, "That is, I believe that it is my duty and privilege to help you."
Lifting her hand to the knot of his tie, she began to work it loose and smiled up at him. "I've waited for you my whole life too, dear husband. There's no need to tarry now."
She no longer needed to tell him when to kiss her after that.