-Chapter 10-

The day that Reaver and I were married, the first snowfall had covered Bowerstone in a sheet of flawless white. Despite the chill, the people had still lined up outside of the temple, greeting the Queen and her new consort happily. The ceremony had been quick and to the point. Our vows were minimal, but still held a warm and loving tone—Reaver had been insistent on that. I supposed he had wanted people to think he'd captured the very heart of The Queen of Albion.

I found myself excited for the day, but saddened by it at the same time. While my people were present to witness my union to Reaver, I had no family or friends apart from Jasper. Page was running the factories in Reaver's absence, and Ben Finn had sent a letter begging forgiveness that he could not make it. This day—a day that girls would otherwise dream of their entire lives—was so very lonely for me.

My dressers had ensured that I looked flawless in my bridal gown. A snow-white dress made with pounds of lace had been designed specifically for the occasion. It trailed yards behind me as I made my way down the aisle of the temple, and those present gasped at its extravagant beauty. Even Reaver looked slightly awestruck as he watched me making my way toward him. His smile had been unbreakable, and his eyes were filled with undiluted thrill.

My soon-to-be husband reveled in the attention of the citizens. They had grown more fond of him in the months leading up to the wedding. He'd started loosening the strict rules at his factories, while still maintaining a watchful eye. Productivity was astoundingly high, and that pleased him to no end. In the wake of our engagement, people's attitudes were lifted, and the wounds of the wars had started to heal. The majority of my people found joy in the idea of our union, and I could only hope that it would be enough.

The Temple had been packed so tightly, I was surprised that anyone could move. The doors burst open, and I inhaled a breath of the chilly winter air. Bright red petals of imported Auroran flowers were thrown by our well-wishers, picturesque as they cascaded over us along with the snow. The cheering was nearly deafening, and Reaver escorted me quickly, yet gracefully, by the arm toward the waiting carriage.

The footman opened the door swiftly, and I entered first, my attendants tucking the long, trailing train of my dress in behind me. Reaver came next, careful not to tread on the delicate spill of the lace train that covered the floor, and he took a seat across from me in the carriage. His face was edged in pink from the cold, but a smile cracked his mouth.

When the door closed, the carriage started off slowly toward the castle. I could hear the cheers of the people growing more distant behind us, as bouts of "Long live The Queen!" were shouted. I smiled faintly, and exhaled. The whole ordeal had been exhausting. The preparations, the planning, the cost. It was lucky that Reaver had put forth the majority of his dowry to pay for the event. When asked why request a dowry in the first place, he merely shrugged and stated that it didn't feel as if he were getting much out of our arrangement.

Reaver had dressed in a rather somber-looking fur-lined black suit—not what I'd expected from him. I thought for sure that he would have wanted to dress brightly, but he declined, stating that a black suit looked elegant against the lacy detail of my dress. Soon enough, all the men of Albion would be wearing black suits and ties to their weddings, he'd assured me. He ran his hands over the fine dark fabric of his suit, brushing the melting snow away, and he brought his eyes up toward me, they lit with humor, and he leaned forward.

His fingers plucked a stray flower from between my breasts, and he discarded it, raising his eyebrows." It seems your breasts are useful for catching more than the ardent attention of men." He chuckled softly, and he leaned back in his seat.

I swept a hand across the chilled flesh of my décolletage, checking for any other stray blossoms. I laced my fingers together, still trying to adjust to the new jewelry on my hand. As the silence grew between us, a feeling of emptiness returned. I found myself missing Walter, but most of all I missed my brother. After my father died, I'd always hoped that it would be Logan that would give me away at my wedding, but today, I took those steps alone. Every day, I forgave him a little more, and I wondered if the people could have done the same. Was his death truly necessary, or had I acted hastily?

"You look worlds away, my beautiful wife," Reaver stated, his fingers tapping his chin softly. His eyebrows raised, and he tilted his head inquisitively to the side.

I blinked a little, shaking my head and turning up my lips into some semblance of a smile. "This day has been rather taxing. That's all."

"Oh, darling," he sighed, sliding across the carriage to take a seat next to me. "You cannot be exhausted already. We have yet to consummate this union." His finger ghosted over the flesh of my cheek, and a his mouth touched to the lobe of my ear. "All of the frivolous festivities are nothing compared to what is to come, ma belle."

The desire coiled hot within me, and I could feel the warmth radiating from within, causing me to forget about the chill of the snow outside. My eyes found his, and they were smiling just as brightly as his mouth. My lips parted, but no words came.

"You want it badly, don't you?" His voice was little more than a husky whisper. His hand clasped at the nape of my neck, pulling my face so very close to his. His breath was hot and sweet, and it made me crave the taste of his mouth.

I splayed a hand across his chest, and I brought the other to the side of his face. His heart was thundering with exhilaration beneath his breast, and he glanced down to my hand, knowing that I could feel his excitement. "You want it badly, too."

"That I do, my sweet." He leaned in, his lips barely touching against mine as his grin grew more devious. "The ride to our humble abode is far too short for such dalliances, I'm afraid." His words brushed my lips, sending a tingle through them.

The need that this tension inflicted was nearly unbearable. My body trembled gently with restraint as his fingers delicately stroked my neck. I almost groaned in frustration, but I remained still, steady, silent. The heat between my thighs turned to a throbbing ache, and I exhaled a quaking breath as my eyes fluttered shut.

The carriage came to sudden halt, but Reaver didn't release me. His free hand merely found its way to cover mine over his heart. He teased the flesh of my hand with a thumb as he leaned in, pressing his lips fully against mine. Light suddenly spilled into the carriage, as one of the attendants had opened the door.

"P-pardon me, Your Majesty, Y-Your Grace," came Murphy's timid voice.

I opened my eyes as I parted from Reaver's mouth, and I heard a throaty laugh come from my new husband. I remembered that Reaver had mentioned something about Murphy being present to see to the final details of the reception.

"Oh, you do have perfect timing, Murphy," Reaver said, still smirking. He unhanded me, and he moved to step out of the carriage first. He straightened himself before offering me his hand and assisting me out of the carriage. Attendants flocked to see to the massive length of my dress, and Reaver and I gave each other a glance before hurrying into the warmth of the palace.

Our guests applauded thunderously as the herald announced the entrance of The Queen and her husband, The Duke of Millfields and King-Consort. As we crossed the threshold, the people stooped into low bows, and Reaver's hand tightened excitedly around mine. He was enjoying the attention, I was sure. At least one of us was. I had grown weary of attention and dresses and elaborate hairstyles. I had changed from the long, trailing lace garment into an ivory stain ball gown that swooped down low off of my shoulders, and I'd requested that my dressers put my hair into a simple loose style that let a few curls spill onto my shoulders.

"What an absolute pleasure it is to see all of your smiling faces!" Reaver announced loudly as we made our way toward the table of honor.

"Yes," I chimed in, plastering on a smile. "This is a most joyous occasion—worthy of celebrating."

The people murmured in agreement, and Reaver drew my seat away from the table, and helped me down into it. He took his place beside me, putting his hand over mine, and leaning in to place the gentlest of kisses against my cheek The people reacted happily at the show of affection, and I found my glass of water, taking a deep sip.

The toasts and first dances went by without conflict or much to comment on. Reaver and I danced beautifully together, We moved with grace and skill that most others did not possess. He made sure to give me a few lustful looks as he gripped me tightly. He seemed to be constantly touching me throughout the reception. An arm around the waist, his hand on my cheek, a guiding hand on my lower back as we moved from noble person to noble person accepting congratulations and wishes for a long, happy union.

The meal was satisfying enough, but I still felt a great emptiness inside. The only difference between now and the carriage ride was that my cheeks were sore from the constraint strain of my half-forced smiles. I would be glad when the reception was over. I knew that Reaver shared my feelings because every so often, he would give me this wide-eyed, exasperated look behind the other people's backs before offering a smile, in an attempt to lighten my mood. I appreciated that, at least.

I sipped at what must have been my fifth or sixth glass of champagne, but I didn't feel the tiniest bit tipsy. The mood was dying down, and an end was coming to the reception. I knew that soon enough, I would be away from the hum of constant conversation and out of the dress that weighed more than a garment should. I watched as Reaver spoke animatedly to the group of nobles that we stood near. I found that my attention had been dwindling the longer the day went on, but I smiled and nodded, every so often, putting in a few words of my own.

"Ah!" Reaver exclaimed, jerking me from my blank thoughts. He guided me toward a small gathering of people…one of them in particular. "Sir Gregory!" He waved his hand excitedly, chewing on his lower lip in a way that suggested he was about to do something that would amuse him greatly.

Sir Gregory Thames was a short, round man with bristly sideburns and a face reddened by overindulgence of the champagne. His small eyes were not quite the same shape, but he had a pleasant, closed-mouthed smile. His face deepened in color he saw us approach, but he straightened his back and offered a wider smile.

I felt rather embarrassed for the man. He'd sent me a rather heart-felt—if a little silly—letter, and he'd had to find out that he'd been beaten to the punch by a more endowed, more handsome man.

"Your Majesty," He said, bowing to me, then to Reaver. "Your Grace. I must congratulate you on your union. It is a happy day indeed. The white of the snow must surely be an omen to the purity of your marriage."

"Oh, I so wish I had a way with words as you do, Sir Gregory," Reaver said, clapping the man on the shoulder. He tilted his head in my direction before his eyes took me in greedily. "My bride looks beautiful, does she not?"

"The epitome of loveliness, Your Grace," Sir Gregory agreed.

"Yes...her dress is made of silk...or satin..." Reaver trailed off. "Perhaps some other fine fabric that shines, I am not sure." His voice was smooth with only an edge of mockery.

A plump, ripe tomato would have looked pale compared to Sir Gregory's face. He tugged at his collar, and cleared his throat, nodding.

"Love," I interjected, trying to spare the blushing man's feelings. "Men do not care for the fabric of a woman's dress. Do not bore Sir Gregory with such frivolous ramblings." I turned my eyes to him, giving him a warm, nearly apologetic smile.

"It is a lovely dress," Sir Gregory commented. He blinked softly, and he bowed once more. "Excuse me." He left swiftly, followed by a small entourage of equally unfortunate-looking men.

"I think that the time has come, wife of mine," Reaver started, eying the crowd. "For us to take our leave. The night is coming to a close, and no one will fault us for turning in early." He leaned toward me, his breath brushing my neck as he placed a stealthy kiss against my jaw. "I may burst if I am forced to wait much longer."

I glanced about the room, and I saw that the party was indeed dwindling. It brought me great relief to know that everything was drawing closer to its end. I would never have imagined that I would be wishing so fervidly for my wedding day to be through, but I was. It was a strain on my patience, my mind, and my heart. I felt Reaver's hand slide across my lower back, and he drew me to his side once more.

I could overhear some of the older ladies talking. A pair of women that had far passed their prime spoke in low, snippy voices, their hawk-like eyes finding victims to prey on. They fell upon Reaver and me, and I couldn't help but listen in.

"I never figured Reaver for the marrying type," said Lady Bella Townsend. She had given us a warm congratulations on our way into the reception, but she seemed slightly disdainful now. "He always seemed to be into the most depraved sort of debauchery."

"Yes," agreed her friend, bringing her glass to her lips. "I heard that years ago, he was having an affair with the Quitmans."

"Which?"

"Both."

The ladies dissolved into a tizzy of laughter until one of them noticed that I had overheard the conversation concerning my husband. I raised my eyebrows, almost daring them to continue. They offered a pair of the most insincere smiles I'd ever seen, then saw themselves away from the area.

I turned to Reaver, and I nodded my head, "I think it is time to find our way out of this mess."

"Come, my bride," He said. "I have some of the most depraved sort of debauchery to subject you to." He grinned, his eyes following the women out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Reaver spun me around to pull at the laces that fastened my gown. He dragged my body against his, the smooth firmness of his mouth finding my ear, then my neck, then my shoulder. The soft scrape of his teeth against my flesh sent goose bumps across my body, and I groaned softly, leaning into his touch. There was a significant amount of built-up anticipation bottled within me, and I could see from the dark glint in Reaver's eyes, that he shared my frustration. His hands pushed the dress firmly off of my shoulders and down to my hips. The corset that bound me proved to be a little more difficult to unlace, but he still managed to release me from its confines faster than anyone else could have.

As he removed the corset from my body, he twirled me to face him. His fingers found my chin, and he brought my gaze to him. "I hope that your exhaustion has passed, my dear. What is to come will require your full, undivided attention." He smirked. "All of that ceremony and banal formality is through. This, I am sure, will be the pinnacle of the day." His fingers danced across the curve of my hip, sliding beneath the skirts and petticoats I was left in.

I reached to touch him, laying my hand across his chest, then I worked his cravatout of its knot. I said nothing, but I felt everything. His searing touch ignited my body and my mind. The day was over, and the stress of the events leading up to the wedding had melted away. The buttons of his waistcoat and shirt were simple enough to handle, and I pushed everything off of him at once.

He pressed me against his bare chest, my softness conforming to the hard planes of his torso. The petticoats fell to the ground, and he lifted me to wrap around his waist. Our faces were level, now, and our mouths touched with a fierce need. A ripple of urgency ran through me, and I ran my fingers through the dark silk of his hair, pulling him ever closer.

Reaver was moving toward the bed, and after breaking off from the kiss, he deposited me swiftly against the softness of the feather mattress. He removed his trousers as a wide, flawless grin tugged at his mouth. He grabbed one of my legs at my calf, and he hoisted it in the air, his fingers teasing and stroking me through my hosiery. He pulled each of the fine satin slippers off of my feet, and rolled the silk stockings off of my thighs and down my legs.

I sat up, and I seized him by the waistband of his underpants, bringing his hips toward me. My fingers danced up his sides, almost tickling at his ribs and down the sculpted perfection of his stomach. He shuddered beneath my touch, but his eyes fixated on me with a sober clarity, wanting to know what I intended on doing.

I tugged at his underclothes, and I took him into my mouth without hesitation. A little laughter bubbled out of me as a sigh of pleasure left him. The thickness of him was almost too much to handle, but his noises of enjoyment urged me on. One hand moved up the back of his thigh, and the other rested at his hip, following their rhythm as he moved with my mouth.

"Oh, I can see that I am going to enjoy marriage," He said, his voice thick with desire.

I brought my eyes up to him, and I found that he still stared down to me, though his eyes had softened, the lids threatening to shut out of enjoyment. His tongue moved across his lips, and he brought a hand to my cheek.

I continued to explore his manhood with my mouth—licking and sucking and kissing—until he gently parted me from him. He pushed me, gently enough to be considered playful, yet hard enough to cause me to gasp, back into the fat feather-stuffed mattress. His body covered mine, and he claimed my mouth hungrily.

A groan escaped me as I parted my thighs, allowing him to settle between them. My body trembled with anticipation beneath his. I never knew that I could crave someone so badly. No one else had ever made me feel so alive with passion. I was completely at his mercy, and as most people knew, Reaver was not a merciful man.

He teased my flesh, his fingers barely gliding across the ample mounds of my breasts. He drew from my mouth to lay soft, fluttering kisses down the length of my neck. The gasp I gave in return seemed to satisfy him, for he kept at his task, his fingers dipping further and further down until he met with the source of my heat. As he slid a finger inside of me, he nipped at my neck, drawing long and hard on the flesh.

I squeaked with surprise and delight, and I tilted my head back. "Reaver..."

"Yes, my dear?" He breathed against my neck, his lips still brushing against me as he spoke.

"I..." I paused as a second finger joined the other, and a rush of heat spread through me. I parted my thighs further, allowing him to pleasure me more deeply. "Oh..." My voice was husky and sultry, but no more words would come.

"Have I rendered you speechless, my sweet wife?" He asked. I could feel that his lips tightened into a smirk against me. "What is it that you require?" His tongue flicked out of his mouth, lathing against my collarbone.

"You," I managed to exhale amidst the moans he coaxed from me with every stroke of his fingers.

A small bubble of contented laughter rang out against me, and he nodded. "That, my dear, is something that I am most capable of providing." He withdrew his hand only to replace it with his bare, unprotected manhood. He pushed himself up, supporting himself on one arm, as he gathered up one of my legs in the other, wrapping me half-way around him. As he filled me, a low noise of satisfaction left him.

The sensation was so very different. I could feel the very heat of him as I never had before, and I sucked in a lungful of air. My arms snaked around his neck, pulling him close, and I arched my hips upward. I truly had needed this, just as he'd stated in the carriage.

"Oh, darling..." It was a half-moan as he forged his rhythm within me. He seemed to be unable to hold back the small groans that came with each stroke of his glorious manhood. He pressed his lips tightly together, and he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his breath coming in slow, shaky bursts against my flesh. He lifted his mouth to the side of my face. "This feeling alone was worth the delay of the party..." His grip around my thigh tightened, pulling my hips nearly up off of the bed.

I wrapped my other leg around him, pulling him as close as our bodies would allow. We moaned in unison, and he left a flurry of desperate kisses along my jaw and down my neck as his hips steadily increased the rhythm. My body followed his, and together, we forged a steady, deep cadence that left us both panting.

As I felt the peak of release building within me, I slid my hands down his back, my fingers digging into the flesh of his magnificent backside, urging him to drive himself deeper and more vigorously. A small chuckle of satisfied male pride escaped him, and he drew back. Before I could protest, he dragged my hips against his, the new angle of our union taking my breath away. "Oh, gods..." I gasped.

His fingers closed around my hips, guiding me against his body. His strength was massive, and the result was dizzying. Truth be told, his thrusts might have broken a lesser person, but I was far more resilient than others with my Heroic constitution. His dark eyes held mine, a silent command to lose myself emanating from his very expression.

My body writhed and trembled as I neared the carnal precipice. I sucked in a hasty breath before a wave of overwhelming release rocketed through my body. I closed my eyes tightly, and a cry of pleasure tore through me. It was much louder than I would have liked, but Reaver's grip on my body tightened and a similar, though slightly more restrained, noise left him. I quivered as my body settled back against the mattress, and Reaver's hips slowed. His hands loosened their grip on me.

My muscles fell slack, and my eyes opened slowly. Reaver's mouth was fixed into a grin that tested the integrity of his cheeks. His eyes were filled with a bright, burning mirth, and when he saw I was looking at him with a questioning face, he laughed.

His hands slid beneath my body, pulling me to straddle him and rest against his chest. My body tightened around him, but he stilled, giving me time to catch my breath and steady the pounding of my heart. "I am sure you have the guards posted in the hallway in a state of incitement, my dear," His voice was warm and nearly playful.

I licked my lips, pulling back to look at his face, raising a brow.

"Honestly, darling..." he chuckled. "Anyone within earshot very likely heard your glorious arrival, I am sure." He pushed a stray strand of hair from my face.

My cheeks burned, and a timid smirk spread across my mouth.

"It is our wedding night. The whole castle surely knows what is happening within this room at present. Though, I daresay the men are probably unable to focus," He added. "The noises that I manage to coax from their fair Queen are so ethereally captivating." His fingers trailed down my spine, and he laid a hot, kiss against my throat as he urged my body to move against his.

I rocked my hips, grinding myself against his arousal, coaxing a lustful noise from him. His hands moved to cup my backside, pushing me further down on his luscious thickness. My thighs clenched around him. Our bond was tight and my rhythm was slow and tortuous, yet deep and intense.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my backside, and his frustration was clear in the tightness of his mouth. He did as I wished, letting me have my way with him for a few minutes, though I hardly doubted it was unpleasant for him. The longer he waited, the tighter his grip became until he finally withdrew and threw me backward into the bed. His fingers encircled my wrists, pinning them above my head, taking control back once and for all.

A sharp breath of surprise pushed its way from my lungs, but it was followed by a fluttering thrill in my gut. As he plunged himself into my depths again, he groaned without abandon. The sound of his pleasure magnified my own, and I arched my body upward against him.

My heart pounded in my throat, as his body picked up its pace, now moving with a bit more urgency. I unraveled around him, the intense, speedy movements stoking the flames of my desire until they combusted. My head tipped backward as I cried out his name. His hold on my wrists tightened, and I felt his mouth at my neck, desperately kissing and nipping anywhere he could reach.

The sound of his breathing grew more erratic and heated as he carried himself closer to his own completion. He gritted his teeth, a groan of blissful agony erupting from him. He shuddered with release as he spilled himself inside of me, and a string of hot, uninhibited cries forced their way through him. His body slowed, then eventually stilled. He lay breathlessly against me, our bodies still merged as he rested his head in the crook of my neck.

Reaver's fingers loosened from around my wrists, and he sighed with satisfaction. He let his body press down into mine, and I could feel the wild rhythm of his heart against me. A hand drifted to my face, his thumb sweeping across my mouth, and a small hum of laughter stirred his stillness. He lifted his head to find my gaze, and he exhaled. His eyes were hazy with the drugging fulfillment of completion, but his mouth was fixed into its usual bright smirk.

"Why are you grinning?" I asked, his humor obviously contagious. I felt my own mouth pulling into a smile

"Ah, ma belle," he said. "If I told you, it would take the fun out of it." He leaned to kiss the peak of my breast tenderly.

I closed my eyes, and for a moment, our embrace felt not only physically intimate, but emotionally as well. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, Reaver was withdrawing and moving to roll onto bed. I stretched my body, and my hand sought his wrist. "Where do you think you're going?" I opened my eyes, and I raised a brow at him.

"Simply recovering, darling," He said. "I require at least a few moments to gather my senses before ravishing you once more."

I rolled onto my side, and he did the same. His eyes drifted down my body, and he rested a hand on my hip, his fingertips brushing back and forth against my flesh. I chewed on my lower lip as his touch drifted further up my body, caressing my breasts, then suddenly back down to my hips. He pulled me possessively toward him, and his fingers splayed across my backside in a way that very clearly said 'mine.'

His mouth started a slow string of kisses toward mine until he claimed me once more. The heat of his body was nothing compared to the white-hot tension that built within me. An urgent noise left me as he pressed my back into the bed once more.

"Do not fret, darling," He assured me. "I do not plan on leaving you unfulfilled."

Through the night, he worked at proving the truth to his words, and when he finally slipped out of my bedchambers, I was fully exhausted but sated. I lay on my stomach, my eyes heavy with exhaustion and sleep claimed me without much effort.

A/N: A wedding and a wedding-night lemon in one chapter! Yay! Okay, so I'd like to thank Angelacm for being my amazing beta this chapter and for pulling me out of the citrusy slump I was in. I'd also like to thank all of those that have been reviewing. I love to hear what you think, so leave me a review with your thoughts!