AN: Alright. This part is purely BC. They will be back in England in the next chapter, so do enjoy the last installment of their Tuscan getaway.

This part is not for children. If you have objection to love scenes, please stop reading. I assure you though this is integral to the story and is not disrespectful is any way. This is even tamer than most historical romances.

Please review. :-)

Part 10

Atop a hill, in full view of the city and miles away from the Parisian mansion in which she had spent the first eighteen years of her life, Blair Waldorf had never felt more at home. If she thought back to the year before, to her entire life before, she would have never imagined that one day, she would wait for night to fall on the rooftop of a grand Tuscan villa and feel, under the blanket of slowly appearing stars, so alive.

"Your maid asked me to come. You had something to say to me."

She turned around and saw him walking towards her, and she held out her hands for him to take. His gaze dropped to the glinting diamond on her finger and his lips curved at the recollection of their simple exchange in Santa Maria. He took her hands in his.

"Well?" he prodded gently. "What is it, Blair?"

"I have a secret," she confessed.

"You do?"

"Do you want to know what it is?"

With a small smile, he told her, "Always."

"Good." She stepped close to him, and with that one movement she felt herself surrounded by his presence, his scent, his warmth. "I fear I can never keep a secret from you."

He brought her hands up to his lips. "I would never want you to." He ignored the pang in his stomach at the thought of his own secret, and that he feared he could not tell it, right then, when she was so perfect and trusting and lovely.

She turned around, and he pressed against her back, then wrapped his arms around her. His chin rested on her shoulder, and she leaned her cheek against his head. "This is a fairy tale," she told him. "Out here, so far away from everyone we know. This is how fairy tales begin, my lord."

"That's good," came his quiet response. "Because fairy tales end with happily ever after."

She looked out into the horizon that now slowly turned to layers of yellow, of orange, of blood red. "I'm afraid of England," she finally admitted. Blair closed her eyes against the sunset colors of the sky. Above her, she knew, the flaming sky would turn violet and ultimately black. "I'm a child," she said in self deprecation. "England is your home, and I fear that when you return, you will not be the same man."

His hold on her tightened, and he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "Will you believe me when I promise you that we will be the same there as we are here?"

She drew a deep shuddering breath. "I will believe anything you tell me, Chuck. When I agreed to marry me, I placed my full trust in you."

"Good," he whispered. "I swear, Blair. I will feel the same for you in England as I feel for you now."

"And how is that, my lord?"

He turned her around, so that she would face him. "Open your eyes," was his request. She did, and she was right. When she next looked at the sky, it was pitch black, with dots of light that were the stars come out to watch them. "This is difficult to say, because I have never said it before." Her eyes lowered to his, full of hope and glazed by the very emotion he struggled to reveal. The effort was apparent, and tears rose in her eyes. "Je vous—je vous aime. Je t'aime, ma cherie."

The moment the words spilled from his lips, so did the tears from her eyes. Blair released soft laughter in relief. "I love you too," came forth her secret. "Is it silly, my lord, to love your husband so?"

"It's a nightmare," was his teasing reply. "Successful ton marriages should always be about influence, and titles, and wealth. Fortunately, we have it all."

"Don't we?" she agreed. Blair looped her arms around his neck, and in response, he hooked his arms under her knees and shoulders. "This is perfection."

He met her lips for a kiss and walked back towards the door. He entered the house and strode through the corridors. As he was about to take her to his room, Blair stopped him. "My bedroom, my love," she requested.

Chuck stopped short, and stammered, "Of course." He turned to the next door, and Blair reached for the knob herself, pushing the door wide to reveal the candlelit room to his surprised eyes. He released a relieved sigh. "For a moment there, I was afraid you were going to ask me to deliver you here and leave for my cold bed."

He crossed the threshold with his bride in his arms, and set her gently on the bed. And when he looked down at her, in her simple cream cotton dress and her abundant hair spread on the white sheets, lying there, smiling up at him, he felt his body respond more quickly than it had before. At the same time, her welcoming smile held such innocent trust. "Blair, you are aware that by law we are yet unmarried."

Her smile vanished, and she pulled herself up to sit. "In my heart we are," she told him. Blair reached up to lay her hand on his arm, then tugged. "In yours?"

"Of course," he told her, his heart clenching at the hint of a anxiety in her voice.

"Then what is the matter, my lord?"

"I do not want you hounded by regrets after we can no longer change it."

She stood to face him, and started with the top button of his shirt. Slowly, she parted the shirt with deft fingers, with a permanent flush to her face that told him how nervous was and bravely she acted then. She glanced shyly up at him before bending to place a kiss on the patch of skin she revealed at his throat. "I will love no other," she said softly, "and I will regret nothing of tonight."

The simple act took his breath away. With practiced fingers, he undid the lace doing up her dress, turning it into a puddle of cotton at her feet. His hands covered her trembling ones as he helped her undo his buttons. The entire time, he kept his gaze on her face, careful to detect any hint of fear and uncertainty. Instead, he watched her as she eagerly explored with her eyes.

"You can touch," he assured her, his tone intimate, gentle, inviting. Her eyes fluttered back to his face. "Touch me anywhere. You will not hurt me."

Gently, hesitantly, like butterfly wings, her fingers brushed against the skin of his stomach. He drew in a sharp breath at the briefly maddening sensations. Her nervous gaze turned playful and flirtatious when she realized the reaction she could coax out of him. "Are you certain it doesn't hurt, my lord?" she teased.

His eyes narrowed. "So do you want to play this game, Blair?"

She shook her head. "This is no game," Blair told him.

He caught his hands in his, then slowly brought them down to the buttons of his trousers. "You decide when," he told her. And she took it as a challenge. With still clumsy fingers, she undid the buttons of his trousers, but kept her grip of the material, holding it up. "Tell me if you are afraid, at any point, if you are uncomfortable, if you are unsure, and we will stop all this."

And it was what she needed. Blair opened her hand and let go of the cloth. He stood in front of her with a smile, with her only wearing a thin shift, her stockings and her shoes. He drew her against his body, and met her lips for a kiss. Her arms rose to wrap around him. Soon, she was lying back against the pillows and he loomed above her. "Good?" he asked huskily.

Blair nodded, then watched closely as Chuck sat up by her feet. He held up one ankle, then slid off her shoe, dropping it soundly onto the floor. And then he worked on the other and slid off her stockings. It was a slow and arduous process for Blair. She bit her lip as Chuck rolled down the stockings with a glint in his eye. She giggled as he moved his hand up her thigh.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," he said. And then he climbed up onto the bed beside her, stopping to bury his face into her stomach. Blair gasped in pleasure as she felt his lips move up and over to the laced bodice of her shift. He held himself up by his elbows, and took the ends of the ribbon in his fingers. Slowly, he pulled the bodice open and revealed one creamy rose-tipped breast.

She reached out and threaded her fingers into his hair. With a gentle push, she led his lips to the exposed breast. Her lips parted when he felt his warm, wet tongue wrap around her nipple. "My lord," she breathed.

Her head spun at the overwhelming sensation. Her grip in his hair tightened when he moved to nurse the other breast. "Mon Dieu," she gasped, feeling the stirring low in her belly.

And then his palm was warm over the faint stirring sensation. He moved his hand around in circles, massaging her over her shift. "Blair," he said, his voice strained.

She sat up, shivering at the cold air against her wet breasts. Blair helped his pull off his underpants, and stared at the sight of him, bare and straining against his leg. Her frantic gaze slammed into his warm, cautious one. "Chuck," she said, and sounded afraid once more.

He covered her mouth with another more fervent kiss, and moved over her body. She felt him pressed against her leg, hard, insistent. She took a deep, calming breath.

"That's it," he coached into her ear. "Deep breaths. Keep calm. But if you are still afraid, tell me. I will stop."

"No," she responded. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Tell me what to do."

"Anything you feel is right."

And then his fingers were down there, teasing her, probing, pushing inside. She tensed momentarily, until she remembered to breathe. Blair knew this was not the first time he coupled, and it was apparent in the deft movement between her thighs. He knew exactly what to do. Her legs parted of their own volition, and she felt the darkness creeping in from the corners of her vision. With only his hand to guide her, she squeezed her eyes shut and exploded under his skillful ministrations.

And then she was gasping for breath, and he was smiling down at her, delighted. He placed a kiss on her slack mouth. "You were beautiful."

Blair gave a satisfied laugh, but did not rise. Her limbs felt heavy as she lay beneath him. She could feel his length still straining against her leg. She tested it, and moved her leg. He sucked in his throat in discomfort. "And what of you, my lord?"

"It's fine, Blair," he choked out. "Rest."

"No," she insisted. "I'm ready." She reached down and took him in her hand, causing him to hiss at the sensation. Blair bit her lip, then tightened her drip. When he hissed again, she smiled. "Kiss me." He obliged, moving over her body higher to meet her lips. Her legs parted to cradle his hips, and her heart thumped wildly inside her chest as the movement caused her length to rest against her. "Come, my lord."

Chuck closed his hand over where hers rested on his length. He pressed kisses against the hollow of her throat, then moved to create a burning trail of wet kisses back to her breast. She gasped, and her free hands grasped at the sheets as he started moving against her, causing fiery threads of sensation inside her, driving her to the brink. "Take a deep breath," he said, raising his hips, and she did.

And then he was moving above her, sliding in slowly, so deliciously painful as he stretched her. Her free hand reached up to grip the headboard. Her other hand left his length and rested on his back instead. All along, he did not let go of her gaze. He was halfway inside when she closed her eyes tightly, priming for the pain she was certain would come.

"Open your eyes," he requested again, for the second time that night.

Blair grimaced, because she had seen him and she knew that it would not be pleasant. Dorota had warned her when she first started running off with Isabel and Kati, about the painful nature of the act, and then proceeded to tell her stories of love and the ultimate expression of love. Chuck had asked her if she was certain, and she was. This was how she would show him she loved him. Her eyes fluttered open despite the present and impending pain—her dark eyes trained on his.

And then he surged right on through, and the pain was overwhelming and burning when he broke through her hymen. Blair blinked away the tears, unwilling to show him the pain, but they rolled down her temples instead. He stopped, fully inside her, and kissed the tear tracks.

"I'm sorry," she gasped.

"I promise the pain will be gone in a moment," he said. And she felt his palm between their pressed bodies, warm against her naked belly, moving in soothing circles.

He was true to his word. Within seconds the stirring returned without the burning pain. "Blair?" he said softly. She nodded. And then he lifted his hips, causing the sweetly agonizing sensation of his body sliding out of hers. And then he slid in, causing another fissure of pleasure. He moved in and out of her body, until she wanted so much that she raised her legs to wrap high around his hips.

"Chuck!" she cried out, when the sensation had become so overwhelming that she felt she was about to explode. "Chuck!" she repeated, as he pushed in and out more forcefully, faster and faster until the pumping was more erratic, less calculated, abandoned. Stars exploded beneath her eyelids, and her legs would have fallen off their embrace of his hips had he not held onto them until he himself exploded, deep inside her, spurting in her womb and collapsing heavily on top of her.

It could have been minutes, or hours, or the entire night. He stirred from above her and pulled himself off and out of her. Blair winced at the movement, which did not escape his eye. Still naked, Chuck padded towards the table where there was a bowl of rosewater and a small cloth. He turned to her, and she explained, "I asked Alejandra to prepare it, even before I met you at the roof."

He smiled and picked up the materials then walked over to Blair. She reached for the cloth, and he shook his head. He rinsed the cloth in the rosewater, then squeezed most of the water out. He leaned over her and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of her lips.

And then he pressed the cool cloth against her sore body, and Blair breathed in relief. She fell back on the pillows and allowed his ministrations as he cleaned her, washed away the traces of blood and himself on her inner thighs. "I love you," she reminded him from her place against the pillows. "I'll love you forever," she promised.

He nodded, rinsing the cloth against in the rosewater and then cleaning himself. He placed the bowl and the cloth on the floor, then climbed into bed beside her, pulling her body flush against him. "Moi aussi. Je t'aime." He placed a kiss on her temple as they fell asleep, wrapped in each other, over the soiled, bloodied sheets.

It was the rapid knock on the door that woke him. He gathered his faculties fast enough only to see the doorknob turning. Chuck grasped the blanket at their feet and pulled it up over their naked bodies. Blair still slept in his arms, burrowed deeply at his side.

Alejandra entered the room with her bowed head flushed red, and she avoided looking the marquis in the eye. She placed a heavy breakfast laden tray on the table. The maid stumbled around the room, searching for something. He remembered Blair mentioning the night before that the maid had prepared the rosewater, and so, taking pity on her, he called out, "Aqui, Alejandra."

The maid scurried over and picked up the bowl of pink water and the wet towel, then left hurriedly.

Chuck turned to his bride, still sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the maid's stopover. He grinned in pride, noting how he had apparently completely exhausted his virgin bride. His stomach growled, and shifted uncomfortably. He dropped a kiss in Blair's hair, then reached for his trousers to put them on. He then walked over to the breakfast tray and picked up a ciabatta. He tore a piece and placed it in his mouth. His eyes fell on the letter and picked it up, considering whether or not to open it now, knowing anything from home would break the protected world he had built around himself and Blair.

"What is that, my lord?"

He turned around with the letter in his hand, and was treated to a sight. His bride sleepily rubbed her eyes, her dark hair in wild disarray around her face, the blanket gathered around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist up. "Good morning, my love," he greeted. He picked up a glass of fresh grape juice and handed it to her.

Blair reached for the glass and sipped, then slowly brought it down, realizing that she was wearing nothing. She handed the glass back to Chuck and burrowed under the covers.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Blair," he assured her.

"Bring me a dress," she demanded from under the sheets.

He shook his head. Chuck walked back to the breakfast tray and picked up the small bowl of sliced fruits. He placed it on the bedside table, then unbuttoned his trousers. He slid into the bed and dove under the covers as well. Blair blinked up at him in surprise. "Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"We are both wearing nothing, my love. Why so ashamed? You are beautiful." With a smile and a large movement, he threw the covers off both of their bodies. She squealed, and he caught her around the waist and pulled her to him until she fell against him. In broad daylight, he cupped her right breast in his hand and told her, "I will make certain that you are never ashamed of this. You are beautiful, and you were made to be loved, Blair."

The mirth seeped out of her eyes, and she lowered her head to his for a kiss. She spied the bowl on the bedside table, and reached for a piece of grape. She popped one into her mouth, then reached for another one, only to grab one bunch. She held it up over his mouth, and he plucked one with his lips. "You make it all easy."

"It will always be easy between us, my love."

She knelt above him, with her legs on either side of his hips. She cupped his face and dropped a kiss on his lips. "Do you promise?"

He rested a hand on her hips, and helped her settle above him. He positioned himself at her entrance, and swallowed deeply as she sank onto him. She threw her head back as she slowly took him in inch by inch. "Breathe," he said again. And when she did, he sank more deeply into her.

And then she moved over him, and it seemed so natural even as he guided her. "Do you promise?" she repeated. "Promise me it will always be like this."

"Forever, Blair." he gasped out. "I promise you."

And they were so wrapped up in each other that the letter from England lay abandoned on the bedside table, their movements knocking it onto the floor.

tbc