Pure as Doves

Chapter 58 from Carlisle's POV.

Holding Esme was like holding sunlight.

In some small ways, it bothered Carlisle that she felt this way to him. Because sunlight was impossible to hold onto. It fled through tiny spaces and escaped very quickly. It was so warm, but so difficult to grasp.

Right now, Esme still felt like sunlight. But right now she was also giving him every reason to believe she would not flee through tiny spaces or escape very quickly. She was still warm, but she grasped him just as tightly as he grasped her.

"It took you long enough."

Edward was so very right.

When Carlisle heard his son's words, a bolt of lightning pierced his heart. He would never forgive himself for all those days he had wasted without Esme in his arms. Now that he had her to himself, all he seemed capable of doing was attaching himself to her like a leech.

He didn't even hear his name being called whenever he kissed her.

Because when he kissed her, he was lost. He wandered aimlessly in a dream, in an otherworldly dimension full of sweet, rosy promises and shining beams of lust. His heart was heavy with desires that ached to break free, and every time he kissed Esme, he surrendered just a little bit more of his control.

One day he would break apart in her arms. He looked forward to that day. Or that night...

"Carlisle." Edward sounded like a strict father.

Carlisle looked up when he heard his name.

Edward may have sounded strict, but he looked sensitive. "Can we all just...discuss this? Maybe?"

Carlisle shook his head in confusion. "What is there to discuss?" A brilliant sensation of complete liberation consumed him as he looked down into Esme's face. "We're getting married." It took a second to process the reality of those words. "Esme and I are..."

Glued by the lips, yet again.

He grinned like a child on Christmas morning as he kissed his fiancée senseless.

"Married. Yes. That is what I think we need to discuss," Edward said firmly.

Reluctant though he was to lose the little piece of heaven that was Esme's mouth against his, Carlisle spared his son the attention he sought. "What is it, Edward?"

"You don't mean to marry Esme...traditionally, do you?"

Carlisle was confused for less than an instant before Edward's nervous demeanor suddenly made sense.

"I..." He stopped, speechless, as his smile faded.

For God's sake, how could I overlook this? She wouldn't last a minute around a priest if I took her to get married in a church...

Esme immediately sensed something was wrong. "What does he mean, Carlisle?"

Edward cut in promptly. "I mean there's a world of difference between simply finding a mate and getting married."

As Esme turned to him in a panic, Carlisle wanted nothing more than to calm her as quickly as possible. "We'll take care of everything when the time comes," he said softly.

"It's coming a bit fast, don't you think?" said Edward.

Edward, don't intimidate her.

Carlisle gave his son a look of warning as Esme reached up to jostle his shoulder. "We can get married, can't we?" she demanded, her eyes flashing with worry.

"Yes," his answer was blunt and bold. "We can."

Her face relaxed and her fingers loosened on his shoulder.

Edward, however, was not comforted. "Carlisle, there's more to consider—"

"I understand, son. It's alright." He stared significantly at his son, speaking more thoroughly to him through his thoughts. We have to take things slowly for the time being. Don't make it seem impossible for her, or she'll never have the courage to keep trying.

The faintest understanding glistened in Edward's eyes as Esme suddenly faced him with a desperate look on her face. "You're happy, Edward... Aren't you?"

"Of course I am," he replied honestly with a kind smile. "I'm just looking out for you."

"We'll find a way to make it work," Carlisle said, trying as much to convince himself as his counterparts. They both stared at him with their beseeching golden eyes, looking to him for guidance and reassurances. Like so many times in the past, Carlisle recalled what it felt like to play the role of the leader. Until that moment, he had never been so fully confident in his ability to direct his own coven.

He gave a brief nod to his son before turning back to his soon-to-be wife. "Anything you want, we'll have," he told her, fierce with determination. He could see the touch of a forbidden thrill in her eyes, and he hoped it meant she was thinking of much more than just a wedding. He reached out for her, clasping the sides of her face in his hands as he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. "If you want a wedding, I can give you that."

It felt wrong to leave her in the dark, almost a little like betrayal, which was not something Carlisle wanted to start just before their marriage. Esme was a woman who deserved nothing less than the truth... and he would give it to her in due time. Just not right now.

Now, he would give her a kiss. And there was so much more than truth in that.

-}0{-

Stars used to seem almost sinister to Carlisle when he was alone in the world. He sometimes used to feel them watching him, like a thousand scrutinizing silver eyes following his every move. He would step into the night, and even when it was humid and warm outside, he would feel nothing but cold creep over his skin. Empty and cold. That was all he'd ever felt at night.

Now the nighttime felt warmer than daytime. Like a thick blue blanket, the darkness draped over his body and encouraged him to act on the dreams that were unspeakable in the light of day.

Now Carlisle wanted to impress those stars that watched from above. He wanted to show off the beauty he would soon marry by escorting her all across the grounds. The stars either squinted at him in envy or winked at him in pride, while the moon gladly lit his path and made his fiancée look twice as breathtaking.

The night was fragrant and deep, swarming with stirring sounds and scents that would ignite a fever in lovers' hearts. Leaves trembled and moonbeams danced and the waves of Lake Cordial beckoned him with their watery whispers. Everything was alive and full of excitement. Every move felt forbidden, but at the same time, like it was meant to be.

For the time being, he supposed he would never want to be inside a house again.

He could not fathom the pleasure he felt from watching the sunset slowly fade into night with Esme in his arms and nature all around them. They did whatever their hearts bid them to do, and they asked no questions. They acted on whims and explored nothing in particular, roaming with no direction between the trees. They chased one another and snatched fireflies from the air and whispered senseless words of affection in the dark. Their clothes were wrinkled and streaked with earth by the time dusk rolled in, but they didn't care. Nothing made sense and everything was perfect.

Feeding off a wild energy he'd never experienced before, Carlisle sped through the forest with Esme on his heels, a hundred different intentions flaming in his mind. His plans warred together as he ran with her across the grass, holding her hand all the while. When he'd started running he had no idea where he was headed, but all of those intentions quickly merged into one known destination.

The willow tree.

He slowed down, breathless from giddy bouts of laughter, when he reached the dangling curtains of green leaves. Esme breathed against his shoulder where she stood behind him, and her presence was thicker than the night air. He tugged her down the slope toward the banks of the lake, stepping carefully over stones in the grass. The marshy ground gave like moist sponge cake beneath his feet, and he had the sudden urge to remove his boots.

But he never did get around to taking his boots off. There were much more exciting things to do beneath the willow tree.

One of those exciting things was kissing.

No one had ever explained to Carlisle what kissing would feel like. He had tried to imagine it countless times while sitting alone at night before a crackling fire – most especially in those solemn days near Christmastime when his loneliness was at its peak. It still put a pang in his heart to remember the times when he would try to write his thoughts on how a kiss from a beautiful woman would feel. Usually he would end up sobbing and feeling too weak to write at all. Thinking of things like that had been too painful.

But now his sensitive soul was free to rejoice in his discovery of a woman's kiss. He had always known it would feel divine...but he never guessed it would feel like this.

It was a bit like drinking blood, only instead of quenching his thirst, it only seemed to make him thirstier. In a strange way, he thought it was also like sewing – a detailed process, threading a needle through layers of fabric, trying to make the seam look invisible to other eyes. Though kissing was very much a physical action, he felt it had more to do with what was happening inside of him as he moved his lips against Esme's. Things changed and shifted in obscenely pleasant ways, emotions raged and shuddered through him, driving him to a breaking point he did not know existed. If he focused enough, he could touch his lips to hers without being completely consumed.

But that was difficult, and quite beside the point.

Esme's lips were even softer than those marshy shores of the lake. They were more pliant than candle wax, and sweeter than flower nectar. Most fascinating of all was how they responded to him, not only in words but in motions. In little twists and nips and bites. He felt powerful and adored when Esme kissed him back, and although his knees threatened to buckle every time she did it, he still felt like a fairytale hero, because that was how she saw him.

He could feel it in the way she clung to him with all her might. She thought he was her savior, when really it was she who had saved him.

Somehow he found the strength to break away from her enticing lips, to adjust once again to breathing on his own. He relaxed his forehead against hers and listened to their breathless harmony, aching for oneness. One body or not, Carlisle felt that he was already tethered to Esme, in an irreversible curse.

Like the sound of a shadow itself, she spoke to him in the darkness. "I don't know how to let go of you."

The sheer romance of her words made him blush with pride. "Then don't."

Her hands gripped him as if she were drowning, and his thoughts were peppered with sinful things.

Between gluttonous kisses, he heard her form the words, "How can this be real?"

Because he had no answer for her, he kissed her harder.

The night was a beautiful blur. They spoke to one another about nothing in particular. They murmured fragments of affection and love, whispered each other's names as they explored the forest, and made unrealistic promises to one another as they kissed by the banks of the lake. Life as they had known it was no longer something they acknowledged. In one night, everything had changed for both of them. They were now free to indulge themselves in everything they had ever dreamed about.

It was strange to forget what it felt like to pine after something he could not have. Carlisle spent too long aching for things he thought were impossible to possess. Now, lo and behold, he had a woman in his arms, her eyes shining only for him. The world indeed worked in mysterious and wonderful ways, but he'd never believed it until now.

He could never seem to find his fill with Esme, though he had her beside him the entire night. Now that he no longer had to resist the urge to touch her or say something intimate to her, he felt overwhelmed by his siege of ceaseless instincts. He touched her everywhere – her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, her forearms, her hands. Each spot of soft white skin beckoned him in the moonlight until there was no visible space left untouched. He confessed things to her that he probably should not have confessed, but she drank in his words like wine. After every exchange, no matter how insignificant, they marked their progress with a passionate kiss, lounging in the dewy grass with their legs tangled and their heads resting against one another.

Their closeness brought Carlisle unimaginable peace. Wrapped in Esme's arms, he thought of all the cravings he kept secret, and how they would not be secrets for much longer. In one second's time he could think of a thousand and one ways to touch Esme, and he mourned the fact that there were not enough hours in the night to demonstrate every one. Carlisle promised himself that, someday, he would lay her down somewhere dark and private, and he would fulfill this fantasy.

He smiled to himself, shuddered, and held her closer.

The silky, rippling sounds of the lake beside them were very arousing. The seductive variations on a repetition both puzzled and soothed him. Those lake sounds were familiar to him, but they had never sounded this way before. In fact, looking around, Carlisle realized the entire world was just the same...but so much different.

For the first time ever, he spent an entire night curled up beside a woman. In the grass, under the stars, staring into her eyes. Touching and kissing. Kissing and touching. It never extended beyond that, but it was more thrilling than anything he had ever experienced before.

The sun rose as it had every other morning of his life. But today it looked exotic and heavenly, greeting him with a burst of endless oranges and pinks from across the water. Esme sighed his name and buried her hands in his hair, and her eyes were too tender to withstand.

So Carlisle looked up to the sky above him with unfathomable tears in his eyes, and he whispered, "I don't think my life could be more perfect right now."

-}0{-

The only time Carlisle allowed himself to be alone at home was when he went to his study to work on his painting. Everything else, he did with Esme by his side.

It was even hard for him to spend those thirty or so minutes beside his canvas every day, and even then he usually had to sneak out and visit her for a while before he could go back to painting. It hurt to do anything without her.

He told her this, and she laughed at him. Not a jeering kind of laugher, but a light, sparkling laughter that made his belly tighten. Then she kissed his jaw, and tugged on his earlobe, and said that he never had to worry about doing anything without her, because she would be right here for him whenever he needed her.

And she was.

During those rare times when he required the privacy to work on his painting, Esme would hole herself up in the music room next door and play on her harp. Her sweet, soothing music served as the perfect inspiration for his paint strokes. Every night he saw his beloved Lake Cordial becoming more and more real on the canvas. Eventually he thought it would become so realistic that the water would flow from the painting and flood the room.

He had a feeling Esme would be impressed. But as dearly as he wished he could show it to her now, he promised himself he would wait until their wedding day to let her see it.

Then they could make paintings together every day if they wanted to. Maybe one day she would even let him paint her.

The thought made him pause as he sedulously cleaned the bristles of his paintbrush. Carlisle had always known Esme to be somewhat shy about those kinds of things. He could imagine her bashful expression if he'd asked her permission to paint her portrait. She would probably tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear and stare at the floor and cock her head to the side with a lopsided smile as she considered his request. It was a classic reaction of hers, and he damn well adored it.

Yes, he would definitely be asking her to pose for a portrait one day soon. Preferably after they were married. After all, he still hadn't had the opportunity to study the artistic nude...

Painting really wasn't supposed to be this arousing, was it?

Everything was arousing these days.

Carlisle sighed and set down his brush, stepped back to look at his painting, and decided it was almost finished. The final touches would be easy. Showing it to Esme would be the hardest part.

He covered the painting with the curtain like he always did at the end of the night, and then he spent a few quiet moments by the window, listening to Esme's harp in the next room.

And he wondered if her little hands could possibly move any faster.

And he wondered if she made music the same way that she would make love.

-}0{-

There were many times when Esme doubted herself, but none were so painful as the times she lost faith in her self control. Carlisle was not blind to Esme's desires. Even before he knew she loved him, he was at least aware that his ability to mingle freely with humans was something she coveted. It was strange to know that she was jealous of him in some ways, but not unreasonable. He had to work with her to take care of her insecurities before they were married. Like many things, he considered it his duty.

It pained him to hear her question her future. Every time she asked him one of those shaky What if's?, he became a little bit angrier with himself. He felt he wasn't doing enough to help her build up her confidence, to ensure her that everything would be alright. He had taken her many times to the boundary line of the nearest village, and though it was a huge step for her, they both knew that one of these days she would have to move past that boundary and into the snake pit.

Although Carlisle enjoyed the blissful weeks of his engagement with all his heart, he still felt pressured to complete the task he knew would give them both the freedom they craved. He had to take Esme into town. He had to let her test her control around humans. She would not be fully happy until it happened, and he would not feel adequate until he proved himself worthy by doing it.

Esme wanted to be comfortable around humans, and that she would be. She also wanted a real wedding, and that he would give her.

Save for these slight rough spots in their uncertain future, Carlisle thought things were going remarkably well. He had somehow believed that becoming Esme's lover would be a difficult transition for him, but it was quite the opposite. Nothing seemed more natural than to be with her every moment of the day, to reach out and touch her whenever he craved, to brush his lips against her cheek whenever she smiled. Even grander, Esme seemed to feel the same way about him.

Although it seemed promising, perhaps this was just the honeymoon phase of their blossoming relationship. Carlisle knew better than to get his hopes up that everything would run as smoothly even after they were married. He was expecting some dark times ahead, for Esme especially. As she was still very new to the vampire lifestyle, she would have many trials yet to face in her future. But he would be guiding her through every one of them.

For now, they could enjoy their peace.

Embracing Esme was the first thing Carlisle looked forward to doing when he came home from the hospital. Even before they were a couple, he had always counted on seeing her beautiful face in the foyer to greet him. But now, he could express how truly elated he was to have her waiting for him.

He sailed through the door and dropped everything in the hallway, unwilling to waste any time before seeking her out. His instinct drew her to him like an eager insect to honey, and he found her in the greenhouse on the east wing of the house, pruning the flower shrubs.

She turned immediately when she heard him come inside, and she set her tools down on the tiles so her hands were free to cling to his shoulders.

It was a bit silly how desperate their reunions were after such a short frame of time spent apart. But at the same time, Carlisle couldn't imagine ever coming home to Esme without that reeling sense of urgency in his heart. Every hour spent without her tore another gaping hole in his chest. By the time his shift was through, he was nearly hollow, and in dire need of Esme to fill the empty spaces.

It wasn't his imagination. Every day it became more serious as his needs became more demanding. He feared it was only a matter of time before he would have attached himself to her like some parasite who couldn't survive on his own.

They held each other for a long while, not saying anything, just relishing the fact that they were together again. Carlisle grew restless with the stationary embrace and eventually captured her chin in his hand so he could kiss her forcefully.

Her hands swept gratefully down his sides and around his back, anchoring him to her body as he indulged himself to his heart's content. Birds sang and bees hummed, and the sunlight sparkled around them, but all he cared about was the feeling of Esme's lips under his.

The only thing that stopped him from kissing her was his need to see her lovely face again. Battling the urge to drown her in his venom, he slowly backed away, hands still latched to her waist. She stared up at him with lips as bright as the inside of a watermelon, and the many passions in her eyes were thriving, just like the flowers and vines that surrounded them in this greenhouse.

In fact the whole atmosphere of the room was entirely too sultry for his sanity. He could barely control himself around Esme in his study, much less a jungle-hot, flower-infested glass case. He shifted on his feet and cleared his throat before he asked her what she had been up to while he was gone.

"Just tending to the plants," she informed him with a glimmer in her eye.

Carlisle very much looked forward to the time when she would tend to him.

He bent down to place another kiss on the corner of her mouth. "You certainly keep yourself busy around here," he said fondly.

"It takes a lot of work to keep such a large house looking perfect all of the time," she teased.

"It seems rather effortless for you," he assured her, hoping the compliment would earn him another kiss.

Esme grinned and tickled his chin. That would do.

"That's just what I want you to think," she compromised.

He watched her as she continued snipping leaves and stems from various pots beside the window. Every so often she would glance back at him over her shoulder, and it made him deliriously happy. Everything was a giddy game when he was in love. There were no limits to the chain of events that might occur when they were together, no predicting where their harmless flirting might lead.

Unable to stay away from her for too long, Carlisle came up behind Esme while she was engrossed in trimming a tuft of basil leaves. Knowing the strong scent would cling to her fingers for the rest of the day made him even more aroused. If things went his way, many more of his possessions would be smelling like basil by the end of the day.

Hiding his sly smile behind her hair, he peeked over her shoulder and slid both hands over hers while she handled the tiny green plant.

"You're breaking my concentration," she whispered, not a hint of annoyance in her voice.

He tapped his fingers innocently against her wrists and gave a gentle squeeze. "Am I?"

"Mmm."

Carlisle tried not to look too thrilled as Esme's head lolled lazily back against his shoulder. Taking advantage of her distraction, he pushed the tray of potted herbs aside and folded her hands firmly in both of his, holding them against her belly.

"I'm so happy you're home," she suddenly sighed, sounding genuinely relieved. A warm swell of pride filled his chest. Carlisle wondered why so many men he knew complained about having needy or "clingy" wives. So far it seemed rather delightful.

"Likewise," he murmured into her glossy curls. "I waited all day for this."

Her voice became quieter, throatier. "How very nice to know."

Knowing he had reached his limit, Carlisle urgently twisted Esme around in his arms to face him. He pressed his lips to hers for the hundredth time, overwhelmed that she still had the strength to kiss him back. He suckled feverishly until he felt he had drained every last drop of energy she had left.

When he was through, she let her head fall to his chest, panting with exhaustion. In that moment he especially loved that fact that they were all alone in a sweltering hot room with curtains of ivy covering the windows.

Her hand came up, stroked his heart, then fell limply down to her side again. In sweet retaliation, he burrowed his hand in her hair and gently massaged the back of her neck until she whimpered in pleasure.

Somehow he thought that sound would be even more appealing in a dark bedroom.

"How did we ever survive this long without each other?" he asked, baffled.

Esme leaned further into him and shook her head. "I don't know."

Smiling, Carlisle tipped her chin up and gazed affectionately into her eyes. She blinked, smiled back, then stared at his lips.

So he knew he had to kiss her again.

Consumed by the kiss, he swept her easily off the floor and carried her across the room. Laughing lightly as she fought to keep him from letting her go, he gently placed her down on the window ledge and stood back to look down at her where she sat, surrounded by bright magenta flowers. Somehow the scene made her look twice as pretty. With her lacy white blouse and her long hair tucked to one side, he couldn't help thinking she looked like something out of a romantic renaissance portrait.

He stroked her cheek repeatedly with the back of his finger, addicted to her softness. Not many years ago, the idea that he could be so intimate with a woman like Esme would have seemed impossible, not to mention taboo.

"You know," he began slyly, "if our families were still around, they would consider our courtship quite a scandal."

Esme's outburst of giggles was strangely seductive. "True. Edward could hardly be considered a good chaperone. He's barely around when we're together."

Carlisle cast a wary eye to the door, unsure of his son's current whereabouts. "Would it be terrible of me to say I'm grateful for his absence?" he whispered as he kissed Esme softly on the cheek. "I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to behave around you."

She shook her head with a smile of disbelief. "Carlisle, I don't think your behavior is something you need to worry about." She hooked her feet innocently around the backs of his knees and he felt a ticklish tug in his lower belly.

"I think you underestimate the effect you have on me," he admitted with a slight wince before taking a careful step back.

She looked frightened. Brilliant.

He solved this minor setback in the only way he knew how. With another kiss.

He was relying a lot on kisses these days.

"Why is it I feel I can never get enough of this?" he whispered between pecks, not really expecting her to answer.

Esme shrugged and gently caressed his bottom lip with her little finger. "Perhaps you're making up for lost time."

He couldn't help but smile sadly at her clever response, more to the fact that it held more truth in it than he was willing to admit.

"I've been waiting so long to feel this way about someone," he sighed, the memory of a long forgotten ache rising in his chest. "Looking back now, I can't believe how far I've come."

This time it was Esme who lured him in for a kiss. He was beginning to sense when she was about to kiss him. She would get a hazy look in her eyes, and her eyelids would droop slightly, and she would usually part her lips too. He learned to take advantage when he saw her secret signals, intent that he wouldn't miss a single opportunity to taste her when she offered him the chance.

The kiss she gave him was hotter than the sun streaming through the windows all around them. Carlisle had the curious urge to snag a thermometer from his doctor's kit and take Esme's temperature, just to be sure it wasn't his imagination.

It wasn't long before the heat became too much for him. Keeping his sanity in mind, Carlisle reluctantly pulled out of the kiss.

Esme wasn't ready to give him up. "Don't stop..." she begged, her words seeming to come from the back of her throat. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, and her ankles rubbed earnestly against the backs of his knees again.

He panicked, because she looked like a painting, and his conscience was weighing in on him.

"If I don't stop now, I never will," he warned with a whimper.

He went so far as to hide his hands behind his back this time, trying in vain to step away from her appealing trap.

"Ohhh, that sounds wonderful." Her voice was dreamy and full of unspeakable need. She grasped his neck fiercely and pulled him closer. "Kissing forever..."

Instead of enticing him as he thought it would, the notion made him stop and think.

"What is a kiss, really?" he asked her, truly curious. "Why do we do it?"

Esme shook her head at him, though her eyes were sparkling with affection. "Oh, Carlisle, don't go playing Socrates now."

But he wasn't satisfied. It was a valid question. What was a kiss?

"What purpose does it serve?" he continued arbitrarily. "It's just... a pleasurable violation of the lips."

Esme stared at him in silence for a moment, then, with a sly smile, she ever so softly repeated the word that had intrigued her. "Violation?"

Her eyes dipped to his mouth, dark with renewed thirst. As usual, his attempts to dissuade her seemed to have the opposite effect.

Oh, well.

She attacked him once again, and he decided he was incapable of fighting her. He was a weak man. Very weak. When Esme wanted something, he had to give it to her, even if he had to endure the risks.

The fragrance of the flowers became almost oppressive as he kissed Esme like the desperate vampire he was. He was always on the edge of something these days, but now he felt it coming for him full force, like a squall on the prairie. Those dark desires he always tried to tame were eating away at him from the inside. All those little things he needed to share with her – those exciting, wild, primal things about him – were well prepared to explode.

But somehow, he couldn't think of those things as vulgar. Somehow, he thought they were beautiful. And somehow, he believed Esme would think they were beautiful, too.

Like a drunken man drowning in his goblet of wine, Carlisle could feel himself getting carried away in the kiss, but he could no longer control how far he was falling.

He noticed his feet were wet. They had knocked over a watering can.

He also noticed the soft rip of thin lace, and the loose white threads that were looped around his fingers as he tried to pull his hand away from Esme's shoulder.

And the last thing he noticed was how masochistic he felt when he realized he had torn a hole in a woman's blouse.

He could have kicked himself, but oddly enough that didn't seem at all appropriate. For one thing, he wasn't feeling nearly as guilty as he should have. And besides that, Esme didn't even seem to care.

Only one concept was clear in his head at that moment: the want.

He wanted to do more to her than just kiss her. He wanted to tear through the rest of that lace until there was nothing left. Press her deep into the soil where those flowers grew and have his way with her. He wanted to see her hair spiraling out in the dirt like spilled honey. He wanted to see her skirt flutter back, revealing her shapely white legs. He wanted to coat her quivering throat in sturdy kisses, and do something scandalous and heroic to her...

It all quickly became too much for him. The humid air, the scalding sun piercing his back, the flustered pink flowers, the strong scents of earth and summer rain. In his fragile state, he could only take so much of it all before he lost himself entirely.

He knew it. This greenhouse was breeding ground for disaster.

It was then when Carlisle decided to stop kissing Esme. For good. He didn't know how long the commitment would last, but he was willing to try until they had at least set a date for the wedding. He had come too close to letting his control slip through his fingers. He wasn't that man, and he certainly didn't want Esme to think she had agreed to make that man her husband.

For the final time, he forced himself to back away from her. She made a frustrated noise when their lips parted, her hands still tugging insistently at his shirt.

"I think that is enough for now," said Carlisle. He was careful to keep his words gentle, but he could still see the hurt in her eyes.

"I don't want to stop," she said with a pout.

"Oh, I don't either, Esme." He shook his head, unable to hide the inflections of longing in his voice. "Not really."

"Then why...?"

He gently cupped her hands with his, and slipped them off his hips. "I think you know why."

And the conversation ended there.

It was not a painful parting, but rather an understood distance they decided must be set between them. Walking hand in hand or sitting close together was one thing, but kissing for minutes straight with no breaks for breath was quite another. Carlisle simply had to find a balance. For a while, Esme supported his efforts.

But he could sense her growing urgency as the days grew longer and the heat of summer took its toll on her. The days seemed to blend together now, and the firm line he had once drawn between his time at the hospital and his time at home was washing away. Esme was always on his mind, whether he was all alone or right beside her.

Even on his way home from the hospital, when he should have been concentrating on the road ahead of him, he kept seeing visions of Esme in various places throughout their house, in various states of undress...

He squinted ahead through the windshield and tried to focus, but he was still almost astonished at the shadowy figure that suddenly appeared on the side of the road. Carlisle pulled over abruptly and shifted gears, opening his car door to see Edward standing there on the gravel with his hands on his hips.

He ran a hand through his hair as usual and cocked his head. "Can we talk now?"

Carlisle sighed and stepped out of his car. "Goodness, Edward."

He felt a light slap on the back of his shoulder. "We both know I'll never be able to get you alone once you see Esme again."

That was true.

Edward smirked. "I'll make it quick, I promise."

Carlisle clasped his hands together and gave his son his undivided attention.

"Tonight," Edward began, pointing with one no-nonsense finger in the direction of their house. "You're going to tell Esme that she is ready."

It would have been foolish for Carlisle to ask what for. He knew very well what Edward was implying. They'd been skirting around the subject for weeks.

"I can't be dishonest with her, son."

"But you wouldn't be dishonest." Edward shook his head, frustrated. "You believe she's capable. I know you do."

"Once in a while, I—"

Edward's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, urging Carlisle to continue.

"I just don't know if she believes she's ready yet."

Edward laughed in a completely gentle and non-judgmental way. "Carlisle, if you believe she's ready, she'll believe it too. It's that easy."

Carlisle couldn't help but smile inwardly at this. Since he'd proposed to her, he was beginning to notice how true it was. Esme rarely saw things as impossible when he had faith in her. It was the most beautiful part of their relationship.

Carlisle bit his lip as he glanced around at the tall dark trees. He knew how fervently Esme wished to be free of this forest fenced prison. She would want to visit places she'd never seen before, have an outing that was more than just a "hunt." He wanted to give her a new experience, but she was going to need some courage to accept his invitation.

"Very well. I'll ask her," he whispered.

Edward's eyes lit up. "We'll all go together," he said eagerly, "as a family."

Carlisle's heart swelled with the last three words. Suddenly, taking Esme into town to test her control around humans didn't seem so daunting.

In fact, he was looking forward to it.

-}0{-

He still spent as much time as possible with her when they were home together.

Laying outside in the grass under their willow tree was his favorite thing to do with her. For now.

"We should run to the nearest church right now," she proposed. She was always saying things like that these days. This time she sounded particularly serious.

"You're not ready yet, love," he told her, rising from his resting place in her lap. Then hoping to ease her pain, he added gently, "I wish we could, but you need more time. More exposure..."

Yes, exposure... in more ways than one.

He smiled vaguely at his distracted thoughts, as his eyes took in her stretched out legs in the grass. Her pouting lips turned up with laughter as he brushed his fingers teasingly over her bare toes. Taking one irresistible little foot in his hand, he raised it up to his lips and kissed it.

Her light gasp surprised him. It also broke his heart.

Deep down he wished he could kiss her on the lips again, but he knew very well where that would lead him. If he could hold out just a little bit longer, he knew the rewards would be great. But his patience was wearing thin.

She just looked so...ravishing. Sprawled out on the grass in that soft pink dress, her legs more perfect than a ballerina's.

"Why won't you kiss me?" she asked him, her voice barely more than a breath.

He barely deserved to be touching her like this, let alone kissing her. But the fact that Esme wanted his kiss made it that much harder to restrain himself.

"I'm afraid," Carlisle admitted, studying the sole of her foot to avoid her eyes.

Esme's bejeweled skin sparkled in the sun as she straightened up and leaned toward him. "Of what?"

He took a deep breath and looked straight into her eyes. "My...instincts." He could practically feel his skin heating up at the thought of what those instincts might lead him to do if he let them.

"I'm not afraid," she said solidly. Her eyes brightened, and her skin glistened, and there was hunger in her expression. This bolder, more confident Esme was dangerously appealing.

"Oh, Esme, please do not tempt me," he begged, bowing his face to stare at the ground. "I don't want to ruin what we have."

"How could you ruin it?" she asked, shaking her head from side to side so her curls fell over her shoulders. Her fingers caressed his chin until he had no choice but to look at her. "All you could do is make it more wonderful..."

The way she'd said it, and what she had said, made the muscles in his thighs tighten and his heart shudder inside his chest. "Oh, I want to, Esme. I long for nothing else."

Her eyes were turbulent with expectation and desire. He was convinced that nothing he could say would sway her now. With shockingly strong fingers, she gripped his collar and declared in a sharp whisper, "I don't want to wait any longer."

A hot tremble coursed through him, straight into his lap. Arousal bloomed like a familiar flower in the pit of his stomach, and everything below his belt became hard as steel.

"Neither do I." His voice was so hoarse he doubted she could understand him.

"Then..." Her voice trailed off on a breeze as she lifted herself up, and her eyes were suddenly level with his. He felt all of the power shift to her as she set her fingers on the buttons of his shirt. She did not move to undo them just yet, but simply the idea that she was thinking of it made him almost numb with excitement.

Her naked knees pushed into the grass as her pale pink skirt fluttered around them, inviting him to explore what hid beneath. So he accepted the unspoken invitation.

"Here?" he whispered, twisting the hem of her dress with his middle finger.

She nodded, and he let his hand slide under the fabric. Warm, smooth skin greeted him. He sighed. "I love you." His dark, sandpaper voice had changed into something soft and timid. "Do you feel my love for you, Esme?"

Her hips twisted slowly over his lap, and a sweet panic took him over as he felt her soft body brush the front of his pants.

"Yes..." she confirmed in a shaky whimper.

Something strange happened at that moment, something he'd never expected. He could feel himself beginning to move against her, just barely, in a raw, uncoordinated kind of rhythm that seemed to control him more than he controlled it. It was a sublime sensation, almost delicate, but it brought with it the steady promise of building aggression. The motion was so subtle that he couldn't be sure it was even happening, but one thing he knew for certain was that Esme could feel it too.

Her eyes opened wide for him, full of panic and wonder, glassy with half-forgotten fears. He knew he should stop immediately, but he just couldn't bear to lose this feeling. He knew she was not ready for this, even though she had asked for it. He knew he was not ready for this, even though his instincts seemed to think otherwise.

But Esme was the first to say it out loud.

"We...can't?"

The sizzle of excitement in the air slowly evaporated. Steel softened to lead, and Carlisle felt that he could breathe again.

Disappointment far outweighed his relief that they had been able to stop themselves before it was too late. "God must join us. Not I," he said, letting her slide off his lap and into the grass.

Feeling oddly like a coward, he curled up against the tree trunk, one hand buried in his hair. He chanced a glance at Esme, and was torn apart by the forlorn expression on her face.

"Come here." He reached out to her and she promptly crawled into his open arms. He burrowed his nose in her soft hair and attempted to explain himself. "To say that I cannot tame my desires would be a poor excuse. You are worth too much to me, Esme. Do you understand?"

He felt her nod, but other than that, she was as still as she was silent. It bothered him a little.

"Our bond cannot be sacred unless we are first blessed as husband and wife before the eyes of God," he elaborated, hoping for some hint that she understood and endorsed his decision.

She still said nothing, and at that point he knew she must have been thinking, which made him even more curious. He allowed her another minute to mull over his words, but just as he was about to ask her what was on her mind, she answered him with an unexpected question.

"You have never known another woman... have you?"

Knowing where this conversation would venture if he chose to answer her, Carlisle began by offering Esme the barest truth. "I have not."

He could practically feel the relief radiating from her body as she relaxed against him. But to leave her with this weak response would be like leaving her in the dark. It was only a half-truth as far as he was concerned. Best to confess the rest before the night of his wedding...

"But this is a poor reckoning of my behavior, Esme," he continued bravely. "I cannot bear dishonesty before your face. I have been tempted many times. Simply refusing to act on those desires is the only credit I am due."

Esme's hand shifted on his knee as she whispered, "I never expected you to be without flaw, Carlisle." Her words somehow comforted him, though he thought they may have been at least partially untrue.

"Two and half centuries is no possible conquest for any man," he defended, feeling somewhat beside himself.

But Esme's passion convinced him otherwise. "Of course not," she said, a thrilling fierceness to her words. She reached up for his face with a reassuring hand and stared into his eyes just the same as she always had.

"It is a delicate question what is pure, what is not," he mused, recalling how many pages of his journals reflected on that very question.

Esme bit her lip. "Do you think... Do you think I am pure?"

Purer than doves, my love, he wanted to say. But he was more thoughtful than that.

"In no way do I consider myself any more or less tainted than you, Esme," he reasoned, utterly honest. "Your purity lies within your heart, and that is the only place I seek to mark." He leaned in close and touched his nose to hers, struck dumb at the taste of her breath against his lips. He was almost lured into another spontaneous kiss, but then she was speaking.

"When you say you knew temptation..."

His heart became taut and his eyes grew sullen. "I mean that I was tempted like any other man."

It hurt Carlisle to say those words, like any other man. He didn't want to be any other man to Esme. He wanted to be exceptional, in every way, shape, and form. But the truth was, he had poor marks of his own to confess.

"Is there something I should know about, is what I am asking," she murmured, her eyes intense.

As a soon-to-be married man, Carlisle felt he owed Esme the story in its entirety, no matter how much shame it brought him.

"I was still in Volterra at the time..." And he recounted the dreaded story of Marietta, the woman he had always pretended never existed. She was not in any of his journal entries, or any of his thoughts. In fact he had not thought once about her in over a decade since he'd met Esme...

But now Esme needed to know about Marietta. Now he needed to remind himself that she was real, and as much as he despised his albeit brief involvement with her, that experience was a part of him and had somehow shaped his behavior for ages to come.

So he allowed himself to remember the temptress with her long raven hair and burning almond eyes. The way she had invited him with every blink of her eyelashes, the way she had whispered unmentionable offers to him in flowing Italian every night. The way he had tried to avoid her at all costs until that one fateful night.

When he neared the end of his story, he stared at Esme with a calmness in his eyes and a small amount of relief in his heart.

"She touched me," he remembered, holding Esme's much warmer and much lovelier hand against his chest. "Right here. That was all. I looked into her eyes, just as I am looking into yours...and I knew that I would have an eternity's worth of regret ahead of me if I were to surrender to her that night."

Esme still looked at him like he was a hero. Oddly enough, he felt like one.

"I'd thought I was destroying myself by clinging to my faith, but in the end it was my faith that stopped me from committing the most grievous sin of all."

Esme shook her head in amazement. "How did you tell her you had changed your mind?"

Carlisle almost chuckled. "I said nothing. She must have seen it in my eyes, that I did not truly want what she offered me. One cannot justify the reasoning of his heart. So I simply left her." That was the part he had always been proud of.

Esme's expression right then made the entire story worth telling. "She must have been—"

"Angry? Yes, naturally. The woman had never been refused by another man before, so I'd imagine she has still not forgiven me."

As Esme laughed he could not help but see her as the sunny-faced, innocent farm girl he had met that stormy night in Ohio. Her face flashed before his eyes in freckled, blushing beauty. Beneath her flawless, matured exterior, he knew Esme would remain the same wistful young girl forever.

It was that wistful young girl he'd fallen in love with.

"Oh, Esme. Even then, there was no doubt in my mind that I had made the right decision," he said as he dragged her fingers lightly across his throat. "And now I am only more grateful that I did."

She stared up and down his face, as if weighing the sincerity in his words. "Still, perhaps this woman would have...known what she was doing...a little better than I—"

The horror of what she was saying hit Carlisle squarely in the soul. "Esme, I do not want a woman who knows. I want a woman who loves." His voice was rough and passionate as he curled his hand around her cheek. "Marietta did not love me. She was looking for a conquest. She pursued me for selfish reasons. I intrigued her because I was an anomaly, but in the end I would have been just another number. She did not truly care for me; she was a pretender in every way. I saw nothing in her eyes that could rival what I see in yours."

On cue, Esme's gaze swirled like fire. "What do you see in my eyes?"

Words were insufficient to describe it, but he tried his hardest nonetheless. "Love. Warmth. An unconquerable passion which I long to one day know better..."

The brief image of her laying nude in a heap of blue silk sheets scarred his mind.

"We can make that 'one day' very soon," she sighed into his ear. And it felt like a promise.

"You're ready to go out into the world, Esme," Carlisle declared, surer than he had ever been before. How could such a woman fail in the face of her fears? He just couldn't fathom it. Remembering his conversation with Edward, Carlisle asked her in earnest, "Will you let me take you into town? Tonight?"

She gaped at him in surprise. "Tonight?"

"Edward will come with us. We'll visit quiet, less populated places to start out. The museum, the library." He caged her hands between his and stared into her eyes. "I know that you are strong enough for this, Esme. Can you please trust me?"

He already had his answer, before she'd even said the words.

"I do. I trust you."

"Then...?"

"We'll go tonight."