Author's Note: Thank you all for hanging in there. It's been at least ten years since I'd last written anything. So this has been an incredible learning experience. Hope everyone is having a happy and safe summer!

Chapter 15 - Epilogue

As Eliza sat staring out over the beach, she could distinctly feel a bead of sweat rolling down the centre of her back. The sensation was both repulsive and sickening. She was beyond hot despite sitting beneath the canopy and her feet ached like nothing else. She was fairly certain a rock had worked its way into her shoe on the journey out there. She was tempted to shuck off her slippers, but knew she was only fooling herself, as that undertaking would be near impossible under current conditions. No one could fault her for dreaming though. She shifted in her chair in a bid to find a more comfortable position only to somehow make herself even more unsettled.

Damn that husband of hers. This was all his fault. She scanned the beach for James and easily located him playing a casual game of cricket with the other men. He'd removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves but otherwise seemed unaffected by the July humidity. Eliza felt an irrational annoyance toward him. How dare he be enjoying himself so thoroughly in this heat while she sat there and baked.

As she focused intently on him, her resentment slowly transitioned to a primal appreciation and she felt herself becoming overheated for an entirely different reason. She loved everything about him. His quirky sense of humour and the delicious smile that she always craved to kiss into fruition. His brown curls that she longed to incite with her fingertips. Those strong, lean arms. On second thought, watching him play cricket was quickly becoming her second favourite pastime.

Of its own volition, her mind danced back to their first time engaging in what she later deemed her preferred pursuit of choice.

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Eliza daintily opened the door to their hotel room and began to move into the apartment, when a strong set of arms swept her up into a cradle position.

"What, on earth, are you doing?" she huffed, winded by the unexpected motion.

A giddy and slightly inebriated James Stringer grinned lazily down at her. "Carrying you over the threshold," he remarked, with a saucy wink and an enticingly low chuckle rumbling through his chest.

"You are utterly ridiculous," she scolded, but couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled out of her.

He grandly walked into the room, toeing the door closed behind him with his foot and then gently placed Eliza on her feet.

"You do realize you're going to have to do that again when we go home, right?" she teased, swatting him playfully on the stomach before walking toward the vanity table across the room.

"My dear, sweet wife," he gushed, his smile growing impossibly brighter at being able to use the endearment. "I would willingly carry you over hell's half acre and back again."

She rolled her eyes at him, but her smile grew to match his in fullness. As she sat at the table and watched James in the reflection, Eliza's heart swelled at the sight of him. He had begun to remove his jacket, lightly humming an indiscernible tune to himself. She couldn't quite fathom how she'd managed to come out of this whole ordeal not only unscathed but the happiest she'd ever been in her entire life. The man behind her contentedly removing his shoes, socks and cravat was her absolute ideal. Smart, witty, adoring, endearing and incredibly easy on the eyes, not to mention that nameless something that was uniquely James Stringer. She felt beyond lucky to have attained something so near perfection.

Suddenly, Eliza realized with a start that she did not have her handmaid, Kate, to help her remove her gown and corset, and a truly wicked idea began to take shape in her mind. It was plain that James, in his cheerful state, had not yet grasped the fact that they were finally alone… on their wedding night… with a bed only a few feet away. It had been no less than three years since she'd last been intimate with her first husband and their couplings, which were few and far between to begin with, had been wholly unremarkable. She prayed with everything in her that would not be the case with James, but she felt a surge of anxiety drive her heart rate up.

Methodically, she began to unravel the intricate updo piled high upon her head and her hair fell in loose, wild, uneven curls down her back. She took up her comb and began to run it through her tresses. Throughout, she kept her eyes covertly trained on his reflection and easily spotted the moment he became acutely aware of her. She stood and looked to him with intense purpose, holding her breath as her heart began to skitter. She moved toward him slowly as if she were a predator stalking its prey, and as she neared him, he visibly began to tense up in anticipation and she had to hold back the laughter bursting to escape. Just as she came to within a breath away, she turned abruptly giving him her back.

"James, would you be a dear and undo the clasps of my dress? Kate isn't here to help me and there is no way I'll be able to reach them myself."

She moved her hair out of the way to give him better access and waited. After a solid five seconds, James cleared his throat and mumbled, "Of course," and Eliza could not hold back the smile teasing her lips. Once he was done, she allowed the silk dress to slip off her shoulders and pool at her ankles. She then swivelled to face James, whose eyes had become dark and hooded with lust, and placed her proffered hand between them.

"Can you help me to step out?" she simpered, looking up at him through her lashes.

He took hold of her hand and she moved out of the pile of fabric. She then bent to scoop up the dress and gave his hand an affection squeeze. "Thanks ever so much."

She went to pull her hand away and move off, but he would not immediately release his grasp. The look he gave her was positively carnal and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to toss the dress and launch herself at him. However, she wasn't quite ready to end the playful game yet. She gave her hand a gentle tug and he reluctantly let go. She moved back to the vanity and laying her dress over the back of her vanity chair, she eyed him with faux concern.

"Darling, is something the matter?" she tittered. "You are not disrobing. Do you need a hand with your waistcoat?"

"What? No. I…" he glanced down utterly distracted and began to fumble with the buttons of his vest. Growing frustrated with his slow progress, he opted to just wrench open the waistcoat, a few buttons popping off as collateral damage.

Eliza brought her right foot up to her vanity chair and began to leisurely roll down her stocking. Glancing stealthily sideways toward James, she found him standing stalk still not even attempting to conceal the fact he was watching her. Revelling in the attention, Eliza went through the slow dance of finishing off one leg then raising up her left foot to remove the other stocking. Once done, she turned to face him in only her camisole, corset and bloomers. His eyes hungrily ran the course of her body and she felt a hot coil of want wind tightly in her belly.

With little warning, he moved to her, but she spun at the very last second, and panted, "Can you loosen my corset? There is no way for me to remove it without some assistance."

He could only nod as he seemed to be beyond the power of speech. Eliza dropped her head forward and could feel his hands tremble as he worked to loosen the bindings. She was finally able to undo the fastens at the front of her bodice and felt the corset slip from her body.

"Ah, that is so much…" but the rest of the words caught in her throat when she felt his lips press into the nape of her neck.

Two hands slid around her waist and as he pulled her back into him, his insistent lips came to the side of her neck and earlobe. Feeling as if her skin was on fire at each contact point, Eliza let her head fall back against his shoulder and reached up blindly with her left hand to weave her fingers into his hair and hold him in place. James' hands began to venture over her, eliciting a gasp and whimper from her. Her patience having finally run out, Eliza gave a slight turn of her head and claimed his lips in a searing, needy kiss.

It was as if a dam broke. She turned to face him and desperately craving to feel his skin under her palms, instantly went to work pulling his shirt bottom from his britches. Sensing her urgent goal, he roughly yanked the shirt up and over his head and threw it carelessly across the room. Eliza was momentarily stunned by the beauty of his form. She felt overwhelmed with a deep desire to taste him and so ladled his chest with open mouthed, devouring kisses as her hands skimmed over his sides and back.

James groaned at the sensation and drove his fingers into her long, blond waves. Unable to take the onslaught of pleasure any longer, he pulled her head away and looked down into her upturned face. Their breath mingled in an invisible dance as they wantonly regarded the other. In the next moment, he claimed her lips in a bruising kiss, their tongues immediately battling for dominance.

They grabbed and pulled and groped frantically at one another, trying to somehow get closer but never quite satisfying the impulse. James folded his arms tightly around her midrift and lifted her to bring her nearer still. Instinctively following his lead, Eliza wrapped her legs around his waist. Stunned by the sensuality of the action, James caught and held her but pulled away to take in her lust filled countenance.

"Bed," she demanded softly, and he gave a small nod.

James moved them quickly to the bed and laid her down gently, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. He then moved his way down her body, worshipping her curves as he helped relieve her of her remaining undergarments, then quickly discarded his britches. As he moved back over her, he couldn't resist running his hands and lips up her legs, over her stomach and breasts, and finishing with a slow, deep kiss as he settled himself into the cradle of her hips.

Eliza could feel his hard length pressed against her inner thigh and a wave of panic rippled through her. Would this be as painful as her first time? It had been so long. What if their lovemaking incited no reaction from her and she felt nothing at all? She tried to reason it wouldn't be too terrible if she didn't. At least she loved James desperately and being near him would be enough for her.

She broke from their kiss and brought her hands to his face, letting her eyes drink in his boyish features. She had fantasized about this moment so many times. Now that they were at the threshold, she felt apprehension clouding her enjoyment.

"Can we take this slowly?" she asked timidly, and James gave a minute nod and then pressed a brief kiss to her lips.

She reached between them and took hold of him, giving a few long strokes before aligning him with her entrance. As he pushed into her deliberately, she shifted in discomfort and bit down hard on her bottom lip. There was nothing enjoyable about the stretching sensation. She felt him press his forehead into the pillow and choke softly.

"Eliza, you alright?" he gasped once he was fully ensconced in her, his voice strained and tight.

"Yes. Just don't move for a minute," she whimpered. He nodded sharply and she could hear him swallow hard.

"You feel incredible," he ground out. He then pushed himself up to his elbows in order to gaze down at her. "We don't have to continue though. It would tear me up if I thought I was hurting you."

Her eyes softened at his sincerity. "I just need time to adjust. It'll be fine" she reassured him with more certainty than she felt, laying her hand on his cheek.

He leaned in and kissed her reverently and the pain began to ease slightly as her focus zeroed in on his lips. She shifted her pelvis again and he pushed into her a little in response. It wasn't as painful as when they'd started, so she smoothed her hands up and down his back to encourage him to move. His thrusts were slow and small to begin and the discomfort began to subside, but disappointingly Eliza felt nothing. After a time, he broke away from the kiss as his movements began to become longer and more purposeful. Eliza adjusted the angle of her pelvis to accommodate and gasped in surprise at the sensation of his next thrust.

He stopped abruptly and pulled up to look at her. "Eliza, did I hurt you?"

She could only shake her head. The feeling was so foreign. Like a lovely kind of building pressure.

"Do that again," she breathed out, needing to confirm that what she'd felt was real.

He withdrew and thrust into her again, and she arched at the mad whisper of pleasure reverberating at her core.

"Eliza?" he panted in question.

"Again," she pleaded, and he obeyed.

In response to the growing surge of coiling pleasure, she dug her nails sharply into his back and moaned into his shoulder. It was all the encouragement he needed. His thrusts grew harder and deeper and Eliza could barely focus for the intense drive for completion. She mindlessly babbled words of love provoking him even more. Without warning, the tightening coil within her snapped and she was flooded with white, hot pleasure. Shockwaves rocketed through her body with every thrust and she felt herself hurtling over the precipice into the abyss. James' movements became erratic and he grunted sharply as he followed her shortly after, spilling inside her.

They lay entwined and gasping furiously, trying to catch their breath and regain some semblance of sanity. After a few long moments, he rolled off her and Eliza became lost in her spiralling thoughts and the expansiveness of the ceiling. Never before had she experienced that level of physical euphoria. She didn't even know that kind of body bliss existed.

From her left, James cleared his throat. "Is that normal?" he asked, anxiety evident in his tone.

"Is what normal?" she asked, still coming down from the high.

"Was it like that with your first husband?" he asked uncertainly.

She turned her head to look at him and felt breathless all over again. How could a man as stunning as him possess such a lack of confidence? She rolled to face him fully, crooking her arm and leaning her head on her hand. "James Stringer, are you mad? It has never in my life been like that."

He looked at her and smiled fetchingly. "So, it was good then?"

A mischievous glint lit her eyes. "Good? Oh, I'm not sure about that. I'd definitely need another go to be a better judge."

He stared at her with an indescribable look, then leaned in quickly moving her onto her back. "Your wish is my command," he growled and silenced her with another mind-blowing kiss.

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"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stringer," came a voice from far away.

"Hm? What?" she offered vaguely as she blinked away the memories and refocused on the shoreline. She glanced up to find the interloper of her reveries smiling down at her.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Parker," she responded playfully, putting a strong emphasis on the last name. "That was a beautiful ceremony, but I can't say I'm overjoyed with a reception on the beach."

Charlotte took a seat beside Eliza, concern knitting her brow. "I'm sorry. Sydney was insistent." The smile that graced her lips as she shyly glanced down to her hands was not entirely innocent.

"Did he now," Eliza shot back, levelling her with a rather scandalous leer. "Have some fond memories together on the beach, do you?"

"You could say that," Charlotte supplied, a faint blush tainting her cheeks due to one rather vivid memory.

"What are you two gossiping about over there," Lady Denham snapped, crabby from the heat and glare of the sun on the sand.

"Nothing, Lady Denham," they answered in unison.

"How are you faring? Can I get you anything? A glass of water perhaps?" Charlotte offered, eyeing Eliza with worry.

"A bride should not be catering to her guests at her own wedding, Charlotte. I will make due until my husband decides to pull himself away from the game and pay me a visit."

As if he had been magically summoned, James materialized in front of the two ladies with the groom in tow. "Mrs. Parker," he took Charlotte's hand and gave it a light peck. "Congratulations on your nuptials. You are a vision."

"Thank you, Mr. Stringer," Charlotte responded cordially before moving to her new husband and lacing her arms affectionately around him.

Sydney responded by wrapping his arm possessively about her shoulder before gently taking her chin with his other hand and bestowing a light kiss upon her lips. Such obvious displays of affection were normally frowned upon, but he honestly couldn't care less.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Eliza quipped jovially, to which James let out a deep, rich laugh and took up the seat Charlotte and had recently vacated.

"You, my dearest, are the most exquisite woman I have ever laid eyes on and I am the luckiest man alive," he offered, slipping his arm around her shoulders and easily pulling her into his side.

A wave of fatigue coming on unexpectedly, Eliza allowed herself to lean into him, resting her head upon his shoulder and letting her eyes slide closed. Feeling like they were intruding on a private moment, Charlotte and Sydney turned away to afford them some privacy.

"Lady Denham, how are you this fine day?" Charlotte chirped.

Ignoring Charlotte's attempt to divert attention from the public display of intimacy taking place beside her, Lady Denham groused. "That level of affection for one's spouse is unnatural. When I said I wanted him to raise his family here, I did not mean for him to populate an entire cricket team."

Eliza laughed at the ridiculousness of Lady Denham's assertion, but did not venture to rouse herself to respond.

"Are you quite well, love? Do you need anything?" James murmured quietly to her, so that it may only reach her ears.

"I am much better now," she smiled lightly, savouring his nearness.

Yes, everything was exactly as it should be.