Hello again, you dear, dear readers! Thanks so much for your patience, and your words of encouragement while I've been away. I am terribly sorry for making you wait so long for Part Two. Real life can be very inconvenient sometimes. I've had quite a lot to do in the past month or so, but I should be able to resume my weekly posting again now.

My thanks go as always to our lovely Maud and the incomparable katherine-with-a-k.

~ Love to all from Jx

Part Two

Chapter Nineteen

Anne lay awake in the Blythes' spare bed, which seemed overly large and exceedingly lonely to her. She longed to be tucked up in her cosy white bed at Green Gables. Her mind whirled and she pondered on the day's events. In all her girlish dreams, Anne had never imagined that her wedding day and night would be anything like this.

As she stood on the porch farewelling her guests that evening, Marilla had grasped Anne's hand and gazed upon the girl's pale face with concern.

"You look tired," Marilla observed. "I don't know what's gotten into Gilbert tonight. That kiss for a start."

Anne blushed furiously at the memory.

"Well, we had to, didn't we?" she murmured.

"No, he could have given you a peck on the hand like Fred did with Diana. There was no need for that — that exhibition. He must have known it would embarrass you."

"I'm fine, truly." Anne stared glumly at the ground in front of her. "It didn't mean anything."

Her shoulders slumped as she remembered Gilbert telling her it meant nothing to him, although the warmth that flooded her body was like nothing Anne had ever felt before. Her lips still burned with the memory of it.

"I saw him going off to the barn earlier and I know that's where John goes to drink whisky with the Buotes. But I never would have thought Gilbert was the drinking kind."

"He's not," Anne was too shocked to deny it. A small frown marred her brow when she added, "Usually."

"Well, he shouldn't have done that," Marilla said severely. "It's a good thing Rachel didn't notice. Or the Pyes. We'd never hear the end of it. I mean to have a word with him about it."

"No, please don't," Anne pleaded. "I don't want to upset him any more. I think I'll go to bed now. Good night, Marilla."

With that, Anne had kissed Marilla's worn cheek and made her way into the house.

Alone in the Blythes' spare room, Anne had tied her hair in two braids to keep the thick mass of curls off her neck. It was stiflingly warm, so she'd thrown the window open hoping to catch even the slightest hint of an evening breeze on her damp skin.

When she climbed into the large four poster bed, Anne felt very small and she spent a few minutes moving from one side of the bed to the other, not used to having so much space to sleep in. Finally, she settled onto the side closest to the window and furthest from the door. From there, she could see the apple tree outside the window, and she could almost catch a glimpse of the little graveyard beyond. Anne was somehow comforted by feeling a little closer to Matthew.

Now, as she lay on the oversized bed, gazing out the window at the starry sky, Anne had kicked the bedcovers off and they were in a tangled heap at the bottom of the bed. She wished she could fling her light nightgown off her body as well, but she didn't dare to do such a thing at the Blythes' house.

Although Diana had insisted that Anne make a slinky negligée for her wedding night, Anne had selected another of her nightgowns to wear tonight. She refused to admit that it was too humiliating to wear such a garment. It made the pretence of her marriage even more painful.

Diana had been absolutely sure that Gilbert would die when he saw the emerald green negligee trimmed with delicate cream coloured lace. She swore her bosom friend looked like a queen.

Anne closed her eyes against the memory to dispel Diana's enthusiastic response, and desperately tried to calm her thoughts so that she might find some much-needed rest. The tension of the past few weeks made her bone weary, but the thoughts crowding her mind were refusing to let her sleep.

She rolled over again, trying to imagine what Gilbert was doing on the other side of the wall between them. Then she sniffed irritably. He'd probably gone straight to sleep after all that whisky he drank. Marilla was right, the way he'd behaved tonight was the most baffling thing of all.

Gilbert was so stiff and proud during the wedding ceremony. When they were walking through the parlour together, Anne had been afraid that perhaps Gilbert was going to run from the room at any moment.

She tossed onto her other side, turning her back to Gilbert's bedroom, and as she did, the bed springs squeaked beneath her.

Her thoughts were suddenly arrested by the memory of her very first kiss, which had been so much lovelier than she had ever imagined. When the Reverend Allan had instructed Gilbert to kiss his bride, Anne expected that he would place a chaste kiss on her cheek, but the soft touch of his lips on hers had been surprisingly tender and her body's response was just as startling.

Anne had still been a little light headed from the unexpected gentleness of that kiss when Charlie made his appearance. The ensuing scene was enough to satisfy even the most jaded of Avonlea gossips, Anne thought wryly.

Then their first dance as man and wife. Gilbert had remained stiff and unyielding for that, too. But when the guests called for them to kiss, Anne didn't know what to expect when she saw that wicked glint in her husband's eyes. It was as though a new Gilbert Blythe emerged in that instant. What had gotten into him?

Her fingers drifted to her lips as she remembered the searing kiss Gilbert placed on them in front of most of Avonlea. Anne had been somewhat prepared for a kiss to seal their wedding vows, but the passionate kiss he'd given her at the request of their guests was another thing entirely. The fluttering in her belly and her nipples hardening as she thought on it even now was bewildering. Most confusing of all, Gilbert said he'd felt nothing from it!

She tried not to think of a real wedding night with Gilbert and what they might be doing right now. Remembering Diana's comment about the big, bouncy bed, and her negligée, not to mention everyone at the wedding party thinking they couldn't keep their hands off each other, Anne's skin grew warmer still.

How far from the truth that was! Gilbert had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to touch his bride at all; that he was merely putting on a good show for the Avonlea gossips. And the way he had left her standing at the spare room door, why it was obvious he couldn't wait to get away from her! Although, of course she didn't want anything like that with him, still, he could have been a little nicer to her. She didn't want him to kiss her good night, but…

Anne closed her eyes and rolled onto her other side with a huff to avoid finishing that thought.

Just then, she heard a noise from Gilbert's bedroom next door, and she realised he could probably hear her, too. Wanting to prevent him knowing that she was having trouble getting to sleep, Anne vowed not to move again. These squeaky bedsprings would make it obvious to him that she was restless. If only it wasn't so hot in this room!

True to her resolve, she lay motionless, but the hour was late when Anne finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

…

Early the next morning, Anne blinked her eyes sleepily in the pre-dawn light, disoriented for a moment. A soothingly cool breeze was now floating through the open window, causing the sunshine yellow curtains to flutter.

As she peered out the window, Anne could discern the silhouette of an unfamiliar apple tree, not her own dear Snow Queen or the comforting pines of Patty's Place. A few more moments passed before she remembered she was in the Blythes' spare room and she sat up, wide awake now.

Her bladder was bursting and Anne looked about the room for a chamber pot, before she remembered Gilbert was in the room right next to her. She didn't want him to hear her on the pot, and the washroom that he'd pointed out last night was too close for comfort as well. Anne picked up her robe from the end of the bed and, tying it about her slender waist, she decided to make her way to the Blythes' outhouse.

Out on the landing, Anne noticed Gilbert's bedroom door was shut, and his room was silent. She wondered what time her new husband would wake up. Probably at noon to sleep off all that drink, Anne thought disdainfully as she remembered the smell of whisky on Gilbert's breath when he danced with her. Surprisingly, it hadn't been as unpleasant as she might have imagined.

Anne tilted her pretty nose in the air as she turned her gaze from Gilbert's door, closing her own door gently, so as not to disturb him. She crept downstairs as quietly as she could manage. At the back porch, she paused to pull her boots on and glanced at the horizon, which was becoming illuminated with the dawn.

In the east, the sky was pink and golden, and the birch and maple trees from the woods were silhouetted in the distance. Anne shivered a little in her thin robe, pulling it closer about her neck as she straightened and hurried to her destination.

She flew across the yard and was almost running as she clamped one hand between her legs in desperation.

When she drew closer to the outhouse, Anne could see the heels of two large brown boots in the gap between the wooden door and the floor of the tiny shed. Perhaps it was Gilbert's father; he must be up to milk the cows, Anne thought.

Wanting to give John some privacy, Anne stopped several feet away from the outhouse, crossing her legs and hopping from one foot to the other. By now she was bursting, so she glanced about for a bush or other likely spot to relieve herself.

Anne heard a knock and a muffled grunt from the outhouse and a minute later the door swung open.

Gilbert emerged from the outhouse and his eyes flew wide as he recognised his wife standing in the paddock not twenty feet away from him.

He had spent the night in almost excruciating pain as he lay on his bed in the room beside Anne's, his imagination running riot with erotic fantasies about his new wife, and desperate to see her just like this. Half clothed, grey eyes wide and hair fluttering in the breeze like his dryad Anne of old.

Each time he heard her bedsprings squeak in the night, Gilbert had been imagining driving himself into her and really testing the springs to their limits. He'd been lying on his bed, imagining Anne wearing a diaphanous wedding negligée in the room next door, lying on the huge, white bed, one silky arm thrown carelessly on the pillow above her head, the peaks of her breasts begging for his kiss, her soft thighs parted and grey eyes dark with lust for him as she watched him undress.

All night long he had imagined slowly slipping the nightgown over her head and Anne wearing nothing but her wedding band and that pearl ring, as he ran his tongue and fingertips all over her milky white skin while she writhed and moaned voluptuously beneath him.

Gilbert couldn't stop the images in his mind as he envisaged watching Anne's face as he slid his length achingly slowly into her and began to move inside her. Slow and shallow at first, then increasing his pace until she was bucking her hips to meet his thrusts and begging him for more.

Finally, after hours of torment and unable to sleep, Gilbert couldn't take the torture any longer, and he was so rock hard he knew he had to give himself release or his entire body might explode. He also knew Anne must hear every tiny noise in his room, so Gilbert quickly pulled on his trousers, carefully buttoning them around his engorged length. Not even bothering with a shirt, he was sliding his suspenders over his shoulders as he practically sprinted downstairs and out the back door.

He was gasping for air as he ran for the tiny outhouse, slamming the door shut and hands immediately reaching for his aching hardness.

Gilbert closed his eyes, as he remembered kissing Anne's delicious, pink lips for the first time. First the brief but achingly soft kiss after the wedding ceremony, then that passionate kiss later which had devastated him with its intensity. Panting, Gilbert imagined the exquisite pleasure of sliding himself into the slippery heat between Anne's thighs as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. He moaned aloud and his hand worked faster. His eyes were scrunched closed, his head thrown back, face contorted with his efforts and it wasn't long before he was gasping with the intensity of his release and another groan escaped his lips.

After cleaning up then hastily buttoning his trousers, Gilbert snapped his suspenders back over his shoulders before turning to swing the outhouse door wide. He was about to make his way to milk the cows when he stopped short, astounded to see the personification of his dreams before his eyes.

Now, Gilbert stared at the vision of Anne before him, uncertain if this was just a continuation of his fantasies.

Anne's legs were crossed and her right hand was placed in front of her thighs. The delicate fringe of light on the horizon was illuminating the floral robe that she was clutching to her breast, making it almost transparent.

She was staring at him, sparkling grey eyes wide, her cheeks flushed and her hands clasping the robe together before her. Gilbert's mouth dropped open and his fingers itched to part that delicate fabric so he could see the tantalising triangle at the apex of her thighs.

One braid was spilling across her shoulder and extended almost to her waist. There was a delicious tendril of hair which had escaped her other braid and was fluttering in front of her face in the cool morning breeze. She was Venus come to life and the pulsing in Gilbert's trousers had also come to life again, despite his relief only moments before.

Had she heard him? Somehow, that thought made his body throb more.

"Excuse me," Anne said, feeling her cheeks growing hot at the sight of Gilbert's broad, tanned torso bared before her.

She instantly noticed that his muscles were larger and there was a light dusting of hair across his chest that hadn't been there that time when she had last glimpsed it all those years ago in the orchard at Green Gables. Long, coppery dark lashes fluttered down to her cheeks as she lowered her eyes in confusion.

"G-good morning. I didn't want to disturb anyone in the house and I thought -"

"I'm finished," Gilbert replied. Avoiding his wife's gaze, he began to stride away from her.

Finished all right. How could he be getting hard for her again?

"Did you stub your toe?" Anne enquired politely.

"Pardon?" Gilbert was stopped in his tracks at her question.

"I thought I heard a sound like you'd hurt yourself…"

There was that pulse in his trousers again and he sighed almost in despair.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Anne watched her husband as he walked away from her at a brisk pace. The muscles on his back rippling with each long, quick stride he took and his arms swinging at his sides. It looked like he couldn't get away from his bride fast enough.

She sighed softly before she opened the door and hurried into the tiny shed. This marriage was going to be anything but easy.

AN: Thanks so much for reading. What did you think of their first night as husband and wife?

See you next week!

Your Jx