The Fletcher's farm horse stamped his feathered feet against the frozen ground and whickered softly. It was a crisp and cold winter evening with clear skies and shining stars. A splash of warm and inviting light shone from the open front door of Green Gables as Gilbert carried a large box to the waiting wagon. Anne hurried along after him, her arms laden with a tobacco-stripe quilt and another of apple-leaf. Gilbert carefully set the box down beside the others already in the wagon, and a shivering Anne added the quilts.

"Is that everything, sweetheart?" asked Gilbert.

"Just need the geraniums," Anne said, her teeth chattering.

"My wood sprite must have her flowers," said Gilbert with a smile. "And a coat would also be a good idea." He wrapped his arm around her and walked her back to the cozy house.

Inside, Anne ran to all the windowsills bedecked with pots of geraniums until her arms were filled with the fiery red blooms. Gilbert laughed at the spectacle and helped her organize the pots into a crate.

"There, that should be everything," she said a bit breathlessly.

"Not quite," said Marilla, seeming to materialize in the entryway beside Gilbert, who jumped a bit. "Don't forget the braided rugs." She gestured to the parlor where half a dozen rolled up rugs lay neatly waiting.

"I would rather have them than anything else for our floors," said Anne. "They are so pretty."

Was Marilla blushing, Gilbert wondered, watching with some amazement.

"I made them of the nicest rags, and braided them in stripes," said Marilla proudly, smiling at Anne. "They've been stored in the garret for some months now. I'm real glad to let you have them."

"Thank you, Miss Cuthbert," said Gilbert, going to fetch them. He heaved the rolled rugs onto his shoulder. "They're just the thing for wintertime."

The braided rugs were loaded onto the wagon along with the crate of geraniums, carefully covered with canvas to protect from the cold on the short drive to the Blythe home. Anne, now snug in a wool coat, accepted a hand from Gilbert to climb onto the wagon seat. A small commotion came from the front door, and they turned to see Mrs. Lynde hurrying out after them, as Marilla and the twins watched from the porch.

"Now, Gilbert," said Mrs. Lynde as she caught up to them. "Is your mother at home?"

"Yes," Gilbert lied easily. "Of course."

Mrs. Lynde pursed her lips, but nodded. "Very well. You two," she said pointing a finger at each of them in turn. "Be circumspect. You aren't wed until Saturday."

Gilbert got into the wagon beside Anne and chirped to the horse. The wagon rumbled away, the horse eager for a warm stable.

"We'll expect you back by nine, Anne!" Mrs. Lynde called out after them.

"Of course!" Anne called back, just as easily as Gilbert. She nestled close to Gilbert as the two drove off into the darkness.

A world-weary Mrs. Lynde walked slowly back up to the house. The cheek of that Gilbert Blythe, she thought to herself. Rachel knew very well that Edie Blythe had moved to the Fletchers' house four days ago. She had heard the news straight from the Fletchers' hired man, Pacifique. At least the couple would be married shortly, Rachel reminded herself. A long engagement would really be beyond them. Hoping for the best, Mrs. Lynde vowed extra prayers tonight for a certain couple's chastity.

The couple in question was certainly not taking any pains to maintain chastity. Lips locked, Gilbert drove only in principle, letting the horse take the initiative. Gilbert surfaced in time to guide the horse to the Blythe homestead instead of its natural path in returning to the Fletchers' barn. Arriving in front of the Blythe house, Gilbert brought the horse to a halt and helped his bride-to-be disembark. He led her up the porch steps and into the dark house.

"Place your things wherever you like, Anne," said Gilbert as he lit a gas lamp. He hurried into the parlor to light another before hastening outside again to begin bringing in Anne's possessions.

When he returned with the geraniums and the quilts, Anne was standing beside the parlor fireplace gazing at the small daguerreotype of John Blythe on the mantle. Gilbert set down the items and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

"He'd be so happy for us," murmured Gilbert. "He hoped we would find each other."

"Did he?" asked Anne, turning within his arms to face him.

Gilbert nodded and pressed his lips to hers. They kissed leisurely for some moments, before Gilbert reluctantly pulled away.

"I better finish unloading so I can stable Uncle George's horse," he said regretfully. "The poor beast needs to get in the warm."

"Of course," said Anne drawing away. "I'll start placing the geraniums."

Gilbert quickly unloaded the rest of the boxes, hurrying back and forth from the wagon to the house. Once complete, he led the horse to the Blythe barn where he unhitched the faithful steed. Spending some extra time to thank the horse for his patience, Gilbert rubbed the horse down and settled him with straw and grain beside the curious cows. Upon returning to the house, he found Anne in the entry sorting through boxes. Geraniums bloomed brightly along the windowsills of the parlor and kitchen. The kitchen stove glowed with warmth, and a crackling fire filled the parlor grate.

"Which room will be ours?" asked Anne.

"This way," he said, his heart thumping. He led her upstairs, his arms laden with a trunk of her clothes. Anne followed with the quilts and a few more geraniums.

He passed the bedroom that had been his since childhood, now no more than a modest spare room. At the doorway of the room that had belonged to his father and mother, he paused, allowing Anne to enter the room first. A spell seemed to have fallen upon them as they came into the room they would soon share. Suddenly cautious with one another, Gilbert had the strange feeling that his senses had been heightened, every blink, every touch, every sound had become visceral and raw. The room crackled with an energy that encouraged wariness.

The lone window was swathed in muslin curtains, and Anne tiptoed across the room to pull them aside and peer out. The window looked upon the edge of the Haunted Wood, mysterious and fairytale-like in the starry darkness. Nodding her head in satisfaction, she turned toward Gilbert who was carefully setting the trunk down by the his-and-hers armoires along one wall.

"This one is yours," said Gilbert gesturing to the better of the two armoires.

"Thank you," she said softly. Her eyes fell on the large bed, and she grazed her fingers along the quilt upon it. "This quilt is lovely. Mrs. Lynde's quilts can go in the spare rooms."

"My grandmother made it," said Gilbert, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. "Together with my grandfather, actually. He secretly loved sewing."

Anne gave him such a lovely smile that his breath caught. She came to the trunk and knelt beside it, and Gilbert's heartbeat ratcheted up. Opening the trunk, she rummaged through its contents, her cheeks flushed and her eyes downcast. Gilbert knelt down next to her, Anne's eyes flashed up to his, and the spell was broken.

All Gilbert registered was their lips crashing together with a passion stronger than they had yet experienced. He heard a dull thud and realized that he had knocked aside the heavy trunk. Anne's hands were upon him, stroking and caressing, her lips kissing his jawline. He swept her gently to the floor, where she lay before him. Her eyes were ablaze with desire, and he was certain his had no less ardor. He was alight, aglow, ablaze for her.

Those fiery grey eyes tugged him forward, and then her lips, "Oh, Gil, don't stop. Please."

With a groan of longing, he pressed himself against her, his lips finding purchase against the swell of her breasts. Anne's scrambling hands clumsily yanked at her shirtwaist. One button pinged off then another. Her throat and cleavage now lay bare, and Gilbert feverishly kissed the tender skin. His own hands found the edge of her skirt, rucked up in the fervor, and slipped beneath it. Trailing his fingers up her stocking-clad leg, he hitched the skirt and subsequent petticoat higher, past a red ribbon garter. Drawers edged in simple lace belaid him not, his hand sliding under them to feel the soft and supple thigh.

Anne had undone his collar and most of the buttons on his shirt. Her hands now felt in fascination the chest hair she had first glimpsed that midsummer eve. His sculpted chest invited her fingers to disrobe him further, and she pulled at his shirtsleeves.

Gilbert thrilled to her every touch and sigh. In two days, this vixen would be his wife. Only two days.

Two days.

The thought reverberated through him. Had he waited half his life to succumb to temptation now only two days before their marriage under God and law? Through the haze of lust, the thought jarred him enough to sit up and withdraw his hand from her thigh.

Anne paused her attempts to remove his shirt. "My love?" she asked, confused.

"I think we should stop," said Gilbert shakily, still not fully in control of his desire to ravish her. She lay so beautiful and wanton before him.

A dark red flush of shame and embarrassment suffused Anne's face. She nodded, drawing her knees together and clutching her blouse to her bosom.

"Anne," said Gilbert softly, sensing her anger, yet feeling a tentative relief at her frustration. The lustful moment had fled for both of them.

"No, you're right," she said, sitting up, but she would not look at him. She tried to button her blouse and came to the missing buttons.

"Perhaps we can find you another shirt," said Gilbert. He righted the trunk and pulled back the lid.

"No," said Anne slowly, "Mrs. Lynde and Marilla will know. I only have a few items that are not mourning blacks."

Gilbert sat back on his heels, his own shirt awry. "Let's find the buttons," he said, thinking. "I can sew them on for you while you arrange your things."

Anne's eyes finally looked up. "You could sew my buttons on for me?"

"Of course, Anne-girl," said Gilbert with a grin. "I'm a man of many talents." He winked at the bed's coverlet. "Not unlike my grandfather."

Anne was smiling now, too. "Alright," she said softly. Then she was removing her blouse.

Gilbert's mouth went dry. Quite unable to look away, he watched as the shirt came free. Two days seemed interminably long, he thought, his eyes on her corset, chemise, and cleavage. She tossed him the shirt, which just fell uncaught into his lap. He shook himself free from his reverie to help her search for the buttons, which were quickly found. Regretfully leaving Anne in the bedroom, Gilbert took the shirt and buttons downstairs to find a needle and thread.

By the light of the gaslamp at the kitchen table, Gilbert carefully sewed the two buttons back in place, while Anne scurried about the house, placing her possessions where she wished them to go. After he tied the final knot, he joined her in unpacking.

The winter moon was high in the heavens, long past nine o'clock, when they finished. Hand in hand, they walked through the house, surveying their new home. Striped rugs in pleasing colors covered the old wooden floors, geraniums bloomed from nearly every windowsill, Mrs. Lynde's quilts lay upon the spare room beds, and a new cluster of photographs joined John Blythe's on the parlor mantle. Anne's clothes were now neatly hung or folded in her armoire, and several knickknack treasures were scattered on shelves throughout the house. One of the inevitable Blythe cats had found the parlor rug very agreeable, and was now curled up asleep in front of the fire.

Anne gave a tremendous sigh. "Oh, I am pleased, Gilbert darling. I think we'll make this place our house of dreams yet!"

"Do you really think so, Anne?" Gilbert asked, not voicing how deeply her words had affected him.

"Hearth, home, and husband -" said Anne gaily.

"And a fireside cat," added Gilbert, as the cat stirred and stretched.

" - Are the stuff of dreams, indeed," said Anne with shining eyes. "I knew as soon as I saw the Haunted Wood and a sliver of the Lake of Shining Waters beyond the bedroom window. I have found my house of dreams and no other."

"Darling girl!" Gilbert exclaimed, grasping her by the waist and twirling her around. Anne laughed, and he kissed her soundly as he set her down.

It was a joyful and jubilant couple who walked back to Green Gables, their happiness only furthered by the gentle snowfall that greeted them upon their exit of the Blythe farmhouse. The dark and frozen ground welcomed the soft, white powder along with Anne and Gilbert, who felt the romance of the wintery wonderland assembling around them. Anne, who had anxiously feared a snowless wedding, was alright with happiness, her eyes as starry as the star-filled skies above them. It was a sad and tender parting at the Green Gables gate, appeased only by the thought of never having to do so again two days hence.

All was quiet when Gilbert returned to the Blythe house, the hush of snowfall reflected in the silence of a still and empty house. That would change when Anne came, Gilbert reminded himself. Anne's things now filled the home, only the bride was missing. He wandered through the house with candle in hand, observing the welcome changes as he banked the fires. Retiring to the upstairs for the night, he looked in on the bedroom where they had so nearly been carried away by passion. He would not sleep there yet, the room a shrine to the married love of generations. His grandfather and grandmother, his mother and father. Now he and Anne would have their turn. Perhaps Anne was right, he thought, as he gently closed the bedroom door, this place could very well be a house of dreams. It would certainly house the culmination of a dream.

He crawled into the bed in his old room, snug under the industrious sewing of Mrs. Lynde, and gazed out the window at the falling snow. The room no longer seemed to be his, devoid of the trappings of his youth. It had become a blank canvas for new possibilities. Anne could do with it what she liked, or perhaps a child could call it their own. Would he and Anne be blessed with children? His parents and aunt and uncle had struggled and grieved for children. Would the same fate await him and Anne?

He had no brothers or sisters and no cousins. Yet he did have aunts and uncles, all currently ensconced at the Fletcher's house across the way. Gilbert smiled to himself, glad to be apart from the crowded and contentious conditions there. His Aunt Mary Maria had arrived the day prior and had already worn out her welcome. His Four Winds relatives had arrived earlier in the day, along with their four fox terriers and a cello by the name of Dulcinea. It was certainly a full house.

Aunt Katherine was an accomplished cellist, and she had offered to provide the music for the wedding. She was known to refer to the cello as 'Lady D,' which irked Aunt Mary Maria to no end (much to Katherine's amusement). Mary Maria could not decide which was worse, that Katherine was a suffragist or that she had named her cello. Both were beyond the pale in Mary Maria's estimation.

The fact that she had to share a house with animals also sent Mary Maria into conniptions. The four fox terriers and numerous cats largely kept her confined to the spare room or parlor, where she kept the pets at bay with high-pitched screams. Gilbert was certainly glad to be apart from such melodrama, and he made a mental note to rescue a few more cats during the next day's wedding preparations.

Doctor Dave and Aunt Katherine had found happiness in cherished pets and music, childless though they were. Gilbert was unsure if they were seeking solace, or if they had never minded their lack of children. As his eyes drifted closed, he idly wondered if he and Anne would likewise invest in pets and hobbies should children never come. Gilbert drifted off to sleep as a cat wandered into the room. It leapt lightly onto the bed and, with great determination, began to knead its claws into Mrs. Rachel Lynde's apple leaf spread.

A/N: I'm so so sorry for the delay in posting! There's really no excuse, except that I took an unexpected summer hiatus (well, quite a bit longer than just summer)! It has been rather difficult finding the time or energy to prioritize writing… still is, frankly! Thank you for your patience and the lovely messages! It means so much to me, thank you. I'll do my best to post more regularly!