He knows her well enough to understand how important their first night would be to her. He worries, not about the whens and ifs, but whether the candles are straight and the bed is comfy. Whether she will be glad he made the effort or angry that he made assumptions.
But when she arrives, wet and cold from the rain and complaining about her sisters, he forgets about the 'perfect night' and holds her tight. They're undressed and poised on the bed before she notices the candles, the slow music, and the fact that he has combed his hair.
And she whispers the words he wanted, but never dared hope that he would hear.
I don't need a fairy tale. I only need you.