A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting patiently for this chapter while I worked on CTI for a bit. And to everyone who left a review for the last chapter, thank you! Your support means more than you probably realize. Also, many, many thanks go out to Willa Dedalus for allowing me to fill her inbox with my many musings and for being a wonderful support. :)

Last time:

"Lavinia?" Matthew asked, concerned.

"Oh, don't mind me," she insisted with an overly bright smile. "Just wedding jitters, I suppose."

Matthew only nodded in response, and, for a moment, their dance continued in silence. As the final strains of the waltz reached their hiding spot, Lavinia pushed up on her toes and, before he could react, pressed her lips firmly to his, the hand that had rested on his shoulder slipping up to cup his cheek. Matthew's entire body tensed with shock, but before he could even form a coherent thought, Lavinia had pushed herself away from him with a little cry. He watched in open-mouthed astonishment as the voluminous white folds of her gown disappeared around the corner.

Chapter 8

Lavinia's wedding day dawned bright and unseasonably warm. The bride blushed prettily under her short veil as she made her way through the elegant reception room at the Savoy towards her groom who positively beamed at the sight of her, resplendent in her calf-length lace wedding dress, her small hands cradling a bouquet of pink roses.

Matthew tried his best to smile and appear perfectly at ease as the couple repeated their vows to one another, though he couldn't seem to keep last night's episode from replaying itself repeatedly in his mind. He could only hope that Lavinia hadn't meant it, that she truly loved Ben and looked forward to her life with him, rather than backward to what might have been. He didn't want to be the cause of Ben's unhappiness or Lavinia's discontent, and the thought troubled him greatly.

After the couple had been officially pronounced man and wife, an elegant breakfast was served, of which Mary partook heartily. She'd been a little queasy earlier that morning, but, now, she was positively ravenous. Once she had taken the edge off her hunger, her attention shifted to her husband, who seemed more interested in the champagne than the food. She felt a little nudge against her thigh and glanced down to where his hand was fisted in the ruffles of her tiered skirt, his thumb rubbing nervously over the smooth material.

"Darling, you're creasing my silk," she whispered as discreetly as possible behind her napkin before swatting his hand away.

"Oh, I'm...sorry," he stammered absently as he waved over a white-jacketed waiter holding a tray full of champagne flutes.

"Is your back bothering you?" Mary asked softly, her momentary pique receding with concern that her husband might be in pain.

"Not at all," he answered proudly, bringing the champagne to his lips for a long sip. "In fact..." he glanced around their table, and, seeing that nobody was paying them any mind, continued, "all this wedding business has got me thinking about honeymoons."

"Oh?" Mary arched one eyebrow delicately, her mind successfully distracted as need flared inside her. The doctor had warned her to expect an increase in her desire for Matthew as her hormones surged out of control with the coming changes in her body, and she had recently begun to experience this extraordinary phenomenon.

"Perhaps you'd like to reserve a room for the night after things wrap up here," Matthew continued, his voice low and smooth as the buttercream on the piece of cake she was currently savoring.

"But Lavinia and Ben should be leaving for Brighton any moment now," she responded. "It isn't even noon."

"We'll get a room for the rest of the afternoon, then." Matthew leered suggestively at her, and she smiled with feigned innocence around another bite of cake.

"The way you two carry on, anyone would think you were the newlyweds."

Matthew at least had the grace to blush at Isobel's whispered observation; Mary only grinned and finished her cake.

Matthew and Mary stood arm in arm among the throng of cheering wedding guests as Lavinia said a brief, tearful goodbye to her father and disappeared into the car where Ben waited, ready to set off on their new life together. They watched as the couple disappeared around the corner before Matthew impatiently tugged on Mary's hand, leading her back inside and toward the reception desk. He felt giddy from the champagne and more than eager to lose himself completely in his wife's arms. Her love would wash away the worry and the guilt, would help him forget. At least for a while. They gave a smirking Isobel a brief list of items to have packed and sent to them before saying goodbye for the evening and heading to the lift. Matthew clutched the key in the hand not holding his stick, forcing himself to remain in control in front of the lift operator, but, as soon as the door to their suite was closed and locked behind them, his stick fell to the carpet with a soft thud and rolled into a corner. His hands, now free, found his wife's silk-clad waist and hip, bunching the soft material between them as he tried to discern the trim curves under the layers of fabric.

Mary leaned into him, offering her lips willingly to be kissed as her lace-covered hands slipped beneath the tails of his morning coat. She swallowed his aroused moan as she parted her lips against his, relishing the excitement of sneaking off like this, in broad daylight, at this beautiful hotel to make love like two eager newlyweds. But, of course, they still were, weren't they? She hoped that, even after twenty, thirty, years of marriage, they would still be newlyweds at heart.

"Mary," Matthew breathed against her lips as he walked carefully backwards, seating himself on the edge of the bed without breaking their embrace. Mary stepped between his knees and laced her fingers through his hair, taking his mouth even deeper as their new angle put her in control of the kiss. Matthew gasped as her tongue flicked over the sensitive roof of his mouth and tickled the inside of his lips. God, she was an incredible lover. She undid him.

Reluctantly releasing his mouth, Mary stood upright and seductively removed her gloves, tugging slowly on each fingertip as Matthew watched, nearly panting with need, until the diaphanous lace finally floated, unheeded, to the carpeted floor. Placing her now-bare hands on his shoulders, she lifted one foot and placed it on his thigh. She smiled wickedly at his aroused whimper.

"Help me with these, darling," she purred, leaning down to nibble gently on the shell of his ear.

"With pleasure," Matthew drawled in response, his hands moving over the slickness of her stockinged leg, hitching her skirt up over her thigh, before moving teasingly down again to the buckle of her white leather shoe. He flicked it open with eager fingers before slipping her shoe with almost reverent slowness from her small foot, the act so unexpectedly seductive that the need building between his thighs became almost unbearably painful.

"God, Mary," he hissed as her stockinged toes slid up the inseam of his trousers, teasing him lightly through the taut material. He was forced to close his eyes as she traced the outline of his arousal, up and then down again, the sight so tantalizingly erotic he feared an untimely end to their activities should she continue much longer. Trapping her wandering foot between his hands, he caressed it lightly before sliding it off of his thigh and onto the floor.

"Other one?" he breathed huskily, cupping his hands for her to place her other foot into. He made quick work of the second shoe, tossing it playfully behind him before caressing her foot and calf. Mary laughed softly as she leaned forward for another kiss, her lips and tongue lightly tasting him, drinking him in. Matthew's hands made their way under her skirt, slipping up her smooth thighs to grasp her hips before slipping around to the undersides of her thighs. Mary whimpered into his mouth at the sensual touch, and Matthew found himself suddenly unable to wait to feel all of her bare skin against his fingertips.

His hands moved out from under her skirt, sliding up her silk-clad sides and over her tender breasts before hooking under the neckline of her dress, tugging insistently. Alarmed, Mary pulled back from the kiss and swatted his hands away.

"Careful, darling. I'm rather fond of this dress," she scolded before turning to show him the row of pearl buttons down her back.

Matthew took in the sight of her alabaster skin against the pale pink silk and decided he shared her fondness for the demurely pretty frock. Now careful not to rend the precious material, he made quick work of the buttons, pushing it over her creamy shoulders once finished. Mary caught the loosened dress before it could drop to the floor and stepped carefully out of it.

"Where are you going?" Matthew protested as she moved out of his reach to drape the dress neatly over the back of a chair. Mary laughed and turned to see him quickly shrugging out of his tailcoat and tugging at his tie, which were both dropped haphazardly onto the carpet as his eyes stayed fixed on her form, now covered only by a thin slip and nearly sheer white stockings. She held his heated gaze as she pushed the straps of her slip over her shoulders, letting the flimsy garment fall, pooling around her feet.

Matthew groaned at the sight of her in only her silk drawers and garter belt, the skin of her upper body now completely bare in the dim light. So, so perfect.

"Damn, I'm lucky," he breathed as she moved back into the circle of his arms, her hands rising automatically to frame his face, fingers teasing around his ears, dipping slightly into his hairline. Leaning forward, Matthew traced tender kisses over the silken skin of her breasts, now slightly fuller, their dusky tips just a bit darker - the first physical signs of his child growing inside her. She gasped and tugged at his hair as his lips closed around one hardened peak, the sensation nearly painful in its intensity. But she couldn't possibly get enough.

"Please, more..." she gasped as his hands teased under the waistband of her knickers, hooking underneath to push them down her legs. Mary kicked the scrap of silk and lace away as Matthew's big, warm hand came to rest lightly over her lower belly, cupping the slight protrusion that seemed to have blossomed almost overnight. The difference was so slight only someone who knew her body as well as he did could have noticed, but he had spent months memorizing every precious line and curve of her form. Now, he had six more months ahead of him in which to catalogue each exciting change that would come as their child grew and grew before eventually joining them, and, then, tenderly, devotedly, he would start all over again.

Impatiently, Mary grasped his hand and slid it down until his fingers brushed over her intimate curls, expertly finding that certain spot that made her desperate for more of him. She bent one leg and rested it on his thigh, opening herself for more of his touch. His lips found their way back to her breast, and she keened, head falling back at the torturous pleasure of his touch.

"Matthew, now...now...please..."

He chuckled darkly at her helpless begging, pride swelling inside him at the idea that this incredibly desirable woman wanted him so desperately. And he was more than eager to give her what she desired. He was almost painfully hard, and her obvious excitement aroused him even further.

"Now...Hurry!" she demanded, pushing his braces over his shoulders as she slid into his lap, straddling him. Matthew tried to remove his cufflinks, but his fingers refused to cooperate. Her intimate fragrance filled his senses, numbing his mind and scrambling his thoughts.

Mary's fingers worked the buttons on his shirt with little more dexterity, but she managed to get them open and slipped her hands inside, finding the warmth of his sweat-dampened skin. She seized the hand that was still fumbling with his cufflink and placed it between her thighs again, commanding him with an inarticulate groan, now completely beyond words. Matthew readily obliged, stroking her in slow, rhythmic circles as she attacked the buttons of his trousers and underpants. Somehow, he managed to shimmy them over his hips without removing his hand from her body. Her needy sighs now filled the air around them constantly, growing more and more urgent with each stroke of his fingers.

"God, I'm so close," she sighed as she finally positioned herself over him, trapping his hand between their bodies as she pressed closer, closer, until he finally filled her completely. "Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhh..." She sobbed against his neck as wave after wave of bliss washed over her, bathing her in a delicious lethargy as she sagged in his arms, too delightfully sated to move.

Matthew whimpered needfully as he felt her pulse around him, squeezing him hard as she peaked. His own need raged fiercely inside him, and he gripped her hips tightly, pulling her down onto him hard. She inhaled sharply, and he could tell her passion was rising again, though she was still nearly limp in his arms. With a desperate groan, he wound his arm under her bottom and stood, ignoring the ache in his back as he lifted her and turned, stumbling slightly as his trousers tangled around his legs, before depositing her carefully onto the bed. Her breasts bounced with the movement of the mattress, and it was all Matthew could do to hold himself back, to keep from spilling inside her then and there.

Mary looked up at him from under heavy lids, surprised, but more aroused than she could ever describe, by his unexpected move. They'd never made love like this before. It was exciting, thrilling, and completely new. She looked a little uncertain, concerned about his healing back, but obligingly wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, careful and tentative at first, but quickly growing in speed and intensity as he found his rhythm.

"God, Mary..." he gasped as he gripped her hips, pulling her hard against him. His back ached, but he didn't care. His legs grew increasingly weak and wobbly, but he wasn't entirely sure this couldn't be attributed to the powerful release building at his center. Mary cried out and trembled under him, sending him over the edge with her. He gasped out her name as he stumbled forward, catching himself with one hand on either side of her head, as he rode out each second of mind-numbing ecstasy before rolling to the side, collapsing on his back beside her, exhausted and blissfully sated.

Turning her head slowly to the side, Mary looked over at her husband's flushed face and wild hair and smiled, still feeling deliciously lethargic and sated. Her smile faded as he grimaced and shifted on the bed, obviously a little uncomfortable.

"You didn't hurt your back too badly, I hope," she chastised gently, arching an eyebrow at him.

"It's just a little sore is all," Matthew answered quickly, hating to ruin their passionate moment with his damned back again. "Besides, it was worth it," he added, facing her with a playful grin. "Did you like it?" he asked softly, his smile fading as that little nagging insecurity that still plagued him from his earliest days in his wheelchair once again reared its head.

"You mean you couldn't tell?" Mary teased, rolling onto her elbow so that she was leaning over him. "I loved it," she breathed, leaning down to brush a feathery kiss over his pouting mouth. His hands rose to reach for her, to draw her closer to him, but she quickly sat up, evading his grasp. The protest that had been forthcoming died on his lips as she bent over his feet and began removing his shoes. She placed each neatly on the floor beside the bed before tugging off his trousers and underpants, freeing him to make himself more comfortable.

Careful of his back, he shimmied between the smooth sheets. Propped comfortably against the headboard, he watched as Mary placed one foot on the edge of the bed and unhooked her stocking, rolling it slowly down her long, shapely leg. He wondered if she was purposefully taunting him, tempting him into a repeat performance that his body was already preparing to give. His eyes followed her now-bare leg as it was replaced by the other, and he couldn't help but recall how those very limps had been wrapped so tightly around his waist only minutes before...

Her nimble fingers unhooked her garter belt, and it fell to the floor, leaving her now completely bare, and so, so achingly beautiful.

"Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand to pull her to him as she slipped between the covers and into his arms. Their lips met, parting sweetly against each other, as Matthew lay back against the pillows, taking Mary with him as his hands found the smoothness of her bent legs hugged so tightly against his sides and slipped down to tickle the upturned soles of her feet. She squirmed and sighed into his mouth, deepening the kiss as their bodies found each other again, moving together slowly this time, savoring each second of absolute togetherness.

But, as they lay skin against skin in the sweat-dampened sheets afterwards, the excitement of the moment cooling into a comfortable lull, Mary's thoughts turned back to Matthew's earlier subdued behavior at the wedding. He'd very adeptly distracted her with his amorous attentions, but she knew him well enough to see that something had been eating at him. Not to mention, he'd barely spoken to Lavinia and Ben, offering a terse congratulation before turning his attention back to one of several glasses of champagne. Now that she thought of it, Lavinia had also seemed a little reserved around Matthew, which was completely out of the ordinary for the affectionate girl who, like Matthew, always seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve. With both of her hungers now sated (for the moment, at least), Mary was determined to get to the bottom of things.

"Turn over, darling," she commanded, pushing up onto her hands and knees over her husband's recumbent form.

"Hmm..." Matthew hummed drowsily at first before complying with her request eagerly, settling in with a sigh of contentment as Mary gently seated herself on his naked backside and began kneading his tense muscles with practiced hands.

"Just relax," Mary soothed as she focused her attention on his lower back where he carried the most tension.

Matthew inhaled deeply before releasing it in one long breath. He focused on each individual muscle group in turn, as his father's physiotherapy book had taught him, consciously relaxing that area before repeating the procedure with the next. The exercise relaxed his mind as well as his body, steering his thoughts away from the unwanted direction they now threatened to stray in.

His impulsive decision to steal Mary away for a passionate interlude had successfully distracted him for a time. She'd been so incredibly lovely in her blush-colored dress, the glow of her skin so radiant, pushing canape after canape between those tempting lips in the most adorable way, that he hadn't seen any other choice available to him but to act as he had. Beauty such as hers could only be appreciated in the most passionate of ways. But now, lying face down among the piles of pillows, he could no longer see Mary's face. He saw a different face now - one with reddened cheeks and watery blue eyes filled with sadness and regret. He could only hope that, now that she was married to Ben, Lavinia would realize she'd been wrong to regret what had passed between them and would, instead, look forward to the future with the man she had chosen. After all, there would be no point to do otherwise.

Having concluded her ministrations to his back, Mary draped herself over him, trapping him underneath her, and nuzzled his upturned cheek.

"You seemed distracted at the wedding this morning, Matthew. I thought so last night too, but assumed you were only tired after the ball. Is everything alright?"

Matthew felt his body tense at her question, and he forced himself to relax, though he was sure she'd already felt it. A part of him thought perhaps he should tell Mary about what Lavinia had said and...that she'd kissed him. But what would be the point, really? It was in the past, and he was sure Lavinia now realized how wrong she'd been and put him out of her mind for good. She must have done as soon as she'd seen the look in Ben's eyes when they first fell on her in her bridal gown. No, he decided, he wouldn't jeopardize things by speaking of something that truly was of no consequence. He was happy with Mary; Lavinia was now happily settled with Ben. Besides, Mary and Lavinia were friends, and he would hate to be the cause of destroying that unnecessarily. He would simply put it out of his mind as if it had never happened. Mary and Ben need never know. He could do that much for Lavinia, at least.

"It's nothing," he murmured softly, finding her hand that rested beside his on the pillow and bringing it to his lips. "I just...I realized you never had a proper wedding ball or honeymoon and felt badly about it. That's all."

"Oh, darling." Mary squeezed him as best she could with her arms and legs, burying her face in the curve of his neck. "You know I would rather have had you than either of those things."

"Even then?" Matthew asked shakily.

"Even then," Mary confirmed, pressing a tender kiss to the shell of his ear.

"Mary..." he breathed, unable to formulate any other response. He closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth and comfort of her body covering his so completely, pushing back the pang in his conscience that told him this incredible woman didn't deserve to be lied to. But he had thought about those things, Matthew reminded himself, so it wasn't a total lie. And he had done it to spare Mary's feelings. It had been the right thing, the honorable thing, to do for both his wife and for Lavinia.

Mercifully, Mary's stomach chose that moment to renew its demands, distracting them both from the previous conversation.

"Do you think there's any cake left downstairs?" she asked with a soft laugh that ticked against his ear.

"I'll go and find out," Matthew offered, shunting her gently from his back and slipping out of bed to collect his discarded clothing.

As the door closed behind him, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, hating how grateful he had been for the small task that had allowed him to escape his wife's presence for a few minutes. Her love and trust burned into him like a smoldering iron, torturing a confession out of him that he was resolved not to give.

Perhaps there was also some leftover champagne. Or, with any luck, something stronger.

A healthy does of smut, as requested. ;) But silly Matthew just can't see the forest for the trees. What's new, right? If you have a moment, I'd relish you thoughts. :)