A/N: I really appreciate all the love and encouragement I'm receiving for this fic. I'm so glad you are enjoying it! This chapter is a bit shorter than normal, as I've been pressed for time this week. Also, this is their wedding night (well, afternoon), and I think I skated very neatly at the very edges of the "T" rating. I hope it reads as love and passion, rather than smut, and it is nothing really detailed; just implied. If it's not for you, I understand, but be warned, as the story heads back to Hope Valley, there will be more of this. Now, I present:
Chapter 3
The photographer arrived just after the ceremony, and took a few portraits of Elizabeth and Lucas alone, and then with their parents. The bride and groom couldn't stop smiling, couldn't bear to leave each other's side, to let go of hands. Afterwards, they all left to go to the Yorktown Hotel, the parents in their hired cars, complete with their own drivers. After helping her into her side of his car, Lucas took off his top hat and tossed it into the backseat before getting in on the driver's side.
"Remind me never to wear one of those again," he told her, brushing his mussed hair back into place.
"You looked very dashing. I can't wait to see the pictures."
"You don't have to flatter me anymore, Elizabeth," he teased, "You finally caught me."
She kept her face neutral at this outrageous statement, but her eyes were laughing at him. "I suppose you're right. No more compliments for you."
"Well, that's disappointing."
"Even though I think you are the handsomest, kindest, most wonderful man I've ever known, no need to waste the effort to tell you."
He nodded solemnly. "I guess in order to keep you, all future compliments will be left to me." He reached over and took her hand, all kidding aside now. "You, my dear wife, are the most beautiful bride I've ever seen, and I'm so thankful that we found our way back to each other, to this moment. I—" He swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. "I don't know how God saw fit to give me this second chance, but I'll try with everything I am to deserve you."
She shook her head. "Oh, Lucas, all you need to do is keep loving me, keep forgiving me, keep…kissing me."
Like a good husband, he did as she asked, her lips sweet and giving beneath his.
A few moments later, he started the car, and Elizabeth carefully unpinned her veil and leaned her head against his shoulder. Every few minutes of the short drive, Lucas would kiss her temple, and she would snuggle into his arm. Neither of them could count the times they said "I love you."
They met their parents in the downstairs restaurant, where they enjoyed a light lunch (which Elizabeth was too nervous to do more than pick at), and a few champagne toasts.
"Rest assured," whispered Grace Thatcher to her daughter, "we are all heading back to our own hotel and will trouble you no further. Mrs. Bouchard and I will do a little shopping this afternoon, then we all return home tomorrow morning on the same train heading east."
The Thatchers, of course, lived in Hamilton, the Bouchards a bit farther, in Montreal.
"I'm so glad you and Lucas's parents are getting on so well."
"They're charming people, and with our children married, we have much in common."
William Thatcher, seated on the other side of his wife, overheard the last part of their conversation.
"I'd like to propose another toast," he said to the group, lifting his recently refilled glass of expensive champagne. "To my new son-in-law and to his parents, Martin and Helen. We welcome you all to the Thatcher family, and someday soon, we hope to share many grandchildren together."
"Hear, hear!" said Martin Bouchard, "and we are pleased to have a new daughter at last. Helen and I feared we'd never see Lucas find a good woman."
"Papa-" warned Lucas, embarrassed. At his side, Elizabeth grinned, squeezing his hand beneath the table.
"It's true, my son. And since God did not see fit to bless us with more children, it is up to you to keep the Bouchard name alive."
Despite the words having been directed at Lucas, Elizabeth blushed as all hopeful eyes rested on her. "Don't worry," Lucas whispered in her ear, "I'll do my part." She laughed, giving his knee a warning nudge.
But Martin wasn't finished. "We extend the offer into the Bouchard family to all of you, and to the happy couple: Que le bonheur qui vous unit aujourd'hui dure toute la vie!"*
"Santé!" Everyone replied in agreement, and drank from their glasses.
The impromptu party broke up soon after, with hugs and promises to see each other during the holidays, perhaps everyone meeting at the Thatchers' in Hamilton.
"I hear we have also gained a grandson," said Martin to his son and daughter-in-law.
"Yes," said Lucas proudly, as if Elizabeth's son were his own. "Jack. A finer young gentleman you will never meet."
At his words, Elizabeth teared up again, realizing of course, that Jack was now Lucas's son, as well.
"He is a sweet little boy," agreed Helen. "Elizabeth has done a wonderful job with him."
"Thank you, Helen."
She pulled Elizabeth aside. "I would love it if you called me Mother, if you wish to, of course."
"I would very much like to, if you can truly forgive me for hurting your son."
"If Lucas could find it in his heart to forgive you, so can I. Here I am, after all."
Elizabeth smiled, hugging her new mother-in-law. "Thank you…Mother."
They said their final good-byes, and Elizabeth and Lucas looked at each other as they rode up in the elevator, not quite alone—with a jocular elevator operator, who heartily congratulated them. Their hearts lifted and pounded in time with the rising car, and although they both smiled at the kind man, neither of them were focusing on his words; they only had eyes for each other.
They were married.
They were finally ready to begin their lives together, to express their love and commitment in the most elemental way a man and a woman can do. Since neither of them had been with another in that way for so long, they were both nervous as well as excited, but along with that, Elizabeth was definitely feeling the effects of the champagne. She felt lightheaded from the wine, dizzy with love for this beautiful man she had married, that she would now give herself to, body and soul.
When they arrived on their floor and the operator pulled the gated elevator door closed, Lucas took her hand and they walked in silence, the tension and anticipation mounting with each step toward their rooms. He stopped before their door and unlocked it, holding it open for her as she brushed past him to enter. He closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrance, a frisson of desire coursed through his veins as she reached for his hand pulled him inside, and pushed the door closed behind them. Before he could release his breath, her lips had found his.
He pulled her tightly to his body, his hands gliding over the cool satin of her gown, her veil slipping from her fingers to float to the floor. They both realized in the same moment that there was nothing holding them back, that this was real, that this was only the first of many times in their lives ahead that they could touch like this, kiss like this, surrender like this. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.
He began kissing her again, her hands going to the buttons of his shirt, his mouth still fused to hers. He loosened and removed his ascot, then slipped off his morning coat, the first of many garments that would drop haphazardly to the rich, red carpet. She was still busy at his buttons when she pulled away from his lips to take a breath and focus on her task, brows knit in mild frustration.
"I can't believe a man has so many more buttons and fasteners and—and accoutrement than a woman has."
He grinned, his breathing loud in the room. "The price one pays as a gentleman. But I imagine if we both put our minds to it…"
He replaced her fingers with his at his shirt placket, while she moved to carefully unhook the chain of the pocket watch she'd given to him before unbuttoning his waistcoat too. Lucas helpfully lowered his suspenders from his shoulders.
Soon, his shirt was open to her seeking hands, but she groaned aloud when she discovered the buttons of his union suit. "I can't believe men still wear these infernal contraptions," she muttered under her breath.
His shoulders shook with laughter. "Here, maybe this is a one-man job after all."
So much for his romantic fantasy of her undressing him. He stepped back and his hands went to the front of his trousers, and he quickly began unfastening buttons there first. Elizabeth stood watching, her cheeks flushed until Lucas happened to look up and catch her eyes on him. Suddenly, his more practical approach to hurriedly disrobing became something else entirely. He held her gaze and slowed his movements, his pulse picking up speed and her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her gown.
He toed off his shoes, then dropped his trousers before stepping out of them and kicking them aside. He unbuttoned the top half of his undergarment, letting it drop and hang at his waist. Her eyes widened in appreciation when she saw how much he wanted her.
"Come here," he said, his voice rough.
She did, and the undressing paused as she explored his warm chest, fingers tracing the nicely formed muscles there, the light dusting of hair, before her lips settled against his skin. She breathed him in while her hands ghosted over his firm biceps to rest on his shoulders.
"My turn," he growled, and after kissing her passionately, reveling in the feel of so little clothing between them, he began pulling up the sides of her dress till it bunched at her waist. His hands found her silk-clad bottom and she gasped against his lips. Elizabeth raised her arms to accommodate him pulling the dress up and over her head. He tossed it over a nearby chair, and she didn't complain at all about wrinkles.
She stood before him now in a white silk slip, tiny pink rosebuds embroidered at the decolletage and at the hem that hung to her beautifully-shaped thighs. A creamy white hint of skin was just visible above silk stockings, held up with dainty, blue- ribboned garters—both Rosemary's beautiful works of art. She stepped out of her shoes and raised shaking hands, watching his eyes darken as she began pulling out hairpins. Her hair fell in loose curls about her shoulders.
"Oh, Elizabeth," he whispered in wonder. "You're exquisite."
From there it became a haze of passionate kisses, heated caresses, soft sighs and gasps of pleasure. Skin to skin, hearts beating wildly, they kissed and explored and murmured their love. Lucas marveled at her smooth, alabaster skin, reverently kissing every part of her, mapping her body with his hands, rejoicing at every wonderous discovery that made both of them tremble.
She couldn't get enough of the silkiness of his hair between her fingers, of deep, endless kisses that drove her closer to the heights her body strove to reach. She reveled in the sensual contrast of soft against hard, of the way his uneven breath in her ear made her shake and hold on tightly the moment he joined with her at last.
His paused then to kiss her, his body covered with perspiration as he struggled for control.
"Elizabeth," he said, "look at me."
Awash in pleasure, she forced herself to open her eyes. She'd never seen his so dark, so velvety with tenderness and profound love. Gazes locked, fingers entwined, he began to move.
Amidst cries of passion, they found completion together, and, still trembling, Lucas held her, feeling simultaneously as if he had both died and been reborn. She melted into his arms, tears of deep emotion streaming down her face as she nuzzled into his neck. For an instant, she felt deep regret that she had long ago deprived them both of this.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She wasn't surprised when he understood exactly what she meant.
"Hush. That's all in the past. This is what we have now, what we will have the rest of our lives." He bent to kiss her damp cheeks.
"I love you, and I'm so very, very grateful."
"As am I, my love. As am I."
They lay entwined together, heartbeats slowing, breaths returning to normal. A light summer breeze drifted in from the open window, and Lucas even slept a little. Elizabeth watched the play of the late afternoon light over his dear face. She would remember those moments for the rest of her life as the line of demarcation between everything that had happened before and what was to become a rich life filled with happiness, children, friends, unending love…
A/N: More as soon as I can. Thank you for reading!
Translation from French: "May the happiness which unites you together today last an entire lifetime."