Good Morning, Loves! Thank you to Mel and Pamela!

XIII

EDWARD

5 July 1897

Paris, France

Though I have been to Paris many times before, the city feels different this time around.

Bella and I arrived last night on the train, and we stopped to get a room for the night before we continue on our journey. This afternoon, we will be catching a train to Lyon before crossing the border into Italy. It will be a long while yet until we are able to board any sort of ship, and since we are in no true hurry, we've decided to treat this time as an extended voyage à la façon anglaise, though my bride has referred to this trip as our honeymoon.

It is a strange thing, to be married to someone I have only just met, but I have felt since the moment she stormed into my life, an irresistible pull toward her. As if she is the moon, and I am no more than the waves upon a shore.

Every part of her calls to me, beckons me in to be lost to her.

I have never been so captivated by someone.

We are walking along the streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, and I cannot help but be impressed whenever my new wife opens her mouth to speak. She's intelligent, far more, dare I say, than myself, and though her French is accented and some phrases she says are unfamiliar, it is otherwise flawless as she communicates with the locals.

"How do you speak so well?" I ask, after listening to her chat to a couple strolling by. I'd lost interest in the conversation when the woman asked about Bella's new hat we'd bought that morning. I'd been more than content to just listen to the music of her voice.

Bella lets out a soft laugh. "My mother was French," she says, and her normal accent that has started to stretch into something akin to my own, has changed yet again, the French in her voice strong. "At least, she was born in France. We never lived here when I was growing up, not really."

I enjoy learning these things about her. "And your father?"

Bella smiles, her hand gently tucked into my elbow. "A Swede," she says, glancing up at me.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Not a drop of English blood in you," I joke. Father would be horrified, but Bella just laughs and nods.

"Not an ounce," she agrees. "Unlike your lordship no doubt?" Her voice is light, teasing, and I can't help my smile.

"Father can trace our lineage back to William the Conqueror," I tell her, rolling my eyes. "Though I suspect half of it is invented history."

Bella's gaze lengthens as she considers this. "Is not most history invented?" she asks. I look at her and she blinks up at me, as if pulling her mind from a trance. "I mean to say, we know certain events that have transpired. But how are we to ever know what life was like for a woman facing down the Black Death, or a child during the American Revolution? There is an entire universe of stories that have been left untold, and without them, it makes what we consider concrete history, little more than fiction."

Her words shock me. I admit, I've never once considered a perspective outside of my own. I've always trusted that the history books are accurate and complete.

"But did they have anything to say?" I ask, truly wondering. "Women and children, I mean. What could they have possibly added that would change the course of human events?"

Bella looks surprised before a storm cloud settles over her features.

"The world is changed by women all the time," Bella says quietly, her voice hard. "And it's not just women. Men and women of different ethnicities are left out of the history books too. We have been given one perspective, one set of eyes in which to look back on time. Don't you think there could be more?"

Her words are filled with passion, and I must admit, they give me pause.

"Yes," I concede. "I suppose there could be much more." I've never thought about it before, and the idea of uprooting all of history and claiming that it is in fact, inaccurate, gives my head an ache, but the smile on Bella's face chases away some of the panic this conversation has brought me.

"I don't need you to change your paradigms today," she says, giving my arm a reassuring pat. "I just ask that you keep an open mind."

I laugh, letting out a tense breath. "I can certainly be open-minded," I agree, feeling relieved when she lets the conversation drop.

We stop on the corner of the street, where a woman is selling fresh blooms from a basket over her arm. I buy a red rose for Bella, who blushes gently, before tucking the flower into her frock.

Two blocks down, we come across sweeping lawns that lead to the most impressive tower I've ever seen.

"La dame de fer," Bella says, gazing up at the structure.

"The Iron Lady," I translate, nodding. "Have you ever seen something so magnificent?"

Bella smiles, her head leaning gently against my shoulder. "She's stunning." There are crowds gathered around the lawns, and closer to the tower, I see a queue waiting to go up into the structure.

"Would you like to go up?" I ask.

Bella tilts her head to look at me. "Have we time?"

I reach for my pocket watch, reading it quickly before nodding to her. "We should be fine," I tell her.

Bella smiles, and together we walk closer to the magnificent monument.

"My mother used to tell me stories about Eiffel," she said as we fell into the queue.

"Your mother knows Gustave Eiffel?" I ask, surprised.

Bella nods. "Long ago, she did." Bella gazes up at the structure. "If you believe her, she even had a small hand in the design." Bella looks at me to see me gaping in amazement at her, and she lets out a small laugh. "Of course, it wasn't Eiffel who designed it, so really, what is to be believed of that story."

I smile, tucking her a little closer to me. I cannot discern if Bella's parents are alive or not, for she speaks of them in changing tenses and through different emotions. Sometimes, her face lights up as she talks about them; other times, she looks positively heartbroken.

I haven't the heart to ask her yet.

To my relief, the line moves quickly, and soon we are climbing up to the viewing platform. I'm in good shape, but even I'm fatigued by the countless stairs.

But the moment we reach the landing, it all becomes worth it. I've never been so high up, and for as far as I can see, Paris is spread out, like a gleaming map before me.

"Mon Dieu," Bella breathes, and I pull her close to me again.

"It's beautiful," I agree quietly. It's a romantic view, one that makes me wish we had more time in Paris.

I remind myself that Bella and I will have the rest of our lives together. Paris will come again.

…

19 July 1897

Brindisi, Italy

…

It is our last night in Italy, and though we should be taking in more of the sights and sounds of this wonderful town, all I want is to stay in bed with my wife.

It has been a heavenly two weeks, spending time with her. Our voyage isn't nearly over, for tomorrow we set sail for Bombay, but already I feel I've gotten to know Bella better than I have ever known anyone else.

She is so much smarter than I could have ever guessed, and her intelligence is matched in equal measure by her kindness and charm. She's one of those people you don't get upset with for being wittier. It is as if she was always meant to be cleverer than everyone else in the room, and once you learn that about her, it feels right.

But beyond her stunning mind, her heart's capacity is truly endless. Depths of compassion, the likes of which I've never seen, have poured out of my new wife, blessing everyone she comes in contact with. She is a wonder, a true joy to observe.

And tonight, I wish to have her to myself.

"Are we going out again?" Bella asks from the vanity mirror in the room we've rented in Brindisi.

I look at her from the bed. "Are you hungry?" I ask. I don't want my wife to starve on account of my darker desires.

Bella twists to look at me and shakes her head. "Our tea was exceptional," she says, lightly placing a hand over her stomach. "I doubt I'll be hungry until tomorrow."

I nod and slide off the bed, moving behind her. She turns so she's facing her mirror, watching me in the reflection as I come to help her gently pull hair pins out.

"Then I propose," I say softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her delicate neck. She tilts her head, giving me more range of her skin to worship. "We stay in." The words are punctuated with another kiss, and Bella gasps softly before she nods.

"Yes," she agrees gently. She stands, and I step back, giving her space. She's already mostly undressed, having stripped off her most binding layers when we came in after tea. It is simply a matter of shedding her camisole and underskirt.

I work quickly, shirking my clothes off as fast as I can.

When we are both bare, Bella strides toward me, her hips swaying hypnotically.

"I think," she says softly. "I'd like to try something different."

I reach for her, and she comes to me, her body sliding against mine, making me shiver and sigh.

"What is that?" I ask, my fingers running a tender course all across her skin. I want to kiss her, so I do, feeling her smile against my lips.

"Do you trust me?" Bella asks softly.

"Yes, of course I do." It's the truth too. Though I might not know everything about her, I've seen enough of her soul to know that she is someone to put absolute faith into.

Bella's hands come up, running across my chest, and I shiver again.

"Sit on the bed," she directs me. I do as she bids, settling down and looking up at her. "Shift to the center, press your back against the headboard," she tells me. I do as she instructs, looking back at her curiously. She smiles, licking her lips before she crawls onto the bed and swings one leg over my thighs. I'm stunned as she straddles my legs, her knees near my hips.

Immediately, my hands move to her backside, scooting her farther up my lap.

"What is this?" I ask, surprised but intrigued by the position she's put us in.

Bella laughs lightly. "I'm going to be on top," she says gently.

I am more than a little fascinated at the idea. I've never heard of such a thing, but the way she's sitting on top of me now feels so natural, so right, I decide to trust her instincts.

She leans forward, and our lips meet again. Her kisses alone are more potent than any champagne I've ever had. I could be drunk for the rest of my life on her touch.

Bella's tongue gently slips past her lips, meeting mine, and I shudder. Our tongues dance a twisted game together, sliding along one another, until I feel as if I'll combust from the inside out.

"Bella," I groan, desperate for more of her touch.

She shifts, tilting herself up on her knees so that she's flush with my chest. From this height, her breasts are in my face, and I cannot help myself from reaching out and tasting one. Bella lets out a gasp of surprise, and I am encouraged to try again.

Her breasts are round, perfectly pink at the tips, and when I reach a hand up, I find they fit exactly in my palm. Bella seems to like the attention I'm placing on her breasts, and equally, I enjoy it as well.

I suckle gently on the swells, exploring her in a way I haven't quite before. Above me, her head tilts back, and I know she is finding pleasure in this.

"Edward," she says softly. "I'm going to move, hold on."

With one last lick, I let her breasts go and place my hands on her hips. Bella shifts, reaching between us to grip me tightly. I nearly groan aloud at how good her hand feels. Slowly, she lowers herself over me, both of us hissing as I am fully sheathed inside of her.

We've made love plenty so far, but it's never quite felt like this before.

Bella's eyes are closed, her breathing stilted as she settles over me. "Are you well?" I ask.

Her eyes open, and I feel her hips wiggle, squeezing me and making me gasp.

"Oh yes," Bella moans. "Yes, I am more than well."

She begins to move, undulating over me, nearly sending me to blinding pleasure with each wave of her body. It is a Herculean effort on my part to remember to pay equal amounts of attention to her body. I have since learned women can experience the same type of euphoria that men do, and I am determined that my Bella feels it every time we are together.

My lips find one of her breasts again, my fingers massaging the other as she writhes on top of me. Bella lets out a moan, her head tilting back, and I smile against her skin.

She moves over me, her body sliding suddenly, and my teeth accidentally scrape against her skin. Not hard enough to draw blood, but surely enough to sting.

To my surprise, Bella cries out again, this time, her hands coming around the back of my head, holding me to her chest. I try to repeat the process of what she's clearly liked, in the hopes that it will satisfy her.

Bella lets out a cry, and I feel her whole body tighten, squeezing me so hard that for a moment, I cannot even think. She's gone rigid in my arms, and in my animal need to reach that same euphoric state, I flip us over on the bed, driving into her again and again until I feel it come on for myself.

My vision blurs for a moment as wave after wave of absolute pleasure steals over me. My whole body is shaking, and I collapse on top of Bella, unable to keep myself up any longer.

She clings to me, like a barnacle on a ship, her legs and arms wrapped around me as we both come back to ourselves.

It is a while later that Bella lets out a little giggle. I turn my head to look at her beautiful face. "I had no idea a touch of pain could feel so good."

I frown, sitting up a little. "Did I hurt you?"

Bella shakes her head, even as I examine her breasts. I don't see any marks, for which I'm relieved.

"No," she says. "It was exquisite."

I look at her in surprise. "Pain?" I ask, needing clarification.

Bella nods, her hand coming up to trace ever so lightly over my cheeks.

"It's something we can explore," she says softly. "Who knows, maybe we both like a bite of pain to go with our pleasure."

My laugh shows that I am caught off-guard but also intrigued. I feel I will have a lifetime of surprises with Bella. I just pray they will be all as good as this one.