The Journey Home

Chapter 52 - A Wedding Night

Margaret fumbled with the cord of her dressing gown.  Her hands were numb and her body had grown cold as nervousness overtook her.  The young maid had assisted her with changing and had brushed out her dark mane of hair.  She had arranged  the front of her hair away from Margaret's  face using a comb on each side of her crown, allowing the rest of her hair to hang in thick loose curls down past her shoulders. She sat at the dressing table fidgeting with the cord, while the maid gathered Margaret's traveling clothes to air out for her journey home.  "I'll put a polish on these, Ma'am," holding up Margaret's boots, "have 'em back to you by morning so's that you and the Master can walk about town."
"Thank you, but please do not rush on my account.  I expect that Mr. Thornton and I will not walk until later in the morning."  Margaret said absently, her mind riddled with the words of her female companions regarding this wedding night.  Her throat was dry, and she longed for a glass of water. 
"Mr. Thornton's in your sitting room, Ma'am.  Dinner's served up as well.  Not too fancy, Mistress tends to stick to a light meal. Not good to sleep on a full stomach, she says.  That be all, Ma'am?"  Margaret nodded her assent and the maid quickly scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.  Margaret closed her eyes and tried to draw a deep breath, but found it difficult to do so.  Her dream had come true, she was John's wife and they would be together always.  She laughed in spite of her shortness of breath.  "I cannot believe this fortune!" She thought to herself.  "Thank you, dear Lord. I will strive to be worthy of your gifts." 
She entered the sitting room quietly, noticing the that several covered dishes had been placed on the sideboard.  They would serve themselves this evening, much to Margaret's relief.  She felt the watchful eye of Mrs. Barton and her staff upon them, even when they were not in their chambers.  John's back was to her as he gazed out the window. She stood tentatively at the door, waiting for John to turn and acknowledge her.  She gently cleared her throat, but it did not prevent the tight squeak of her voice.  "Mr Thornton?" Was all that she could manage to say.
He heard her enter, before she spoke.  He held fast to this last moment of anticipation, wondering if he would ever feel such a combination of emotions again.  The joy of seeing her again, much in the same way he felt every time she came into view.  The exhilaration of touching her again and feeling her respond to his caresses.  The wonder of the unknown, of sharing their bed, making love to her and having her in his arms through the night.  He turned to her, and drew a short breath of desire in seeing her, her hair unbound and her soft figure against the lines of her robe and gown, unencumbered by the laces and stays of the restrictive underpinnings.  She seemed somehow taller without the layers of crinolines and slips, the length of her strong figure uninterrupted by the fullness of her skirts.  He saw for the first time, the lines of her womanly figure, the soft curve of her hips, her narrow waist  cinched buy the braided cord of her green robe and the fullness of her breasts.  His gaze intensified as he looked to her anxious eyes and gasped "Margaret!"
Margaret felt his piercing  gaze, as though it were a flame, igniting her core.  She could not hold his gaze, feeling shy and unsure, so she  looked to the set of covered dishes.  "Perhaps we might have something to eat?" She suggested as she walked to the sideboard.  "You must be hungry after our journey."  She lifted a lid and peered inside, not aware of what it contained.  Her heart beat loudly in her ears, impossible to hear anything but the lower tones of her own voice when she spoke.  She dropped the lid back on the dish with a clatter, fearing she might faint, but he was behind her in an instant, his large hands encircling her waist.  She felt the warmness of his breath and smelled the sweet scent of whiskey.  He was wordlessly kissing her neck, his hands moving gently down her sides, stroking her waist and hips.  Margaret let her head fall back on his shoulder as she shuddered in what felt like a chill, but was the involuntary response of her body to the excitement this man stirred in her.  John felt her body trembling as well, and turning her to him, his face barely able to contain his pleasure in knowing she was responding to his touch, he began to lightly kiss her lips.   Margaret placed her hands on John's chest and moved them up his firm physique to encircle his neck, and then closing her eyes, she awaited his kisses to grow more passionate.