Chapter Text
Like every girl, Kate had envisioned her wedding, imagining how she would look in her wedding dress and how her groom would be waiting for her at the altar, maybe with a nervous expression on his face and with a joyful smile on his lips.
Over the years, however, those dreams had faded and become more and more indistinct, and she had indulged less and less in the illusions of her wedding, rarely - if ever - daring to imagine what it would feel like to getting married. For the longest time she’d been compartmentalizing, putting her dreams and thoughts away, packed them into neat little boxes and stowed them in some deep dark corner and gone on with her life.
But now, as she talks to her future mother-in-law about flower arrangements and the wedding banquet, those reveries are no longer faded, but almost tangible in the most dazzling colors and hues.
She feels like she’s living in some sort of dream in this moment, a picturesque, surreal tableau, sitting at the tea table and looking at Lady Bridgerton as she calmly encourages her to choose the flowers she loves.
And that’s what Kate does - she chooses nothing too ostentatious or over-the-top, either in terms of the flowers or the dinner, and as she coyly suggests that she loves purple as color, tears suddenly trickle down Lady Bridgerton’s cheeks.
Kate glances at her, caught off guard and wide-eyed like she’s made some horrible misstep, stammering, “I am so sorry, Lady Bridgerton, did I … did I say something wrong?”
“Oh no, no, dearest Kate,” she says between two sobs, reaching across the table for her hand and squeezing it gently.
“It is just so overwhelming for me to witness that my son is marrying the woman he loves, that he has chosen happiness.”
She wipes her damp cheeks with a quick movement of her hand, offering Kate a warm smile.
“I have watched with sorrow in my heart as, after my husband’s death, my son became a lonely adolescent who grew into a lonely adult, carrying the burden of his title on his shoulders and taking the responsibility for seven younger siblings at a time when he himself still needed his father.”
She stops for a moment, letting out a breath.
“Anthony … stopped laughing after Edmund died. He stopped pretty much everything that made him him. It was like he was present in the world but not truly in it, like a player in a scene someone else wrote for him. And I failed to make his sadness more bearable because I was too caught up in my own. I have made so many mistakes.”
Kate’s heart fractures what must be straight down the middle, clean in half, at the sound of these words.
She can see Lady Bridgerton’s tears. They shimmer like crystals in her eyes and burn like fire in her stomach, and she wants to say something, anything, but her throat feels tight and so she just sits there, wiping her sweaty palms on her gown as her heart hammers painfully against her rib cage.
“And then he met you … and it felt like the sun peeling back the clouds after an eternity of darkness, of misery and sorrow and pain. With each day he spent in your presence, it was as if he was alive again - everything that makes you you being like a cloth wiping the dirt off a grimy window, to let a precious ray of sunlight into the darkness that was his life. He’s happy, when he is with you. He is whole.”
A low, sweet ache settles heavy in Kate’s chest. All this time she had believed that Anthony made her happy - it had not occurred to her that it was the other way around as well - she made him happy too.
“I do not know what to say. I feel blessed, I feel …” She drifts off, her chest tightening pleasantly. Her eyes water, a bit, and she doesn’t know why, and suddenly Lady Bridgerton reaches over and takes both her hands in hers.
This feels natural, and right, and real, and her entire life she’s spent never feeling like she really belongs, always on the fringes. Not long ago she had believed that she was not good enough for Anthony, that she was not meant for this family, but she has the sense, sudden and overpowering, that she might, one day – though might doesn’t feel inevitable enough.
Will.
She will belong to this family who is welcoming and loving her like it’s easy. Like she is enough.
*****
It’s easy to settle into a sort of rhythm, after that.
Anthony is occupied with business matters, and his siblings do everything they can to show her all the hidden corners of Aubrey Hall and share old childhood memories of him with her.
In the afternoon, Eloise takes her for a long walk, and she fusses around for a while, looking embarrassed, until she finally blurts, “Can I ask you something, Kate?”
“Of course.”
Eloise takes several deep breaths, before she finally meets Kate’s eyes.
“I know it’s not proper, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me - but ... after Anthony and you are married, could you consider telling me what happens between a man and a woman ... when they are alone? I mean ... when they, you know. I have asked Mama and Daphne, but they always give me the run-around, and I’d.... well, just like to know because it’s not in any book I’ve read.”
Kate blushes, thinking to herself that she could already tell her a lot of the things Eloise wants to know, and her future sister-in-law looks like she almost regrets starting this topic, disappointment creeping into her features before she can help it.
“Look, just forget about it,” she stammers. “I didn’t mean to -“
“I will,” Kate interrupts her, smiling.
“You … will? You mean … you will tell me?”
“Yes,” Kate affirms.
“Tell me everything? All the … depraved details?”
Kate places a hand over her heart, solemnly announcing that she will not keep Eloise in the dark.
“If you swear that you will not tell a soul - certainly not your mother and the Duchess - that I’m telling you such things, that is.”
Eloise’s intelligent eyes light up and she looks at Kate in awe, as if she expected anything but that, and she hooks up with her, a smile on her lips as she murmurs almost inaudibly that she knew from the very beginning that Kate was special.
*****
At dinner, Mother tells Anthony what she discussed with Kate regarding the wedding reception.
He’s listening, vaguely, but he finds his eyes gravitating toward Kate where she sits, out at the table talking to Benedict, sipping a glass of wine. He has a near-perfect line of sight to her, and before he knows it his mother’s voice is ebbing out of his consciousness, fading to white noise. Every sound is ebbing out of his consciousness, and he can hear only the beating of his own heart, the pounding of blood in his ears as its pace quickens, and he watches her, chest clenching. She looks happy – happier than he has seen her in weeks. Maybe the happiest he’s ever seen her.
She looks his way when he does, and her face lights up with that little smile of hers he’s grown so used to, that makes him feel warm all over.
After dinner, he accompanies her to the terrace.
“You look happy,” he says, smiling at her.
“I haven’t seen you all day. I am glad that you are home,” she replies.
Home. He thinks he will never get tired of hearing her say that, hearing her call Aubrey Hall home – and it isn’t these four walls she’s referring to, he knows that. These four walls mean nothing, ultimately. This place could burn to the ground around them tomorrow and he wouldn’t so much as shed a tear, because she’s his home, his heart, his four walls, and anywhere she is … That’s his home.
He can’t remember when he got so bloody sentimental. Probably started the day he fell in love with her.
She’s happy – and that’s all he wants, ever. Her to be happy. Find happiness.
There’s nothing about her that indicates fear, uncertainty, worry – like he’s seen too many times on her to count. She looks gilded beneath the candle lights, soaking up that brilliance and redirecting it ten times as brightly in all directions, a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She glows, bright as anything. And he loves her. Falls all over again, like some hopeless, continual spiral that he never, ever wants to escape.
She looks so beautiful, right then, all flushed cheeks from the summer heat, and so he kisses her, slow, light; not really anything more than a peck. It feels so innocent, somehow. So good.
He kisses her, because it’s all he can do. Anthony doesn’t think it’s possible to look at her right then and do anything other than kiss her.
“My family loves you,” he tells her between two kisses. “They love what you are. What you do. How you make me whole again ... as if you were the missing piece that completes me. And you are.” She lays her head down, and it fits into the crook of his shoulder like a puzzle piece, like it was made to be there.
Kate basks in his words and he lets her, stares at her, strands of hair blowing in her face, which is only barely illuminated, skin glowing orange-gold. Suddenly it feels like he’s watching himself from some distant alternate dimension where everything went wrong, and now he’s in this dimension and everything is right again, the balance of the world restored, the planets realigned.
She smiles against his lips, and she’s still smiling when they break apart. There’s so much light in her.
“I love your family too. Not as much as I love you, of course, but they’re in my heart.” The words come out all breathy and light, like music.
It feels like falling in love with her all over again, and he is. And he falls a little bit more right then, just looking at her – so far gone he knows he passed the point of no return long ago.
He stares at her in awe. She’s so strong and fierce, steel in her spine and fire in her veins, and somehow, somewhere along the line, she let him call her his.
*****
On the day of their wedding, Anthony doesn’t know that the sun is shining outside. He doesn’t know that the church is full and beaming faces are watching him and his bride. He doesn’t know that Edwina is smiling happily as Kate’s bridesmaid and her mother is crying tears of happiness.
What he does know, however, is, that he’s so happy right then he feels like his skin can’t contain him. Like he’ll burst right out of it at any second.
And when they say their vows, he loves her so much he can’t exactly breathe, right then, in so many different ways his chest and lungs feel full of holes from every emotion flowing in and out of them. It feels like a dream, the edges of his world all blurry and warm.
They leave the church as husband and wife, and he whispers her name in her ear, "Kathani Bridgerton," enjoying the way it feels on his tongue, as if her name were a secret incantation that opens access to a magical new world, and somehow it is.
He says her name many more times that day, and especially frequently after they are finally - after hours that felt like an eternity - alone in their bedroom.
*****
His fingers are trembling as he reaches for the ties that bind the front of her corset.
It rests over the pure-white of her chemise— her wedding dress draped over an armchair and her hair loose against her shoulders. Her breath is short— and a quick glance at her face reveals she is just restless as he.
Her hands rest against the muslin of his shirt— his waist and tailcoats lying in a pile on the floor and allowing the warmth of her hands to seep into his skin through the thin fabric.
He pushes the pieces of her corset over her shoulders, watching as they slide from her arms to fall to the floor.
He reaches for the strings resting between her breasts that hold up her chemise. The fabric loosens, and he moves to let his hands rest at either side of her face as his thumb brushes against her cheekbone.
He leans in to kiss her then, reveling in the way she arches into it.
He reaches for her hands to urge her arms to fall to her sides as her chemise slithers down her body to fall to the floor. His fingers trail up her sides— enjoying the swell of her hip and the dips of her ribs. A gasp escapes her, and he wants to swallow the sound.
His fingers trace the swell just beneath her breasts, his thumb brushing along the taut peak of a nipple. His hands find her waist finally, and when he gives a brief tug— she melts into him without pretense.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers as he carries his wife to the bed— laying her over the covers before hooking his thumbs under his braces to let them fall to the side as he pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement. Only seconds later he takes off his trousers.
He lets a hand slide down the flat of her belly, pressing through the neat thatch of dark curls between her legs to dip into her wet folds. Kate squirms beneath him, her back arching from the bed as his fingers slide through her slick heat to find the taut bud at the apex.
When she is panting beneath him, her hips moving wildly into his waiting hand, he increases his ministrations. He grounds into her with his fingers, his own breath coming out in sharp rasps as he watches his wife.
He leans into her, kissing her soundly as her arms creep over his shoulders to wind around his neck. He breaks from her, gazing down at her and reveling in the loving expression in her eyes.
“There may be a small amount of pain, but it will fade quickly, I promise.”
She lets her fingers trail through the hair at his nape, smiling softly as she presses another kiss to his mouth. “It is alright. I want everything with you, Anthony.”
His lips find hers, and his tongue slips between them, and she opens her thighs wider in invitation as his cock nudges at her entrance.
He groans into her mouth, the feel of her around him more than anything he could have possibly imagined. He stills when he reaches the inevitable resistance, pressing his lips firmly to hers before forcefully breaking through and burying himself to the hilt.
She winces, shutting her eyes tight against the pain she feels and he keeps perfectly still to allow her to adjust to him.
It is agonizing— being seated deeply within her and having to keep so still. He needs to move, but he holds back, needing her to be ready. Wanting her to enjoy this as much as he is. When she finally opens her eyes, her expression has relaxed somewhat, and she grips the hair at his nape.
“There is barely any pain now,” she whispers. “I want you to move. Move, Anthony.”
He wastes no time, sliding out of her slick heat almost completely, holding for a moment before pushing back in.
“It is like nothing I’ve ever felt before in my entire existence,” he pants. “Held securely in a warm, satin covered glove.”
She shudders around him, and he repeats the movement with a little more force. He moans above her, filled with an ecstasy he’d never known.
“God, Kate It’s like a dream inside you.”
She takes every inch of him just like he knew she would, takes every bit until he’s buried deep to the hilt and all of him is seated deep inside her. Until she’s full of him. And he can see it if he looks between them, see her stretched around him so snug that she nearly overflows with it—and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything better than this. Doesn’t think he ever will.
His mouth is slack against hers now, unable to really formulate coherent thoughts with her slick walls wrapped around him. “Are you alright, my love?”
“Yes,” she hisses, nodding a little. “More than alright. God, Anthony, you’re so...”
“Tell me,” he murmurs into her mouth. “Say it.”
“You’re huge.”
It probably shouldn’t make his cock throb the way it does, probably just pride-fueled nonsense, but hearing it from her pretty mouth …
He draws out of her slowly, feeling her walls cling to him either every inch.
“Anthony,” she manages a little shakily. “Can you do it … faster?”
He’s rutting into her roughly now, and a part of him knows he should be gentler, knows that she deserves that—but her nails claw at his skin, and her soft cries of pleasure fill the air, and he’s thought about having her like this for so long, and he knows he can have her like this again and again and again—it’s enough to drive him a little wild.
He props up on his forearm, ducking his head to tease at one of her nipples with his tongue. “Tell me you like this,” he says hoarsely. “Want to hear it.”
“It’s even better than I’ve imagined,” she answers throatily, winding her fingers in his hair. “God, I love you so much.” He can feel how close she is, can feel it in the fluttering of her walls and the way she gets tighter, wetter.
Her breathing grows shallow, little more than a breathless staccato—and he feels every bit of it, when she tips over the edge. It’s a wet tremor that starts at his cockhead and trickles down his shaft, squeezing him as he holds himself inside her with his hips flush against hers. He doesn’t even have to thrust anymore to come, letting the clenching of her insides pull him right over the edge with her as he moans into her skin.
“I love you, Kathani Bridgerton.”
She looks so beautiful right then that it takes his breath away, and he means that quite literally. Thinks she stole the air right out of his lungs and has zero intentions of ever giving it back.
He’s so utterly entangled in her he can’t bring himself to care, wrapped in her arms, buried in her scent of lilies and lost in the landscape of her body, and he never wants to be found.
FIN