Chapter 27 #2
"I have never been good at doing things halfway," Gregory replied, echoing his own response.
Then he kissed her.
Not the tentative kisses they had shared before. Not the careful explorations. But a kiss that felt like a promise—deep and claiming and absolutely devastating.
Anthea melted into it, her hands fisting in his coat, pulling him closer. She felt his arms tighten around her, felt his heart racing against her chest, felt the barely restrained passion in the way he held her like she was precious and necessary all at once.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Gregory rested his forehead against hers.
"I want you," he said, his voice rough. "All of you. Your brilliant mind and your sharp tongue and your impossible stubbornness. I want the fights and the making up and the mornings where you forget to eat because you are too busy planning. I want everything."
"You have it," Anthea said. "All of it. I am yours. Completely."
"And I am yours," Gregory said. "For as long as you will have me."
"Forever, then," Anthea said, surprised by how easy the word came. How right it felt.
"Forever," Gregory agreed.
They kissed again, slower this time but no less intense. Anthea felt something settle in her chest—something that felt like peace mixed with joy mixed with the terrifying certainty that she had just given this man the power to destroy her.
But she had also given herself permission to be happy. To love without reservation. To trust that he would keep the promises he was making.
And that—that felt like flying.
When they finally returned to the celebration, hand in hand, several guests looked at them with knowing smiles. Veronica caught Anthea's eye across the room and grinned—clearly recognizing the slightly disheveled, thoroughly kissed look her sister was sporting.
Anthea felt her cheeks heat but could not bring herself to care. Let them gossip. Let them speculate. She was in love with her husband, and he loved her back, and everything else was just noise.
The rest of the wedding breakfast passed in a blur of happiness. Anthea danced with Gregory twice more, both of them unable to stop smiling at each other like lovesick fools. She accepted congratulations and deflected questions and watched her sister glow with newlywed joy.
It was perfect.
As the afternoon faded into evening and the guests began to depart, Anthea found herself standing beside Gregory, watching Veronica and Mr. Hartley climb into their carriage for the journey to their wedding trip.
"They will be happy," Gregory said quietly.
"Yes," Anthea agreed. "They will."
"And so will we," Gregory added, taking her hand.
Anthea laced her fingers through his. "Yes. We will."
They stood like that until the carriage disappeared from view, then turned back toward the house. Toward their home. Toward the future they had just committed to building together.
"Anthea," Gregory said as they climbed the steps.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being brave enough to try," Gregory said. "For trusting me with your heart. For giving us a chance."
"Thank you for being worth the risk," Anthea replied.
He smiled—that soft, genuine smile that transformed his usually stern face—and kissed her temple. "Come. Let us go inside. I believe we have a marriage to consummate."
Heat flooded Anthea's cheeks. "Gregory—"
"What?" he asked innocently. "We agreed to give this marriage a true shot. No holding back. That includes—"
"I know what it includes," Anthea interrupted, but she was smiling. "And yes. Let us—" She stopped, suddenly shy despite everything they had just said to each other.
"Let us go upstairs," Gregory finished for her, his voice gentle. "Together. As husband and wife. Properly, this time."
"Yes," Anthea whispered. "Together."
They walked into the house hand in hand, leaving the celebration behind. Leaving the careful distance and the walls and the fear that had kept them apart.
Walking toward something new. Something terrifying and wonderful and entirely their own.
A real marriage.
Built on love and trust and the choice to be vulnerable with each other, even when it was difficult. Especially when it was difficult.
Anthea's heart felt full to bursting. Full of love for this man who saw her completely and loved her anyway. Full of hope for the future they would build. Full of gratitude for the courage to finally—finally—let herself be happy.
They climbed the stairs together, anticipation building with each step. At the landing, Gregory paused and turned to face her.
"Are you certain?" he asked. "We can wait if you—"
"I am certain," Anthea said firmly. "I want this. I want you. I want everything we just promised each other."
"Then you have me," Gregory said. "All of me. Forever."
He swept her into his arms—literally lifted her off her feet—making her gasp and laugh as he carried her down the hall toward her chambers.
"Gregory! Put me down!"
"Absolutely not," he said. "I have read about this in novels. The husband is supposed to carry his bride over the threshold."
"We have been married for weeks," Anthea pointed out, still laughing.
"Then consider this a re-consummation," Gregory said, pushing open the door to her chambers with his shoulder. "A proper beginning to our proper marriage."
He set her down gently, and they stood facing each other in the candlelit room. The nervousness Anthea had expected did not materialize. Instead, she felt only certainty. Only rightness.
This was where she was meant to be. With this man. In this moment.
Building a future together.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too," Gregory replied.
And when he kissed her again, when they finally came together as husband and wife in truth, Anthea felt the last of her walls crumble completely.
She was vulnerable. Exposed. Entirely at his mercy.
And she had never felt safer in her life.
Much later, tangled together in sheets and candlelight, Anthea traced idle patterns on Gregory's chest.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice drowsy and content.
"That I am happy," Anthea said simply. "That I did not think I could be this happy. That I am grateful you refused to let me hide."
Gregory caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "I am grateful you were brave enough to stop hiding."
"We really are going to do this?" Anthea asked. "Build a real marriage? Face everything together?"
"Yes," Gregory said. "We really are."
"Even when I am impossible?"
"Especially when you are impossible," Gregory said, echoing words he had spoken before. "That is when I love you most."
Anthea smiled and settled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New responsibilities. The thousand small difficulties of learning to truly share a life with someone.
But tonight—tonight was perfect.
And for the first time in three years, Anthea let herself believe that perfect moments could become a perfect life.
If she was brave enough to keep choosing love.
And she was.
She finally, finally was.