Chapter 30
The Wedding Night
The kiss deepened, and Caroline felt herself melting into Caspian's embrace.
Caspian's hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone with surprising tenderness for someone called The Butcher of the North. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer on the garden bench.
Caroline's fingers threaded through his silver hair, loosening it from its tie until it fell around his shoulders. She'd wanted to do that for weeks—run her hands through that distinctive silver.
When they finally broke apart for air, both breathing hard, Caspian rested his forehead against hers.
"Caroline," he breathed, and her name sounded like a prayer.
"Caspian," she whispered back.
"I want you," he said quietly, his green eyes intense in the moonlight. "Not because of a spell. Not because of obligation or duty. But because I choose you. Because I want you."
Caroline felt her heart race. "I want you too. I choose you too."
"Here?" Caspian asked, glancing around the garden. "Now?"
Caroline looked at the fountain, the moonlight, the flowering bushes swaying gently in the night breeze. It was private enough. Romantic. And she didn't want to wait.
"Yes," she said. "Here. Now."
Caspian kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands moving to the tie of her robe.
The night air was cool against Caroline's skin, but Caspian's touch was warm. His hands traced patterns along her arms, her shoulders, the curve of her waist.
Caroline tugged at his loosened cravat, pulling it free, then worked on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers.
This was different from the spell. Then, neither of them had been in control, driven by overwhelming magic.
Now, every touch was deliberate. Every kiss was a choice. Every moment was theirs.
Caspian's Matter Manipulation activated subtly—the stone bench beneath them softening slightly, becoming more comfortable. The nearby bushes grew just enough to provide additional privacy without blocking the moonlight.
"Better?" he murmured against her lips.
"Perfect," Caroline breathed.
Caspian’s hands slid down to her hips, guiding her gently as she shifted to straddle him on the wide stone bench.
The robe fell open completely, pooling around her waist; his shirt hung loose on his shoulders, baring the hard planes of his chest to the moonlight.
Caroline braced her hands on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her palms.
Caspian’s breath came faster as she settled over him.
With one hand still steadying her hip, he reached down with the other, swiftly unbuttoning his trousers and easing the placket open just enough to free himself.
The cool night air brushed against his heated skin for only a moment before Caroline’s warmth was there, close and inviting.
She rose slowly on her knees, positioning herself above him, and sank down with deliberate care—taking him in inch by inch, eyes never leaving his.
Caspian’s breath hitched sharply; his fingers tightened on her hips, grounding himself as the slow, perfect stretch enveloped him.
When she was fully seated, they both stilled for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, simply breathing each other in, hearts racing in shared wonder.
Then Caroline began to move.
At first it was gentle—small, rocking circles of her hips, soft rises and falls that drew quiet gasps from them both.
Caspian’s hands roamed her back, tracing the line of her spine with reverent fingers, then settling again on her waist to steady her.
Moonlight silvered her skin as she moved above him, hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders.
“Caspian,” she whispered, voice trembling with wonder.
He answered with a low, wordless sound, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, thumb brushing gently over the sensitive peak until she arched into his touch.
The rhythm stayed slow, languid—each glide deliberate, each roll of her hips drawing them closer without hurry.
She leaned forward to kiss him, soft and deep, swallowing the quiet groans that escaped him.
But the need between them had been building for weeks, and gentleness could only hold for so long.
Caroline’s movements grew bolder—hips lifting higher, sinking down harder, taking him deeper with every descent.
Caspian’s restraint frayed; his hands gripped her tighter, guiding her into a faster rhythm.
His head fell back against the bench, throat bared to the night sky, silver hair spilling across the stone as he met her thrusts with subtle lifts of his own.
She braced her hands on his chest, fingers curling against muscle and scar, riding him with growing urgency.
The soft sounds of their breathing turned to quiet moans, then sharper gasps.
Caspian’s hand slipped between them, fingers finding the small, swollen bud at the apex of her thighs and circling it gently at first, then with firmer pressure that matched the quickening pace of her hips.
The pleasure coiled tight and sudden. Caroline’s back arched, a soft cry escaping her as her release washed through her in warm, rolling waves—her body tightening around him in rhythmic pulses.
The sensation dragged Caspian over the edge with her; his hips surged upward once, twice, and then he pulled her down hard, burying himself deep as he came with a low, shuddering groan against her neck.
They clung together through the aftershocks, trembling, breathless. Caroline collapsed forward onto his chest, and Caspian’s arms wrapped around her immediately, holding her close as their hearts slowly calmed.
The garden was quiet around them, moonlight soft on their joined bodies, the fountain’s gentle murmur the only sound besides their breathing.
Afterwards, they lay together on the bench, Caroline tucked against Caspian's chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. Both were breathing hard, skin flushed, hearts racing.
The fountain continued its gentle splash nearby. The moon still shone overhead. But everything felt different now.
Changed.
Right.
"That was..." Caroline started, then couldn't find words.
"Yes," Caspian agreed, pressing a kiss to her hair.
They stayed like that for several minutes, just holding each other, neither wanting to break the moment.
Finally, Caspian stirred.
"Come with me," he said softly.
"Where?" Caroline asked, though she didn't move from his embrace.
"To my chambers," Caspian said. "To my bed."
Caroline pulled back enough to look at him. "Your bed?"
"We never had a wedding night," Caspian said quietly. "The first time... that wasn't us. That was the spell. Magic and accident and neither of us choosing." He cupped her face gently. "Let me give you a real wedding night, Caroline. Let me take you to my bed and make love to my wife properly."
Caroline felt tears prick her eyes at the tenderness in his voice.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, please."
Caspian stood, helping her adjust her nightgown and robe to make her presentable for the walk through the estate. Then, before she could protest, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her bridal-style.
"Caspian!" Caroline laughed, startled. "I can walk!"
"I know," he said, that rare smile crossing his face. "But I want to carry you. Indulge me."
Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. "You're ridiculous."
"You like it."
"I do," Caroline admitted.
They walked through the moonlit gardens, Caspian's long strides carrying them steadily toward the main estate.
Behind them, Mochi and Shadow were still exploring the gardens. Mochi had climbed a tree and was batting at leaves, while Shadow was investigating interesting scents near the flower beds. Both seemed content to stay and play.
"Should we bring them?" Caroline asked, glancing back.
"Let them enjoy the night," Caspian said. "They'll find their way back when they're ready."
The estate was quiet as they passed through, only a few guards on duty who carefully looked away when they saw the Duke carrying his wife through the halls in obvious post-intimate dishevelment.
Caspian's chambers were in a different wing from Caroline's—larger, more austere, decorated in dark woods and deep blues and silvers.
Very him.
He carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind them with his foot, then finally set her down beside the massive four-poster bed.
Caroline looked around, taking in the space. She'd never been in his private chambers before. It was surprisingly tidy, everything in its place, but with small personal touches—books stacked on the nightstand, a sword mounted on the wall, a map of the Frostmarch territories spread across a desk.
"I've wanted to bring you here," Caspian said quietly, watching her explore with her eyes. "To share this space with you. But you were so..." He trailed off.
"Hostile?" Caroline supplied. "Resentful? Terrible?"
"Unreachable," Caspian corrected gently. "I didn't know how to bridge that distance."
Caroline turned to face him. "And now?"
"Now there's no distance," Caspian said, stepping closer. "Now you're here. With me. Choosing this."
He reached up and began unpinning her hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. His fingers were gentle, reverent, as if she were something precious.
"I want to do this right," Caspian said softly. "Our wedding night. The night we should have had if everything hadn't gone so wrong."
Caroline's throat tightened with emotion. "Caspian..."
"Let me make love to you," he continued, his voice low and intense. "Not in a garden where we might be interrupted. Not rushed or hidden. Here. In my bed. Where I can take my time. Where I can show you exactly how much I want you. How much I choose you."
Caroline felt heat flood through her at his words, at the promise in his eyes.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, I want that. I want you."
Caspian smiled—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his usually severe features—and kissed her.
This kiss was slow, thorough, full of promise and intent.
His hands moved to the tie of her robe again, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it pool on the floor. Her nightgown followed moments later.
Caroline reached for his shirt, tugging it free, running her hands over the muscled planes of his chest and shoulders. He was beautiful—all lean strength and controlled power.
Caspian guided her backward until her legs hit the bed. She sat, then scooted back as he followed, his weight settling over her, his silver hair falling forward like a curtain around them.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes traveling over her face, her body, lingering on the small swell of her belly where their child grew. "So beautiful."
His hand spread across her stomach, gentle and possessive at once.
"Our child," he said softly. "Our future."
"Our choice," Caroline added.
"Our choice," Caspian agreed.
He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time, his body pressing against hers in ways that made coherent thought difficult.
The moonlight streaming through the windows cast silver patterns across the bed. The night was quiet around them, the rest of the estate asleep.
This moment was theirs. Only theirs.
"I'm going to make you happy," Caspian promised against her lips. "Every day. For the rest of our lives."
"You already do," Caroline whispered.
"Then I'll make you happier," he said, and there was that smile again.
Caroline laughed softly, pulling him down into another kiss.
This time, when they came together, it was everything the first time hadn't been.
It was slow. Tender. Deliberate.
It was a choice, freely made, by two people who wanted each other.
It was their true wedding night.
And as Caspian moved over her, his green eyes locked with hers, his hands gentle and sure, Caroline thought:
This. This is what it was supposed to be.
This is what we were always meant to find.