The moment their hands touched, Lavinia felt a surge of emotions—love, joy, and a deep sense of belonging. Peter’s fingers closed around hers, his grip steady and reassuring. He gave her a small, private smile, the kind that made her feel as though she was the only person in the room.
The ceremony began, the solemn words of the vicar filling the air, but Lavinia could hardly hear them. Her entire focus was on Peter, on the way his eyes never left hers, on the way his thumb gently stroked the back of her hand.
Every word spoken, every vow exchanged, was for them alone. The world outside the chapel ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the promises they were making.
When it came time for the vows, Peter’s voice was steady but filled with emotion. “I, Peter Linfield, take you, Lavinia Fitzroy, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
Lavinia’s heart soared as she repeated her vows, her voice soft but unwavering. “I, Lavinia Fitzroy, take you, Peter Linfield, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
The vicar pronounced them husband and wife, and the chapel erupted in applause, but Lavinia could barely hear it over the pounding of her heart.
They turned to face the gathered guests, and she felt a sense of completeness she had never known before. The world seemed brighter, the future more certain. She glanced at Peter, and he smiled down at her, his hand still holding hers tightly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The reception was held at Crawford Hall, where music filled the air, and laughter echoed through the estate. Lavinia and Peter were inseparable, their hands never straying far from one another as they greeted guests and danced together beneath the glittering chandeliers.
Lavinia couldn’t stop smiling, her heart so full of love that it felt like it might burst. Every time Peter’s hand brushed against hers or his gaze caught hers from across the room, she was reminded of how lucky she was to have found someone who loved her as deeply as she loved him.
At one point during the reception, her mother pulled her aside. “I’ve never seen you so happy,” she said, her voice warm with approval. “You’ve chosen well, my dear.”
Lavinia smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I have, Mama.”
The evening ended with a final, romantic dance between Lavinia and Peter, the two of them twirling together under the stars in the garden.
As the night grew quiet and the guests slowly departed, Lavinia found herself standing beside Peter, looking at the twinkling lights of the estate.
“You’re my wife now,” he said softly, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“And you’re my husband,” she replied, her voice full of wonder.
He turned to face her, his expression serious yet full of love. “I promise you, Lavinia, I will always protect you, always cherish you. You’re my heart, my soul, my everything.”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she looked up at him. “I love you, Peter.”
He leaned down and kissed her, slow and sweet, under the canopy of stars. And in that moment, Lavinia knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—as husband and wife, united in love for the rest of their lives.
“I want you, Peter,” Lavinia whispered. “We have waited so long—too long. If you do not kiss me now, I think I will burst.”
Peter looked her in the eyes, searching for a hint of hesitation or nervousness, but there was none. She was sure and willing.
Their wedding day had come and gone. After they finished bidding their guests adieu and thanking her parents for hosting the celebration, Peter had ushered her to the carriage and ordered the driver to make haste to Linfield Manor.
They could not stop touching one another during the ride over, but now that they were at home, in their bedchambers, Peter could not wait another moment to show his wife just how much he loved her.
“I want you, Lavinia,” he said as he pulled down her thin silk nightgown, revealing her breasts.
Soon, their lips found each other.
Lavinia moaned against his mouth, and the sound went straight to his length. His hands wandered over her skin, tracing her curves above the silk. He wanted to undress her, and he smiled as he remembered he could.
Quickly, he peeled the rest of her dress off, baring her gorgeous body. Her shape and skin were more visible under the candlelight. Peter was eager; he wanted her so badly.
“You are so beautiful, Lavinia,” he said, watching her eyes dart away as her cheeks turned red.
His length hardened as he gazed upon her. His hands cupped her breasts, feeling their weight. Her nipples pebbled as his palms rubbed against them.
“You’re mine,” he said as he lowered his head and planted a kiss on her collarbone. “My wife, my love, the only woman I have ever loved.”
He picked her up then and gently laid her on the bed. He looked her in the eyes as he took off his clothes. He watched her as her eyes widened at the sight of his member.
