Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE

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Updated 5-25-08


So – I now have my lovely lurkers (you know who you are), my Delightful DE-lurkers (thank you for adding to the comments), and last but not least, my Ravishing, Regular Reviewers. Quite a distinguished company, yes?

Some replies:

Sisterae – Well, part of your vision is true. There is a trip. Sometimes I think Lucius functions best with the blood pooling there [grin].

Meankitty69 – Now you can see if you were correct. Let me know.

Sheherazade – I should take a poll on how many readers knew the term ‘bluestocking’. I think you and your mum are exceptions (unless one is a Regency romance reader, then all bets are off).

Rini – I suspect Lucius doesn’t have much faith in Hermione’s sartorial taste. Kudos to you for noting the geographic differences and the Veil.


Utopia – I see from a review you left elsewhere that the pancake fiasco in “Prisoners of Love” bothered you because you know pancakes aren’t a British phenomenon. I apologize. The food was so embedded by the time I found out it was wrong I couldn’t change it. In atonement I have now put up a warning on the chapter “Kiss the Cook” to head off any more upsets. It’s one of those things that slide by an author when the country one writes about isn’t theirs. Others pointed it out to me after the chapter went up. But now I have a big warning, too. Ironically, I checked to see if Brits have toasters in their kitchens, but the pancakes flew right by me.

I don’t have a true schedule for BtV updates so I hope your withdrawal is manageable. Nothing serious at this end.

Actually I think Hermione wanted the colored knickers. She just invoked Lucius’ name to get what she wanted for herself. Not that Lucius will object, I’m sure. And you are now a ravishing regular reviewer!

Tenar10r – Yup, neither Hermione nor Lucius thought ahead on the modern knickers.

DistinctlyME – Ah. You’ve moved from Lovely Lurker to Delightful DE-lurker. Thank you for taking the time to write. Much appreciated!

Heidi191976 – Here’s more - enjoy!

Citten – Aw, please don’t kill me. Then there wouldn’t be any more story. Here’s a new chapter so I don’t get murdered. Okay?

Coraline – Your reviews are just so sweet. I am so happy you like the stories.

Alchemist – You’ve made me smile. I hope you like the rest.

Pittwitch – I tried to find out why smelling salts were part of a female’s collection of reticule (purse) items. All I can say is women of the time fainted with tedious regularity, possibly for real, likely for effect to show their delicate sensibilities around males. The smelling salts allowed them to ‘come around’ promptly. It was probably uncomfortable maintaining a fainting position for too long. Otherwise, I couldn’t find an answer. Does my cynicism show?

Maddie50 – Their differing attitudes are about to find a commonality. It’s about time, too. Lucius knows a good seduction begins with romance, however calculated.

Angelprince – Hey, no problem. You’re welcome for the cliffie. Don’t mention it. I do think Hermione will be doing better soon.

Scary Bear Hair – I want you to have lemon pie, I really do. But it must be served at just the right time and temperature to taste its best. Will this chapter do in the meantime? Boy, several interested readers wonder about those slitted pantalettes. It was a true historical item, but I have no info on all the uses that slit served. Seems drafty to me. Gretna Green! Spectacular idea. I wish I’d thought of it.

Pumkin – Thank you. Wait no more. Hope you like it.

Stormflora – Oooh, another Delightful DE-lurker. Yes! I love the historical words, too. Lucius jabbers away sometimes and I can’t get him to shut up. He and Hermione go at it all the time. So I write it down and post it. Shy they’re not.

Helensgirl – You almost didn’t continue reading from which comment? I’m confused. I’m so glad you didn’t punish yourself. And when the lemons arrive, you’ll have plenty to pucker up with.

Tambrathegreat – Lucius can be very patient when he is angling to get something he wants. And he wants Hermione. I think it may be a case of be careful what you wish for (heh heh).

Josie – Thank you. Very much appreciated. I’m glad you like the details. I want to paint enough picture for the reader to visualize without going into minutiae.

Doodle – ‘Bluestocking’. It IS a great word. Gretna Green is a wonderful guess and I wish I’d thought of it. Oh well…

Blue Artemis – Hermione’s an original, all right. I think I also would be a permanent fixture in the Malfoy library during the day. (ahem) Elsewhere at night.

Jw – Another interesting idea for where Lucius could take Hermione. I’m not certain Hermione would appreciate it. Time travelly stuff? Give it time. 8-)


And now...

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Chapter Twenty


More than Partners


Hermione held tightly to Lucius’ hand as the familiar disjointed sensation swept over her. When she arrived she looked up at the man beside her and then peered around curiously, recognizing with a jolt the extremely odd place Lucius had brought them. Why on earth?

“Lucius -” Hermione blurted.

“Shhh. This way,” Lucius dragged on Hermione’s hand pulling her up the aisle from a shadowy side alcove to a door set in the back wall. He knocked once and was invited to enter.

A man rose from an overflowing desk of papers and books to smile at Lucius. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I see you’re ready. Is this the young lady?”

“Lucius, what is this all about? This is a Mug…um, a church.” She eyed the elderly man in the cassock with deep misgivings and her heart gave an erratic flurry of beats in her chest, but she managed to say quietly, “Reverend, please excuse us for a minute, could you?”

Lucius allowed her to pull him back through the door, closing it and backing into the main nave a few steps. “Why are we in a church? Have you lost your mind?”

“Hermione,” Lucius looked both serious and amused at the same time as he led her over to a quiet darkened corner by the end of some pews. “You will never let me near you as we are now. You know it and I know it. You’ve been fooling yourself and unconsciously teasing me. I had hoped you could allow us to be intimate, but I know it’s not going to happen unless we’re married. So I’m marrying you. The entire wizarding world thinks we’re married already, anyway. Why not make it true?”

“But you don’t love me.” Hermione sat abruptly on the polished pew, hunching her shoulders and looking down at her hands clasped tightly together. Did she want to marry him? In her secret heart of hearts, she had always wanted to be married, to have a family and a husband and a home life. But did she want that with him? This was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater Extraordinaire and a vicious political foe, and worse, she had a rather horrible history with him. Horrible, yes, she mused, but it was only history now and had been for twelve years. In this new life of theirs, he’d saved her life and protected her and provided for her for very little return. Could she look past all their old history to see him as a husband now? Had she already? A shiver feathered over her skin raising goose bumps at the idea of Lucius as really hers. Married.

And what were his expectations for her as a wife? Hermione blushed as she understood at least one duty he would expect. It sounded like that was the main reason he was willing to marry her, but why should he when he had a whole cathouse full of women at his beck and call?

Lucius sat down beside the little witch, “Did you expect that if we’re here for life, you were going to someday find a wizard to marry who wouldn’t look beyond your shadowy past? Who wouldn’t want to know why you say you are available when everyone thinks you’re a married woman? Or did you hope to rejoin the Muggle world?

“I had nothing to do with the presentation of the two of us to this wizarding world as a married couple, Hermione. You know that. I don’t understand why the Veil or whoever it is tied us together as mates, but I’m not unhappy about it. I’ve been married before. I prefer being married if the truth were told.”

“Did you love Narcissa?” Hermione asked the blond wizard. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be an eternal second best to another witch who had been very beautiful and with whom she felt she couldn’t compete.

“Of course I loved her, she was my wife.” Lucius thought the question stupid.

“Oh. You were soulmates then,” she whispered. “I have always wondered what it would be like to be loved by someone like that.”

“Are you daft? Narcissa was an excellent wife. She was dutiful, kept our home wonderfully, followed my lead in social, financial, and political matters and she bore my heir, but why would you assume we were soulmates? That’s for children's fairytales, not for real life. We were promised to each other by our parents as soon as she was born. I didn’t have a say in that marriage, but it worked out well for both of us. We grew to love each other well enough, I think. But Hermione, that marriage is long over. I don’t especially think kindly of her for ditching me, but she’s just not important to me any more. I want you to think about the possibility of us, not me and a woman who won’t be born for another two hundred years.”

“You don’t want me. I’m not beautiful, or stately, or tall, or elegant. And I’m definitely not a Pureblood.” Hermione studied her hands as though the answer to her dilemma would be found in her twisting fingers, stretching her poor gloves into shapelessness.

“You can’t have it all ways, Hermione.” Lucius put one of his gloved hands over Hermione’s nervous hand-wringing to still them and to soothe her anxiety. “You poke at me for being snobby about my heritage of being Pureblood and then refuse me for wanting to marry you by saying you aren’t Pureblood? It’s not like you to be so inconsistent. You can’t vilify me for wanting to keep my bloodline pure and then turn around and reject me for the same reason. Make up your mind. I don’t care a horklump’s bristly arse about my bloodline any more. Not when it nearly cost my family their lives. Although I’d like to point out that in the end I was right. Muggles cost the magic folk our entire world.

“So then, what were your other objections?” Lucius repeated her list, “You said beautiful, stately, tall, and elegant, right? As for beauty, it is always in the eye of the beholder, therefore, you can’t tell me if I think you are beautiful or not. Only I can decide what or who I think is beautiful. I’m completely confused about stately. How the hell does that have anything to do with a relationship? It sounds more like my mansion or some windbag from the Ministry.”

Lucius went on, inexorably demolishing Hermione’s objections, one by one. “I admit I’m somewhat rigidly hampered by traditional notions of my personal sartorial preferences and will probably always dress somewhat formally,” Lucius twisted his lips at his quirk, “but your very lack of affectation in both manner and dress I find delightful and fresh. Freeing even. I don’t need cold elegance in a spouse. Not again,” he muttered under his breath, relaxing Hermione’s concerns some more. “And tall – well, you have me there. Or you would if I preferred tall women, which I do not. I’ve always liked a petite woman. Call me a caveman, but the small size of a female brings out the predatory male in me and increases my sex drive.”

Lucius wasn’t lying – she attracted him almost cruelly. She wasn’t tall or stately and definitely not elegant with her small size, curvy shape, and wild curls. But her very enthusiasm had a purity, a glow of vitality and color that Lucius found extraordinarily alluring after the four gray stone walls of his cell. At one time, in prison, he’d even whimsically thought he might become colorblind from the very monotone of his dreary chamber. Smiling a bit, Lucius kept hammering away at the little witch’s concerns.

“I was married for a lot of years,” he said. “I liked being married. It was very painful to me being abandoned in prison by my wife.” Lucius turned toward Hermione on the wooden pew and lifted her chin to meet his serene eyes with her anxious ones. “If you are worried that I’m going to cling to you in a death grip of neediness, you may put aside your fear. I don’t want to jump into another potentially painful relationship either. I just know we’re a pair – unique in this reality we inhabit and somehow indivisible as a unit. Truth to tell, I’ve been feeling odd about bedding you as a lover, just as you have.” He smiled wickedly, “I’ve merely been fighting the compulsion better than you."

Lucius explained the epiphany he had arrived at in the ice cream parlor to the little witch, “You were so wounded by the others that you closed up shop on your social and sexual life. Now you need some guarantee this time that I’ll stick around. I understand that. Remember, I had someone abandon me, too. I hope this Muggle ceremony will give you that guarantee. It will be legal and binding with the special license I bought.”

Lucius saw Hermione frown at the uncomfortable truth of her behavior, but he went on, “I think you were trying to see me as some sort of sexual automaton - someone who could provide for your physical needs then stay out of your life, but you can’t do it. It’s just not possible for you. It’s also not fair to me and I think that’s part of why you can’t do it. Our future is together, kitten. I know it and you know it. So - shall we get married now?”

Hermione didn’t trust men sexually, especially Purebloods after being dumped by Ron and then preyed upon by Roger at a very vulnerable age, but she was tired of always hiding in her sterile cocoon. Lucius was offering her her heart’s desire. She listened, lured by his persuasive silver tongue as he demolished her fears and replaced them with longings. She knew she was being steamrolled into acceding to his desires, but were they hers, too?

In the Muggle world he would have been just as sly and successful as he was in the wizarding world – the crafty blond was so smooth-talking he could probably sell Viagra at the Vatican. Hermione sat up straight – suddenly she didn’t care that Lucius was presenting his case in the manner most likely to appeal to her. It was time to find the courage that had been such a natural part of her younger self. Lucius was a former Death Eater but she had beaten him once before. If they ever became adversaries again, she wasn’t afraid of him.

She could take what he was offering now, accepting his greater role in her life as a husband while keeping herself safe from any deeper emotion that might cause her pain. He didn’t want that from her anyway. He’d as much as said so. Her world had shrunk to him and she didn’t want to lose him. For her that was the bottom line.

She liked him well enough, she knew all his dirty secrets, and she had a solid idea of the depth of his morals and integrity – basically as deep as a puddle after rain, even though he was trying to float his new leaf in that puddle. Well, good luck to him. Hermione thought that alone might be amusing to watch – Lucius attempting to be honorable and considerate. A tiny smile edged the corner of her mouth. To add spice, he was gorgeous - all over. Taken all together it was enough. Her mind instantly settled into peace, calming her. This was finally right. She took a deep breath and stood up, “Let’s get married.”

A soft smile lit his handsome features making the rest of her doubts about joining her life to his fade like smoke in a breeze. Lucius stood up and possessed himself of Hermione’s hand, kissing it and saying, “I live to serve you, my own.”

Her reservations had been relegated to the ‘c’est la vie’ category as she felt the warmth of his leather-clad hand enfolding hers, but his dramatic avowal brought a bit of sanity sliding back. She straightened her spine and cocked one eyebrow in patent disbelief, “Well, I hardly think that will ever be true, Lucius, but it’s a lovely, sentimental fiction.”

“It is, isn’t it?” his smile widened to a grin and he laughed. “We’ll have a good life, kitten. I think we’re more compatible than we’ve even discovered. However, you do understand that this is not a marriage of convenience, I hope. I expect full access to your bed at all times. Even in broad daylight.” His lips quirked as he poked gentle fun at the prim limitations of his new fiancée, soon to be his wife. He was confident that those limits wouldn’t last long with him as her husband, even if her sudden uptight stance and uncertain expression at his bald sexual caveat looked more like she was preparing to be burnt at the stake than get married to him.

Lucius removed his hat and untied the ribbons of Hermione’s bonnet, lifting it from her head and putting all the headgear on the seat of the pew. His petite wife-to-be wouldn’t know what hit her once he had her between the sheets. She was nearly unawakened as far as he could determine. That’s what she got for expecting good sex from a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw; neither house was known for plumbing the depths of the erotic arts, being either too brash and hurried or too analytical and detached. The Slytherins were the acknowledged leaders in the realm of the purely physical, tuned in as they always were to any nuance of advantage to themselves including an aroused partner, but even the Hufflepuffs were better lovers than her two dismal choices, just because they always cared about others.

He already knew she was a sucker for kissing. His plan of carnal attack was going to focus on those ‘bosoms’ of hers next. Lucius smothered a chuckle. He loved that starchy word.

Hermione decided not to worry about the marital bed and shyly nestled her small hand farther into the larger one of her husband-to-be. Her husband. It was her dream come true, to be married. It was ten years later than she had thought it would be, but this time she really would be a wife. Perhaps it was a cosmic joke that the man she was marrying wouldn’t have even rated last place on her list ten years ago, but she no longer cared.

Sexual experience was another mismatch; she knew hers was miniscule at best next to his, but she wanted to explore that mysterious world of sensation she’d felt so briefly in the brothel with him and again when she had tied him to the bed. She would accept his attentions, but at her pace, not his. If she were honest with herself, she was very curious about what types of erotic experience he had to offer that she was ignorant of. Her breath caught at the sudden clenching of her privates in anticipation.

Hermione looked up at the handsome, blond wizard wondering why the rash decision to marry him was beginning to feel so peaceful and right. An alarming thought flitted across her mind – was this all being orchestrated by the Veil, too? Oh Gods, what if neither of them truly wanted this, but they were being maneuvered into the intimacy from an outside force? Hermione opened her mouth to backtrack on her previous assent, but before she could get any words out, Lucius leaned down and covered her mouth with his.

Lucius had seen the resurgence of indecision and mental flight from their nuptials going on in Hermione’s fertile brain from her suddenly fretful expression and he did the first thing he could think of to sidetrack her. He gathered his petite witch into his arms and set about seducing her with every bit of expertise that he could bring to his command while fully clothed. He had to remember he was in a Muggle church and they likely had some strict ideas about carnal relations in their religious building. He didn’t want to alienate the cleric. The pews looked unpleasantly hard and narrow anyway. Did Muggle religion have an element of sadomasochism?

His arms closed around Hermione’s shoulders pulling her tightly up against his much taller frame before sending his palms skimming down her back on a quest to her dainty, rounded rump, lifting her urgently into his lengthening erection as he began a soft kneading action on the twin globes of her rear. He skimmed his thumbs along the divide between the cheeks of her buttocks, then quested further down under her rump toward his favorite region and felt her gasp against his lips. He took instant advantage, giving an artistic moan that was only half deliberate as his tongue slid silkily into her warm, open mouth, between her teeth and over her dithering tongue, startling her even more.

Lucius changed angles, resettling his lips over Hermione’s and further igniting a fearful, wondering feeling in the pit of her stomach; she could feel his male reaction low on her belly as he pressed her against him.

Hermione shakily lifted one hand up to Lucius’ bent head and trailed her fingers downward through his soft, pale hair before clutching a handful as she anchored her palm at his nape. She was awash in that same sensation that had visited her in the brothel when Lucius had commanded her to his will with his tongue and hands just before he fought to save her from that pestilential place.

His oral expertise was having a shocking effect on her ability to think. She knew she should be…uh…uh, what was it? She…she should…oh, Gods that man knew how to kiss. She was pretty sure he now knew she had three fillings in her back molars and she was hoping he’d discover she had had her tonsils out.

Lucius was starting believe his own press as he nearly went down for the third time, immersed in the warm wet cave of her mouth. He was busy berating himself for forgetting that he was a sucker for good kissing too, when he heard a noise and quickly disengaged their lips, setting her up and away from him just as the pastor’s door creaked open.

“Mr. Malfoy?” called the old cleric. “Are you there?” He tried to peer into the gloom of the church for his odd parishioner. The tall man had arrived on his doorstep that afternoon with an expensive special license and lavishly contributed to the church coffers with only a request that the pastor hold himself ready to officiate at a small wedding that night. If the man didn’t return by midnight, the money remained with the church and the cleric could go to bed. It was now nearly nine and the couple had disappeared again after making a brief appearance at his door. The few minutes the young woman had requested had turned into half an hour and the cleric just wanted to know if he would be needed or not.

“Well?” whispered Lucius.

Hermione took his hand and led her wizard out from the shadows toward the rector. “We’re ready now, Reverend. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she smiled at the old man. “My fiancé was a little precipitous with the speed of the wedding and I had a couple of questions, which he has answered to my satisfaction. Where would you like to perform the ceremony?”

The old man blinked at the slight young woman leading the tall, attractive man by his hand, then smiled in relief. It seemed those two were comfortable with each other and didn’t have the lord and master/helpless maiden syndrome he’d found was so often fraught with subsequent marital problems over his many years of shepherding his flock. He could marry this admittedly odd couple with a clear conscience and cease worrying about the circumstances.

“Let me call my housekeeper and the curate and we can have the wedding right here at the altar. Sit for now, while I just go behind the church to the rectory and get them.” The old man trundled off with a step more spry than Hermione would have thought for a man of his years. Within minutes he’d returned and with him was another younger man of the cloth and a prim, well-padded, middle-aged woman in the process of taking off her apron.

“If you would all stand in front of the altar,” the cleric waved his hand vaguely. Settling the housekeeper and curate on either side of the happy couple, he opened his small Book of Common Prayer and began the traditional Muggle service.

At the place where the cleric called for the rings, Hermione surfaced from her captivated daze to say, “Oh! We don’t -”

She was summarily cut off by her groom who said in a distinct voice, covering hers, “I have them right here.” And he withdrew two shiny golden rings from his waistcoat pocket and handed them to the cleric who blessed them. Lucius’ epiphany at the ices parlor that Hermione needed to be married for them to be lovers had luckily given him time. He had put three more errands on his list – a church ceremony, a special license, and rings.

Hermione was dumbfounded. How could Lucius have rings? A tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows as the significance of his preparation sank in. “Lucius!” she whispered in a sibilant aside, gazing up at the wily wizard she was marrying.

“Not now, Hermione. Later.” Lucius felt Hermione’s hand in his squeeze his fingers together, but as a punishment to him it was about as fierce as a gnat doing pushups. Lucius primmed up his mouth to keep from grinning. He knew he was going to pay for his obvious pre-planning later, but he wanted her to have the rings during the ceremony and not afterward.

Hermione goggled at the piece of jewelry when Lucius slid her ring on her finger at the cleric’s direction. It was made of gold, but that was where tradition and her ring parted ways. The band was woven of myriad tiny strands of gold wire in a random pattern all the way around the band and in the center the tiny wires cradled a large, single oval diamond that she could swear she could see her whole face reflected in.

“Oh, Lucius,” she gasped, “How did you -” With tears in her eyes, she looked up at the enticing man who so often deserved his Slytherin reputation for being sly and scheming, but this time she couldn’t fault him for doing it on her behalf. “It’s so beautiful, Lucius. Thank you.” Hermione’s hand squeezed his again – this time in gratitude and pleasure. She looked back down at the sparkling jewelry, mesmerized by the jewel and band adorning her finger.

“You’re quite welcome, kitten. This finally feels right. It does to me and I think for you, too. Shall you give me my ring now?” Lucius motioned toward the cleric where one more ring was sitting on the yellowed pages of the oft-used prayer book.

“Oh! Oh, of course.” Hermione took the ring, which was a larger replica of her own without the diamond and shyly lifted Lucius’ hand, placing the ring on his finger when the cleric said that part of the ceremony.

After that, there was only one hitch - when Hermione heard the word ‘obey’ she merely changed the word to ‘cherish’ without missing a beat. Except for the outraged gasp of the housekeeper, all she got was a bland look of indifference from Lucius, which made the cleric chuckle and he ended the service saying, “You may kiss the bride.”

Lucius planted a very circumspect kiss on Hermione’s cheek, thanked the cleric and said they must be going soon. He heard a muttered “Well, I never in all my born days…cherish, indeed!” from the housekeeper who was waddling back through to the rectory reaffixing her apron, but the blond wizard wasn’t concerned about the opinion of someone he would never see again. Ten minutes of paperwork later, he bowed formally to the cleric and the curate and before she was even finished curtsying, he swept Hermione before him down the main aisle of the church, grabbing up their hats on the way as he led them out the doors to the street. That gave the cleric another chuckle as he thought (quite correctly) that Lucius was eager for the marriage bed.

“And now I propose we find our dinner,” said the new bridegroom. "It seems somehow with you I never manage to get a full evening meal. I’m starved.” He handed Hermione her bonnet and clapped his hat on his pale hair.

“We both had gargantuan breakfasts, but I admit I’m now hungry again, too.” Hermione wanted to eat, but it was also a convenient stalling tactic, adding some additional time before she would be called upon to fulfill her wifely duties. She hastily tied the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin then held her left hand out, admiring her new ring as well as she could in the moonlight, turning it one way, then another, not paying much attention to where Lucius was leading her.

Lucius wondered when Hermione would notice that the designs of their rings were a multitude of the Slytherin symbol of serpents. It actually made a very lovely design, but he wasn’t sure Hermione was going to see it that way. No matter. She was his wife now and her new family was Slytherin to the bone. Especially her husband.

“Um, Lucius?”

“Yes?” Lucius continued to pull her along the quiet street.

“Are…” she peered closely at her ring, “are those snakes on my ring?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her new husband.

“You’re a Malfoy now. That’s the symbol of my house. Don’t you like it?” Lucius stopped and faced his wife, an eyebrow of his own raised.

Hermione sighed. She had known all along who she was marrying. A Slytherin to the soles of his new hessians. Oh, what difference did it make? The ring really was beautiful. Hermione smiled, “I love it, Lucius. And I love that you were so thoughtful.”

Lucius merely smiled, gave her a peck on her cheek and turned to continue his determined search for a dark alley so they could disapparate.

As it turned out, Hermione never did discover where the church was where she got married and she never asked. It was enough for her that Lucius had given her the ceremony – she knew that a Muggle wedding was legal in the wizarding world and she couldn’t have one there because everyone thought they were married already.

Hermione hugged her new status to herself. Married - to Lucius Malfoy of all people. Lucius had been truly munificent in his gift of marriage. He hadn’t had to do it and it decided Hermione on her future – it was definitely with him. Moreover, she was decidedly interested in sharing a bed with Lucius and now it felt more exciting than disturbing.

Her previous thought, that their actions were being controlled by that massive Veil, bounced back into her head. What if that were true and neither of them would have chosen the other left to their own devices? Just then a whiff of Lucius’ lime and male scent drifted over her and she relaxed. Too late now to worry about that. She had a wedding night to get through without embarrassing herself as a complete ninny.

tbc...

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Here is a pic of Lucius as he might have appeared in the church dressed in his finery.

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b133/dioli/L110.jpg

And Hessians are tall boots. The fancier ones had tassels swinging from their tops as in the picture. They were high fashion for wealthy men.

http://www.blakeneymanor.com/images/fashion/efman1.jpg


I do love your reviews. I hope you liked this chapter.
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