*credit to Julia Quinn*
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She was a wife now, with a wife's responsibilities..."
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Grosvenor Square, 1813
From the moment she returned to the ballroom, she had avoided Anthony's gaze. To say he was frightened was a understatement. He had quickly made his way to her, despite all the people who tried to interrupt his mission, grabbing her hand in his as she continued to speak to Sloan and Oliver, who could sense the tension.
Nola knew. She knew she was the luckiest woman in the world to be the center of Anthony's attention during specific moments in time, but that did not hold back her fear. What if he were to think of another while he was with her? What if he were to think of Sienna?
Before she could begin to panic, Simon came to inform her that their coach was waiting for the pair in the front of the house. Anthony giving Simon a quick handshake, as the two exited the front door, followed by their families. Bidding farewell to the Bridgerton's, and her own family, Nola entered the carriage, with the help of her husband.
Although only traveling away to Anthony's private homestead in the town, what was his bachelor lodgings, the trip seemed to be agonizingly slow.
Anthony watched every movement she made, a look of seriousness on his face. "My dear..."
She cut him off, "do you plan to move into the Bridgerton house now that you are married?" His eyes widened in shock, feeling the coldness of the air, and especially surprised at her outburst.
"Uh, I- yes. Although, I'd like to have some... private time with you before we are to move, if you wouldn't mind?"
"Of course, my lord." Her gaze moved to her lap, which her hand occupied. Anthony was saddened, knowing her energy had shifted. He could feel the uncertainty radiating off of her. Her hands were practically shaking, and he could feel her leg bouncing the coach.
He reached over, taking her hand in his, but that seemed to only terrorize her more, "my love... are you scared of me?" She could not find the words to answer. Of course she was not scared of him, but of what was to happen. She answered with a short no. "Then what is there to fear?" He seemed ignorant, asking such a question.
"There is only so much to fear, Anthony?"
His eyes narrowed, "surely, I do not know what you mean, my dear wife." Her heart merely stopped beating momentarily. Hearing him call her that for the first time awoken a brand new feeling. "Your heart is pounding..."
"What else would you expect from me, my lord?" She released a deep sigh before mumbling, "I believe we shall wait..."
"For what?"
She pulled her hand out of his grasp. Was she really to risk his anger on a day as special as today? Would she allow her own insecurities of things she was not aware of interfere with her union? She didn't know. "For... our marriage."
Anthony huffed, "well, it may be late for that, Nola. You are my wife."
"For the wedding night, my lord." She stammered, moving closer to the window, and breaking their gaze.
His brows flattened, and his mouth gaped open. "No," he said, simply.
She knew he wouldn't understand.
"I only ask for time, Anthony."
"What will you gain with time? What do you expect to change?" His face showed confusion.
"I don't know..." she sighed, feeling his hand make his way to her chin, forcing her to look to him.
"You have to do better than that, Nola." She didn't want to look at him now. He spoke only of anger, while she spoke only of desperation. She tried to stare to his shoulder, or the seat, but she felt almost drawn to his dark, stern eyes.
"I would simply like to prepare." She pulled away from him, feeling a sense of longing for his past touch. She began to anxiously twiddle her thumbs, waiting for a response.
Anthony simply leaned back, never breaking his stare on her. "Very well..." he sighed, but allowed.
"Really?" She straightened her posture, looking to him, once again.
"Certainly, but you must amuse me on one point..."
"My lord?"
"How do you wish to... prepare?" Her eyes widened. How would she know? She simply needed time.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my lord."
He chuckled in response, "oh, I'm sure you do not, either..."
She knew he was messing with her, merely making a joke on her naivety, which she truly did not appreciate. " you laugh at me... you're simply having fun with my emotions..."
"I'd like to have fun with something, dear, and it wouldn't be your emotions." He bit his lip, peering up and down her figure.
"I wish you would not address me that way, or speak of it in that matter, Anthony. You know I do not understand you."
His eyes focused on her beautiful lips, wetting his own. "You would..." he mumbled, "if you simply gave into the inevitable and forgot your request."
"I don't appreciate the condescending tone..." she sighed, him quickly reaching across and gripping her wrist.
"And I don't appreciate being denied my right." She huffed, pulling away from him. His voice now cold and stern. She hated to say it, but it made her almost... amused.
"Your rights? I am not denying you anything." She joked, looking into his eyes.
He took a deep breathe, knowing she was not playing him like a game. "Then what would you call it?"
She knew she was acting childish, but what could she do? She was a slave to her own insecurities, which never seemed to leave her mind. She wanted him to long for her. To only look at her, but who was she to beg for that? She was only a woman.
"I see you have no response," Anthony continued. The carriage came to a quick halt, but Anthony denied the coachmen of opening the door. "How?"
"I don't understand, my lord..."
"How do you plan to prepare for your wedding night?" After a brief moment of silence, he knew he cracked her. "I thought not..." he released the door handle, allowing the coachmen to open it.
Once out of the coach, Anthony lead her inside. It was extravagant. Surely, not as grand as the Bridgerton house, but it was quite homely. He lead her threw the halls of the lodging, finally bracing the large set of stairs, and this is where she began to panic. Her breathing seeming to stop, momentarily.
She knew not of what she feared so much. What she feared...
Stepping up the stairs,
What she feared...
She panicked, feeling her throat closing up, her small hands enclosing to create fists. The pain becoming more unbearable as the urge to hurl became greater.
"Nola!" Anthony shouted, seeing she had halted half way up the stairs, "my god..." he panicked. "You're... terrified."
"Anthony..."
"Do not lie to me," he sighed, gripping her shoulders, he forced her to look at him, staring deep into her eyes. He began to release a strand of profanities, shouting about their need of privacy, before pulling her up the stairs, and to his bedroom.
His room reeked of masculinity, with his tone being burgundy and gold. Colors quite appropriate to connect to the Viscount.
Allowing his wife to sit on the armchair, he placed his hands on his hips, "didn't your mother... inform you of- of er..."
"Of course... Violet explained as much as she could..." his eyes widened. Kneeling in front of the girl, who slowly began to calm down.
"My mother...?"
"Mine refused, Anthony."
"Then what the hell is happening?" He cursed again, standing up from his kneeling, quickly apologizing at his own lack of empathy. "That's not that way to set you at ease..."
"I can not say..." she whispered.
"Nola..." he showed nothing, but fear for the girl. "Did a man... has anyone ever forced you..."
She made a vow never to tell him. And she would obey said vow. "No!" She cried out. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I can't bear it..."
"I can't bear it..." Anthony retaliated. He stalked towards her, once again. Taking her hand, and pressing it against his lips. "You must tell me..." his voice oddly choked. "Do you fear me? Do I repulse you?"
Nola's head quickly gave a no, unable to believe that he could think any woman would find him repulsive.
"Tell me..." he begged, his lips pressed against her ear. His breathing became heavier. "Tell me how to make it right. For I don't think I can grant for reprieve," he molded his body against hers, his strong arms holding her against him, "I can't wait, Nola. I simply cannot do it."
"I..." Nola mistakenly looked into her husbands eyes, losing her complete train of thought. He stared at her with burning intensity, with bits of passion. It forged a fire in the center of her being, leaving her completely breathless and desperate for something she did not understand.
She knew she could not make him wait, and if she was completely honest with herself... she did not think she could bring herself to wait, either.
When he laid her in his arms and pressed his lips to her skin, she whispered, "Anthony..." as a plea.
"Anything..." he replied, dropping to his knees before her, trailing his lips along her skin as his fingers frantically worked to release her from her gown. "Ask me anything," he groaned. "Anything in my power, I give it to you."
Nola felt her head fall back, feeling the last of her resistance fading away. "Just love me..."
His only answer was a low growl of need.
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Restating! This scene is from "The Viscount Who Loved Me" simply restated. All credit to Julia Quinn!