by Amber Burns
Eva patted her shoulder.
“Oh dear, it is normal to have a few jitters. It’s a big commitment to make, spending forever with one man, but you are marrying a really nice one. Michel seems a good man, a really handsome one at any rate.”
She winked at Annabelle. Annabelle smiled and nodded.
“He is a good man, and I love him. I do love him. It’s just, standing here like this, it reminds me so strongly of being left by Malcolm. When he left me I never thought I’d wear a wedding dress again.” She took a deep breath again. “What if Michel decides to leave me? What will I do if that happens?”
With a measured tone Eva moved around to stand next to Annabelle and handed her the bouquet of white roses.
“Darling, I don’t know him, or you for that matter, particularly well, but I haven’t seen anything in you that would make me think he would leave. He loves you more than I think you know.”
“Thank you Eva, it means a lot to hear that from someone else,” Annabelle said softly, and wiped a stray tear from her eye.
Eva looked at the clock against the wall nearest the door and patted her.
“It’s time!” She said, excitement rising in her voice.
Annabelle freshened her lip gloss and brushed a few strands of hair into place, and then she followed Eva toward the door, toward the beginning of her life as Mrs. Deverroux.
As she walked out of the house and down the steps toward the lawn where they were saying their vows, she heard many people talking, and stopped in her tracks. She turned to look at Eva beside her.
“Why are there so many voices?” She asked, her eyes wide.
Eva smiled mischievously, “Go see for yourself young lady.”
Annabelle turned the corner and gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and dropping her bouquet to her side when she saw her mom’s friends, her colleagues with their partners, their neighbors, and her dad. Her eyes wandered to the top of the aisle of hay bales, and when she found Michel she smiled widely, and started walking toward him.
The Goldberg variations started playing in the background, and when she turned to the sound she saw her dad sitting at a piano. He hadn’t played since her mother had died, and that brought tears to her eyes. He nodded to her, gestured to the top of the aisle and Michel, and carried on playing. She walked toward him, tears running down her cheeks freely mingling with laughter on her lips. Michel reached for her hand when she got to him, and kissed her fingers.
“You look breath-taking Anna, beautiful,” he said softly, and then they turned to face the pastor.
He began to speak, and though the blood pounded in her ears, she listened carefully.
“We gather here today…”
After the ceremony, which seemed no more than a blur, the newly married couple jogged down the aisle while being pelted with flower petals. Their guests shouting their congratulations as they passed, and then ran to hide behind the barn. Michel gathered her in his arms and kissed her so hard she got goose bumps.
No sooner did she swoon in his arms than they heard a shutter click, and the photographer said, “Gorgeous, you two are gorgeous!”
He was a flamboyantly dressed man in his mid-thirties, and he now came walking up to them as Michel released Anna’s lips, still holding her pinned against the barn wall. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, and tulle flew around them both as she hid her face under his chin. The photographer kept snapping away, and from there, guided them away to finish taking photos.
Michel interrupted him an hour later to take Annabelle to the paddock farthest from the house, and watched her face as she caught sight of the two horses. She turned to him.
“Michel, what is this?” She asked softly, opening the gate and walking slowly toward the black stallion.
He followed her, and when she reached the large horse, standing taller than her by a head, he answered.
“It’s a wedding gift, he is yours, and she,” he said, pointing toward the grey who walked sedately toward them. “Is mine.”
Annabelle reached up and placed her hand on his soft velvety muzzle, laughing as he snorted into her palm, nudging her.
“He is a handsome boy,” she whispered, “So big.”
Michel placed his arms around her waist.
“Best you be careful, I might get jealous if you pay too much attention to him today.”
They left the paddock and made their way back to the barn, which now stood open, and again Annabelle found herself with tears on her cheeks.
“I am crying too much today, luckily it’s all happiness that seems to be leaking from my eyes.”
She giggled and walked in, looking around at the bunting, flowers, and then seeing the cake. Everybody started applauding, and then Ed Sheeran’s ‘Give me love’ started playing. Michel swept her onto a cleared space, spinning her into their first dance.
“Hey Mrs. Deverroux, I cannot wait to take you to bed tonight…” He whispered in her ear as he pulled her close.
She smiled, “Hmm, husband of mine, neither can I.”
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I eventually sat down after we had socialized with each group, greeting and mingling. We finally got to eat, picking up plates of the rich pie and salad, with chunks of crusty home-baked bread. I picked up my glass of wine, and looked at my new wife.
She was so beautiful today, glowing and smiling, her hair now wild about her face, loose curls down her back, falling all the way to her waist. My gaze fell to her middle for some reason, she had filled out a bit, and even her breasts were more full. A few flags went up in the back of my mind, we had been having unprotected sex for months now, and though she was on the pill, something nagged at me.
The day seemed to pass swiftly, and before we could blink, guests started standing up to leave. In a flurry of hugs, kisses and farewells, we were left alone. I wanted nothing more than some peace, and took Annabelle back to the house as the sun started to set over the horizon. To my astonishment the house was empty, and candles burned everywhere.
I poured us each a glass of champagne, and though we were mildly tipsy, we stood on the porch, sipping at the sparkling liquid. I slowly unbuttoned the back of Annabelle’s dress, and screened by the wall of the porch I let the dress fall to the floor, marveling at the weight of the fabric. She sighed in relief as the corset around her waist loosened, and we walked back into the house with the mass of white fabric trailing behind her.
In the bedroom I watched her clean her face, standing in front of the basin in her bare feet, stockings reaching up to the middle of her thighs, and white lace lingerie. Her body was ivory pale, milky and soft. Her full breasts peeked over the cups of her bra when she turned to face me as she brushed the knots from her hair, and I watched in awe as the satin waterfall of her hair cascaded over the soft curves.
“You are a sight to behold today,” I whispered, mesmerized by the soft rounding of her belly.
I ran my finger under the waistband of her lace briefs and pulled them away. There was not a hair in sight, and her skin was velvet beneath my hand. I looked over at our bed, covered in new white linen, with creamy flower petals strewn across the top, and gently pushed her in that direction. She giggled shyly as I lay her down and removed her panties, leaving the stockings and bra in place, it added to the air of innocence she seemed to wear so well.
I straightened once to take in the sight of my wife, spread out for me like a banquet, her hair a dark halo around her head and under her back, the candle light picking out the auburn highlights. Her firm breasts were encased in a sheer white lace bra, her knees bent, ivory-stockinged thighs, and between them, that wonderful, smooth sex. I must have licked my lips like a predator before its prey, because she looked nervous. I took off my jacket, lay it aside on a chair, and bent to kneel between her knees, pushing them apart.
She placed a foot over each of my shoulders, and pulled me closer with her legs, which I then pushed wider, revealing the delicate peach of her most intimate being. She m
ewled softly as I ran a finger up and down the lips, parting them to reveal her moisture coated clitoris and inner labia.
“So juicy for me baby,” I murmured, leaning closer to teasingly lick at the tender little pieces of flesh. She jumped under my tongue, bucking her hips.
“What do you want Anna?” I asked, peering at her over her mons.
I waited for the eye contact that would be so difficult for her to make in this intimate situation, she was still shy. She slowly looked down toward me, her blush a bright pink, extending to her chest.
“Touch me Michel, please,” she said softly, dropping her head back.
She arched her back as I lay a finger on her clit again, running it gently up and down, pressing down a little more with each stroke. She moaned, moving her hips, and I replaced my finger with my mouth, sucking on the now engorged and swollen clit. I tugged at her labia alternately, and felt moisture run down my fingers. I slid first one, then two fingers into her, and felt the muscles deep inside her clench around them. When I found the little spot of skin that was so distinctly different, the G-spot, I rubbed it in slow, small circles, continuing my sucking, licking, and adding a nibble or two on her clit. By now she was clutching at the sheets and her breathing was erratic.
I knew she was close to coming, and wanted it to be a very intense orgasm for her. I didn’t stop, or change what I was doing, I held on through the movement of her hips, and enjoyed the cries that stared issuing from her, the moans. When she came every muscle I think she has in her beautiful pussy contracted around my fingers. I continued stroking her. She cried to God, to me, and to a few saints I think, and then her orgasm filled my mouth.
When I raised my head, licking her one last time, she was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and flushed to a soft glowing pink. Her eyes closed, and her hair wild and plastered to the sides of her face.
I stood, removed the rest of my clothing, and climbed back onto the bed, and turned her on her side. I lay behind her, this was truly one of my favorite positions, I could reach her breasts, hold her, and it was intimate. Annabelle lifted a leg, bending it to lie partially on her stomach.
“Come Mich, take me for your pleasure now. I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered.
I slid into her with absolute ease, and reached around to cup her breast in my hand. She moved against me and changed angles so that all the friction was for my pleasure. I thrust slowly, lazily almost. There was no rush, no hurry, I had just married her and had the rest of my life to make love to her. We lay in that position, our movements languid and intensely pleasurable. I felt my own release imminent, and when I came, my arm held her tightly to me. I spilled myself deeply into her. As I moved a last few times she grasped my hand.
“Oh don’t stop.”
She moved a few times more, crying out again in her own second orgasm. We made a right mess of that beautiful white bed, and pulled off the white quilt before crawling under the covers to fall into a comatose sleep.
When I woke up the next morning Annabelle was not in bed, and I found her wrapped in a dressing gown on the porch outside the bedroom, simply sitting and staring out at the paddocks. I put my arms around her.
“Are you okay honey?”
She smiled up at me and nodded.
“Yes, I am perfectly happy, just haven’t made coffee, I was waiting for you to wake up so we could have coffee together.”
We went to our kitchen together and I brewed coffee while she sat at the table watching. I had taken to doing this, and she seemed to enjoy it. When I handed her a mug of coffee she took it and walked back to the porch, gesturing for me to follow her.
“Let’s go sit outside, it’s a beautiful morning. I really love it here,” she said, collapsing into the soft and deep couch.
She looked across at me as I joined her, she curled her legs up under her and leaned against me and let out a big sigh.
“Michel, how do you feel about kids?” She asked cautiously.
The quiet fear and hint of suspicion I had harbored looking at her physique the night before now sat prominently in my mind as I thought hard before answering her.
“Baby girl, I am terrified of trying to be a father. I don’t know if I can. I had no good example of one when I was growing up, what if I screw up? What if I mess up a child’s life? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself…”
I lost my train of thought, and I think she saw me stare at her midriff. She smiled ruefully.
“Do you ever think you’ll want to have kids?”
I nodded, “I think so, I just don’t know how to do it, the parenting thing.”
Then she dropped the bombshell I had known was coming.
“Michel, I think I’m pregnant. I have been sick for a few mornings and my period is late. I need to do a test but I am almost a hundred percent certain.”
I drank my coffee, holding the mug with one hand, and tightened my other arm around her.
“If you are, we will do this. We will be fine.”
I frowned, and she laughed, God, it sounded like I was trying to convince myself of that. We finished our coffee and both went inside to get dressed, our saddles being delivered today. Annabelle had to go and see to that test now that she had gotten my nerves on edge. I kissed her as she got in the car and watched her drive off toward Beaumont.
***************************
As she picked up the pregnancy test in the pharmacy Annabelle’s heart started thundering in her head. She seriously doubted she actually wanted to know the result after Michel’s reaction that morning. Nevertheless, it was a thing that had to be done. She paid while the cashier looked at her sympathetically, walked out, and got back into her car. She took a deep breath and drove home.
At the house Annabelle was very relieved to find Michel not inside and the wedding guests gone. Eva and Art were still around, but not at the moment. She locked herself in her bathroom and took out the plastic stick. She sighed when she sat down, wondering why one could never pee when you most needed to.
It eventually happened, and as the water tinkled over the strip of absorbent material, she quietly prayed, for Michel to have a positive reaction to whatever the result might be. She placed the test on the side of the basin, stood and pulled up her jeans. The bathroom was big enough to pace in, and that is exactly what she did for three minutes.
Annabelle eventually picked up the innocent looking piece of plastic, and pinched her eyes shut while she held her breath murmuring.
“Please God, please…”
Then she looked down at it, and immediately wished she hadn’t. A bright pink plus sign glared up at her. She slid down the wall she had been standing against and sat down on the cold tiles with her head in her hands.
“Oh no.”
The tears flowed freely, and sobs wracked her body, so hard that she could not control them. Annabelle cried so hard she had to crawl to the toilet bowl to throw up.
Still over the toilet is where Michel found her when he came back into the house. She’d opened the door to him when he knocked at it probably twenty minutes after she had gone in originally. When he saw her face he turned pale.
“What’s wrong baby?” He asked, the concern palpable in his tone and facial expression.
She backed toward the basin and leaned there with her arms crossed, pointing toward the blue stick on the basin, and then covering her mouth with a hand. Tear tracks still marking her cheeks, her face a pale shade of green. She watched his face anxiously as he picked it up, and when he simply put it back down, turned to her and pulled her into his arms, she burst into a fresh round of tears.
They left the bathroom and he led her to the kitchen table, where they sat down on the stools, although Michel stood up after only a moment, running his hand through his messy hair and pacing the kitchen.
“Will you excuse me to go for a walk for a moment love? I have a few things I need to just get clear in my head, and I think some fresh air will help.”
She nodded.
“That’s fine, I’m going to make some tea, I feel a bit sick to my stomach myself.”
She wanted to be alone for a while anyway. She watched forlornly as Michel stumbled from the kitchen and out through the door, looking equally as lost as she felt, before sinking her head down onto her arms.
17
I had the weight of the world on my shoulders as I pushed open the door to walk out of the house, and I strode straight out to the farthest paddock, looking to go to the horses. I bypassed the barn and picked up a bucket of brushes to pay some attention to them. When I lifted the catch of the gate, they both came lumbering over toward me, the muscles moving under their glistening coats. I saw tangles in her mane, and set the bucket down, reaching for the Grey girl’s nose.
