The weeks end saw Annabelle in her quarters pacing about in a silent fit of nerves.  Her head all but spun on her shoulders partly due to the abundance of information she'd been required to remember in such short a time. But, Annabelle pensively debated, required was perhaps too bold of a word as Nathaniel demanded nothing of her, except her rest and continuous confessions of love to which she freely gave with accompanying affections. Oh yes and could she possibly forget the meals that were prepared and delivered to her bedside, whether she rang for them or not?  Suspiciously enough, Nathaniel also seemed to appear when such meals were presented, watching over her and encouraging one bite after the other, leading Annabelle to feel as though she were being fatted up for Christmas supper.

She smiled. No, his acts were not at all the cause of her distress, her fluttering nerves being the result of her own silent expectation in becoming the next Lady Hamilton. The mere thought alone rattled her nerves incessantly, the endless uncertainties encroaching on her otherwise happiness.

But if there was no cause for her anxieties other than those self-inflicted, why then did she ring for Nathaniel to come to her chamber mere minutes before she was to descend to the library, stand before the minister and join him in holy matrimony?

Matrimony. The sheer thought sent everything swirling about her, though she stood completely still. Had everything happened too fast? No, no-Granted, only four moons had passed since she'd woken but had not the events of that present day been forever in her dreams? Furthermore, there was no way she could refuse Nathaniel after he'd spent all four of those moons raising heaven and earth to obtain a special license so they could wed instantly, neglecting all other demands. She had to marry him. She wanted to marry him. She needed to marry him. They could wait, yes as would be proper but why? Why give fate time at trying to pull them apart once more? No, nothing else was needed. Love? There was plenty. All else could be sorted later.

Moreover, while It had all come about rather abruptly and was as much a shock to her as it surely would be for the rest of London once word aired, what other objections if not for the threat of gossip should keep them from marrying?

His mother?

Ah, well then, there it was.  The source of her discomfort unearthed.  Not in the slightest could Annabelle think of anything that would keep the devil woman away, the thought only thrusting her into violent shivers of anger and pure frustration. Would Mrs. Hawkins not want to see her only son marry, or better yet, would she not want to not see her only son marry?  

Though talk of the past and personal secrets had yet to be had, Annabelle felt compelled to tell Nathaniel the nature of his mother's behavior. Not only because she wished to enter into her marriage free of secrets, regardless of whether Nathaniel did or not, but because she wished to tell of the said secret before it consumed her with fear, or before Mrs. Hawkins appeared to make good on her promise. And she would, of that Annabelle could swear. God only knows the woman would undoubtedly wait until the minister asked if there were any who opposed the marriage before lunging for the kill. It was decided-- She would tell Nathaniel and God forgive her for turning a man against his mother.

There was a light tap at the door-

"Annabelle?" Nathaniel's deep tone resounded from the other side of the door, "I've been told you wish to see me. Do you not know it is of bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding, madam?"

Painfully, Annabelle ran to the door, instantly pressing her palms against the only barrier between her and her love. Goodness, she could feel him standing there; hear the smile that toyed at his voice which she knew rendered his eyes a sparkling topaz.  

"Nathan." Her voice cracked, "This is the happiest day of my life, yet here I am crying like a ninny." she leaned her forehead on the door.

"What is the matter?" his velvety voice darkened with concern, "Are you in pain? I'm coming in-"

The knob twisted-

"No!" Annabelle exclaimed, keeping it from turning though she knew fully well Nathaniel could open it if he wished, "I'm not in pain and you yourself said it was bad luck. Surely I've lived through my share without needing to conjure more." She bit her lip, wondering if bad luck would truly stay at bay regardless of whether or not she opened the door. Oh and how badly she wanted to open it...

"Then ease me of this torment and tell me what ails you. Do you not know it is torture to cry and not let me soothe you?" he said just above a whisper, the warmth in his voice wrapping around her, a tender reminder of the safety his presence embodied.   Her knees instantly buckled. Goodness! If he was to be her husband, her knees could not behave so to his every tender word or else she'd find herself on the floor every other moment.

Gripping the door, she steadied her weakened legs, "It's that," she started, reprimanding her wanton body that desperately wanted to open the door and take his breath away in methods she knew not of. Forcing her mind back to the reasons for her beckoning, Annabelle remembered his mother and said,

"If I were to tell you something, something terrible and awful, would you believe me?"

"Annie," his voice deepened, undoubtedly sensing the urgency in her voice, "open the door sweetheart."

Ignoring his plea, she pressed, "Answer me Nathan. Would you believe me, even if it were about someone," she paused, taming the tremors slurring her words, "about someone whom is very dear to you?"

Half afraid to hear the answer, she shut her eyes. After but a few moments of obvious reflection, in which Annabelle thought her insides would surely burst, he answered, "Yes, yes of course. I'm certain you wouldn't ever speak ill of anyone without proof and just cause."

Good God!  Annabelle was sure she'd be sick. Proof? He would need proof, but what proof had she that were not the words of her mouth? And was just cause not as hard to come by as proof? The only just cause in her accusation was that his mother was a raging lunatic but her proof..... What on earth to do?

Before Annabelle could decide, Nathaniel spoke, "Ann, is there something you wish to tell me?" he silenced for another moment, then his next words came, quiet and low, "Is it--Do you no longer wish to marry me?"

What? Hearing the terrible words, Annabelle swung the door open, leaping into his arms,  "Oh Nathan, don't ever utter such words!" she demanded against his broad chest, the warmth radiating from him instantly challenging her knees once more,  "I wouldn't ever wish to be away from you a day of my life. You are to be my husband. How could I ever bid against it?"

"Annabelle," he sighed deeply, taking a brief thoughtful moment before speaking. Gently tilting her head to his, he continued, "As painful as it may be for me, surely you must know that I in no way wish to free you from one prison for you to in turn marry into another. Whether with me or without me, you have your freedom."

Gasping, her eyes widened, "Freedom?" she echoed, the word violating her ears.  Stepping back, a sob clenched her throat, "You dare speak to me of freedom? Was I not a slave to longing and pain as I've been all these years, haunted by memories and dreams simply because I was free of you? Do you not understand that I resigned to my freedom the very night you promised to return for me? That I rejected freedom whenever it called to me from an open field where I could run from the hellish place that was Melbourne House and never look back? Did I not refuse freedom when it offered me marriage at the hands of a man I knew not and did not care to know? I scorned freedom for the past seven years, denying it all because I waited for you-for you!"

Gripping his royal blue coat, hot tears prickled her eyes, "Dammit Nathaniel do not speak to me of freedom when freedom no longer exists if it is not by your side."

Feeling his heart beating beneath her fingers, she crumbled into his chest, "If being with you is a prison then I am guilty of the cruelest and cold hearted of offenses because if not by death, I refuse to be without you."  Never had Annabelle felt such a suffocating desire swell within her. Was that the obsession of which Nathaniel spoke of? Surely it was because the burn in her veins threatened her virtue as it did her sanity.

Hard arms closed around her, Nathaniel instantly possessing her mouth with an equal ravaging need. Finally having had enough, her knees gave out but Annabelle was instantly swept into Nathaniel's arms. Carrying her to the nearest settee, he set her down gently, tearing away from her lips, hard breaths raking his frame. Bringing his back hand lightly against her tears, he clumsily brushed damp hairs from her cheek. With blue eyes black with desire, he explored her face with a divine fascination in which Annabelle could not help but for once feel beautiful.

 "Forgive me," he spoke against her lips, "as my words were quite selfish. I simply wish to know the reasons for your tears so I can remedy whatever troubles you." His strong, yet gentle hands slowly trailing to her shoulders, running down her arms, further debilitating her. Thankfully, she was already sitting.

Recovering, Annabelle answered, "I cry because," she paused, considering her next words.  While Nathaniel thought himself selfish, Annabelle believed the word more fitting for her own actions. To think of disclosing his mother's viciousness after he'd worked so hard to prepare their day--their wedding? No. The secret would remain close to her bosom, at least until a more opportune time.

Closing her eyes, Annabelle banished all thoughts of his mother and nestled further into his chest, allowing his stroking hands to ease all tension.

The feel of his lips came upon her forehead, "I have rushed this," he sighed, "Perhaps you needed a bit more time to rest. I understand all the changes and the horrors you've experienced recently and now a wedding, " he caressed her cheek, "It can be postponed if you wish it to be so."

Looking into his open blue eyes, Annabelle was certain that if she asked him to cancel it all, as much as it would hurt him, he would. And the thought alone disarmed her.

Realizing the folly in her actions, she breathed deeply, "No, nonsense. I want to marry you today--this instant." she laughed lightly. She would be marrying him as soon as she let him go so they could together walk downstairs, yet she couldn't bring her fingers to release him.

Nathaniel chuckled, "Then perhaps we should get going because I don't think restraint shall be an ally for much longer," he smiled wickedly, his blue eyes twinkling mischeviously, "Certainly not with you in that gown."

And in standing, he offered a blushing Annabelle his arm.

**

"I, Annabelle Elizabeth Frost, take thee William John Hamilton, to my wedded husband..."

Nathaniel's heart sharply halted as Annabelle, with glinting eyes stared at him, vowing her life. As if on cue, the rains of the morning eased, the clouds parting to bless his lovely Annabelle in its holy light. Beautiful, he thought proudly watching as the light illuminated her, her white gown rendering her an angel.  His angel. His wife. 

 Though her voice quavered, he could for the first time see the glow in her eyes, the once dull green now an infusion of moss and honey. She was happy and dammit though he could not erase her previous pains, he secretly vowed that happiness would never evade her for as long as she lived, with or without him.

Annabelle's eyes widened slightly in expectation, when from behind someone indiscreetly cleared their throat. Turning, Milton offered Nathaniel an encouraging nod. What on earth? About to ask what was wrong, the reverend cleared his own throat, once more repeating the vows Nathaniel failed to hear over his previous thoughts,

"Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health: and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?"

Annabelle tensed under his hold. Regarding her, Nathaniel noted tears welling in her eyes before a trembling breath escaped her.  Clearly her tears were not of joy as her eyes were quickly shadowed by the dulled green he'd come to know while his brief stay at Melbourne House--sadness. And then recalling the nature of the words he was about to utter, a searing guilt cut through him.

'Forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her"

Lord, of course. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, a cold chill rippled through his body as further words plagued his mind,

I have mistresses for that Martha. Women of beauty, class--experience!  

Oh damn his masculine pride! How foolish he had been! Clearly she still remembered the words or else her reaction would have been so. No, no, he had to assure her that there were no other women, his words being those of perhaps a wounded ego but surely of desperation, anger and anxiety unwisely combined with too much brandy. She was his only one. There was, would always be and had always been only her--

And Janet.

Yes, but Janet was and would forever remain the gravest of mistakes...and mysteries...

Seeking to shield his eyes from the light, Nathaniel tried to raise his hand but it was caught beneath something warm and...moving? What in the devils!  Lifting his head, curled at his side was auburn haired woman, snuggling closer to his bare chest. Mercy! Pushing her aside in a most callous manner, his breathing caught in his throat. Who the hell was the woman and what on earth had he done!

Eyes wide, Nathaniel cast a frantic glance about the room, his vision swirling from one too many drained glasses-Good God! Evidence of his apparent indiscretion ornamented the floor and surrounding furniture, the sight splintering him. Trousers and tussled undergarments decked the floor, screaming of intense passion and lack of calm. Tossed carelessly upon the settee was a red gown of cheap silk, white stockings and chemise dropped in clear path of the bed. No, it couldn't be so-he wouldn't ever pledge his body to someone who wasn't-

Nathaniel went rigid. Looking back down at the faceless figure whose head was still buried in his chest, he searched his mind for memory. Nothing but a dark room came to mind, and various glasses of brandy-decanters full more precisely and the distinct memory of an auburn haired beauty approaching him in the darkness claiming to be Annabelle--

But then the woman at his side turned, a smirk playing at her mouth. Christ! That was not Annabelle!

"Good morning lover." She purred, sending ripples of repugnance down his spine.

Lover? All be damned! Mortification branding him, Nathaniel instantly pulled on his trousers, "Who the hell are you?!" he snapped, heavily considering forgoing all questions and tossing her out. He had half the mind to do it had it not been for his meddling curiosity needing to know how such a disaster unraveled.

She bit the tip of her nail, "Whoever you want me to be," she giggled, and sitting up she shamelessly exposed further proof of their recklessness. Nathaniel turned away from her imprudence as she continued, "Though, you seem to be fond of the name Annabelle. Called her name all bloody night--Your wife is she?"

Throwing respectabilities to Hades, he spun wildly.  Charging the bed, he gripped her arm, pulling her to standing, "Never let that name leave your mouth or so help you God." He growled, rattling her until the smug grin vanished from her mouth. Snatching the curst sheets from the bed, he opened then with a snap, draping them around the woman's body, "Now tell me how you got in here?"

Meeting his glance with a toying one of her own, she crossed her arms, "Through the door, of course." Then burst into even more laughter. In no mood for her ill humor and finding his temper rising chillingly, Nathaniel swallowed deeply bringing clenched fists to his temples and thundered, "Tell me how in the devils you got in here! And why were you in my bed for I know it against my virtue and common sense to lay with a---a---"

"A whore?" she offered freely, shooting him a plain glance bordering on the line of slight offense. Her mouth settled into a hard thin line, "I was let in."

Searching her face for traces of a lie, Nathaniel met her green eyes again, "By whom?!"

Pacing carelessly to the settee, along the way retrieving her once lost garments, she shrugged, "Wouldn't say." She threw her stockings into her bag that was retrieved from somewhere though Nathaniel couldn't bother to care where, "Besides, a true lady never discloses her source of income."

Noting the flush that spread about his face and perhaps sensing that his composure was on the brink of snapping, she scoffed while picking her bonnet from the floor, "They didn't say." Her voice much sharper if not afraid, "Couldn't quite tell whether it were a man or a woman. They paid and requested I wait outside until their signal to which then I was to come in and," she paused, arching a taunting brow, "entertain you."

Haphazardly tying her bonnet over the disheveled tresses, she added "Ah, and they also said if you were to ask, my name was Annabelle."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Nathaniel's world shattered. Someone, an unknown shrouded figure, paid her to lay with him. He could hardly breathe. Who would dare do such a thing, ushering him into such a cruel betrayal?  Whoever it was knew of his promise, of his love, of his obsession. Furthermore, they had clear knowledge of his preferred pastime, draining his regrets in continuous glasses of his preferred liquor. There were only a few who knew of his reason for life but why would any of them succumb to such cruelty? It was beyond bounds. Stepping back and falling on the bed, Nathaniel spoke, fully defeated,

"Get out."

And without a word of objection, the woman whom he'd later come to know as Janet, left.

Cupping his mouth in disbelief, Nathaniel couldn't bear to think of what he had just done, regardless of the nature behind it. Nothing under heaven could be worse, he thought, feeling tarnished and tainted as he stripped the bed of their linens and thrust them into the fire, wishing he himself could do the same to cleanse the betrayal from his skin.

But his thought was instantly discredited as three months later, an unmarked letter reaching him which read--

"Dear Lover,

I am with child--yours.

Love,

Janet"

Ashamed, Nathaniel lowered his head when a tug at his leg pulled him from his torment. Looking down at his small son who beamed with joy at Annabelle becoming his mother, Nathaniel could no longer feel regret. Indeed  Janet was a mistake but Logan would forever be the greatest of gifts.

Squeezing her hands gently he finally replied, "I do," then added "and too beg for forgiveness of any past offenses."

Clearly understanding his words, a tear escaped Annabelle's eyes of which Nathaniel was unable to let fall. Brushing her cheek lightly, his own eyes blurred as she whispered, "It is forgiven." then repeated the vows asked of her.

The minister then said--

"Are there any present who know of any reasons as to why these two should not be joined in marriage?"

A sharp breath from Annabelle startled him as her hands stiffened once more and she surveyed the door with frightening earnest. Christ, had he gone off again into his mind? No, no. Nothing was asked of him. They were merely waiting to see if anyone dared stand against their marriage. But, Nathaniel wondered in gazing at a blanched and clearly rattled Annabelle, why would that worry her as only Milton and Clara were in attendance as their witnesses? He stroked her thumb gently, seeking to ease her.

As no objection was made to their union, the rings were then rested upon the prayer book of which Logan happily held, and in accepting his own, Nathaniel slipped off Annabelle's laced gloves. His heart constricted at the sight of her work reddened hands within his. Granting them a gentle kiss before sliding the ring onto her finger, he silently vowed that she would never again lift a single finger to work for anyone. Kissing the ring on her hand, he swore his oath upon it.

 The minister delivered a brief sermon on their roles as husband of wife, one of which Nathaniel prayed for forgiveness for not having listened to a single word. All he could think of was the woman standing before him, his wife of whom he'd loved for as long as he could remember having felt the emotion. And finally, stealing the last of Nathaniel's breaths, the minister concluded--

"I pronounce that they are husband and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.  Amen."

With all the possible restraint that only God could give, Nathaniel turned to his wife and  gently brushed her lips with an eternal kiss of promise.  

"At last, mine." He whispered upon her lips, backing away for a moment to simply marvel at her. Shyly reaching for his face, she whispered, "I've always been." To which he could not help but kiss her once more.

Almost knocking them off their feet, Logan rushed at the happy couple, winding his small arms at their legs. Bending to recover the welcome addition, Nathaniel lifted his son whom instantly reached for his new mother. Christ, he thought, there wasn't anything on earth that could ever ruin that moment--

But looking into his new wife's joyful face, her expression fell rendering her face a ghostly white. And then, in hearing the arched cry behind him, he knew exactly why.

Turning, his own expression vanished as he muttered lowly-

"Hello, Mother."

**

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