A/N: Because I needed a Jane Austen fix.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS. Just this little plot bunny~~
Summary:Marianne finally marries Colonel Brandon, a wholesome man who loves her unconditionally, but do her feelings shine as bright as his? How long will it take for her heart to heal, and come completely to her husband?
MARIANNE'S POV
I shifted anxiously again, moving as quietly as I could, hoping not to disturb him. I'd never been in my nightgown in front of a man before....Well, no. That was a lie. Brandon had seen me in this state before, as he tragically watched over me during my illness. Even after the hell I'd put him through, he always loved me, from the first time he'd heard me sing. I didn't deserve a good man like the Colonel, but I thanked God I have him. I'd probably be dead without him. Be lost in my own mind, going crazy, or die in that cold, hard rain, that made me so ill.
I shifted again, unable to get comfortable, but my foot brushed his, and my breath hitched. I froze, but he made no sound. He hadn't been. I hadn't heard a breath from him from the time he extinguished the candle. That was just in Brandon's nature, though. He was always so quiet.
I hated that we were sharing a bed. Brandon gently told me he didn't want to take me the first night, simply because I was so small and young. I smiled at that, and let my eyes thank him for that kindness.
I would have preferred, though, to have separate bedrooms, or at the very least separate beds. I understood what most of society did on their honeymoons, but goodness! If Brandon wasn't going to take me, why make me lie awkwardly next to him? He hadn't spoken, or made a noise, until I felt a warm hand on my back, and I stifled a gasp. It was only him, of course....
"Mrs. Brandon," he said. It was so late, I was unsure who he was talking to. But I remembered. Of late, it was I who was to be referred to by that name. Of course.
"Yes?" I asked.
"You are shaking. Are you cold?"
He pushed more of his blanket over me, and I blushed, happy my back was to him. There was a good twelve inch space between us, a whole foot.
"You may fall out of bed, dear," he said.
Dear....
"I am fine, Colonel."
"...You can call me William," he said quietly.
"William..." I whispered his name, so that only I heard. "Just as you can call me Marianne."
I practically heard him smile, a rare occurrence on the solemn Colonel. "I much prefer calling you by my surname," he chuckled.
I turned toward him for the first time that night, gazing into deep hazel eyes. I smiled, a hand reaching up to touch his sun-tanned face. I let his lips brush my forehead, and his arms curl around me as sleep enveloped me in it's inviting layers.
It would take some time for me to be completely involved with Brandon, but in time, I loved him just as I could have ever loved Willoughby, and I dare say, I find the Colonel a much more delightful fit.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS. Just this little plot bunny~~
Summary:Marianne finally marries Colonel Brandon, a wholesome man who loves her unconditionally, but do her feelings shine as bright as his? How long will it take for her heart to heal, and come completely to her husband?
MARIANNE'S POV
I shifted anxiously again, moving as quietly as I could, hoping not to disturb him. I'd never been in my nightgown in front of a man before....Well, no. That was a lie. Brandon had seen me in this state before, as he tragically watched over me during my illness. Even after the hell I'd put him through, he always loved me, from the first time he'd heard me sing. I didn't deserve a good man like the Colonel, but I thanked God I have him. I'd probably be dead without him. Be lost in my own mind, going crazy, or die in that cold, hard rain, that made me so ill.
I shifted again, unable to get comfortable, but my foot brushed his, and my breath hitched. I froze, but he made no sound. He hadn't been. I hadn't heard a breath from him from the time he extinguished the candle. That was just in Brandon's nature, though. He was always so quiet.
I hated that we were sharing a bed. Brandon gently told me he didn't want to take me the first night, simply because I was so small and young. I smiled at that, and let my eyes thank him for that kindness.
I would have preferred, though, to have separate bedrooms, or at the very least separate beds. I understood what most of society did on their honeymoons, but goodness! If Brandon wasn't going to take me, why make me lie awkwardly next to him? He hadn't spoken, or made a noise, until I felt a warm hand on my back, and I stifled a gasp. It was only him, of course....
"Mrs. Brandon," he said. It was so late, I was unsure who he was talking to. But I remembered. Of late, it was I who was to be referred to by that name. Of course.
"Yes?" I asked.
"You are shaking. Are you cold?"
He pushed more of his blanket over me, and I blushed, happy my back was to him. There was a good twelve inch space between us, a whole foot.
"You may fall out of bed, dear," he said.
Dear....
"I am fine, Colonel."
"...You can call me William," he said quietly.
"William..." I whispered his name, so that only I heard. "Just as you can call me Marianne."
I practically heard him smile, a rare occurrence on the solemn Colonel. "I much prefer calling you by my surname," he chuckled.
I turned toward him for the first time that night, gazing into deep hazel eyes. I smiled, a hand reaching up to touch his sun-tanned face. I let his lips brush my forehead, and his arms curl around me as sleep enveloped me in it's inviting layers.
It would take some time for me to be completely involved with Brandon, but in time, I loved him just as I could have ever loved Willoughby, and I dare say, I find the Colonel a much more delightful fit.
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