261. TEN YEARS OF US

261. TEN YEARS OF US
I watch the grand fountain in the garden, feeling once again strangely drawn to it. I don’t come back to East Houghton Manor often, only for family gatherings now, but it’s more alive and full of energy than ever. Filled with children, laughter, and love—more than ever before and more than I thought possible.
Especially today.
Exactly ten years ago, Christopher and I stood at the altar and said “I do” before God. It was difficult at first, but… those were the most meaningful words I’ve ever spoken. Over the past ten years, with my husband by my side and surrounded by our family, I have been filled with joy, warmth, and light to the point where I can barely recall the days of pain.
Honestly, most of those sad memories have, somehow, faded away.
I remember very little now. What remains are just the deepest, ugliest scars. But I believe even those will fade away soon, as if they never existed.
I look into the marble eyes of the statue, and for some reason I don’t understand, I feel like saying a soft, quiet “Thank you” that slips from my lips before I even realize it, carried by a comforting warmth in my chest.
But before I can dwell on it too long, I feel his strong arms wrap around me. My eyes close gently, and a smile spreads across my face.
“Who are you thanking so sweetly?” Christopher murmurs against my neck, placing a damp kiss that sends a shiver straight down my spine under the white dress and makes the corset feel even tighter.
“Why?” I bite back a smile. “You jealous now?”
Christopher lets out a quiet laugh, muffled against my skin, low and intimate. His nose trails along the curve of my neck until he reaches my bare shoulder, where he plants another kiss—firmer, longer.
“Maybe a little,” he admits with that lazy tone he only uses when he’s teasing me. “I couldn’t help but imagine you thanking me like that, and I got a little emotional.”
He presses his body more firmly against my back, letting me feel something hard against my butt. My eyes widen slightly, and I try to turn, but he keeps me still.
“Christopher…” I breathe out in a muffled laugh, in a mix of surprise and desire. “There are kids running everywhere, you know?”
“Mhm.” He grunts, as if that fact doesn't matter, burying his face in the curve between my neck and shoulder, and the heat of his breath there makes me tremble.
“You’re impossible,” I whisper, the laughter escaping even as my cheeks burn.
“And you’re irresistible in that dress. You’re torturing me.” Christopher’s hand slides slowly down my side, fingers tracing dangerously familiar paths over the delicate lace. “That part in the back... there’s no way I can pretend I’m not staring.”
“You’re doing way more than staring,” I shoot back, swallowing hard when he kisses that exact sensitive spot between my shoulder and neck.
“Ten years, and you still react like it’s the first time.” His voice drops lower, dragging each word. “Still all shivery, so sensitive…”
I turn around sharply before he can go any further, before I completely melt. I face him with narrowed eyes and a half-hearted attempt to look angry, but he already knows. He’s already seen the naughty sparkle in my eyes, the flutter in my chest.
“If you keep this up,” I wrap my fingers around his tie. “I’ll have to drag you upstairs right now.”

“Would that be a problem?” He raises an eyebrow, that damn crooked smile forming, like he’s just won another round of one of those games he used to tease me with at the start of our marriage.
I pull on his tie a little harder than necessary, just to feel the tension in the fabric between my fingers, and that delicious heat from the hungry look he gives me.
“It would be,” I say coyly. “Did you forget we have guests waiting for the ceremony to start?”
Christopher slides his fingers to my hips and gently squeezes, testing how far he can push. His eyes scan my face, showing the way desire and reason are fighting inside him, just like always when it comes to me.
He leans in closer, his mouth close to mine, “Fifteen minutes?”
“You know damn well it wouldn’t just be fifteen minutes, Christopher,” I retort, slightly amused, and press a slow, gentle kiss to his lips, holding the back of his neck as if I need to ground myself.
He kisses me back, trying to match my pace, but I can sense his restraint, his effort to keep the kiss from becoming something completely inappropriate for the manor garden.
But even with all the control he’s desperately trying to hold onto, his fingers are already gripping my waist a little tighter, and the kiss that started softly quickly becomes more urgent. He slides his fingers into my hair and tilts my head, searching for that perfect fit.
And I let him, sliding my other hand down his arm and feeling the heat of his skin through his crisp suit that matches the tone of my dress. I press my body closer, making the stiffness of his vest brush against my now-peaked nipples, and his bulge pressing hard against my belly.
Christopher growls and tugs my hair back, breaking the kiss despite himself. His eyes squeeze shut, and he takes a deep breath. It’s clear he’s using every bit of self-control not to take me right here, in front of the statue, with the distant murmur of guests waiting for us.
“You’re gonna kill me like this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, his forehead still pressed to mine. His eyes stay closed a second too long, praying for the desire to pass. But I can still feel his hard-on pulsing against me.
“Save that for later,” I whisper near his ear and give him a kiss on his chin, just to tease him a little more. “When you’re devouring me after the ceremony, once the kids are asleep.”
He groans deeply in his throat and gently nips at my collarbone.
“Will you thank me like that when my mouth’s between your legs?” he whispers, kissing where he just bit.
“Christopher…” I sigh, but my lower belly is also pulsing with need.
He smiles against my skin, warm and wicked, and his hand slides down my back, fingers tracing my spine through the white fabric. I almost arch against him, fighting to hold onto some shred of control.
“You know,” he murmurs against my collarbone, “if you keep talking like that, I’ll forget the ceremony completely.”
“No, you won’t...” I bite my lip, trying to sound firm, though my voice comes out shaky and hoarse. “You’re just going to be even more desperate by the time the right moment comes.”
He lets out a muffled laugh, the sound vibrating against my body and sending a slow, delicious shiver down my spine. His eyes meet mine, still dark with desire but also burning with that raw, living love that has never faded, even after everything. Even after the years, the mistakes, and the scars that still ache when no one’s looking.
“You know me too damn well, love…” he says, like it’s a sacred confession. “You know exactly how to torture me.”
“It’s part of my job as your wife,” I shoot back playfully, touching his face with my fingertips, tracing his jawline from chin to his lower lip.
Christopher closes his eyes and breathes deeply, pulling himself back together. When he opens them again, the desire’s still there, but that steady self-control is back.
He laces our fingers together and kisses the top of my hand with reverence.
“Come on, wife,” he says, in a firm, almost ceremonial whisper. “Before I regret ever becoming a decent man.”
I laugh, the sound escaping light and full of that sweet familiarity that only comes with years, built day after day through shared life. We walk through the garden together toward the conservatory at East Houghton Manor, once again full of people.
But unlike those other times, ten years ago, I am truly happy now.
When the glass doors open for us, the band starts playing the wedding march softly with violin and piano. Christopher holds my hand and looks at me, silently telling me that, in this life, the next, or the ones after, he truly won’t ever let me go.
With each step along the path of flower petals, surrounded by loved ones and quiet tears, everything inside me seems to fall into place, like time has been waiting for this moment to finally make sense.
Standing in the front row, I see Sebastian, grinning from ear to ear, with Elodie at his side. My cousin’s also smiling like joy is about to burst from her chest, carefully dabbing the corner of her eyes.
William is there too, clearly struggling to maintain his usual casual stance, though I catch the suspicious shine in his eyes as we get closer. Some things haven’t changed in these ten years, after all. Christopher still pretends he only tolerates William, and William still acts like he’s not touched by being chosen as best man.
He softly strokes his wife’s back—an affectionate gesture that took me some time to get used to, coming from William. They exchange a meaningful glance, as if silently agreeing they probably need a vow renewal like this, too.
This time, it’s only familiar, friendly faces. The entire Houghton family is here, along with my uncle, who still works as assistant to the Earl, now Christopher, honoring the role he once had for Grandpa. Even Grant is present, wearing a blue suit instead of his usual white coat.
Everyone is smiling, eyes shining, just like the soft pink satin ribbons dotted with tiny crystals that decorate the floral arrangements throughout the garden. Cream English roses, pale pink peonies, and white lilies fill the air with a lovely blend of scents, bringing a peace that soothes my soul.
Christopher really didn’t hold back for our vow renewal. He was involved in every detail to make it, in his words, perfect.
And everything really looks perfect today.
As we stop in front of the arch, the same priest who married us smiles warmly, sensing the change in us, our love, and the bond we share now. He greets us with a glance and a subtle nod.
And then, finally, the conservatory doors open again, revealing our two tiny worlds in perfect human form. The guests all let out a collective sigh at the sight, and both Christopher and I don’t even try to hide the pride on our faces.