A/N: Hello! It has been a VERY LONG time since I last posted a chapter, and goodness, the world has turned upside down in the intervening months. I sincerely hope you are well and safe during these difficult times. Perhaps it was because of the pandemic, or the difficulty of life navigating this new world, but writing felt like a challenge I didn't want to undertake, another chore I didn't have time for after a long day. I am finding the joy in writing again, and here is the result of those efforts.

Heads up! This story, as of this chapter, is now M-rated. If you would like to avoid the M-rated part of this chapter, go ahead and skip the last thousand words. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this step forward in Gilbert and Anne's relationship.

I wish you well! Thank you for all the lovely reviews and messages! Thank you for your continued readership! Your support means so much to me!

Gilbert doffed his cap, holding it in mittened hands, his eyes on the evergreen wreath before him. Fashioned of vivid pine and cypress branches and tied with a wide, red ribbon, the wreath stood out against the gravestone of John David Blythe. A soft and gentle falling of snowflakes blanketed the cemetery in which Gilbert stood, dusting his curls and shoulders with white powder. A wave of emotion swept over him, not unexpected given the circumstances, but then again wholly unexpected, for Gilbert had not brought the wreath for his father.

It must have been Anne who had made her own pilgrimage to those who slept in Avonlea's churchyard cemetery. To think that she had made a wreath for Gilbert's father, that she had come here on her wedding day, brought tears to his eyes. Gilbert thought of his father's last words.

"Your last hope for me came true, Dad," said Gilbert softly. "I'm marrying Anne today."

He stood for some time by his father's grave, silently wishing his father was alive and well. Brushing away tears, he walked through the cemetery, until he found the grave of Matthew Tobias Cuthbert. Sure enough, another evergreen wreath graced the gravestone.

"I'll take care of her," Gilbert whispered. "I promise."

As he paused by the Cuthbert grave, he thought of the future stretching out before him. A life with Anne. He could not have thought it possible only months earlier.

Smiling to himself, he walked through the cemetery to its little gate, pausing briefly at the elaborate headstone that marked Ruby's resting place. Another wreath lay upon her grave as well. His heart pained him, as it always did, when he thought of Ruby's early death. Ruby should have had a happy future before her.

A thick blanket of snow lay across Avonlea, beautiful and bitter and cold. Freshly fallen, it was a delightful soft powder, crisp and white. Snowflakes continued to drift down, merrily adding to the bounty of snow upon the land. Gilbert rubbed his mittened hands together and blew on them as he walked back to the Blythe farm, wading through the snow in places. How had Anne managed to walk to the cemetery with long skirts? he wondered, shaking his head.

The Blythe house was quiet and calm. Gilbert pinned a bit of holly to the front door and laid some pine boughs along the mantel, carefully around the mantel clock and photographs. He then mounted the stairs and went into the bedroom that would be his and Anne's this very night. In his hands, he clutched more holly and a bit of mistletoe. With a devilish smile, he tacked the holly and mistletoe just above the bed's headboard.

He nearly skipped down the stairs, feeling wicked and buoyant. He bounded into the kitchen where he verified that the pantry was well-stocked for their honeymoon. No doubt, more savories leftover from the wedding supper would also be supplied. There was wood aplenty chopped and stacked on the porch and in the log holders beside the stove and fireplaces. The house was clean and tidy. All was in readiness.

Gilbert had spent the better part of the morning at the Fletcher house, preparing for the wedding. It was with some relief that he had been shooed out the door, with his aunt and mother insisting the groom need only ready himself for the day. The Fletcher house was a riot of activity and family squabbles, and Aunt Mary Maria was even more unbearable than usual. With a sigh of relief, he had then made his pilgrimage to the snowy cemetery.

Now alone in the quiet and waiting house, he itched for something to do. The oats were threshed and stored, the livestock warm in their barn… He wandered the house, becoming more and more uneasy.

He was not this lucky.

It did not seem possible that his long-sought Anne would soon become his bride. He nervously checked the rings, assuring himself that they were not lost. He did not admit to himself that the rings also proved he was not imagining this day's good fortune: Anne Blythe. Just the thought had him standing motionless, a smile on his face.

The chime of the mantel clock roused Gilbert from his thoughts, and he went up the stairs to ready himself for the wedding. In his new bedroom, Gilbert opened his armoire and withdrew the grey suit that his mother had once made for a different dream. As he dressed himself, tears came to his eyes. He needed no other dream.

His mother had sewed him a fine, new, snowy-white shirt to go with the suit. He gently tugged it on and tucked it in. He buttoned the waistcoat and knotted his necktie. Then he put on the suit coat. No longer did he need to wear shoes that had taken a plunge into Barry's Pond. The money from the sale of the yearlings had gone to many things in the preparation for the wedding and a life with his bride, including a new pair of dress shoes. He slipped them on and tied the laces. There was a mirror on the inner door of Anne's wardrobe, and he opened it to see himself. He caught sight of a tall young man in a nicely fitted suit. Too tall, he had to crouch down to see his face, and he silently observed his shaven jaw for any missed whiskers. Satisfied, he straightened and adjusted his cuffs.

As he did so, he heard a jingle of sleigh bells and lively voices. Hurrying down the stairs and to the front door, Gilbert welcomed his mother as she came up the front steps.

"You look so handsome," she said as they embraced.

"It's the suit," he said with a grin.

She beamed and batted away a few tears. "Oh, Gilbert, I'm so happy for you." She sighed. "Your father would be so happy for you."

"Thanks, Ma," he said, becoming teary-eyed himself.

"Let's get a move on!" called Aunt Kitty from the sleigh. "Are you ready, Gilbert? We can't let the food grow cold!"

Gilbert laughed. "I only need my coat." He rushed back inside, followed by his mother.

"Gilbert dear," he heard his mother say as he quickly donned his coat, hat, and gloves.

"Yes, Ma?" he asked absently. He verified the rings were in his pocket.

"Well, I know this is terrible timing, and I scarcely know just what to tell you, but I feel I must try - "

Gilbert looked at her with some confusion. "Ma?"

Edie was flustered, wringing her hands, and a red flush crept up her neck. "It really should be your father having this conversation with you, but as he's not here…"

"Yes?" asked Gilbert, growing concerned.

"It's about your wedding night!" Edie exclaimed.

Gilbert's eyes widened. "Ma, you don't have to…" he mumbled as he reddened himself.

"Well, is there anything you need to know?" she asked, eyes averted in embarrassment.

"Thanks, Ma, but I'm fine. It'll be fine," he said, almost to reassure himself. "Let's go."

Edie nodded, and the two went out the door. The frigid air was a relief to Gilbert who had become uncomfortably warm. It was scarcely tolerable to think of his mother discussing such things with him. He couldn't possibly let her know just how much he anticipated his wedding night. He took a deep, wintery breath and then locked the front door and walked to the waiting sleigh.

The sleigh was a tight fit. The four women were crammed together in the back seat, and Gilbert squeezed onto the front seat with his Uncle George and Dr. Dave. Making matters worse were the crates at everyone's feet, filled with covered pots and insulated with straw to keep them hot. An aroma of baked ham permeated the frigid air. Uncle George shook the reins, and with a "yi-up!" they were on their way to the wedding.

Dr. Dave, beside Gilbert, twisted to reach into his breast pocket, and nearly elbowed Gilbert in the eye.

"Oh! Sorry, son," he said, then held forth a pocket-watch. "This is for you. It was my father's. He was the first of our family to come to the Island." His uncle swallowed hard and sniffed. "John asked me to keep this for you back when he… well, some years back."

Gilbert's eyes widened, and he fought tears, as his uncle set the pocket-watch in his hand. His father had saved this for him, at a time when Edie and Gilbert were pawning all they could to pay for medicine and doctor's bills. John had known and protected this piece so that Gilbert could have it.

A loud humpf! came from the backseat. "Surely it doesn't even work," sniffed Aunt Mary Maria. "An old thing like that."

"It's well made," retorted Uncle Dave, glaring at his sister over his shoulder. "And well cared for."

Gilbert carefully opened the catch to see the watch face. A faint ticking could be heard as the second hand steadily moved. "It works," he breathed. The time was wrong, but that could be easily adjusted. Opposite of the watch face was engraved,

Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.

"The greatest and grandest verse in the Bible," Gilbert murmured.

"A Blythe tenet," agreed Uncle Dave, as the sleigh came over the hill and Green Gables came into sight.

Green Gables was joyful and festive, beautifully decorated with evergreens, holly, and red ribbons. The Blythes and Fletchers entered the house merrily, embracing the Green Gables folks and beaming. Only Mary Maria shunned the effusive greetings. She found the nearest armchair and moodily sat in it, thinking weddings these days were far from the solemn occasions they ought to be. Gilbert received a kiss on the cheek from Marilla and Dora, and then was subjected to a cheek pinch from Mrs. Lynde. The crates were carefully carried to the kitchen to be dished up for the wedding feast.

The wedding guests, although few in number, were plentiful enough to fill the small farmhouse. The rooms were crowded with friends and family who eagerly surrounded the newly arrived groom. Amid hearty pats on the back and a chorus of good wishes, a glass of Christmas punch was pushed into Gilbert's hand, and he took a healthy gulp.

"Good," said Fred's voice, accompanied by yet another slap on the back. Gilbert nearly stumbled forward. "The wedding should be starting soon." Fred drank from his own glass as Gilbert downed his. "Shall I get you another?"

Gilbert shook his head, smiling at his friend. "Thanks, mate. I can scarcely believe that Anne's marrying me today."

"It's about time," Fred grinned. "I only wish I could have had as short an engagement."

Gilbert sheepishly shrugged. "I'm over the moon about it, frankly, but people will talk."

Fred nodded sagely, then looked concerned.

Gilbert shook his head vehemently. "Of course not, Fred." He thought of that passionate night and blushed. "It's - finances," he said under his breath.

"Ah," said Fred sympathetically.

Heart hammering, Gilbert was spared further embarrassment by Dora, who shyly presented him with a corsage to pin to his lapel. With some amazement, Gilbert observed the white rose twined with a sprig of holly. How Anne managed to procure roses in winter was a feat of imagination.

"Roses?" asked Fred in surprise.

"It would seem so," said Gilbert.

It was then that Mrs. Lynde informed him that the bride was ready, and she began marshalling guests to find seats in the parlor. Gilbert followed the guests into the crowded parlor and took his place beside Mr. Allen at the fireplace, the fire crackling merrily behind them. It was a hubbub of activity as guests seated themselves. Mrs. Lynde's pronounced shushing brought about silence, along with a few irritated glares. Aunt Katherine began to play her cello, a lovely rendition of Canon in D bringing all to rapt and reverent attention.

Fred, red-faced and smiling, came to stand at Gilbert's shoulder and promptly became even redder as Diana swept down the stairs, a posy of roses, holly, and mistletoe in her hands. She smiled sweetly as she walked down the parlor's makeshift aisle, her eyes on Fred. She was followed by Alice, clutching her own bouquet. Alice shyly assumed her place beside Diana at the parlor mantle, as Anne and Marilla came slowly down the homespun carpeted stairs, arms linked, eyes glistening with unshed tears. A few guests' heads drew together and whispers broke out, as the two women slowly made their way down the aisle together.

Anne was a happy and beautiful bride - the first bride of Green Gables - slender and shining-eyed, in the mist of her maiden veil, with her arms full of roses. Gilbert, waiting for her by the parlor fireplace, looked at her with adoring eyes. Was he worthy of her? Could he make her as happy as he hoped? He had so little to offer her - then, as he held out his hand, their eyes met and his doubt was swept away in a suffusing tide of happiness.

Snowflakes danced whimsically past the parlor windows as they exchanged their heartfelt vows. 'For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer' resonated through Gilbert as he gently bestowed the amethyst ring onto Anne's finger. The sheer happiness reflected in her eyes bolstered Gilbert's own joy like a bulwark against a sea of uncertainty. They belonged to each other; and no matter what life might hold for them, it could never alter that. And, hands clasped, standing before the parlor mantle, surrounded by their closest family and friends, they became husband and wife.

The sealing kiss was tender and sweet and entirely too romantic for a few wedding guests. Aunt Mary Maria was "properly affronted" she later conveyed to anyone who had the misfortune of her company. Mrs. Rachel took it upon herself to severely inform the happy couple that there were still some hours yet until the wedding night. Aunt Katherine nearly swooned with delight. Diana blushingly wondered if she would have such a kiss for her own nuptials. Fred glanced endearingly at her, red-faced and bashful, and sent her heart aflutter.

Never had the old green-gabled house known a blither, merrier afternoon. A fiddle joined cello 'Lady D' to provide a backdrop of veritable merriment in folksy music as wedding guests milled about, offering up jolly toasts of Christmas punch and filling their small plates with savories. All the old jests and quips that must have done duty at weddings since Eden were served up, and seemed as new and brilliant and mirth-provoking as if they had never been uttered before. The numerous chairs in the parlor were cleared to allow for dancing, and wedding guests jigged and twirled and clapped. Laughter and joy had their way among the well-wishers and their day's token king and queen. Gilbert, hand-in-hand with his bride, stealing all the kisses he could (Mrs. Lynde's admonishments notwithstanding), felt as though he need only reach to the heavens and pluck a shining star for his Annest of Annes. Boundless joy was an understatement.

A fruitcake beautifully drizzled with royal icing and topped with sugared plums was cut into by the bride and groom's joined hands and partaken by the merry crowd. As platters of Christmas cookies made the rounds, Edie noticed the couple's eagerness to depart. She heaved a sigh of wistful happiness. Batting away a tear and teasing herself for her sentimentality, she set about making the arrangements for the bride and groom's departure. She then heaved another sigh, steeling herself to go rescue the latest person to fall into Aunt Mary Maria's clutches. The hapless Mrs. Allen gratefully sped away from the dismal aunt, and Edie took her place.

Aunt Mary Maria heaved a sigh not unlike Edie herself had just done. "It's hard to see the young folk grow up and leave."

Edie looked at her in surprise. Perhaps Mary Maria did have some sense and sympathy underneath it all. She patted the aunt's hand kindly. Mary Maria continued, "Yet, of all the nice young ladies he could have chosen, he married a redhead. Upon my honor, I have never seen such a tint of red."

Edie stiffened, then relaxed with a sly smile. "It is such a beautiful color, isn't it? So unique and rare. Gilbert's a lucky man." With a final pat of the old woman's hand, Edie rose and fled herself.

A jubilant crowd gathered on the porch to engage in a vigorous throwing of rice and old shoes, in which Davy played a valiant part. The laughing bride and groom hurried through the barrage to the waiting sleigh, and, with a merry jingle of bells, they were driving away down the long, snowy lane. Anne turned at its end to wave her last goodbye. Gilbert glanced over his shoulder to see the guests gathered on the porch, all waving madly. Marilla, however, stood at the gate, watching them drive away, her arms wrapped around herself, her face gray and sad. Something snagged in Gilbert's heart at her forlorn expression.

The evening was clear and frosty, all ebony of shadow and silver of snowy slope. Bright stars hung transcendent above them, illuminating their path with a soft and lustrous light. The sleigh skimmed over the snow, and the harness bells jingled. Anne nestled close to Gilbert, kissing him, and Gilbert promptly forgot all about the forlorn Marilla. He clutched his bride closer, the reins loose in his hand, bestowing liberal kisses. They arrived at the Blythe house, surprised to see Dr. Dave and Aunt Katherine, standing on the front porch, clutching snowshoes. In the melee of rice and shoes Gilbert and Anne had not noticed them missing. His great uncle came forward as the sleigh came to a halt and grasped the horse's bridle.

"Welcome, dears!" cried his aunt joyfully.

"We couldn't have you come to a cold and dark house now, could we?" said Dr. Dave with a smile. "We'll also take care of the horse and sleigh."

Surprised and touched, Gilbert thanked him, and his uncle winked. Gilbert's face reddened, and to cover his discomposure, he jumped out of the sleigh and lifted Anne down. With a smile, he led her up the snowy steps. Aunt Katherine gave them each a hug before scurrying toward the sleigh. His aunt and uncle waved cheerily as they drove away.

Gilbert squeezed Anne's hand. "Welcome home," he said before scooping her into his arms and carrying her over the threshold. Inside, the fires and gas lamps were lit, casting a welcoming glow. Gilbert held Anne for a long moment, before setting her down and closing the door behind them. Suddenly bashful, both of them blushed and looked away from one another. He helped her out of her warm coat and removed his own. It was then Gilbert noticed the small table by the front door that usually held letters now held something else.

"What's this?" breathed Anne.

On the small table lay a bottle of currant wine and another of what Uncle Dave referred to as "a little of the Scott Act." Two appropriate glasses (no teacups this time) sat ready beside the bottles.

"It can't be," Anne said with an air of disbelief.

Gilbert glanced at her in confusion as she picked up the currant wine and examined it. "It is!" she cried.

"Is what?" asked Gilbert.

Anne laughed a bit shakily. "It's a story for another time, darling." She laughed again. "So this is where it went."

Gilbert pulled her into his arms. "I've only been married for a few hours, and I already know vexing a wife is," he said with a chuckle.

"You knew that about me long ago, I'm afraid," said Anne Blythe blithely. "I suppose this has been set out for us?" She gestured at the table.

"I suppose," said Gilbert with a smile, releasing her. "Would you like a glass, Anne?"

"I don't know," Anne said dubiously. "I hope this isn't a habit with you."

Gilbert laughed. "It's not, I assure you."

"Well, perhaps a little," Anne said with some hesitation. "Not the cordial, though."

Cordial? thought Gilbert, perplexed. He had been reaching for the currant wine but paused at the shake of her head. He grasped the other bottle instead and worked the cork free before pouring a little into each glass. Gilbert handed her one glass and then raised the other.

"To a lifetime of love and joy, Anne."

Anne blushed and smiled. Gilbert raised the glass to his lips to sip it slowly.

"I think you're supposed to knock it back," said Anne helpfully, thinking of the way a certain Mr. Thomas and Mr. Hammond had done such things years ago.

Knock it back? thought Gilbert in surprise. "Like this?" he asked and drank it down in one fast gulp. He instantly regretted it as he coughed and spluttered. His throat burned and his eyes watered.

"Oh, dear!" cried Anne, quickly setting down her glass. That had never happened with Mr. Thomas or Mr. Hammond. She hovered guiltily at Gilbert's side, unsure how to help.

"I'm fine," Gilbert managed to say.

"I'm so sorry, Gil," said Anne with wide eyes.

Gilbert raised his brows, his watery eyes locking with hers. Then he burst out laughing. Anne joined in.

"Anne-girl," he said, enfolding her in his arms. "What am I to do with you?"

"At any rate, you're stuck with me now," said Anne.

"Thankfully," he sighed and kissed her. Anne wrapped her arms around his neck, the flowers from the bouquet in her hand tickling Gilbert's ear, though he cared not. The kiss deepened and long moments passed before they drew apart with flushed faces and darkened eyes. Gilbert's heart pounded a fierce tempo within him. Wordlessly, they clasped hands and ascended the stairs. Hand in hand they stepped over the threshold of the bedroom they would now share.

The bed loomed with promises of tender revelations as they stood silently in the room, gazing at one another. It was dark, the room swathed in soft shadows, the only light the shining stars beyond the window.

"May I kiss you?" asked Gilbert, suddenly rendered formal.

"May I undress you?" asked Anne.

Gilbert grinned. "Eager are you?"

"Aren't you?" Anne asked seriously.

Gilbert inhaled sharply. "Yes. Oh, Anne, you don't know how much."

She smiled, pleased, and raised her hands to his collar. "May I?"

"Please," he whispered.

She led Gilbert to the bed, where she set down her bouquet on the small bedside table. Then standing beside the bed, she undid his necktie and began to slowly unbutton his waistcoat. His shirt and undershirt followed, as she moved steadily closer to his trousers. Gilbert stood stockstill, his heart pounding, as she undid the buttons and eased his undergarments and trousers off. He slipped off the new shoes to aid her and stepped out from the fabric now on the floor. Clad only in silvery shadow, Gilbert was silent as Anne observed him. Her eyes met his, shining with love, and Gilbert's breath caught. Despite the chill in the room, he had never felt more heated in his life. He extended his hand with a husky plea, "Now may I kiss you?"

She nodded, at a loss for words, a sudden shyness overcoming her.

Gilbert cupped her cheek, drawing her in for a gentle kiss. When they parted, he said, "Anne, there is no need to… do anything more than you wish. If I only sleep beside you tonight, that would be a dream in itself."

Anne gave him an arch look, one eyebrow raised. Gilbert's blood heated further at her coyness despite his earnest declaration.

"'We are such stuff as dreams are made on,'" quoted Gilbert, soldiering on, "'and our little life is rounded with a sleep.'"

She smiled at him with shining eyes before slowly turning around. "Would you…?" she asked, gesturing to the row of tiny buttons down her back.

Gilbert fumbled at the buttons, trying to hide his eagerness. Gradually, the dress fell away in a billow of white fabric to the floor. He found the ties of her corset and loosened the strings until it fell away as well. Beneath, Anne wore one of the latest fashions (although this was lost on Gilbert), a combination undergarment of a sleeveless blouse and dear, little shorts, all edged in homemade lace. Her stockings were secured above the knee with ribbon-tied bows. She kicked off her heeled, mulière shoes and turned around to face him in her stocking-feet. Gilbert's heart leapt at the inviting gleam in her eyes as she gently took his hands and led them to the clasps down her front. Hands shaking, he undid each one until the combination garment floated past her hips and onto the floor. Gilbert's breath caught.

Deshabillé, Anne stood before him, slender of body with long legs, her milky skin dusted with freckles across her bare shoulders. She had high, round breasts with pert, rosy nipples. Gilbert watched breathlessly as Anne raised her hands to her hair and pulled free the pins holding together her coiffure. Plink! Hairpins fell to the floor. Her hair came loose in thick waves. A curtain of red hair floated down her back. She pushed back the tresses tumbling over her shoulders.

Rather lightheaded, he gently took her hand. "Oh, Anne. You are loveliness itself."

Anne blushed, then shivered. "Will you take me to bed?"

"Anne-girl, you're cold." Her shiver had Gilbert instinctively drawing her close to warm her. He gathered her in his arms, thrilling at their nakedness. The bed was behind him and while he held her close with one arm, he pulled back the covers.

"You fairly exude heat," said Anne, huddling close.

"Let's get you under the quilt and flannels," said Gilbert with a laugh.

Anne seemed loathe to part from him even for a moment, and he was delighted as she tugged him onto the bed after her. Gilbert wrapped her snugly in his arms and made sure the blankets were tucked in warmly around her. Discovering her freezing fingers, he rubbed her hands and blew on them. When he released them, he watched, amused, as her hands dropped to his chest to touch the curly hair upon it. His amusement transformed into self-consciousness as he wondered what she must think of his body, pressed so close to hers. His arousal could hardly be less evident.

Such concerns were allayed as Anne looked into his eyes, her own dark with desire. "You're beautiful, Gil." Her hand trailed shyly down his chest and stomach until her fingertips brushed his manhood.

Gilbert closed his eyes at the bliss of her touch. "Oh, Anne," he said huskily. Beneath the blankets, his hands reached for her, spanning that slender waist, her silky soft skin. He ran his hands up her body until he cupped her breasts, feeling their soft weight. He could hardly hear himself think beyond the pounding of his heart and the yearning he felt to join his body with hers.

"Is this alright?" Gilbert murmured.

"Mmmhhmm," Anne sighed. "Yes."

His lips found hers, and he kissed her tenderly, lingeringly, treasuring her and savoring the moment. Anne kissed him back with an eagerness that enthused him, and the kiss deepened. Breathing hard, Anne laid back and pulled Gilbert along with her. He hesitated for a moment, before settling himself between her legs.

"May I?" he asked.

"Please," she whispered.

He pressed himself against her, his heart hammering, almost in disbelief that he was at this moment at last.

"Wait," said Anne suddenly, and he drew back in a rush.

"I'm sorry, love," he said breathlessly, eyes wide.

"Don't be sorry," Anne said softly. "Just touch me here." She found his hand and guided him to the cleft in her thighs. His heart leapt into his throat at the touch of the soft, damp curls nestled there.

"Like this?" he asked, eager to learn.

"Like this," Anne whispered, drawing his fingers further and guiding them into soft, gentle movements. Amazed, Gilbert realized that women touched themselves, with the same intentions as a man might touch himself. He had thought that women were free from such a need. It had always been something he was slightly ashamed of, the need to stroke himself. It was a last resort, when no other distraction would work. Yet here was Anne, unashamed, showing him how to stroke and fondle her womanhood.

"Yes, oh yes," sighed Anne.

Gilbert continued the ministrations and watched in wonderment as Anne's breathing grew heavy and became soft cries of pleasure. Her legs stroked his, and the sight of her bliss had him in an ever-increasing haze of desire.

"Oh, Anne," he groaned, as Anne sighed and relaxed beneath his hands.

"That was transcendent," Anne breathed.

Gilbert chuckled, nuzzling her ear and pressing heated kisses down her neck. Anne kissed his neck in turn, until their lips met and they kissed in a frenzied passion.

"Please, Gil," purred Anne against his lips.

"Shall we?" panted Gilbert.

Anne nodded, a sheen of sweat glistening upon her body. "Yes, darling."

Gilbert pressed himself against her, entering her for the first time, and they sank back into the pillows and feather mattress. His heart soared, and he groaned at the all-encompassing sensation. Cradling her head, he observed her for any signs of apprehension, and at the inviting gleam in her eyes, he slowly, gingerly pushed himself deeper. She became tense, and he paused.

"More," she whispered.

By increments, Gilbert fully sheathed himself within her, pausing at any expression of strain.

"I love you," he murmured. "Oh, how I love you."

Wrapped around each other, they moved carefully together, creating a slow and tender rhythm. With every gentle thrust, Gilbert felt himself reach the brink of his own transcendent experience. It was sheer will that he withheld himself from ending their lovemaking precipitately. Groaning, he withdrew and attempted to calm the surging need.

"Gil?" queried Anne.

"I just don't want this to end," Gilbert stammered.

"We can do it again," she said, smiling.

"But never for the first time," Gilbert replied earnestly.

Anne's eyes softened, and she smiled gently at him. "I couldn't have envisioned a more exquisite first time."

How was he this lucky?

Gilbert could scarcely believe that he was in bed with Anne, consummating their wedding night. To be the one who brought her such pleasure filled him with an overwhelming joy. He bent to kiss her, and heartened by her encouragement, he entered her again, moving inside her in long steady strokes. Anne locked her arms around his neck, sighing into his ear that she loved him, and his thrusts became uneven. Gilbert groaned and clutched Anne to him as he thrust deep within her. Then, spent and exhilarated, he collapsed beside Anne and held her close.

The stars beyond the window winked and sparkled, casting a pearly light into the darkened little room. The snowy tips of fir trees and bare, silvery birches could be seen through the frosty windowpanes. Distant white slopes of fallow farmland stretched beyond the trees to an old gabled house that had just sent forth its first bride. Glowing lights still shone through several of the farmhouse windows as wedding guests bundled themselves up for a chilly return home. Sleighs and buggies wound their way past a frozen pond and a sleepy cemetery with a few snow-dusted wreaths.

Nestled together in the bed Gilbert's grandfather had built, under the quilt his grandparents had sewn, Gilbert counted his blessings as he pressed kisses to Anne's throat. She interlaced her fingers with his as she lay within his arms, sighing happily.

"Darling," Gilbert began. "Did I hurt you? Are you well?"

"I'm well," she sighed. "More than well."

He kissed her. "I love you."

"As I love you," she smiled. Looking out the window, she cried, "What a wintery world out there, and we're so warm and snug in here." She cuddled further into his arms. "Shall we stay here until 'fades the last long streak of snow?'"

Gilbert's heart leapt. "Until our love 'buds and blossoms like the rest?'"

Anne blushed and Gilbert grinned, drawing her close for another kiss.

A/N: Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll do my best to write more often and provide new chapters regularly. The story is fully-planned out, it's just a matter of writing it down. Sending you my very best wishes for your health and safety during this pandemic. It's so strange to think that no matter where we are in the world, our lives have been affected in some way by this virus. We really are all in this together.