Demelza spent the night at Trenwith. The Poldarks were planning to attend the church ceremony, if not the wedding breakfast. Great Aunt Agatha woke her at a ridiculously early hour and then confused her with a murmured lecture on the duties of marriage, a lecture which required a further discussion with Elizabeth to become intelligible. Considerably relieved, for she had known nothing for certain before and her imaginings had all been based on farm animals and one unfortunate encounter with non-uncle, Demelza suffered more lectures about family life with 'that incorrigible boy' while she dressed and ate what little breakfast she could manage.

It had been intended that she'd walk alone, as she didn't want to see her father. However, about an hour before the service was due to start, Sam, her brother, showed up on horseback. He was dressed like a modest gentleman farmer, clean shaven and nearly silent. It so happened that Ross retrieved him and had them cleaned and dressed to take part in the wedding. Demelza valiantly tried not to cry, but her eyes shone a little too suspiciously. Tom quietly told her and many of her brothers wanted to come, but the situation at home was tense and none of them wished to embarrass her. Sam's presence helped to assuage some of the unspoken concerns that the Trenwith Poldarks had about her family.

So Demelza walked down the arm on her brother's arm, the pews filled with a jovial company of Ross' family, their friends and dress uniforms. She saw the villagers and miners crowding near the entrance of the church and spotted the Martin family with Jinni's rosy face catching her attention. Jinni pointed to the main arch and Demelza saw that their simple church was decorated with wild flowers and colorful ribbons. It must have ben her friend's doing and Demelza smiled widely at her.

Captains Henshawe and Blamey were in their regalia, but her eyes were glued to Ross, who stood waiting for her, gallant in his best clothes. She hardly heard the service, except for his deep voice repeating the vows, everything else was drowned out by the beat of her heart and a sense that time and place were not entirely real and that at any moment she might wake and find herself once more in the small room behind the Nampara's kitchen.

Afterwards it was the smells she the flowers in her bouquet and hair, the smoke from the candles, the salt in the sea breeze that wafted though the open doors of the and, when Ross bent to kiss her cheek again, the soap he had shaved.

When they left the church, she did not expect the villagers to form a alley for her and Ross to go through. Or that the Cornish loved their customs and showered her and Ross in gorse flowers and lamb's tails.* So they bent their heads and ran laughing through the crowd to the coach that was to take them back to Nampara: only to find that the horses had been removed and Ross' tenants and miners had taken the traces to pull them home in a shower of dried flower petals and good wishes.

The wedding breakfast was scarcely more memorable to her. Jinni had done them all proud and there was ample food and drink, including real French spirits, a wedding gift from Captain Blamey. Ross' investors, Poldarks, gentle folks who had to see Ross Poldark settle down, were milling about Nampara's main rooms, while villagers and miners were served outside. Perhaps it was the drinks for, despite the fact that there were so many strangers present, there was no awkwardness or polite silences. She passed amongst the guests, on her new husband's arm, feeling his warm, living strength beneath her hand and could not remember afterwards who had spoken to her and they had said, save that they were happy for her and confident in his care for her.

She walked out to greet the people, who lived and worked to make Nampara what it was and the mood was equally festive there too. Their wishes were less eloquently expressed and some were quite brazen in their hopes for a 'new cheel' to stomp around the house soon, but they were sincere and she only blushed and thanked in response. And, like at Jinni's wedding, there was some dancing and merriment and Ross cheekily pulled her into a circle of dancers much to approval of everyone. It was soon that Verity came out to inspect he joyous sounds and she, too, was pulled to dance. One by one, the young guests joined the villagers in their dancing and singing, young women wearing flower crowns and young men taking off their coats. It was spontaneous and riotous and Demelza was glad to have the little bit of her old life to be present now.

Eventually, everyone left and she and Ross were at Nampara alone. Priudie and Jud were quite sauced, leaving them by themselves. She felt the nerves set upon her and was grateful when Ross gently sat her down at the table.

"How strange it is to be here as Mrs. Ross Podark," she said and blushed.

"I am feeling more than a little overwhelmed myself. Tell me, did you sleep last night?"

"Not a wink"

"Nor I. I hope I shall be a good husband. For all that I am impatient and stubborn, I would wish to do my best for you," he said.

"I have no fear on that score," she replied.

He smiled at that and come over to sit on her side of the table, taking her hand. "Have I told you today how beautiful you look?"

"Yes, however, it is a sentiment that bears repetition."

He took her hand and kissed it gently. "I could hardly believe my good fortune when I saw you walk into the church."

"You must credit Verity for that, for it was her choice of gown and hair flowers."

"I think it is called 'fishing for compliments' for you know quite well that, becoming as they were, I do not refer to your gown or the flowers," he laughed. "Are you blushing, my mermaid?"

"If you can find a young lady who does not blush at such things, then I fear you have not found a lady at all," she replied and then blushed deeper.

He booming laughter was contagious and his next words set her cheeks on fire, "No, I believe I quite failed to find a lady. Instead I found an enchanting mermaid that liked to pretend to be a boy and torment ceaselessly. I dreamt of you as you were on the sea shore for months now, Demelza..."

His kiss was welcome and when they walked to his, no, their chambers, she was not as skittish as she expected to be.

He helped her with the dress stays, his hands practiced and sure so much so that Demelza wondered how many women he'd bed. She didn't dwell too long on that as his ministrations freed her from the dress and hair combs quickly enough and soon she was only wearing her undershirt.

She looked up at him and there must have been something in her eyes, because he stopped and took her hand.

"You are not afraid of me, are you, Demelza?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Oh no, you must not think that. It is only that I am, I think, a little afraid of disappointing you."

"Disappointing me! Oh, darling-"

"No, but Ross, I know you have been looking forward to this moment with considerable anticipation and..." she broke off and he looked down to see she was worrying her shirt over and over between nervous fingers. "I want everything to be perfect for you."

He took her hands in hers and kissed them, first one and then the other. "You are assuming that I have been anticipating perfection, my love, and I haven't. " She looked up at this to find him smiling fondly. "Sharing a bed with someone is like sharing a life. We both have to learn how to do it properly and I dare say we will both make mistakes along the way."

"You have been thinking about this too, haven't you?" she said, her tone wondering. "Are you as nervous as I?"

"More so, I fancy. It is not unknown for a clumsy husband to give his wife a lifelong disgust for the whole business - I want to give you joy, and I know I will probably have to hurt you to do so. I can think of nothing more calculated to dampen the ardour."

She considered for a moment and while she did so, he put his arm about her shoulders and drew her against his side. He was warm and the fine fabric of his vest was cool and smooth against her cheek. She slipped an arm about his waist and he rested her cheek on her head. "There is a lot of nonsense spoken about man's marital rights - if you would rather wait until tomorrow... You must never feel that you must... when you are not inclined... I mean I would rather not if you are at all unwilling, either now or in the future." He broke off in exasperation. "I wonder if a time will ever come when we can discuss this easily." He pressed his lips to the top of her head, "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"May I ask if you feel you know everything you need to?"

She pulled away at this and swivelled on the bed to look at him directly, "You need not be concerned. I have grown up tending to animals... That is to say, your Great Aunt and Elizabeth have spoken to me on the matter." She almost laughed at the expression of heartfelt relief on his face.

"Oh good," he said.

There was another long pause, until Demelza spoke again, "It's only that I do not know what you will, what we will do, exactly." She sighed, "It was so easy when we were just kissing."

"Then perhaps we should start by kissing, after all, we can kiss all we want now. We don't have to worry about being interrupted by anyone... I can kiss you here," he laid a gentle finger on her lips and bent his head. It started gentle. She could taste the brandy and coffee he had consumed earlier, and opened her mouth to him. She heard him make a little sound of pleasure, at once endearing and exciting.

"And I can kiss you here," he ran a finger from behind her ear, down her throat to her shoulder. She flung back her head as he did so. His lips were warm and his tongue wet. It was not at all how she had imagined - or rather tried not to imagine. Her heart was beginning to race and she felt once more the familiar sensation beneath her navel, half-stab, half-pang of pleasure. She tugged on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers and they kissed for long minutes. She could feel the strength in the arms about her and knew that, with someone else, she might well have been terrified. Here, with him, she felt safe and valued, as she had never felt valued before.

They fell backwards on the bed and her fingers were quite impatient in removing his clothing. But when he was without his shirt and she saw how he looked without covers, she was quite overwhelmed with the sheer masculinity of it. She looked away, but he brought her back when he put a gentle finger under her chin.

"Now where were we?" he murmured before kissing her again and again, her lips, her throat, the curve of her shoulders, the soft skin of her arms and hands. It ought to have felt strange, frightening but it didn't. This was natural, this was what was supposed to happen. He knew what he was about and she was content to trust him.

He kissed her throat again, then with a husky "May I?" he drew aside the chemise that covered her breasts and kissed them too. This was more and better, much better. She shifted beneath him, suddenly aware that her head was tossing from side to side. She arched her back, her hands pressing his head closer as he drew her into his mouth and suckled. A knife-sharp sensation coursed like lightning between her breast and the junction of her thighs and she cried out in shock and pleasure combined.

He lifted his head at this and she stared at him wide-eyed. Then he smiled happily and bent to the other breast. She ran her fingers into his hair and held his head to her breast. She had never heard, never known, never been told... She surged upwards and she felt him nip at her flesh. She knew he was being gentle, it wasn't pain, it was the furtherest thing possible from pain. She ran her hands across his shoulders, feeling their breadth - such a strong man he was, her husband and lover. His skin was hot and smooth and she could feel his great muscles flex, moved by some unknown impulse, she ran her nails across his back. He cried about and reared above her, his eyes wide in the firelight before falling on her mouth like a starving man.

They kissed, their hands tangling in their nightclothes as they struggled to touch everything and everywhere, before he at least had the presence of mind to tug at her chemise and ask, "Off? Yes? Please, oh please." She couldn't talk but she struggled out of the hampering garment at the same time as he cast his britches away somewhere. They rolled into each other's arms and both gasped at the heat and touch of the other's skin.

His hands were where his mouth was not and his mouth seemed to be everywhere. She had never thought that the inside of her elbows was a particularly sensitive spot but his lips burned there, her side where the ribs swept down to her waist, and her breasts, always and again, her breasts. One leg was trapped beneath one of his and she struggled restlessly, not wanting to escape, just wanting.

She was past being shocked when she felt his hand between her thighs. She ached for the touch, a strange burning, no not burning, a strange nameless sensation where there had never been any sensation before. She keened between gritted teeth as he stroked and stroked, long gentle passes of his fingers. Then he found - something - and his hand became urgent, focussed. Heat gathered in her belly, in the small of her back, sensation pooled, hot and urgent between her legs, her head thrashed from side to side and she cried out as the pleasure peaked and burst its bank, strange and wonderful, in waves that shook and shivered her.

She seized her husband's head and showered kissed on his face as he rolled over her. She parted her legs instinctively and he was there and he was big, and there was pain but his face... oh his dear, strong, beautiful face - twisted with pleasure, gasping his love, his gratitude, his sorrow for the pain he had caused, his joy in her and her body. She flung her arms about him and held him as tightly as she could and he breathed raggedly her name and shuddered above her, once, twice, thrice and then collapsed, turning at the last second to lie on his back, cradling her against his heart.

She could feel his heart racing beneath her cheek and knew that hers was full as fast. She touched him with gentle, curious fingers - she had not realised that gentlemen might have hair upon their chests and it was soft, not coarse and wiry and she had thought without thinking that it would be.

Ridiculous to feel shy, but she did and was grateful for the few moments of quiet. "I did not hurt you?" She shook her head. "Are you sure, sweetheart? It does get better, I promise."

"Better?" surprised, she raised her head to look at him.

He laughed then, and his expression took on a faintly self-satisfied edge. She thought about objecting but decided perhaps he had a right to feel a little smug, just this once. She lay her head back on his chest. There was a dull ache between her thighs but it was mixed in with the left-over pleasure and could be easily ignored. A small price to pay. She was beginning to feel distinctly sticky but was far too comfortable to think getting out of bed to remedy the matter. Another time something might be contrived with towels, she thought, in the meantime there was an awful lot of bed unused, so she climbed right over her new husband and settled on his other side.

He watched her antics with bemused pleasure, enjoying the sight of her naked body in the candle light before she scrambled back under the blankets. There was an encouraging sight for another occasion. Not tonight however, she was yawning and they had both been awake for a very long time. He drew her head down to rest on his shoulder, and pulled the blankets up so she would not feel chilled.

They had the rest of their lives before them and at least a third of it could be spent in bed.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Poldark," he said.

"Good night, husband," she replied. Which in one way was unfortunate because the mere word found him suddenly and fiercely excited all over again.

It was very nearly dawn before they finally fell asleep.