Cosette was having some sort of fit. Or she was sick. She was in the throws of something, that was sure.

It wasn't a new feeling, but never before had it been so strong. In the middle of the night, lying in her little white bed, Cosette felt her skin burn. It was a delicious feeling. Earlier in her life, when Marius kissed her the first time or when she heard bawdy talk, she'd felt hints of this fire. They were flickers beneath her skin, a dull ache between her legs. Earlier today, when her father had left the room, Marius had gripped her waist and kissed her in a way he never had before. He pressed himself close to her and then walked her back until she was leaning against the wall. His body was tight to hers, and he opened her mouth with his tongue. She'd gasped, and he gripped her chin and pulled her face even closer. A raw moan grumbled in his throat, and she felt a sudden jolt in the base of stomach, sending a rush through her until it landed, like lightening, between her legs. She'd gasped and pushed him away, breathing heavy. Marius apologized, assuming her shock was in reference to his behavior, and not the reaction he had spurred within her body.

And now, late at night and alone, she let her mind wander further than she'd ever let it before. Her breasts ached, and she hesitated before touching them, as if it would feel silly. But immediately the fire deepened and she knew she'd done the right thing. The ache worsened between her legs. She rolled onto her stomach and pressed herself against the mattress.

"Marius," she whispered into her pillow, moving faster, alone and imagining him in flashes of skin and hands, unaware of what it was she wanted but knowing she wanted it. "Oh, God, Marius..."

The next day she felt a cloud of shame around her. She felt older. For the past few years, she had known there was something in the world that she did not know about. It was an important thing, and it was hidden in the talk of strangers on the street, in married working-class women joking with each other, in the eyes of men. But it never presented itself to her, and she knew it inappropriate to ask. Her father never spoke of any women in his life, and Marius was so careful with her, so respectful and reserved.

But the night before, she felt like she finally understood something. That was it, wasn't it? The secret all the men knew? It was there in her skin, the lightening between her legs, the moisture there, the vulgar way she moved her hips against the mattress. It was the compulsion she felt, the way her body knew exactly what to do.

Marius was due to pick her up for a wedding. Not their own, unfortunately - one of Grandfather's friends was hosting a wedding for his granddaughter, and Marius and Cosette were going.

She selected a gown with great care, choosing one that grandfather had given her made of bright blue silk. It was done in the fashion of his generation, which was back again in style (especially after a trip to a tailor). The gown hung prettily off her shoulders, leaving her neck and clavicles bare. In a fit of rebellion, she asked Nicolette to do her corset tighter than usual (and ignored her protests), so the neckline of the dress would expose more cleavage than usual. It was not at all immodest, merely fit the fashion of the gown - but Cosette never wore such gowns, and felt very elegant when she walked down the stairs.

She caught herself in the mirror and her stomach tightened. She looked beautiful, it was clear. With satisfaction she turned to the side and saw her breasts swell out. Upon a second look, she picked up her shawl and wrapped it around herself. She wasn't sure if she was exhilarated or frightened.

Cosette was glad for the shawl when Marius picked her up. Even with it, he turned red upon seeing her so dressed up. He never was good at hiding his emotions - or whatever this feeling was, if not an emotion - and Cosette blushed, noticing her father's eyes on Marius' face. Still, now that she knew a bit more, Cosette's heart pounded when she realized what she was making Marius feel.

In the carriage, she felt her palms sweat. Marius pressed his knee to hers.

"My love, you look so beautiful."

"Thank you," she said. Turning to look out the window, she removed her shawl.

The atmosphere in the carriage was overwhelming. It was such a small enclosed space; the driver was outside. Neither of the lovers noticed the cold air. In a slow movement, Cosette turned her head to face Marius.

He snapped his eyes up from her breasts, cheeks aflame. "I, um-"

Costa turned brilliantly red, and looked down at her clasped hands.

Marius touched her face with his fingertips, tracing down her neck. "You are so beautiful." His voice was soft and deeper than usual. Costa felt the quickening in the pit of her stomach and recognized desire in his tone. She faced him once more and said nothing, merely held his gaze feeling the blood course through her body, until her breasts ached and her mouth went dry. She tipped her chin up toward him.

"Oh, God." Marius' words were half grunt. He crossed the space between them and covered her mouth with his.

Cosette let out a little groan.

"I'm sorry - oh, my love, I'm sorry." Marius broke away. "I shouldn't - I'm upsetting you, aren't I? Oh God I don't know what's gotten into me lately."

He buried his face in his hands. "Cosette, I can't control myself around you. It was easier, before. But the closer we get to our marriage, the harder..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Cosette swallowed. She took Marius' hand. There was so much she wanted to ask him. He was a man, he must know all of it, even if he never hinted. But how to broach the subject? What if she said something that put him off? It was hardly modest behavior to ask such things, it wasn't ladylike, and she knew Marius loved how innocent she was, how sweet.

I am sweet, she thought, knowing that was the word for her behavior toward birds and flowers and the way she liked to dote on the men in her life. Does this mean I cannot be sweet anymore?

She must have seemed preoccupied, for Marius squeezed her hands.

"Please, my love, tell me what you are thinking. I'm in agony thinking I've hurt you."

She shook her head. "That isn't it, dear."

He studied her face, looking as if he didn't believe her.

Cosette kissed his cheek. "I promise I'm not offended."

The carriage pulled up outside of the wedding. Marius looked like he wanted to ask her more, but they had to rest the topic while he helped her out onto the street and into the church.

Much later, after the ceremony, they arrived at the reception. Cosette had to give up her favorite spot on Marius' arm in favor of Grandfather's. He escorted her into the house with Marius trailing behind, introducing her to the guests. Cosette accepted a glass of champagne and sipped it, enjoying the way the bubbles made it different from wine she typically drank.

There was a great deal of food, there were some toasts, there was dancing.

"I haven't been to many of these," Cosette remarked when she was back again in Marius' arms, glad for the excuse to press herself closer to him than she could in ordinary life, "But I am getting comfortable with this."

She rested her head on his shoulder. Marius, swollen with pride, gripped her waist.

"As am I," he said. "Though I don't care much for when we have to dance with other people."

"Perhaps that will be easier after our wedding," Cosette remarked, her face close to his. "When we will have plenty of time alone, and won't need a dance in order to press together."

As soon as she spoke, Cosette's eyes widened in horror. She hid her face in his coat. Marius, red as a beet, continued to lead them until they reached the door to the balcony. For a moment, he resisted - the gentleman in him wanted to ignore her comment and redirect the conversation back to appropriate grounds. But the man in him needed to know why Cosette had said such a thing, and was thrilled beyond measure to imagine his future wife fantasizing of their conjugal life. There was little debate. He opened the door and directed them outside.

"Love," he said. "Look at me."

Cosette hesitated, but obeyed.

Marius looked into her beautiful eyes. When he spoke, his voice was so soft and familiar that Cosette was hit with another wave of understanding: the impassioned feelings of the previous night were part of the secret, but there was more. Her Marius would be the one with her, and all that they were: the laughing, their friendship, the sweetness of their love would all mix in with the mysterious act of the flesh they would commit together. Somehow, this made it seem so much better.

"Was this what you wanted to ask about, in the carriage?" he whispered. For his part, Marius was trying to contain his excitement. It had begun with the sight of her breasts, swelling over the neckline of her gown, smooth and large and inviting his mouth while reality screamed, "No, hands off!"

Cosette could not answer, but she nodded.

"My love..." Marius would never be able to understand why this woman had undone him so completely. But everything she did, from smoothing a runaway hair to kissing him, drove him to the highest throws of desire. But his own inexperience and modesty hindered his handling of the situation. He was embarrassed, as was she, and neither knew what to say. If he was more confident, and less respectful, he would have recognized that he could have gotten her into bed that night, a month shy of their marital union. But instead he said, "What do you want to ask?"

Cosette shook her head. Marius could kick himself - she was so pure, so innocent, he was betraying that.

But then he looked down... Oh, God she was so beautiful.

"Did you wear that dress... for me?" he whispered.

Her cheeks reddened, but then she nodded once more. Marius let out a little moan.

"Marius, you... like it?"

"Yes," he said. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth. "I've never seen you so..."

"Yes."

"It's nice."

"I wanted to know if you would notice."

"I noticed. Of course."

"Have you thought of me... this way?" she asked.

Marius was bewildered. "Of course. Why I've always told you how beautiful you are."

"You know what I mean," Cosette said.

"Are you asking if I've thought of you... of us..." Marius couldn't finish the sentence. He squeezed Cosette closer to him.

"Yes," she said, breathless.

"I tried not to, for months," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "It was easier, in the Rue Plumet. I was so excited to be with you. I was so in love with you, every part of my soul was falling in love with you with every moment we spent together. But now..."

Cosette kissed him.

"Now," Marius said, their mouths still very close together, "Every part of me loves you. My heart, my soul. And you love me too, heart and soul, and we've shared words and kisses... The only part of our love that hasn't been consummated is our bodies'."

He kissed her again, deeply. "You ask if I've thought of you, our bodies together? I think of it every night. I can hardly banish the thoughts when you sit, paces away from me, in my grandfather's living room. I dream of you, I..."

Marius stopped, fearing he had said too much.

"I think of you too," Cosette said.

Marius balked. "You do?"

"I don't even know..." She hid her face. "I have no idea what happens. I've wanted to ask you so long, my love, but it's so embarrassing. I didn't want to do anything improper, but I wanted to ask you everything. I need you to tell me."

"But you think of me?" he pressed.

"Last night I..." She thought of telling him, and looked at his face - he was hanging on her every word - but backed off. Perhaps one day they would be familiar enough, but not yet. "I desire you, my love. But I don't know what I desire."

"Do you want to know?"

She nodded.

Marius looked away, thinking, and then looked back. "Come with me. I have an idea."

The plants in the rue Plumet were all dead, but the place held a holy peace even with frosted grass and bare branches.

"It's eleven. We have twenty minutes before we must get a carriage to get you home," Marius said.

"I don't have a key," Cosette said.

Marius looked dubious. "Love, you are with me, remember? The man who broke into this garden for months?" He pushed aside the broken bar.

Cosette laughed. Her stomach leapt and she felt the familiar feeling of rebellion. She'd gotten her first taste last spring, and here she was, back with Marius in their beloved garden, where she once more was defying orders. Marius' hand was hot in hers.

Under the guise of the cold, they sat quite close on their bench.

"You want to know?" he asked her.

She looked away. "I want to know anything you wish to tell me. I trust you. You decide, my darling Marius, you make the decision."

He hesitated, before resting his head against her shoulder. It was impossible to look at her while saying this, he would lose nerve. But when he rested his face there, her hair lay against his face and he smelled the sweetness of her curls and her neck. He was hard as a rock in his trousers, had been since her comment on the dance floor. If she asked him one more question, or told him again that she desired him, those heated words coming from her sweet mouth, he would crack. He was just a few steps away from gripping her hand and placing it over himself.

"It's called... making love," he said. "It's how men and women come together. We'll be one in spirit, as I'm sure you've heard, but we will also be one in body."

She pushed his head up. "I want to be yours, Marius. One with you, yours, whichever."

He looked away once more, rested his head back down. "After our wedding, we will go to our room. Nicolette will not undress you, I will." He dug his fingertips into her waist as a wave of heat rushed over him. "We will lay together in the bed we share. I'll kiss you, much the way we kissed tonight. Was that..."

"Wonderful," Cosette sighed. "It was wonderful."

Marius closed his eyes. "I'll touch your body, my love, everywhere. I can hardly..."

Abruptly, he stood and turned away, shaking out his hands.

Cosette sat back as if having been burned. "Marius!"

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "I..."

"Oh, what have I done?" she whispered. "Marius, I'm so sorry."

"No." Marius turned around, and held up a calming hand. "You did nothing wrong, you merely asked... I am getting carried away, Cosette."

"Should we stop?"

Marius counted to ten in his head, breathing deeply. "I think we should."

Cosette nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I am shaking with desire, look at my hands - it's not your fault you drive me this way. You simply exist, and it sends me into a state."

Cosette grinned. "I know all about that. You do the same to me, Monsieur."

He doubted it, but smiled and held out a hand to her. "Come, love, let's go. It's time to take you home."

In the carriage, Cosette rested her head on his shoulder. They were very quiet, but has their hands laced together.

"I am glad I could ask you," Cosette whispered. "Even if we couldn't talk about it."

Marius kissed her head. "I love you."

"I am glad I don't have to be shy with you," Cosette said. "Thank you, husband. I am so lucky."

"I wish I could better answer your questions," Marius said with a laugh. "You see what the mere thought does to me."

Cosette didn't respond, but pressed his hand.

He leaned close to her ear. "I want you to know I've never... I've never been with anyone else, Cosette. I don't know what you've heard, but most men have been with other women by the time they marry. But I was waiting for my wife, for you. You're the only one, for me."

Cosette looked up, eyes wide.

"Cosette, I may have heard a bit more than you, but I think it's all hearsay until you've done it. Or so it seems." He stroked her cheek. "So we'll both find out together."

"I wish I was your wife tonight," Cosette sighed.

More than anything, Marius wished so too. He also wished to know what she had done, the night before, when she thought of him. He wanted to ask, but could not bear to. Besides, he could feel Cosette growing tired and perhaps overwhelmed. He didn't want to ask her too much, and risk seeming fixated.

But Marius had misinterpreted her silence.

"Maybe you could..." She trailed off.

"What's that, darling?"

Cosette sat up. "Maybe you could write it all down?"

He imagined Cosette, dressed in her nightgown, reading such a letter in her bed. He'd never seen her bed, but could imagine it - he'd done so many times.

The carriage approached her apartment. The lights were on - Monsieur Fauchelevent was doubtless awake. Marius opened the carriage door and walked Cosette to the threshold. Just before she pulled out her key, she looked up at Marius, waiting for an answer.

"I'll have a letter for you tomorrow," he said, mouth dry. "Be very careful not to let anyone see."

Cosette blushed, and then unlocked the door. She could feel her pulse strong while Marius spoke to her father, and then exchanged a glance just before he left, when they both clearly had the same thoughts on their minds. When she readied herself for bed, she thought of all that transpired that evening, proud of herself and feeling more of a woman than ever before.

Reviews are appreciated.

Thanks, loves. Glad to be back writing for my favorite couple.