The Blake Adventures: Nothing Dearer

January 1960

"Oh I do love you, Mrs. Blake," Lucien murmured, positively enamored by referring to Jean by her new name.

She hummed happily, nuzzling against his chest where they sat on the sofa, snuggled together as they finished the last of the champagne. The guests had all trickled out after dinner, not that there had been too many of them. Jean's sister and brother-in-law had only come up from Melbourne for the day, and Christopher had an early bus back to Adelaide. Matthew and Alice and Charlie and Mattie had all helped with the cleanup, but there was only so much they could do. The lodgers each packed a bag for the night; Charlie was spending the night on Matthew's sofa and Mattie was staying with one of her girlfriends. When everyone was gone, Jean was in the kitchen with her apron tied over her wedding dress, washing the last of the dishes. Lucien had teased her, saying that only Jean Beazley would be washing up after her own wedding. Jean had replied by informing him that she was Jean Blake now, and she couldn't very well relax in the midst of a mess. So Lucien had helped her dry the dishes until he finally insisted that, as it was their wedding night, they should have the rest of the champagne and celebrate their marriage properly.

And now, Jean was feeling all the bubbly weightlessness of the champagne mixed with her giddy contentment at finally being married to the man of her dreams. "Is there anymore in the bottle?" she asked, holding up her empty glass.

"'Fraid not, love. You've finished the last of it," he chuckled.

"Just as well. I don't think either of us wants to be too intoxicated on our first night as a married couple," she teased.

"Mmm," he agreed. "I think it's time I carry my wife off to bed."

She sat up and laughed, "You're going to carry me off to bed!?"

He grinned excitedly. "I most certainly am!" And without further discussion, Lucien leapt off the sofa and scooped Jean into his arms. He planted a big kiss on her lips before dashing up the stairs with her to their new bedroom.

Lucien gently deposited Jean back on her feet and closed the door behind them. He regained his breathing after the exertion of carrying her and gazed around the room. Jean had been decorating this enormous spare bedroom next to her old room. It had been left vacant for years. Thomas had offered it to Jean when she had first moved in, but she protested, not feeling as though the housekeeper should have such a grand space. Lucien vaguely remembered this room from his childhood; it had been his parents' master bedroom when Genevieve was alive. After her death, Thomas moved downstairs to the room Lucien had stayed in since his return to Ballarat. But now, the years had passed, and the time had come to have love and life back in that old room.

"The room looks wonderful," he commented, smiling at all the nice touches she had put around, taking a few things from each of their old bedrooms to make this room their own.

"We'll need to move the rest of our things in when we return from our honeymoon, but I hoped this would be sufficient for now," Jean replied.

"It's lovely. But not nearly as lovely as you."

Jean smiled and averted her gaze in slight embarrassment, smoothing the cream-colored satin of her wedding dress.

Lucien watched her with a gentle expression. "Have I told you how much I like your dress?" he asked, admiring the tea-length gown for the thousandth time that day. She looked like a beautiful, soft angel. Her hair was pulled into an elegant style beneath her had. The bodice and three-quarter sleeves of the dress were all overlaid with delicate lace.

"I wasn't sure if I should have a traditional wedding dress. We didn't get married in the church, and I'm certainly in no position to wear white." Jean chose to ignore his cheeky grin at her comment. She continued, "But I just thought I'd feel odd without a proper gown. Just one little traditional thing in the midst of our nontraditional life."

"You're not disappointed we didn't get married at the church?" he wondered with concern.

"Of course not," she assured him. "You and Father Emery certainly don't get along. And I know you're not comfortable at Sacred Heart. As I've told you before, Lucien, all I wanted was to marry you. I don't care how. I just want to start our married life together."

Lucien gathered her in his arms. "Shall we begin now?" he murmured.

Jean grinned happily as his lips descended upon hers. This was the first proper kiss they'd shared since they said 'I do.' They had kept their first kiss as husband and wife relatively chaste. After all, everyone was watching, and Jean had been smiling far too much to kiss him adequately. During the evening reception, they had shared a few quick pecks while they danced in the living room to the record Charlie put on for their first dance, and during the toasts Matthew and Christopher and Mattie gave in their honor.

But this was what they had been waiting for. No more barriers left between them. No more arbitrary rules Jean had imposed to preserve the sanctity of their upcoming marriage. Just two people madly in love and desperate for their life together.

Lucien pulled his wife flush against him so she could feel his arousal grow from the passion of their kiss. Jean rubbed up on him with her hips, causing him to groan with desire. He pulled away, cradling her face in his hands. "I'm so glad you're my wife."

"I've waited a long time for you," she replied reverently, placing her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his waistcoat.

"I'm certainly glad we didn't wait too long," he added with a playful grin.

Jean pursed her lips as she blushed. For the second time, she had sinned with a man before marrying him. But Jean knew from experience that marriage was so much more than sex. And there could be nothing sinful about the way she loved Lucien Blake. In ever manner and with ever fiber of her being, she loved him. She had not confessed her sins to Father Emery, a fact she had not shared with Lucien. But she knew in her heart that the love she felt for this man was a divine blessing, and the God that Jean prayed to would not fault her for expressing that love, not after hiding in shame from it for so long.

And despite having made love to Lucien quite a few times in the months during their engagement, this night, their wedding night, was special. Jean had never allowed herself to spend the night with Lucien and share his bed longer than their coupling. A marital bed was for such delights, such intimate, vulnerable, comfortable things. Tonight they would make love and fall asleep in each other's arms and wake up to each other's kisses and caresses. They were married now, and everything could finally be theirs to share.

Jean looked up into his eyes and gave a satisfied half-smile. "Lucien," she said softly, maintaining eye contact as she began undoing his buttons. "I am your wife now." She undid his tie. "And you are my husband." She moved on to the buttons of his shirt. "And this our wedding night." Her hands stopped at where the tails of the shirt were still tucked into his trousers.

Lucien's breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard before saying, "May I help remove your hairpins, Mrs. Blake?"

With a nod, Jean turned away from him so he could see the back of her hair. With the gentlest touch, Lucien began to undo her intricate style. First, he removed her hat and placed it respectfully on the dresser. One by one, he removed each pin and placed them on in the dish on the vanity. Jean could feel the care and attention in his touch, and it nearly brought her to tears. The devotion he showed her in this simple act. By the time he removed the very last pin and began combing through her curls with his fingers, her knees were weak with desire.

But not satisfied with only the hairpins, Lucien moved his attention downward. He began undoing the buttons of her dress with the same delicate care. As he exposed bits of her skin, he leaned down to press kisses to her neck and shoulders and back. Jean trembled, far too aroused by his painstaking efforts. She hardly even noticed when her gown fell off her shoulders and onto the floor at her feet.

Lucien wrapped his arms around her body, clad only in her slip and undergarments. His hands flattened on her stomach, pressing her body against him again and gently grinding his hips and thrusting against her bum. She moaned with want. One of his hands crawled up to massage her breast through the layers of silk separating them. His other hand slid down between her legs and began stroking her. Jean canted her hips against his hand to increase the friction. With a soft growl, he sucked and nipped at her neck, unable to resist her.

Jean was weak in his arms, barely able to stand upright. She gasped when he moved her knickers out of the way and entered her with two of his fingers, thrusting at a painfully slow pace. She wiggled to increase his speed, but he resisted. "Please," she begged breathlessly. "Lucien, I need you."

His hands slowed to a pause. He nuzzled her cheek with his. "Not just yet, my darling. I'm going to take my time with you tonight."

Their previous lovemaking hadn't been like this at all. Lucien was always very attentive to her, but they'd always rushed right to their goal. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they were hiding from everyone else in the house, or that they knew they weren't really able to fully be together yet. Jean hadn't expected their wedding night to actually be much different than those other times, not really. But it was. It seemed Lucien had placed as much importance on this night and on their marriage as Jean had.

With this, as with most things, Jean was willing to follow wherever he led. He helped her step out of her shoes and walked her to the bed. He pulled back the bedsheets before sitting her down on the edge. He lifted one of her long, shapely legs and unclipped her stockings, rolling down one and then the other, tossing them behind him. He then took the hem of her slip and pulled it over her head.

Jean, despite her trembling, couldn't wait any longer. Her shaking hands found their way to his belt buckle and pushed his trousers down his legs. She was even so bold as to reach into his shorts and take his erection in hand, stroking him as slowly as he had stroked her before. Lucien groaned, his head rolling back on his neck.

That seemed to be the end of Lucien's plan to take his time. He threw off his clothes, practically ripping his singlet over his head as he lunged forward, pressing Jean's back into the mattress. He kissed her passionately, his hands roaming over her nearly-naked body, unable to stay still. She pushed his shorts off his hips, too eager to have his hardness inside her.

Lucien forced himself off her in order to remove all the rest of their undergarments. He poised himself above her body, her legs spread open in front of him. "Oh, my darling wife," he breathed in awe.

"I'm yours, husband," she whispered in return.

He grinned brightly as he took himself in hand, lining up with her entrance. She was dripping with desire for him since his earlier ministrations. Jean was hot and ready for him, and she emitted a high-pitched moan as he pushed inside her.

Lucien had somehow regained some of his control. He set his pace slow and easy, still determined to take his time, to bring her torturously to the brink of her climax and allow it to crash through her over and over and over. And that was exactly what he did.

"God, Lucien!" she screamed out. Her mouth was dry and there were stars in her eyes. The sensations he caused, the incessant, unending ripples of every muscle in her body, was more than she had ever experienced in all her life.

He could feel the walls of her sex clench around him, pulling him and squeezing him. His body growing weak from his exertion in keeping control.

Jean could finally blink her eyes open to look at him, and she saw the sweat beading on his brow. "Please, love, let go for me," she murmured, reaching up to trail her fingers down his face.

With her permission, Lucien leaned in to kiss his wife as his thrusts increased with speed and became erratic and frenzied. It didn't take long before he was thoroughly spent inside her. He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily against her neck.

Jean held him close to her, unwilling to let him go or be even an inch away from him. She pressed soft kisses to his shoulder and traced lazy patterns in the scars on his back. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Neither was sure how or when, but they fell asleep in each other's arms in utter exhaustion from their lovemaking. It wasn't until well into the night that either realized how perfectly natural it had felt, their first time falling asleep together.

A sharp cry and the sound of scraping gravel outside their bedroom window woke Jean with a start. She blinked in the darkness, disoriented in this unfamiliar room. It took her a moment to remember where she was and realize that it was Lucien—her husband—who had his arm around her bare waist beneath the sheets of the bed. More scraping on the gravel outside. She nudged his solid chest pressed against her back. "Lucien!" she hissed, waking him up.

"Hmm? Jean? What is it?" he grumbled, nuzzling into her hair in protest.

"There's something outside!"

The sound came again, fainter this time but definitely audible. Lucien woke up right away. He threw the covers off and got out of bed. "Stay here. I'll go see what it is." Lucien found his shorts and pulled them on quickly and grabbed his dressing gown of the hook on the back of the door where Jean had conveniently put it.

Jean, however, was not content to remain in bed while her husband went to investigate. She, too, got out of bed and threw on her dressing gown, hurrying down the stairs after him.

Lucien ran out of the house without even putting shoes on his feet. A dark figure was collapsed in the drive. Jean turned on the porch light, casting a yellow beam around the front of the house. It was clear to see that the dark figure was a person. A young woman with dark hair, collapsed not ten feet from the Blakes' front door. "Jean, call the police!" Lucien shouted.

Jean did as she was asked without a second thought. Lucien, meanwhile, crouched down to investigate. The body was warm but unmoving. Tentative and terrified, Lucien rolled her over.

For an instant, Lucien's heart dropped in his chest. For an instant, he saw Li's face. But Lucien blinked and saw that, of course, it was not his daughter. This was a young Chinese woman, probably about Li's age. And this young woman was dead.