When the church bells rang and the gathered congregation cheered, most brides would have been focused on the happiest day of their lives. Allison, however, was thinking about pulley systems. The lords and ladies cheered, and the vicar closed his book, but her mind was thinking about carefully laid string layouts, perfectly balanced and prepared to deliver their disruptive payload.
It wasn't that she was unhappy. Far from it - her cheeks flushed red, and her heart thudded heavily whenever she saw him. Henry was never far from her side, his strong hands enclosing hers with a gentle grip. His presence as they navigated the well-wishes of the fashionable London families was a source of comfort - but also a reminder of the need for her pulleys.
As the carriage pulled up for them, and she boarded with her husband -
husband-
she was again reminded of the need for these preparations. Soon the church would be far behind, and they'd be at the adorable cottage Henry's uncle, the Duke of Danbury, had loaned them. They'd be alone for what happened next.
Alone but, Allision reminded herself, not unprepared.
The bucket of pond muck, foul and flecked with green.
The trap filled with frogs, chosen for their large and warted appearance.
The trough of iced water, certain to shock and subdue.
The carriage door made a click as it closed, finally isolating the pair from the crowd of well-wishers. The ground lurched under them, and they set off down the rutted road. Henry's hand was a comfortable presence at her knee.
He cleared his throat. "Seems like quiet a lot of fuss for just two people, doesn't it?" He stuttered. "C-c-certainly, I would have enjoyed that plan we dreamed of - a wedding amongst woods, with trees as an audience and a hedgehog for a pastor."
Allison laughed. "And exchanging acorn caps as rings. Yes, that does sound quite a bit more peaceful."
"Still, I... well. I am pleased for the commotion, for the event will be forever in my mind. I know that this day isn't one I will forget." He gave her knee a squeeze.
Allison melted into his strong shoulder, smiling.
Her ebullient mood lasted until the crested roofs of the summer home cleared the horizon. Under other circumstances, she may have noticed the historic façade decorating the cottage's front, or the rich garden illuminated in the fading light. Tonight, she only noted the pair of uniformed servants, fully packed and leaving the door behind them. The newlyweds would be alone tonight.
Henry seemed to pick up on her anxiety. "I know it is a small place, Aly. Only 12 rooms. The servants offered to remain to offer their services, but I told them to take the night off."
Her throat was dry. The servants waved as they drove up, then walked off toward the main manor. "We are the picture of modern independence."
The inside of the cottage matched its quant appearance. A well-appointed parlor with halls leading off to sitting room, larder, and library. Allison traversed them systematically, simultaneously surveying for threats, and checking the status of her preparations. All complete - her handmaid Lucille had arrived earlier in the day, and had been thorough. Allison checked a rope with a soft tug and her mouth tightened in a grim line.
Henry gave a heavy sigh when he finished the luggage inside. "Ah! That's all then. Which would you like taken up to the bedroom?"
Bedroom-singular. It felt so foreign. Allison felt a drop of sweat run down the curve of her back to dampen her ass.
Dinner was a chaotic and joyous affair. They worked together in the kitchen to create a meal with the ingredients left out for them, tossing vegetables to each other and laughing at oddly shaped carrots. They set the entire dining table and then sat next to each other, their legs bumping under the table. Then came cleaning, a nightcap of brandy, and they were upstairs. The bedroom.
Henry finished placing her affairs into the wardrobe. Allison couldn't help but notice the strain of his muscles under his dress shirt - the line of his back bunching and releasing. Just as she couldn't help but have her gaze drawn to the bed- a sprawling setting of soft sheets and firm pillows.
And then he was in front of her. All rings of dark curly hair, long eye-lashed, and piercing eyes.
"...and then I believe after breakfast we will have excellent weather for the walk," he said, continuing a previous conversation. "Though, if we prefer, I'm quite comfortable with a cozy morning in."
He looks so damn beautiful, Allison thought. One quick deviation from the plans, then.
Henry nearly stumbled when she kissed him. His full lips tried to assemble a word, then instead began to return her kiss. His skin was warm against hers, and his scent of woodsmoke- so familiar- felt both comforting and exhilarating at once. They'd kissed many times before, in moments stolen from chaperones and guardians. This felt different.
His arm came up around her waist, squeezing her tight to his frame. She sighed and tilted her chin. Full kisses bit down her neck, sending shivers through her body. Her chest rode up against his, and the peaks of her breasts pressed into her satin nightgown. She leaned back, her ass brushing the edge of the bed.
The bed. They had gotten so close to it... In the haze of her arousal, Allison's analytical mind cut through. This was dangerous - perhaps one of those moments she's been warned off. Parts of her wanted nothing more than to continue pressing her lips against his stubbled jaw. But parts of her had been raised to recognize a tide of emotions as a threat, and resist.
She always prepared for a threat.
Allison's hands reached out, seeking, groping. Her fingers settled on the bed-side window, and the ropes arrayed by the shutters. She found one- a discrete white chord. With a lurch, she pretended to lose her balance, and sent Henry tumbling into the window. When he hit, it, she yanked the chord.
The window's slid open, enough for Henry to dangerously teeter on its edge. And certainly, enough for the bucket positioned over the sill to tilt over him. A gallon of pond sludge carpeted Henry's unbalanced form. Green flecked and sticky -- when Allison pulled him back into the room, she could immediately smell the nasty ooze.
"Oh, great heavens," she said, her voice unnaturally high. She'd never been a great actress. "Must have been some buildup on the roof."
Henry stood by the wall, glop speckling his face. He seemed shell-shocked at the near danger. The energy that had pervaded the room dissipated.
She felt horribly guilty. Grabbing her muddied husband by the wrist, she led him off the rug before he could drip, and down to the washroom.
The washroom's full-length mirrors reflected marble floors, an imposing bathtub, several pots of oven-warmed bathwater, and now two stumbling newlyweds. "I'm really quite sorry," Allison apologized again, removing the grime-stained coat. "I really should have been more careful." Her fingers found his buttons as she muttered, losing the white dress shirt from his shoulders. "We shall have you washed presently, and... " The cloth fell away leaving the slope of Harry's shoulders and the firm planes of his chest. Her voice fell, hands dropping low.
Henry watched her with intelligent eyes. "Allison. It's quite all right. Everyone trips on occasion.
"And if it troubles you to witness me bathe, I can manage it on my own, then reconvene with you after I'm presentable."
