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“Shall we?” Benedick offered his arm to his wife.
The party...well, the reception really had wound down until the only remaining people in the courtyard were their friends and family. Leonato and Don Pedro sat at a table puffing on expensive cigars and talking. At another table, Hero sat across Claudio’s lap, chatting amicably with her mother, Margaret, and Ursula.
Taking a deep breath, Beatrice looped her arm through her husband’s (her husband’s!) arm. She would have preferred to leave when everyone parted, but she was exhausted from the last few days. And at least now there was less of an audience to watch her leave for her wedding night.
It would have been in poor taste to leave without saying anything, so she and Benedick walked over to give their goodbyes.
Leonato gave her a warm hug while Benedick accepted a hearty handshake from the prince. “I’m so happy for you, my niece. The cottage on the far side of the property has been prepared for you two.”
For whatever reason that made Hero mutter something under her breath causing the other women to cackle before they quickly composed themselves.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “What was that?”
Hero schooled her features, but playfulness still danced in her eyes as she held a steady gaze with Beatrice. “Why nothing, dear cousin!” she purred lowly. “It’s just such a joyous evening.” In spite of Hero’s caginess, Beatrice hugged her.
As she and Benedick turned away, Hero’s voice sang out, “Goood niiiight!” which caused the group behind them to laugh.
Huffing, Beatrice rolled her eyes. Normally she wouldn’t let anyone have the last word, let alone Hero, but she was immediately distracted by the way Benedick dropped his arm and immediately took her right hand, lacing their fingers together.
Her breath caught when her thumb ran over the warm silver of his ring. Her mind flashed back to the ceremony, where her own hands shook so bad, she could barely put the ring on him. As for herself, the matching ring on her left hand was foreign and familiar all at the same time.
Benedick, for his part, was uncharacteristically quiet. Usually he was speaking frequently and at great length about anything. Was he too contemplating the weightiness of this night? That this was going to be the first time in years, they would be alone?
But it wasn’t just one night they would be together; it was going to be the rest of their lives.
The sudden realization smacked Beatrice, and all of her breath escaped her lungs. She was Benedick's wife...and what's more, she had no idea how to be a wife.
Everyone had acted as if her and Benedick simply getting married would equate to a happy life together, but that was furthest from the truth. How could two very independent and strong willed people combine their lives?
More anxiety broke through as Beatrice remembered some of the friar’s words: love, honor, and obey. Love and honor seemed simple enough, but obey...obey was certainly trickier. Beatrice had never obeyed a man (her uncle aside) in her entire life. She’d had many suitors throughout the years, but no one she ever wanted to settle with.
And also because they weren’t Benedick.
All too soon they found themselves at the door of the cottage and Beatrice felt her heartbeat speed up considerably.
“Here,” Benedick’s voice first came out in a squeak before he coughed and cleared it. “Here we are.”
Beatrice grasped his hand a little tighter. “Here we are,” she repeated dumbly, so many thoughts swirling in her mind at once.
The brick cottage qualified as a small house as it had a kitchen, dining room, and two bedrooms. Beatrice wasn’t sure why Leonato had it on his property as guests always stayed in the main villa. She was grateful for the privacy though and that they would be away from prying eyes.
Benedick opened the door, and before she could say anything he swept Beatrice up his arms. Automatically, she circled her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Tradition,” he said simply with a silly smile on his face.
Beatrice thought she might face plant when he took a few steps forward and nearly lost his balance. Benedick was able to regain his footing and kick the door shut. He started walking through the darkened living room to the master bedroom at the back of the cottage.
“I ask you not to run me into a wall,” she muttered.
“No promises.”
When they entered the bedroom, everything was bathed in soft yellow light; candles decorated the wooden dresser and window sill. Fragrant rose petals were spread over the king sized bed.
Benedick lowered his wife to the floor. “The staff certainly prepared the room.”
Scoffing, Beatrice walked over to the dresser, the scent of vanilla becoming much stronger. “This wasn’t the staff. This is where my cousin and Margaret disappeared earlier in the evening.”
“Are you certain?” he asked.
She nodded. “Oh yes. It’s the exact sort of thing she would do.” When Beatrice turned back, her breath caught in her chest. Benedick’s slicked back hair from earlier had become wonderfully tousled from the dancing. His soft brown eyes looked at her as though he truly did love nothing in the world so well as her.
Any confidence she had left quickly evaporated with the understanding that her future wasn’t just about her any more; it was their future and their lives. The realization scared Beatrice so damn much, her breathing came in rapid short bursts and her hands started to feel cold and clammy.
Benedick approached slowly. “My Lady, there’s no reason to be nervous.” He shrugged almost apologetically. “It’s just me.”
Any witty quip escaped her as she chuckled. “Precisely. It’s you."
Oh if that didn’t make his insides melt. Despite his bravado, Benedick never considered himself a suitable suitor. Not when compared to men like Don Pedro, with his standing as a prince and Claudio who was younger and traditionally more handsome.
Softly, he asked, “May I ask what troubles you?”
She visibly swallowed and looked away. Beatrice worked her jaw several times before quietly admitting, “I don’t know how to do this.”
Benedick automatically felt the corners of mouth tug, hoping to calm her with a little levity. Before he could open his mouth, she rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.
“Not that, you fool. I’m speaking about the whole man and wife thing,” she gestured between them. “I…” Beatrice paused, this time sniffling. “I’ve never cowed down to any man… and now…” She looked away, clearly blinking back tears. “I don’t know how to be a good wife.”
As if embarrassed, Beatrice walked away from him. For a brief moment, he thought she was going to leave, but thankfully she sat down heavily on the other side of the bed. She immediately gripped the blanket so tight, he was fairly certain her knuckles turned white. Tension radiated from the way she held herself tightly.
But Benedick released his own long breath at her admission. He was glad he wasn’t the one who didn’t have a clue about their role as a spouse. Just days ago he railed against the institution of marriage and now even though he’d been married for a few short hours, he couldn’t imagine what his life would look like without Beatrice.
Turning around, he walked over to kneel in front of her. Gently, he managed to take both of her hands from their death grip on the bedding and hold them together in her lap. When he ran his thumb over her wedding ring, Beatrice looked at him shyly.
“I don’t know what being a husband entails,” he softly began. “But I do know you. And I would never expect you to bend to my will. That much I can be sure of.”
That at least earned Benedick a small chuckle from his wife. “It looks as if there are still some wits about you yet.”
“I’m not just a pretty face.”
“You’re the only one that thinks so,” Beatrice smirked. Gripping his hands a little tighter, she closed her eyes. In barely a whisper, she said, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“Never,” he answered automatically. “That is entirely not possible.”
Her blue eyes softened and oh he hoped she would look that way at him for the rest of their lives. “As a matter of fact, I promise you here and now, I will not expect nor make you do my bidding.”
Leaning forward, Beatrice pressed her lips to his forehead. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I promise you I will always treat you as my equal.”
Benedick then patted his pants pockets, wondering what the hell he did with the thing. He panicked for a moment, thinking he lost the box, but then remembered he put it in his jacket pocket. He then produced the red velvet box from earlier and removed his mother’s engagement ring.
“By no power vested in me, I pronounce us, husband and wife.” This time Beatrice happily gave him her hand and he giddily slid the ring on top of her wedding ring. They sealed their new vows with a kiss so sweet, Benedick was pretty sure he could float away.
When Beatrice pulled back, her expression turned solemn. “I must tell you now, there is one thing I cannot promise you…”
Benedick’s brow furrowed, not knowing what she might say.
Then she gave him a devious smile. “I cannot promise I will not throw out those awful jean shorts.”
“Truly an awful thing to say!” he gasped in mock horror. “And may I remind the lady, she owns and wears actual overalls.”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you getting at?”
“I am not the only one who has questionable fashion choices.” With that, Benedick rose once more to kiss her. Wrapping her arm around his neck, Beatrice pulled him over her on the bed. As they kissed, Beatrice gently worked his button up shirt up ever so slightly. The way her fingertips grazed the bare skin of his waist caused Benedick shudder, pulling back.
She giggled softly before taking both hands to cup his face. Her thumbs caressed his stubbly cheeks.
“Benedick,” she whispered, with much love and reverence that his heart stuttered. Rarely did she ever say his name without a title. “I do love nothing in the world so well as you.”
Now he truly did want to melt all over her. It was an overwhelming feeling to, not only, be so in love, but have that love returned. He nuzzled his nose against hers. “Is not that strange?” he whispered back.
“Not at all.”