Chapter Text
She woke up with her head pounding. She didn't know where she was, but a very handsome man with chestnut brown curls and remarkable blue eyes was holding her hand reassuringly and looking very concerned.
"Are you okay, Pen?" he asked, rubbing her hand. "You had a real bash to the head".
She attempted to sit up but immediately felt like she may vomit, so she lay back down and closed her eyes again.
"Where am I?" She asked, her eyes squeezed tight. "And who are you?"
"We're at Kilmartin", he answered, as though that name should mean something to her. "And it's me, Colin. Don't you recognise me?"
She tried to shake her head, but another wave of nausea washed over her, quickly joined by a feeling of panic. "No! Who are you? Colin who? What happened to me?"
He rubbed the back of her hand and shushed her, as she tried to open her eyes again. No, that was not a good idea. Closed was best.
"Colin Bridgerton. It’s okay, Pen! You fell down the stairs and cracked your head. Try to stay calm. The weather is atrocious and we’re stuck here at the minute. It's basically a blizzard out there, so it's just us”.
She felt something pressed to her lips.
"Here. Try and have a sip of water. You've been out for a while".
She swallowed thankfully, lifting her head up a little, but keeping her eyes shut.
"Thank you", she said gratefully. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Colin Bridgerton", he repeated. "Can you really not remember?"
"I'm not sure", she muttered. "It does sound a little familiar".
"It should", she thought she could hear a smile in his voice. "We've known each other for years".
She tried to nod, but it was much too painful. "Okay", she replied, suddenly feeling very woozy. "And what's my name, again?"
*******
Could it be true? Had Penelope really forgotten everything? It didn’t seem like she was pretending. Colin was mainly relieved that she had woken up, as he wasn’t sure what to do if she remained unconscious for too long. He would have got her a doctor straight away, if it hadn't been for the snowstorm. Of course he would. He hadn't meant for her to get hurt when they’d argued. Which had been mainly her fault in the first place. And he'd been terrified when he saw her sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. Because, despite what she thought, he really did love her. But they were alone, with no-one to corroborate his side of the story. So, he'd carried her to the bedroom and taken care of her, and now she'd woken up with no memory of any of it...
*******
Penelope Featherington, as she now knew she was, drifted in and out of sleep. Colin came in to check on her numerous times, clattering around, before forcing her to take more sips of water, and stroking her hair. At one point, he even held a chamber-pot beneath her, for her to relieve herself, but she felt too dreadful to be overly mortified by it.
When she next woke up, her head still ached terribly, but she could at least open her eyes a little. She squinted around the room. A fire had been lit (by Colin, presumably, hence the clattering) and she was lying in a large bed. There was a dressing table and mirror in one corner of the room and a large wardrobe in the other. Next to the bed was a small table holding a candle and a glass of water.
She tried to reach for the water, but her body wouldn't allow it. Hopefully Colin would be back soon and he could help her.
Colin was there when she next opened her eyes, holding a lantern, clad in a silk robe of very deep blue. It looked luxurious and brought out the colour of his eyes even further. She noted his bare calves and the chest hair poking out at his exposed neck, and wondered if he might be naked beneath it.
She glanced down at her own attire. A simple short-sleeved, white cotton nightgown, which cupped and fitted under her breasts. There was a small bow tying the front together, which seemed to strain a little against the size of her.
"What time is it?" she asked. "How long have I been asleep?"
"You've been drifting in and out for over twenty-four hours", he replied. "Have you remembered anything yet?"
She managed to shake her head a little this time. "No, nothing at all. What did you say this place is called?"
"Kilmartin", he responded. "It belongs to my brother-in-law, John. He's married to my sister, Francesca. Can you remember either of them?"
She shook her head.
"They're away for a few months and suggested we come and stay. Do you not remember that?"
She shook her head again.
“It was Eloise’s idea, really. She thought we would love it here. Surely you remember Eloise? She's been your best friend since you were little".
"I can't even remember who I am, Colin!" she snapped, before wincing at the pain that flashed through her head. "I can't remember what I'm doing here or how I hurt my head. I can't remember what day or month or even what year it is! I can't remember anything or anyone! So stop asking me!"
She could feel tears filling her eyes and she closed them again.
His voice was gentle, the next time he spoke. "I'm sorry, Pen, I just find it hard to believe you have forgotten so much".
"Well, believe it!" she snapped.
"So, you truly don't remember me, either?"
"For the last time, no!"
"It's just, I was sure you would remember me". He sounded a little hurt.
She frowned. "Why? What makes you any more special than anyone else in my life?"
He took her hand and stared at her for a minute before he finally spoke, his voice low, his eyes warm. "Because I am your husband, Penelope".
Husband? She had a husband? And it was Colin?
She supposed it made sense, since they were together alone, but she had no recollection of any of it.
She almost choked. "My husband?"
He nodded.
"Yes. That is why we are here. We came straight here after our wedding, to have some time alone".
"So how long have we been here?" She asked.
"Only a couple of days. We arrived just before the blizzard hit", he answered. "And then you tripped on the stair carpet and fell and hit your head". He brushed his lips over her knuckles and she realised she was wearing a ring on her finger. "We have not even lain together as man and wife yet".
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I have slept in the room next door", he squeezed her hand. "You have certainly not been in any fit state to engage in marital relations".
He kissed her forehead. "But we have plenty of time for all that, my darling. Now, get some rest and we shall talk some more in the morning".
*******
This was never Colin’s intention when they'd planned to come here together. She'd agreed to everything, willingly. He hadn't needed to trick her. Most of this had even been her idea. But now she had forgotten all of their plans. Forgotten that they had always just been friends until now, nothing more. But he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He needed to get things moving. Could he risk telling her about their agreement? Would she believe him? Would she still agree? Surely this pretence was better? At least for now. Would it really be so terrible, to let her believe this was all real? Wouldn’t it make it easier for her to play her part? Hadn’t she as good as said so, when they’d argued? So, wouldn’t this help her with what they were doing? After all, he knew he could make her feel so loved...
*******
Penelope had another terrible night's sleep. Colin had been in and out, clattering around again, even fiddling around with the ornaments on the mantelpiece for a while, though he had clearly been trying very hard not to disturb her this time.
The following morning, her head was pounding a little less when Colin came to her room to see if she was awake. He drew the heavy curtains back from the window, allowing the winter sunlight to stream in before informing her that he would bring her some breakfast.
He returned a little while later with a tray holding a pot of tea and two cups and saucers, together with a silver rack full of slices of toast and three glass dishes, containing butter, strawberry jam and marmalade.
“The servants were all given a few days off before the snow came”, he announced, setting the tray down on the bedside table and bringing over the chair from the dressing table for himself to sit on. “So, I am the temporary cook”. He gestured at the breakfast offerings, sheepishly. “I hope they will be able to return soon, though”.
Penelope shook her head. “This all looks fine, Colin”.
He helped her to sit up, propping some pillows behind her. "Forgive me for being rather improperly attired this morning", he said. "But I thought you would not mind me in my stockinged feet and without a cravat".
He was dressed in a pair of dark breeches, a white shirt and a brown waistcoat. It was funny seeing him in actual clothes, when she had only seen him in his robe so far.
She frowned. "I don't remember what's proper and what isn't, Colin, so feel free to wear what you like".
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "But I want you to like it too, my darling".
She couldn't help but smile and feel a little stirring in her chest at his words.
"I do like it", she reassured him. "You look very handsome".
He beamed and kissed her hand again. "Do you think I could kiss you on the mouth this morning, Mrs Bridgerton?"
She blushed at his use of her married name, and hesitated. He seemed very familiar but she couldn’t actually remember who this man was. To all intents and purposes, he was a stranger to her. But he really did look extremely handsome and he was taking care of her so kindly. Her heart pounded as she nodded her head.
He held her face tenderly in his hands and brushed his lips lightly against hers, before settling back in his chair and pouring them both a cup of tea. He handed her cup to her, asking "And what would you like on your toast, Pen? Jam, marmalade or just butter?"
She hesitated. "What do I usually like?"
"Whenever I have seen you eat toast, you most often choose jam", he replied. "Is that what you would like today?"
She nodded." Yes, please, Colin". Then watched as he prepared it for her and put it on a plate.
“Might I have one more kiss?" he asked.
She nodded again and he leant in, giving her a longer and deeper kiss this time that caused her stomach to swoop and her heart to flutter. She smiled at him. "Do I love you very much?" she asked.
He raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise. "Why would you ask that?"
She felt herself blush again. "Because I think I remember loving you very much", she answered. "It's like my brain doesn't remember, but my heart does".
“My heart remembers, too”. He kissed her again, without asking for permission this time.
After they had finished eating, he collected all the breakfast things together and stood looking down at her.
"Might you like to have a wash this morning, Pen?" he asked. "And change into a clean nightgown?"
She hesitated. She did feel rather grimy but she didn’t yet feel strong enough to get up.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to get out of bed yet, Colin”, she murmured.
“There will be no need to get out of bed”, he replied. “I will bring you everything you need. Consider me your own personal lady’s maid”. He smiled reassuringly. “So, what do you say?”
She nodded, but felt rather shy when he reappeared several minutes later with a fresh cotton nightgown and linens draped over his arm, carrying a wash basin, a large jug of warm water, a sponge and a bar of soap in his hands. He put the wash-things on the bedside table and lay the nightgown and linen cloths at the bottom of the bed.
He leaned in close and took her nightgown in his hands, ready to tug it over her head.
She blushed. "I can do it myself".
"But you are still very weak, and I should like to take care of my wife", he said, holding her gaze, before adding, "Please".
She knew he was her husband, but this felt incredibly intimate for a man she had in truth only known a few days to be doing to her. He looked at her so kindly though, she relented. "Okay".
He smiled. “Let us get you nice and clean then, Mrs Bridgerton”.
He gently untied the bow at her chest before tugging the nightdress over her head and throwing it to the floor, making no comment when she hastily pulled the sheet up to cover herself. He dipped the sponge in the water and rubbed the soap on it to create a lather, looking at her expectantly. "Will you permit me to do it?"
“I can do it myself, Colin”. She was blushing furiously. “Really”.
“Mrs Bridgerton”, his voice was firm. “I am your husband. I love you. And I am here to take care of you”. He paused, holding the sponge up. “Now, will you permit me to wash you?”
She kept her eyes trained on his as she nodded and slowly lowered the sheet to her waist. His gaze dipped and his eyes darkened, taking in every inch of her naked upper body.
He held the sponge in one hand and a linen cloth in the other, to dry her as he went along and prevent the bed from becoming wet. He started off by tenderly wiping her face and neck, before moving to her shoulders and back, dipping the sponge to rinse and re-lather.
Then he kept his focus on her face as he rubbed the sponge in slow circles over one breast.
She averted her eyes, embarrassed at how quickly her nipples hardened rigidly at his touch. He gently caressed every bit, scooping beneath her fullness before repeating the process with the other. He then cleaned down her stomach, stopping where the sheet still covered her bottom half.
"Will you let me finish cleaning the rest of you?" he murmured.
She nodded, not able to bring herself to look at him, she was now trembling so much.
"It will be easier if you lie down", his voice was rough.
She complied and he removed the sheet so she was entirely naked before him. He produced another linen cloth and folded it to double thickness. "Can I put this beneath you?" He asked.
She nodded, wondering if her voice had abandoned her completely. She lifted her hips as he slid it beneath her bottom, then he started to clean from her hips to her feet. He brushed around her thighs, and she almost let out a moan when the sponge brushed against her centre.
When he had done washing between her toes, he asked her to turn onto her stomach.
"I think I am probably clean enough for the time-being, Colin". This really was too intimate now.
He persisted. "There are still a few more spots. Trust me, you will feel so much better once I am done”. He looked at her earnestly and she felt unable to refuse.
She took a deep breath and turned over, embarrassingly aware that her bottom was now exposed. She felt him sweep the sponge around her buttocks, and she sensed how he hesitated for a moment, resting the sponge between her cheeks.
“May I?”
She forced the “Yes” from her mouth as he swept the sponge back and forth between the crevice.
“Okay. That bit's clean”.
She quickly flipped back over, draping one arm over her chest to cover herself.
“There’s just one part left. Can you bend your knees up and open your legs a little?”
She couldn’t believe this was happening, but she complied, releasing a breathy “Yes” as she positioned herself as he’d instructed.
He sat next to her on the bed, holding the sponge above her little patch of curls. “Is this still all right?”
She wanted to cover her face, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from his. “Yes”, she muttered again, telling herself over and over that he was her husband, he was her husband.
He cleaned her curls first, dipping the sponge back into the warm water before rubbing it firmly back and forth through her centre. This time she could not hold back the moan.
"Ohhh!" she exhaled, loudly, feeling a tightening, quivering sensation as he continued. Did he really need to do this for so long? Her belly was shaky.
Then he stopped. Finally, apparently, finished. She was unsure if she was relieved or disappointed.
“Can I give my wife one more kiss?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She nodded and raised herself up onto her elbows, waiting for his mouth to meet hers.
But instead he dipped his head to where she was still damp. "I need to hear you, Mrs Bridgerton. Can I kiss you here?" He glanced up at her, his eyes almost black with desire.
“Yes”, she urged, “God, please, yes”.
He gave her a dainty kiss on the lips he found in front of him, before throwing the sponge to one side and moving to the foot of the bed, gazing down at her.
“My wife is so beautiful”, he murmured, lying down on his stomach, pushing his face back between her thighs, licking through her core. “And you taste delicious”, he murmured, using his tongue to flick and lap at her.
She gripped the sheet in her fists, and groaned at how incredible his mouth felt. He seemed encouraged by this and continued to suck, before dipping the tip of his tongue inside her. She was moaning freely now, not even trying to restrain it, as he thrust his whole tongue into her opening.
“Do you like that, Pen?” he growled. “Do you like my tongue fucking your cunt?”
Her next gasp was part pleasure, part shock at his use of such crude language, but the pleasure won out as he resumed plunging his tongue in and out.
She nodded, lifting her hips as he held her thighs wide, circling the tender skin with his thumbs, as his mouth gave her no respite. "I want you to come for me”, he murmured, sucking her sensitive bundle of nerves with his lips and tongue.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she muttered as she could feel herself getting close. He kept going, bringing up his hand to thrust two fingers into her entrance, curling them inside her as she felt ready to explode.
He pumped in and out, stroking within her as he continued to wind her tighter and tighter with his mouth. Until finally she broke, calling out with a cry that took her by surprise, turning into a laugh as she realised how crazed she sounded.
He kept his fingers inside her, her body still trembling as he moved to lie next to her on the bed. “See how good you taste”, he murmured, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth in a deep kiss.
“Have you done that to me before?” she asked, panting and trying to catch her breath as he finally removed his hand from her body.
He raised his eyebrows as he reached for the fresh nightgown. “I have been the perfect gentleman, Mrs Bridgerton”. Then he gave a grin and a wink. “Although my fingers may have been rather rakish. But now I should like to be the perfect husband. Perhaps tomorrow I could give you a bath and wash your hair”.
She nodded, sitting up and allowing him to slip the nightgown over her head. She should probably be embarrassed at the thought of him bathing her, but it gave her a thrill of anticipation of what he may do to her next. “That sounds nice”.
*******
Colin was trying to build things fairly slowly, not wanting to push her too quickly but still needing to move things along. They had already talked about various scenarios together in advance, which meant she had agreed to pretty much everything he was doing, even if she couldn’t remember it anymore. It was always the plan to do other things before they had sex, but they should have had their wedding night by now. And he was so fucking hard after he'd washed her in bed, that it had taken all his restraint not to just thrust into her and fuck her right there and then. But he didn't want to scare her. And he knew her first time would probably hurt a little. He needed her to be fully compliant. He couldn't risk her trying to stop him, part way through. She needed to continue to consent to it all...