An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hello, lovelies! Please enjoy this reimagining of the Mirror Scene™.
What if Colin had taken his time with Penelope? What if they hadn't been interrupted? Colin is allowed his 10 minutes of rest and acts on Pen's request to "do it again".
PWP. Rated E.
Snippet!
The carriage ride from Featherington House had calmed his ire, yet he remained full of manic energy. He had been eager to visit his fiancée that morning; little did he know he would be playing the role of white knight, cantering into the drawing room on his high horse. The moment Colin had witnessed between Penelope and her mother spoke volumes about their relationship, and explained certain aspects of her character. He made quick work of disabusing Lady Featherington of her wrong-headed notions. Colin couldn’t deny how good it felt to set his future mother-in-law straight where his affections were concerned. “Assuredly, fervently, loudly.” The recollection of Penelope’s words brought a smile to his face. And so, buoyed by his gallantry, Colin absconded with his bride-to-be, eager to show her the home he had secured for their future happiness.
She seemed in low spirits, embarrassed by her mother’s assumptions, and he determined to bolster her confidence. He began to lay out his vision for their home, uncovering furniture and suggesting placements for their shared belongings. Worried by the liquid gleam in her eyes, he stopped short.
“No one has ever stood up for me like that,” Penelope said suddenly and with great feeling.
Colin stepped closer. He took her hands, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “I will always stand up for you, because I love you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
His face softened. He certainly had his work cut out for him, but he would not shy away. Before the day was out, Penelope would understand, in no uncertain terms, that she was the most incredible woman he had ever known, and he would endeavor to deserve her. Directing her to turn, Colin stood behind her at the tall mirror, delighted by the way Penelope’s head fit under his chin. Pulling pins from her coiffure, he listed all of the qualities that he had long admired in her: her wit, steadfastness, compassion, and more. Red curls cascaded over one shoulder, gleaming copper in the light peeking between the curtains. The neckline of her pale gown scooped low, cutting across her decolletage to expose the tops of her breasts, which rose and fell with her rapid breaths. His own heart beat wildly in his chest.
“Do you see?” he murmured in her ear. “Do you see how beautiful you are?” She met his eyes in the glass, biting her lip uncertainly. Colin reached over her shoulder to sweep her hair back, exposing the full swell of her bosom. “Your skin, the smoothest cream…” He traced a finger along her jaw. “Your lips, full and rosy…” A thumb skimmed over her cupid’s bow and around the curve of her mouth. “And other things I have only yet dreamt of…” His hand trailed down the side of her neck, across her collarbone, down to trace the edge of her bodice, then finally allowing his palm to cup her breast.
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