20. New Beginnings

Happy for all her maternal feelings was the week in which Mrs Graham got rid of her two most deserving children.

The month leading up to the nuptials had passed in a flurry of organising, packing and letter-writing. But for Will, nothing had occurred to burst the delirious bubble of happiness in which he had floated, not even the prospect of Lady Bedelia’s wrath.

‘Shall ever you have the courage to inform your aunt of what is to befall her, not to mention the shades of Ravenstag?’

‘I am more in want of time than courage, Will.’

At length, of course, the letter had been written; and although Will had chosen not to enquire as to its contents, the grimness of Hannibal’s countenance as he had handed the sealed envelope to his valet had told him all that he had needed to know.

Mr Graham’s letter to Mr Franklyn had been composed in a somewhat different mood.

Dear Sir,

I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Will is soon to marry Mr Lecter. Console Lady Bedelia as well as you can. But if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.

Yours sincerely, etc.

And different again had been Will’s letter to his aunt.

I must thank you both for taking such excellent care of Hannibal last week. He tells me that the partridge was cooked to perfection. And please convey my eternal gratitude to my uncle for not only accepting my defection with good grace, but also for finding me an excellent mentor in Derbyshire. Mr Gideon’s Bakewell practice, though new, has already a reputation for excellence, and its proximity to Ravenstag suits Hannibal and me very well.

By the by, you have my solemn word that next summer, the curricle is yours. You may tour the park to your hearts’ content.

With greatest affection,

Will.

Mr Verger’s congratulations to both his sister and his friend on their approaching marriages had been all that was affectionate and insincere. He had managed, in his effusions, to avoid acknowledging Will at all, and had thereafter spoken to him as little as possible, a development that had suited Will very well.

***

And so it was that on the morning of Sunday the fifteenth of November, eighteen hundred and twelve, the small church on the edge of town which, in an average month, might play host to the odd funeral or christening, was by ten o’clock bustling with activity as the second wedding ceremony of the week commenced.

Standing in the vestibule, Will looked down at his left hand and the ring that adorned it, which Hannibal had slipped on his finger halfway through Alana and Miss Verger’s wedding breakfast. It nestled snug and heavy, a diamond surrounded by pearls, the design forming the shape of a flower. A rose. Delicate gold leaves framed the setting, and inscribed inside the band were the words ‘Every day, forever.’

‘It was my mother’s. I had it inscribed when I was in London, and it can of course be resized if necessary.’

‘No, it fits perfectly.’

Tears blurred his vision and he blinked them away, lifting his hand to stare at the ring with wonder and a little sadness.

‘It is beautiful, Hannibal. I only wish that I had something to offer you in return.’

He felt the comforting press of Hannibal’s hand on his thigh.

‘You have given me your love, Will. I could want no greater treasure than that.’

There was a hush now inside the church. Expectancy hung heavy in the slightly chill air; and Will took a few deep breaths, adjusting the lay of his white silk neckcloth and checking his cuffs.

Coming to stand beside him, his father laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘Dare I enquire how you are feeling?’

Will huffed in amusement. ‘Well, I am not about to bolt, if that is what you mean. Actually, I feel surprisingly calm, considering that the last few weeks have been something of a blur.’

Mr Graham looked at him with his shrewd, kind eyes. ‘This is a great change for you, Will. But you shall weather it. You are nothing if not adaptable.’

‘I hope so.’ Will’s own eyes sought out the figure of the man who stood now before the altar, confidently tilted head unmistakable even from behind. A lump formed in his throat. ‘I want so badly for him to be proud of me.’

‘If he is half the man I suspect him to be, he is already, my boy.’

As if on cue, Hannibal turned, gaze searching. He stilled when he saw Will, and Will trembled at the look of fierce love written across his Alpha’s countenance.

I know, my darling, I know. I am coming. I am yours. Every day, forever.

***

Afterwards, they walked hand-in-hand out of the church to the waiting curricle. It was a cloudless day, bright and frost-tinged. Everything seemed sharper and clearer; as if, Hannibal mused, the world had for the first time come into proper focus.

Someone had looped flowers through the rear of the chassis, and Hannibal’s brows rose at the sight of matching garlanded hoops adorning the horses’ heads.

‘Crowns of flowers? This is Mischa’s doing.’

‘A logical assumption.’ Will chuckled. ‘She was, after all, responsible for this.’

He indicated Ripper, who trotted beside them with an air of wounded dignity, shaking his head vigorously every now and then as if in the vain hope of dislodging his floral collar.

The attendant groom removed the horses’ feeding bags and checked their harnesses before relinquishing the reins to Hannibal. He bristled a little at the assumption that he would be the one to take charge; but Will, who had already climbed aboard, seemed not to have noticed. Mounting the steps, Hannibal took the whip from the groom’s outstretched hand, a snap in his smile.

‘Be sure that the horses are well rested before their journey north. And do not tax them on the way. Firefly is accustomed to covering long distances, but Winston is not.’

‘Yes, sir. Very good, sir.’

The groom stepped back nervously; and when Hannibal glanced at Will, he found himself the object of bemused inquiry.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Of course.’ Softening instantly, he offered the reins to his new husband. ‘Would you care to drive us back to Muskrat Hall?’

Will took the looped coils of leather and grinned up at him.

‘You trust me to get you there in one piece?’

‘I trust you with my life, Will Lecter-Graham. Certainly I trust you to control two stubborn horses.’

‘Not as stubborn as their owners, I think.’

At that, Hannibal grinned back.

Will Lecter-Graham. The newness of it tasted sweet on his tongue. My husband. My life. And he saw the same joyful recognition reflected in the shining blue of Will’s gaze.

‘Then you should manage splendidly. Onward, if you please.’

Will’s eyes flicked to the whip in Hannibal’s hand and he cocked a mischievous brow.

‘Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.’

Mindful of the fact that the guests were now crowding out of the church to see them off, Hannibal attempted a chastising frown, but it was no use. He was, he admitted to himself ruefully, far too deeply in love to mind any more Will’s public teasing. And in point of fact, this particular game offered a surprising amount of pleasurable anticipation...

***

The wedding breakfast, which Margot had insisted should be held at Muskrat Hall as her own had been, was a lively affair. Bread, meat and fish, served on silver trays, provided ample sustenance for the hungry guests who, once the wedding cake had been served, took to milling about, swapping seats with nary a care for decorum as they exchanged family news and town gossip.

And Hannibal cared not a jot.

His eyes sought out his new husband for the dozenth time since Will had left him to go and speak with Mrs Franklyn. They were talking earnestly, though Will smiled as he took his leave of her, and Hannibal was unsurprised to discover what the main topic of their discourse had been.

‘I take it my aunt has received my letter.’

‘Oh yes.’ Will slid into his seat, shooting Hannibal a dry look. ‘And I gather that you did not hold back in expressing your feelings.’

‘After the audacity of her attempted interference? Certainly not.’

‘Well, evidently her wrath was such that Mr Franklyn thought it politic to remove himself and Beverly from Kent for a time. I would not be surprised if they stayed at Price Lodge until January.’

‘We shall be in Italy by then. And at Ravenstag before that.’ Hannibal reached for Will’s hand. ‘Am I being very selfish, removing you so far from your family and friends?’

Before Will could reply, a pair of slender arms wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and a shrill, high voice demanded, ‘What is it you are talking of? I must have my share in the conversation!’

‘Mischa, really.’

His sister, fresh and pretty in her flower-sprigged muslin gown, giggled and released him.

‘That was an excellent imitation,’ pronounced Will, raising his glass in salute. ‘It is almost as if Lady Bedelia were here with us.’

‘Thank you, brother. Although what a frightening prospect!’

Where once Hannibal might have felt annoyance at such indiscreet frivolity, now his heart remained stubbornly light at the sight of his two most beloved people enjoying each other’s company. Mischa, laughing, moved on to join Molly, Fredricka and Brian, and Hannibal smiled and shook his head.

‘She grows increasingly impossible. And I do not think I need to look far for the cause.’

Will’s fingers laced through his as he bent his dark head to Hannibal’s.

‘You have found me out.’ And, in a breathy whisper, ‘Tell me, sir, if I surrender, will you be merciful?’

On a swift indrawn breath, Hannibal squeezed his audacious husband’s hand in warning.

‘In this moment, yes,’ he growled, turning just a little so that their breaths mingled, ‘as formality demands it. But tonight, my incorrigible love, may well be a different matter.’

Will chuckled. ‘How promising.’ He grew then momentarily serious, murmuring tenderly, ‘And the answer to your question is no. It is I who am the selfish one, for I cannot wait to have you all to myself.’

The intimate moment was interrupted as Robert, seated at the head of the table between Mrs Graham and Mrs Crawford, stood up to make a toast.

‘In becoming one, these dear children have embarked on a grand adventure,’ he beamed, ‘and so I ask you all to join me in wishing them the best of times in their new life together.’

‘Bravo!’ Anthony sprang to his feet, glass in hand. ‘Put with your usual eloquence, Uncle. I would only add that I am very glad my cousin came finally to his senses. To Will and Hannibal.’

All the guests rose to echo this cheerful toast, though some seemed more enthusiastic in their salutes than others. Mr Cordell wobbled a little on his feet; Mr Franklyn peered anxiously at the door, as if the audacity of the occasion might at any moment summon his thunderous patroness from thin air; and Mason, the last to stand, sipped half-heartedly and sulked splendidly.

Hannibal saw all this and dismissed it instantly. What mattered was his uncle’s look of pride, the tears of joy in his sister’s eyes, his best friend’s happy smile. And the beautiful Omega whose hand he carried now to his lips.

‘To you, my Will,’ he whispered.

Will’s eyes glimmered with reflected emotion. He turned his palm to cup Hannibal’s jaw and leaned close again until their lips almost met.

‘To us.’

***

November and December were a blur of parties, calls and receptions, first in Hertfordshire and then Derbyshire.

From the wedding reception, Robert Lecter departed for a tour of the Far East, promising upon his return to sojourn at Ravenstag for at the least a month.

Mischa, in the weeks preceding the wedding, had spent a great deal of time with Molly; and as the day of their parting drew near, she grew increasingly fretful. Will, who saw that this attachment was mutual, suggested that Mischa stay on in Hertfordshire for a time and then bring Molly to Derbyshire for Christmas, a proposal to which Mr Graham was only too happy to accede.

Mrs Graham was in ecstasies. With three children disposed of, and the prospect of a fourth in Fredricka and Brian’s growing closeness, the business of her life was all but satisfied. Almost overnight, the parental worries of twenty years vanished, along with much of her overbearing fretfulness. Thus, even if it was the case that she harboured secret hopes for Molly’s friendship with Miss Lecter, she kept them for once to herself.

Alana and Margot detached themselves with speed from the malevolent presence of Mason and the dour Cordells, purchasing in the New Year an estate in Derbyshire that was situated a mere five and a half miles from Ravenstag. Deprived of the company of his only sensible sister - not to mention his one-time would-be paramour - and resigned to, at best, semi-permanent exile from Hannibal’s sphere, Mason quit Hertfordshire for London. It was not long before his excesses drained much of what was left of his fortune, and he would have faced destitution had not Margot taken pity on him and set him up in a modest property on the fringe of fashionable society.

As for Matthew Brown and Abigail, their manner of living was unsettled in the extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought. The congratulatory letter which Will received from Abigail on his marriage was to this effect:

My dear Will,

I wish you joy. If you love Mr Lecter half as well as I do my dear Matthew, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so rich and I hope that you will think of us. Our present situation is not so grand as I would wish, but three or four hundred a year would secure a place much more to my liking. However, do not speak to Mr Lecter about it if you would rather not.

Your loving sister,

Abigail.

As it happened that Will had much rather not, he endeavoured in his answer to put an end to all further such entreaties. What assistance he could give from his own purse, he would, but he was determined that Hannibal should never again be troubled by dealings with Matthew Brown.

With the Crawfords, they were on the most intimate terms. The high regard in which Hannibal held them was for Will a source of constant joy. And they were both sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the couple who, by bringing Will into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

Will’s only remaining regret was the bad blood that existed between Hannibal and Lady Bedelia. As insufferable as she undoubtedly could be, family was family, and his own acute state of happiness rendered his feelings towards her much more charitable than had hitherto been the case. Once settled at Ravenstag, therefore, he wrote to her in tones of conciliation if not apology - for never would he apologise for the terrible crime of loving her nephew.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he received no reply to his letter; but then, in the first week of December, something wholly unexpected occurred. Anthony arrived in Derbyshire armed with a dozen presents, two letters from Robert bearing exotic postmarks, and one rather subdued aunt.

Whether her resentment had given way to her affection for Hannibal or her curiosity to see how Will conducted himself behind the now-polluted shades of Ravenstag, Lady Bedelia had condescended to call on them, and for the present that was enough. She stayed a fortnight, found fault with hardly anything, and spoke pleasantly to Will at least thrice.

On the final morning of her visit, she rose early and was pleased to be escorted to her carriage by both her nephews. Will, who walked a little way behind with Ripper, was amused by the cursory wave he received, and returned it in kind.

‘I am sorry to have missed dear Mischa. When do you expect her?’ enquired Lady Bedelia, as Anthony handed her into the carriage.

‘In two days,’ replied Hannibal, shutting the carriage door with a firmness that caused Will’s lips to twitch. ‘Since the wedding, she has been staying with Will’s family in Hertfordshire.’

‘In Hertfordshire?’ repeated the incredulous lady, for all the world as if she had just been informed that her niece had been living in the wilds of some remote jungle. She would, perhaps, have said more, but the dangerous glint in Hannibal’s eyes did not go undetected, and whatever further thoughts she had on the subject went unsaid. Will stroked Ripper’s head and smiled to himself.

She is learning.

***

One month later.

The corridors of the Uffizi palace gallery rang with the clacking of boot heels on tile, with the occasional cessation as the two elegantly-clad gentlemen paused to study a Rubens or a Raphael.

‘I am so glad that you brought me here,’ murmured Will, voice lowered despite the fact that they appeared to be the sole patrons. ‘The very walls are soaked in history. Can you feel it?’ He pressed a palm to the smooth yellow stone. ‘As if those who came before have left their imprints, like shadows.’

Hannibal smiled, as ever fascinated by the workings of his Omegan husband’s mind.

Pure empathy. Beautiful.

He covered Will’s hand with one of his own.

‘Alas, I cannot experience the Uffizi as you do, my love, although certainly I can appreciate the aesthetic that time and wealth have created. The Medicis were the ruling power in Italy for three hundred years. This is all that remains of their legacy.’

He felt Will’s hand shift beneath his, fingers spreading to interlock with his own.

‘Thank you for sharing it with me.’

Unable to resist, Hannibal stepped closer until their bodies touched, and leaned in to press a kiss against Will’s smooth cheek.

‘I have long wished to do so.’

‘Hannibal.’ Will twisted away, a delicate shade of pink blooming on his face. ‘In public?’

‘Gracious, how prudish you have become,’ teased Hannibal. ‘Whatever happened to the nymph who was ready to shed his clothes at every given opportunity - in public?’

‘That is a gross exaggeration,’ huffed Will, seeming torn between embarrassment and amusement, ‘and not at all the kind of joke that I would wish to have overheard!’

With lazy satisfaction, Hannibal enquired, ‘Do you see anyone else here?’

‘As a matter of fact, no.’ Will glanced to left and right before pinning Hannibal with stern blue eyes. ‘Not even a guide. Please tell me that you did not have the Uffizi gallery closed for our visit.’

‘Only for an hour.’ Shushing Will’s protestations, Hannibal grasped his hand and tugged him towards an open archway on their right. ‘Come. Here is what I wished particularly for you to see.’

Having pictured this moment many times in his mind, Hannibal had half-feared that the reality would not match his imaginings. He need not, however, have worried. Will stopped in the archway and his beautiful mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as he gazed for the first time on La Primavera.

‘It is exquisite.’ Will released Hannibal’s hand and walked forward, seating himself on the wooden viewing bench, eyes riveted to the canvas. ‘Like a beautiful nightmare.’

‘Exactly.’ Coming to sit beside him, Hannibal smiled at his beloved. ‘I knew that you would understand.’

He lifted Will’s hand to his lips, bestowing a kiss on the ornate ring that rested now beside a smooth, slim circlet of gold.

Will turned to him, eyes alight with a quizzical tenderness. ‘You and I think alike about many things. Strange that it took so long for us to recognise how well-matched we are.’

‘And yet I recognised you the moment we met,’ mused Hannibal. ‘Somehow I knew, even then, that we were destined to be in each other’s lives. It shames me to recall how resistant I was to that truth.’

Will’s fingers curled comfortingly around his own. ‘It was the same for me.’ With a sigh, he leaned his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. ‘I was terribly drawn to you from the first, yet I was determined to dislike you, as I believed you disliked me.’

Will’s scent, the softness of his curls against Hannibal’s cheek, the warmth of his body pressed close - all were far more entrancing than any mere painting, and with Botticelli forgotten, Hannibal turned to cup Will’s face between his hands.

‘My darling boy, what fools we both were.’

It took the mere flicker of Will’s eyes to his mouth for Hannibal to draw immediately forward. With gentle insistence, he kissed Will’s lips apart, and closed his eyes on a sigh when he felt slender fingers thread through his hair to pull him closer still. So lost was he in the pleasure of the moment that it was several seconds before he registered the discreet cough of the museum guide, whose arrival signalled the end of their special tour.

Despite his earlier reticence, Will felt nothing but frustration at the interruption, although he offered a smile of apology to the embarrassed-looking man, a rotund Beta of perhaps five-and-fifty.

‘We are recently married,’ he explained, and immediately the guide was wreathed in smiles.

***

The calm of the morning had given way to blustery showers, and at the door they were offered the loan of an umbrella. Will shook his head.

‘Thank you, but no. We do not have far to go.’

He almost laughed aloud at Hannibal’s dismayed expression; but to his husband’s credit, he merely jammed his hat onto his head and took Will’s hand in a firm grip.

‘Then we had better go quickly.’

From the shelter of the rain-lashed portico they ran, down the narrow, pillar-lined courtyard, as peeking statuary observed their flight with expressions of hauteur. On either side, the towering wings of the Uffizi offered little protection, so that by the time they reached the open space of the Piazza della Signoria, both Will and Hannibal were quite thoroughly soaked. Luckily, there were few people about to witness their drenched states, and beneath a glowering purple sky they hurried back to the apartment that was to be their home for the next month.

So late had been their arrival the previous night, Will had hardly done more than glance about him before they had tumbled into bed and fallen, wrapped around each other, into a deep slumber. He had been left with an impression of outrageous opulence, a far cry from the modest grace of Ravenstag. Yet somehow, in this setting, the extravagance of gold cornices and scarlet carpeting seemed wildly romantic rather than unspeakably vulgar.

The salon fire had been lit in preparation for their return; and after pulling off his boots in the foyer, Will crossed the room to stand before the crackling flames, shivering slightly. Instantly, Hannibal was at his side.

‘Come, we must remove these wet clothes without delay.’

‘A fine excuse to undress me,’ teased Will. ‘What of the servants?’

‘They are quartered on the floor below, should we require them.’

‘How convenient.’ Turning, Will began unbuttoning Hannibal’s sodden greatcoat, albeit with no little difficulty, for his fingers were almost numb. ‘Yet I believe we should be able to manage the task between us, do not you think?’

‘I would say so. Though perhaps the bedchamber would be a more suitable venue.’

Hannibal’s voice had dropped to a velvety purr. He shrugged out of his own coat, then helped Will off with his.

‘If you like.’ Casting his husband a demure look through his lashes, Will slowly removed first his tailcoat and then his waistcoat, dropping them one by one at his feet. ‘But I would be content to remain here.’

‘Would you, indeed?’ Hannibal grasped him around the waist and pulled him close. ‘Scandalous boy.’

‘Oh, how you do love to pretend to modesty,’ snorted Will, though his arms wound immediately around Hannibal’s neck, and he tugged him down for a hungry kiss. Warmer now, with the fire at his back and the heat of Hannibal’s Alpha body pressed to his front, he longed suddenly to feel only skin between them. He broke away to pull his shirt from his still-damp breeches, and in one quick motion drew it up and off.

Hannibal began mouthing kisses down his neck, and Will tipped his head to one side with a sigh of pleasure. Seeking fingers trailed down his back and round to his sides, then up to stroke gently across his peaked nipples. He squirmed, wanting more, wanting Hannibal’s mouth. And as if he knew, Hannibal dropped to his knees, lips latching on to suck, tongue tasting and teasing. Will arched and gasped beneath his attentions, holding that golden head close to his chest even as the sensations became unbearably exquisite. He felt the slickness between his thighs even as its scent permeated the air, but he felt no embarrassment, particularly as its effect on Hannibal was gratifyingly immediate.

‘Bedchamber, now.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Hannibal stopped only to strip himself of all but his breeches, then reached again for Will. Clinging on delightedly, Will allowed himself to be hoisted up, and he wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s thighs as he was carried through to their room. A fire had been lit there too, and the small chamber was nicely warmed. Hannibal sat down on the edge of the bed, and Will pulled back slightly to stroke greedy palms across the hair-roughened planes of his husband’s chest.

‘What would you have me do now?’

‘Do?’

‘To please you.’ A coquettish smile accompanied the words.

‘As an Omega pleases their Alpha?’ Hannibal cradled Will’s face between his hands, gaze searching. ‘You know that I would never ask that of you, Will.’

The smile faded on a flicker of uncertainty. ‘Because you do not want me in that way?’

Hannibal tutted, though his dark eyes held only tenderness. ‘I want you in every way, as well you know. It is you, my love, who have been fearsomely vocal on the subject of Omegan expectations.’

The kiss that followed was reassuring, yet still doubt lingered.

‘But you have not - we have not -’

‘What?’

But Will could not say it, and frustrated by his own reticence, he sought a different approach. With a shove, he unbalanced Hannibal and sent them both tumbling onto the bed. A laughing gasp was all that he allowed to escape from Hannibal’s lips before he smothered them with his own, twisting atop him, relishing the feel of the swelling hardness that pulsed against his. Hannibal’s hands clamped onto his bottom, holding him fast as he growled low in his throat.

‘I shall have you, my fierce Omega. I shall have you this very moment.’

How quickly then did passion overcome hesitation. Breeches and stockings were pushed down and off with hands that trembled, until both were naked, coming together again to rock against each other in frantic rhythm, exchanging ever deeper kisses; and when Hannibal rolled Will beneath him and imprisoned his wrists to push them up above his head, Will could only pant out one word, over and over.

‘Now. Now, now.’

So many times over the last months they had delighted in drawing out their lovemaking, in bringing each other to the brink of ecstacy only to pull back, prolonging pleasure almost to the point of pain. But the desire that burned between them now allowed for no such playfulness. Will felt it as an intolerable ache, a feverish demand to take and be taken. Not since his heat had he experienced such fretful need. And so intense was the feeling of relief when finally Hannibal lifted Will’s hips and pushed inside him, Will threw back his head and sobbed. Eyes darkly intent, Hannibal drove deep, an act of possessive love that Will’s Omegan nature thrilled to. But there was in his acceptance no meek submission - he bucked and writhed and pushed back, fingernails scoring into Hannibal’s shoulders as he was penetrated by that wonderfully hot, swollen knot. Swiftly the breathing of both became fractured, hips moving faster, hands clutching more tightly. Chasing sweet completion together.

On the brink, Will arched his back, legs wrapped tightly around Hannibal’s waist, and he almost wailed when Hannibal dipped his head and licked first one erect nipple and then the other. Up then to Will’s collarbone, and further, tongue following the path of glittering beads of perspiration. Until he settled at the juncture of neck and shoulder, and set to sucking the skin stretched taut over Will’s sensitive mating gland. In an agony of want, Will waited for the claiming bite that would surely follow, but when Hannibal lifted his head to brush a kiss along his jaw instead, he jerked away.

‘Will?’

‘What?’ he snapped, seething with frustration and no little amount of hurt.

But Hannibal only held him more tightly. ‘Tell me.’

Will glared at his husband through a mortifying sheen of tears, aching with frustrated need. ‘You know, Hannibal. You know what I want. What I have wanted for months. I thought that perhaps you were waiting until we were here alone.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘But it seems not.’

‘You think that I do not wish to bond with you?’ A flash of pain dulled the brilliance of his eyes. ‘When I am buried inside you and still it is not close enough?’

A whimper escaped Will’s lips, and he lifted a hand to Hannibal’s cheek. ‘Then why do you deny me? Deny us?’

Hannibal’s gaze was earnest. ‘I have no wish to deny you, only to know that you are certain.’

‘Why would you even ask such a thing?’

‘Will, you would be bound to me forever.’

Will clicked his tongue in annoyance and attempted to wriggle away, a token gesture given their situation but he was held fast in any case. He settled for an annoyed pout.

‘Are you attempting to rid yourself of me?’

‘Does it feel as if I am?’

The slow circling of Hannibal’s hips drew from him a gasp.

‘You do not play fair, sir.’

A smile chased the shadows from Hannibal’s eyes. ‘I play to win, Mr Graham.’

‘Lecter-Graham,’ shot back Will, though his former tension had melted away, to be replaced by a much more pleasurable sensation. Hannibal did want to bond with him. He needed only a little coaxing. And that, Will knew, he could do very well. He reached down between them and stroked himself slowly, catching his lip between his teeth as he gazed reproachfully at Hannibal. ‘Please, my darling. Do not make me wait any longer.’

Hannibal’s breath hissed between his teeth and he withdrew a little, only to thrust quickly and shallowly once, twice, and again. Will moaned, the sweet graze against his most sensitive spot exciting him once more to feverish want. He sought to touch himself again, but long fingers enclosed him first.

‘You, my boy,’ whispered Hannibal silkily, ‘are a manipulative menace.’ His thumb rubbed over the sticky red tip and Will arched his back again, a whine escaping his parted lips.

‘It is a good thing that you love me as you do, then,’ he panted. And received in retaliation a squeeze that caused him to shudder with pleasure.

‘I love you to quite appalling excess,’ affirmed Hannibal sternly. ‘It is most inconvenient.’

‘My poor love. Let me make it better.’

Reaching up, Will curled his hands around Hannibal’s sweat-damp nape and tugged him down for a fervent kiss. His thighs tightened around his husband’s lean waist, a silent demand for more, all, now.

Conversation was abandoned, bodies moving urgently together. And how easy it seemed then, how natural, for Hannibal to grasp Will’s jaw and tilt it up; for his mouth to fit into the exposed curve of milky skin, setting sharp teeth to salty flesh. One moment more, just one, waiting for his darling to tense and cry aloud as he spilled hot between them. The siren call that Hannibal could resist no longer, his own shattering release made all the sweeter as he bit down in a savage kiss.

Later, much later, after mingled tears and languid kisses and a murmuring of vows renewed, they lay together, fingers laced, and looked up through the skylight at the winking stars.

‘There is Jupiter.’

‘Where?’

Hannibal pointed, tracing the air. ‘And just above and to the right -’

‘Orion.’

‘Yes. See, Will? I told you that our stars would always be the same.’

‘So you did.’

He heard the smile in Will’s voice, and felt with wonder his mate’s contentment, the reverberations of the emotion a beautiful echo, filling the empty space within that he had not even known had existed before this. Before them.

‘I know.’ Will squeezed his hand. ‘It is strange to have you inside my head too.’

With a chuckle, Hannibal turned onto his side, propping himself on his elbow, and pushed back the flopping curls from Will’s eyes.

‘We still cannot read each other’s thoughts, you know.’

‘Thank heaven!’ replied Will with an arch look. But his blue eyes were searching. ‘And yet there is no going back now. We are conjoined.’

‘And because of that I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. You must not doubt me any more,’ reproved Hannibal gently.

‘I do not doubt your love, Hannibal. It is only…’

Hannibal waited, continuing to stroke Will’s hair. He had learned patience from his beautiful Omega, and he sensed that this was a crucial moment in which to exercise it.

When Will continued, his words were barely audible. ‘What if I cannot bear children?’

Hannibal opened his mouth and closed it again, completely taken aback. But he saw that he must speak, for Will’s anxiety was rising, and he felt it like a cold touch.

‘Well,’ he replied slowly, knowing that only honesty was possible between them now, ‘I cannot say that it would not disappoint me, for the thought of a child with blue eyes and impossible curls - and, no doubt, an impossible temperament to match - fills me with joy.’

The mere fact that Will did not snort dismissively or issue a stinging retort on the indictment of his character was enough to stir Hannibal to reassurance.

‘But if it cannot be your child, then believe me when I say that I would want no other. Unless, of course, we chose to take as our own an orphan. But that would be our decision, not mine.’

He bent and brushed a kiss across Will’s warm lips. They clung for a moment, but he lifted his head again, determined to discover the reason for the curious question.

‘Why do you ask such a thing, my darling?’

Again, Will regarded him with trepidation. ‘After you returned to Hertfordshire, and we were - together, we - you - and I wondered…’

It took several moments for Hannibal to fathom Will’s meaning, and when he did, a grin broke across his face.

‘Oh, my delightful blushing husband! You mean that you have been worrying because I knotted you?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Then and many times since?’ he could not help but tease, and received in retaliation a light slap on his bottom.

‘Yes, Hannibal.’

He chuckled but relented. ‘Outside of a heat, knotting results in pregnancy only rarely, Will.’

‘Oh.’ The relief that washed through Will filled his eyes with tears. He wiped at them hastily. ‘I did not realise.’

‘Then the idea of having our child appeals to you?’

They exchanged smiles.

‘You know it does.’

A small, earnest child with golden hair and eyes of amber hue. It would, of course, be many months before Will’s next heat, but that mattered not at all. They had each other, and for the foreseeable future that was more than enough.

Hannibal bent to kiss him again.

‘What shall we do tomorrow?’

He considered for a moment, content to follow Hannibal’s lead and lighten the mood between them.

‘Perhaps Il Duomo? You have spoken of it so often, I would love to see its treasures.’

‘Then to Il Duomo we shall go.’ They shared another lingering kiss. ‘And perhaps next year, should we return, we could venture further abroad. There is a Norman chapel in Palermo that I believe would interest you very much.’

The prospect of the year to come - and of all the years that would follow that one - stole Will’s breath. A lifetime of love lay spread before him, and for a moment he felt quite unable to speak.

When finally he had recovered his voice, he asked huskily, ‘What about you, Mr Lecter? What would you wish to do?’

‘Lecter-Graham,’ replied his husband promptly. ‘My only wish is to make you happy, Will.’

Touched beyond words, Will tugged him down into a tight embrace. And fiercely he whispered against his husband’s cheek, ‘You shall not spend all your days indulging me, my stubborn Alpha. Besides, your wish has been granted already. I am happy. Supremely, ridiculously happy.’

‘You shall be,’ vowed Hannibal, pulling back and stroking the curls from Will’s face, dark eyes full of love. ‘Tomorrow and the day after that. And every day thereafter.’

‘Every day,’ echoed Will, feeling fresh tears slide from the corners of his eyes to dampen the pillow beneath. But his smile was luminous. ‘We both shall be, my love. Every day, forever.’

And, of course, they were.