If the cake to the face hadn't caused her any outrage, Lorcan had been fully expecting the kiss to. Surprised as she seemed, she didn't break the kiss, but rather leaned into him.

It was the best outcome he could have hoped for, he acknowledged, especially after the non-kiss at the ceremony. Perhaps this first night would be what it ought, after all. He couldn't bring himself to care about her cake-sticky hand on his cheek or the cloying sweetness in the air, the taste of icing still on her lips; she had always smelled of bread and flour, before. Lorcan released her from the first kiss for the merest of moments, just long enough to let her catch her breath before he met her mouth a second time, kissing her again with less gentleness and more appetite. Her whole body was warm against him, his own pulse quickening at the contact - Lorcan would happily assert that this was an incontestable method of distraction, of making her forget the heartache and sorrow of the rest of the day.

Well. Not that altruism had played any part in his decision to kiss her. Nor could he pretend consolation was why he moved to deepen the kiss, his hand sliding from her waist upwards.

---