Mary sat thoughtfully for a moment. She knew her friend was right, but it just was not fitting someone so young should suffer so much.
“Here now, Robert. What do you?” The cook snapped as a young man came into the kitchen and began to throw bread and cheese onto a cloth.
“Now be still, old mother. I need something to eat for my trip,” the young man declared.
“What trip?” Mary inquired.
“Our lord sends me with important news,” the lad said quite proudly to have been chosen.
“What news?” the cook asked.
“Why, to the Lady Juliette. Lord Broc wants word of how well her sister fares to be sent, lest she worry,” Robert responded.
“Is that so,” Mary replied and smiled shrewdly. She and the cook sent each other knowing looks.
* * * *
“Calm yourself, lamb. Perhaps it will not be near as bad this eve,” Mary said though inwardly she fretted.
Constantine smiled at the doting old woman. She seemed to fear Constantine’s bedding more than Constantine was. Mary helped the young woman into a long flowing white gown, although Constantine wondered why. Mary must be aware that for coupling, she really should be unclothed. Last time, Constantine had not realized her clothes must be removed lest they become sticky, of that the old crone was right, but she should have mentioned why she needed to be naked. She would be prepared this time, she vowed.
“All will be well, Mary. Do not fret so,” Constantine soothed her.
“Dearest brave little lamb,” Mary said close to tears. She prayed their lord would not hurt her as much this eve. Mary had taken in Constantine’s bruised cut wrist, she noted how she favored one hand. There had been bruises to the lass’s bottom and legs as well. The beast.
“Come now, Mary. I will be fine. Retire yourself for the night, go and rest,” Constantine said and ushered the older woman out of Rory’s chamber.
Mary did not know what to do. Somehow she must find a way to keep her charge safe until her sister sent someone to save her. What could she possibly do? Mary moved off on slow feet, but filled with resolve, she determined she would not go far. If her lady needed her, she would offer what help she could, consequences be damned.
* * * *
Rory had worked on a plan. He went over the bedding of his wife in his mind all day. So much so, he found himself to be extremely uncomfortable at times, too many times. He could not wait to explore her young firm body, her high jutting breasts, her long silken hair. He would gaze into her dark liquid eyes and claim her soft moist red lips. Damnation, he was uncomfortable again. Rory took the stairs two at a time until he stood before his closed door. With mounting eagerness he entered his room and approached his large bed. As he had assumed Constantine held no fear, thinking they had already once coupled. He could make out the contours of her body and his excitement grew realizing she was already unclothed. Rory sat on the bed close to her wanting to savor every moment. Slowly he pulled down the sheet, rolling it carefully off her creamy white shoulders wanting to drink in the sight of her resplendent form.
Rory stopped short astounded. He widened his eyes in disbelief and confusion. He could not believe what he was seeing. Constantine was indeed nude, nude but for one thing. On her small hands she wore, unbelievably, his gauntlets!
Chapter Three
“Constantine, think you we prepare for battle?” Rory asked and chuckled.
“Nay, my lord, this coupling business ’tis just so messy,” Constantine explained. She had in fact prepared herself. Though resigned to her fate, she hoped she would overcome the distaste of what transpired in the marriage bed.
Still chuckling with amusement, Rory removed his gauntlets from Constantine’s hands and lay them on the floor, though she protested, dismayed.
“Please, my lord, perhaps you could again wait until I have created something more suitable. I am quite handy with a needle and thread,” Constantine inquired with hope.
“Nay, I will wait no longer little one. But perhaps it would be best if I explained a bit more of coupling to you,” Rory told her in a gentle tone.
Though disappointed, Constantine could not help but feel a generous surge of excitement. The old crone had evasively hinted some women felt certain pleasure in the marriage bed. Constantine could not help but feel confusion as well. Though his growth was indeed pleasant to the touch—warm, hard, and smooth, yet silky soft—it was still a bit frightening in its size. Constantine also maintained it must have a life of its own being able to leap as it did unaided. Regardless, she waited with eager anticipation.
Seeing her trusting innocent face alight with curiosity gave Rory pause. He felt positive he could give her pleasure, as he was well versed in the arts, but was concerned he was about to frighten her. There was just no way around it. Perhaps he should spit it out and have done with it.
“You see little one, a man has needs.” No, no, that was not how to start, too direct. “When a man and woman join they—well they. You see in order for us to really...uh…well, we must...I need to...you need to... we need to.” With deep frustration Rory ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “Constantine would you like a babe?”
“Oh yes, my lord,” Constantine declared with enthusiasm.
Rory smiled with relief. “In order for your babe to be conceived we must...couple,” Rory tried again.
“All right, my lord,” Constantine said and then brightened further. “My lord, perhaps a babe has already been conceived. We have made it pop.”
Damnation. No wonder he bedded whores. His organ ached at the sight of her naked flesh. The sheets had slipped and her high firm rounded breasts were exposed to her creamy slender waist, the essence of her womanhood peeked teasingly as the covers shifted with her movements. God have mercy, he would like to pounce upon her and be done with it. Rory jumped up, dragging a clammy hand across his face and began to pace erratically.
Becoming concerned at his obvious frustration, Constantine began to wonder if this coupling would take place again, he was standing too far away for the act to be complete, surely he must realize that. Perhaps he did not want a babe. She watched him feeling a bit apprehensive.
Rory stopped pacing and moved slowly back to the bed. He carefully sat himself beside Constantine. Feeling a semblance of relief she waited expectantly.
“Have you ever been kissed, Constantine?” Rory asked, deciding on a different tactic, though he knew what her answer would be.
“Yes of course, my lord. My father kissed me a great many times, as did Juliette,”
Constantine replied. Rory smiled indulgently at her innocence.
“Have you ever had a man gently touch his mouth to yours? Like this.” Rory leaned toward her and with exquisite tenderness pressed his lips over hers. With the softness like the caress of a feather Rory explored her slightly open mouth while gliding a trailing thumb down her silken cheek. He felt certain elation at the fact he was the first to ever discover her sweetness. The feeling provoked great possessiveness and profound protectiveness.
“Nay, my lord, no one has ever done that,” Constantine said on an expelled awed breath when he released her. The look she offered him was of amazed wonder.
Rory smiled and trailed the backs of his fingers lightly down her naked arm and began his exploration of her mouth once again. Her soft pliant lips moved with a sweet willing hesitancy beneath his own. Soon enough, he felt her breath quicken with unveiled excitement as their kisses deepened. When he broke contact, her dreamy eyes gazed into his.
“Oh, my lord,” Constantine whispered, “The old crone was right. There is pleasure for a woman when coupling. I believe I am ready now. Do you wish it to pop? I will not even mind the mess if you would but kiss me again. The feeling is most enjoyable.”
“Constantine, I will kiss you many times, but you must know, little one, you are a virgin still,” Rory said gently.
“Nay, my lord, you were there,” Constantine replied befuddled and hoped her new
husband was not daft or addlepated.
“That is how I know you are untouched,” Rory answered with conviction.
Confused, Constantine thought for a moment until a light dawned. “Of course, my lord, you never witnessed the bleeding. We fled afore you could see ’twas done.”
“You bled?” Now it was Rory’s turn to feel confusion.
“When you released me, my lord, I fell upon my wrist and was cut,” Constantine informed him. She held up the wounded wrist for his observation thinking now he must be convinced, the mark was unmistakable.
Rory clasped her small wrist within his hands and became sickened with himself. She had indeed been cut. There was telltale bruising where he had clutched at her arm to restrain her. He could see his own fingerprints outlined in the black, yellow, and blue bruising.
“I am truly sorry I hurt you, little one,” Rory stammered, overcome with shameful embarrassment. A powerful warrior should hurt not those who could not defend themselves. Where was the honor in that?
“But, my lord, did not the bleeding need to occur?” Constantine asked shyly. His obvious concern for her made her heart flutter.
“Nay. Not that type of bleeding,” Rory bit out, angry with himself.
“I do not understand, my lord,” Constantine replied, confused again.
“Do you think you could perhaps call me Rory? We are wed after all,” Rory asked her.
“’Tis allowed?” Constantine asked wide-eyed. She had been of course too young when her mother died to remember what she had called her father.
Rory rolled his eyes. Her innocence, though sweet, would be the death of him, he was certain. “Yes, you are indeed allowed.”
“I should very much like to call you by your given name. Perhaps it would make you a little less frightening,” Constantine said, her tone quiet.
“Do you fear me still?” Rory asked.
“Perhaps a little, my lord...Rory,” Constantine replied.
“I will try to be very gentle, little one,” Rory promised. He would like for her to realize now his word meant a great deal to him, but still he must try and explain what was to happen.
“Rory?” Constantine asked hesitantly. “Should you not be unclothed as well? This coupling ’tis indeed a messy business.”
Thinking perhaps this was a good place to start; Rory unclothed himself watching her for her reaction. Though Constantine had seen Rory unclothed he had been lying down, helpless and vulnerable. Now his powerful body was before her and it was she who now felt helpless. His proud manhood jutted out before him all ready swollen and huge. Like some great throbbing sausage.
Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, resigned to her fate, Constantine prepared to take him into her hands. Rory stepped back just out of her reach. He feared she would make him pop right here and now before he could explain a real bedding. Confused, Constantine gazed up into his dark deep brown eyes.
“In order for our marriage to be truly consummated I need to place my manhood inside of you, Constantine,” Rory told her somewhat hesitantly. The truth needs be told, the time of reckoning was upon them.
“Inside?” Constantine questioned, now thoroughly confused and a bit concerned. Upon her person she could think of nowhere that monstrosity would fit. “But where?”
“Up into the moistness between your thighs,” Rory said, his gaze intense.
Understanding dawned and Constantine’s eyes widened in horror. The old crone was right; there would be pain. Quick as a rabbit, Constantine fled the bed.
“Now, Constantine, it will not be all bad,” Rory chided.
“For whom?” Constantine gasped. She crept backward until her back pressed against a cold stone wall. Her heart pounded with fright within her wildly beating breast.
Rory advanced with care, understanding her fear and grateful her bellowing had not begun.
“Come my little one, we will start slowly.” Rory reached out his hand but ever-quick Constantine fled past him toward the hearth on terrified feet.
“Nay, my lord, ’tis a cruel joke. You must see ’twould never fit.” Constantine thought he must be joking; he had to be joking.
“Constantine, come to me,” Rory all but commanded holding out his hand. He did not want to spend the entire night chasing his wife about the chamber.
Constantine could see his manhood bobbing as it moved about the room before him. It seemed to strain toward her. “It seeks me out!” She all but howled and dodged once more to the wall.
“Come now, Constantine, be reasonable,” Rory said exasperated. If this kept up, he would be too tired to bed her.
Constantine leapt past him but Rory was prepared this time and grabbed her about the waist, lifting her up off her feet. Constantine howled loudly, petrified. Suddenly the door to their chamber burst open un-expectantly and Mary sailed in. Startled at the unexpected intrusion Rory reached to his side automatically, searching for his sword, though it no longer hung at his hip. He dropped Constantine to the floor, giving her a chance to flee to the wall on swift feet.
“Damnation woman, what do you in here?” Rory thundered.
“I thought perhaps my lady would like some mead,” Mary stammered.
“Get out,” Rory yelled. Mary turned and raced from the room, shaking in fear.
“Constantine, get you on the bed,” Rory demanded.
“I think not, my lord. There will be no popping this eve,” Constantine said sternly, though shrilly, with as much bravado as she could muster, though her slight body shook violently.
Rory thought she was wrong on that account. His tenacious grip on his temper was definitely about to explode. Damnation, he vowed he would bed his little wife if it killed them both. Rory leaped atop the bed and grabbed a wildly fleeing Constantine as she attempted to seek the safety of the hearth. Both fell backward onto the great bed and Rory pinned her beneath him. He struggled to maintain his control. Constantine opened her mouth and bellowed like she was about to be murdered. Again their chamber door flew open and a harried Mary flew in.
“What do you, Mary?” Rory thundered, a flailing and still bellowing Constantine in his grasp.
“Perhaps some ale instead?” Mary all but shouted while her hands worked nervously.
“Get out,” Rory howled. Mary turned and fled the room.
Rory placed a large hand over Constantine’s mouth to quiet her. Soon enough her struggles ceased as she grew weary. Both of them were breathing hard and fast at the exertion.
Rory wanted nothing more than to take the little vixen right now. Instead he let his ragged breathing calm as he struggled for some control.
“Listen to me, little one. It will fit. Men and women were made to join,” Rory explained with more patience than he felt. Constantine looked up at him skeptically.
“I have promised you I will be gentle, and I am a man of my word, but have mercy little one. If your struggling does not cease, I will find it difficult to maintain my control. Now promise you will be silent, and I will remove my hand.”
Constantine gave a curt nod. Rory released her mouth, his hand poised closely in case she changed her mind. When she remained silent, Rory eased himself off her and sat beside her.
“Do not be afraid. I will be very careful. We will begin very slowly,” Rory promised.
Pulling her hesitant form to him, Rory captured her mouth with his own and explored her soft lips. His warm prodding tongue delved with care into her mouth tasting her sweetness, lingering only moments. His hands caressed her luxurious long flowing hair as he lifted a silken lock to breathe in her scent. He threaded his fingers through her tresses, tugging lightly to expose her throat. Rory’s finger trailed a gentle line down the slim curve of her cheekbone. His thumb pressed carefully over a closed eyelid, while he whispered her name into her ear, sucking gently on her lobe. Rory used every tactic of persuasion he’d been taught by those of experience.
When soon Constantine began her own exploration of his lips, Rory smiled inwardly. His little
wife enjoyed being kissed. That information he stored safely away. When Constantine seemed to mold her slight body to his with a small sigh, Rory trailed a large hand down her throat to cup one perfect breast, kneading with exquisite tenderness.
She tensed beneath him, but he calmed her with soothing gentle words and soft caresses. When she again appeared relaxed and accepting of his touch, Rory trailed his hand lower to rest gently between her thighs, lowering her back onto the bed. Constantine protested slightly but when still there was no pain to his lovemaking, she allowed her body to feel the wonderful sensations his hands and mouth were creating. Rory shifted his large body over Constantine, taking care not to put too much of his weight onto her. His fingers delved her depth with utmost caution, gently massaging the warm folds trying to entice a greater response. Breathing heavily, he began to ease himself within her.
Constantine had been filled with wonder at the sensations he aroused in her. She felt she could lie there accepting his touch all evening. Until she felt a great pressure at her juncture. At first she tried to ignore it. She tried shifting beneath him but Rory had anticipated that and held her securely in his embrace. She began to panic when she felt pinned beneath his great size, she could feel his hard erection probing, probing. Her body began to thrash trying to elude the beginnings of a new pain she realized was to come.
Rory continued his gentle exploration and could feel Constantine moving beneath him, thrusting up against him. Thinking she must now be aroused and ready Rory plunged deeply.
“God have mercy. You are killing me!” Constantine suddenly bellowed loudly into his ear. “I have been torn asunder.” Taken by surprise Rory ceased his movement and stared into Constantine’s wide-eyed pained expression.
“’Tis done little one,” Rory said gently.
“Then get you off me. I am dying,” Constantine shrieked. Her howling intensified as she struggled wildly beneath him, pummeling his chest with small fists, her legs kicking up a storm.
Battle Cry and The Berserker Page 5