“They will sleep in the hall,” her mother responded. “There are bed spaces that are clean and ready for visitors. They will be just as comfortable there. Besides, the guest chamber is needed that you and your husband consummate your union. Merin will not allow you to depart until he is certain it has been done, Averil. He would not allow Rhys FitzHugh any excuse to repudiate you.”
“I do not think he would do such a thing, Mother. He is an honorable man,” the girl said as she had earlier.
“Truly honorable men do not kidnap innocent maidens, daughter,” her mother said sharply.
“But men can make mistakes, can they not?” Averil said quickly. “But if they repent of their errors are they not honorable again?”
Gorawen laughed softly. “You are defending him,” she teased. “Is it just possible that you are beginning to like this husband you have?”
“Like him or not I must live with him till death parts us,” Averil responded in practical tones.
Gorawen laughed again. “He is handsome, and young enough to be vigorous in bed sport. Your are right to try to find the good in him, Averil.” They had reached the top of the tower. Gorawen opened the door and escorted her daughter inside. “I will help you to undress,” she said, and when Averil was garbed in only her chemise her mother pointed to the basin of warm scented water that had been set in the hot ashes of the tiny fireplace. “Relieve yourself, then wash, daughter,” she instructed the girl.
Averil obeyed, quickly emptying the chamber pot out the single window, and pushing it beneath the bed again. She cleaned her teeth with the cloth provided, and then bathed her private parts.
Gorawen nodded, satisfied. “Now remove the chemise,” she said.
“Will he be naked too, Mother?” Averil asked nervously.
“We shall see he is delivered to you as God made him, my daughter,” her mother said with a small smile. “I have always believed that lovers should be equals although such a radical thought would disturb most.”
Averil removed her chemise and climbed into the big bed that seemed to take up much of the chamber. “I am ready,” she said.
“Unplait your hair,” her mother bade the girl, and when Averil had obeyed Gorawen said, “Now you are ready.” She fluffed her daughter’s pale gold hair so that it framed her face and billowed about her slender shoulders. “Yes,” she said softly. Then she bent and kissed Averil upon the forehead. “Let him lead you, my daughter,” she said, “and do not fear. We will speak on the morrow of this night, and I will teach you all you shall need to know. Tonight, however, your innocence will speak for you.” Then turning, she left the tower room.
It was both exciting and terrifying, this unknown, Averil thought as she waited for Rhys FitzHugh to come to her. Did she need to pee again? No. She was fine. She had a vague idea of what to expect. He would lie her on her back, and mount her. Her love passage was located between her thighs. His manhood would pierce it. It was said to be painful the first time. Averil’s heart hammered nervously. It sounded like a most intimate act, and she had never experienced intimacy with anyone. She drew the coverlet up higher, more aware than ever of her nakedness. And then she heard a faint sound of laughter from the stairwell that led up to the tower. The laughter grew louder. She heard Rhys protesting something, and then more laughter. She strained to hear the words, but could not quite make them out. Then there were footsteps, and the door to the chamber was flung open, and Rhys, naked as the day he had come from his mother’s womb, was pushed roughly into the room.
“There he is, lady,” Roger Mortimer said, leering at her wickedly. He was drunk. “We have undressed him for you, but you shall have to do the rest.” He eyed her in an attempt to see her breasts.
Rhys FitzHugh turned about, pushing Roger and those who had accompanied him from the chamber. He slammed the door shut, and threw the bolt, barring it firmly. The laughter outside in the hall echoed loudly, but then they heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and the laugher slowly faded away. Rhys turned.
“Get into bed,” Averil said.
“Are you anxious, then?” he asked her as he came across the room.
“I do not want you catching a chill and dying on me yet,” she replied sharply.
He lifted the coverlet and slid beneath it, climbing atop her as he did, sitting back on his tight haunches to face her. Reaching out he cupped one of her small round breasts in his palm, stroking it with his other hand. “Beautiful,” he said in reverent tones.
Her heart almost burst through her chest. She gasped with shock at his bold and quick actions, her eyes wide, her mouth making a small “O.” For a moment she was speechless, but then she quickly recovered. “You will crush me, you great creature,” she protested.
“Nay, I will not,” he said. “I want to see your face when I touch you, Averil. I like the look of surprise upon it now. It tells me more than words could.” He very gently pinched her nipple, smiling softly as she colored and grew rosy with blushes.
“Remember, I am a virgin,” she whispered for what she knew would be the final time. It actually hurt to speak. Her throat was tight.
“I know,” he replied. He leaned forward so that his lips were almost touching hers. Then he ran his tongue around those lips. He took her two small hands, saying against her mouth as he did, “Take my big boy in your hands, Averil, and caress it. Soon it will swell with its desire, and I will fill you full with my lust. Do not be afraid. Tonight I will pleasure you, and I will teach you to pleasure me.” His breath was winey and hot in her face.
“My mother says that after you have satisfied yourself as to my purity she will teach me how to please you,” Averil whispered back at him.
“I cannot object. Your father has the appearance of a contented man when he looks at her, which is often. He loves her above the others.”
“I know,” Averil said softly. She could feel his flesh on her thighs. Her hands reached out to hold him in her palm, petting him with gentle fingers, and he began to harden and swell beneath her touch.
Leaning slightly forward he fastened his mouth about a nipple of one breast, licking and suckling it.
Averil’s senses spun as a sharp sensation of what she realized was desire enveloped her, and a small cry escaped her.
He lifted his dark head, looking into her green eyes. “Lovers taste and tease one another, Averil. Do you like it?”
She nodded, wordless. She was being pounded by a host of sensations, one more delicious than the other. She was afraid, and yet she was not afraid.
He rolled onto his back, lifting her so that she lay atop him. “There,” he said low. “Is that not better, wife? I like the feel of you against me.” Then he wrapped his arms about her, and began kissing her with slow, hot kisses that blended one into another until it seemed as if it were one long and passionate embrace.
Averil’s head spun. Her mouth was burning with the touch of his lips. She could feel his manhood pressing into her soft thigh. Hot. Hard. Yet patient. Willing to wait until she was ready. She trembled more with anticipation than fear. She was very curious, yet still cautious of what was to come. Her breasts were crushed against his wide chest. Their bellies caressed as he throbbed against her.
“Open your eyes, wife,” he commanded her gently. “How can I look into your soul if you hide from me?”
Averil’s eyes flew open to meet his, surprise upon her visage. She hadn’t realized that her eyes were closed until he had spoken. She had been totally lost in his embrace, and drugged by his sweet kisses. “I am beginning to comprehend why my mother loves my father,” she told him as her light green eyes met his dark blue ones.
“This is not love, wife,” he answered her. “This is lust, but it is a start.” His big hands fastened about her narrow waist, and he drew her forward, raising her up so that her breasts hung over his face. “So perfect,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against her round flesh. Then his tongue slipped from between his lips, and he began to lick at her nipples.
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“Ohh, I like that!” Averil told him.
He opened his mouth and sucked hard on her right nipple until she shuddered with delight. Then he transferred his attentions to her left nipple, suckling it first, and then nipped on it sharply.
Averil moaned, her pleasure undisguised. “You make me tingle in the secret place,” she told him innocently.
“Let me see,” he murmured, turning her onto her back once more, and leaning over her. His lips met hers again, his tongue pushing into her mouth as his fingers slipped between her nether lips to play. She was already wet with her rising desire. He found her little jewel, and began to worry it with the ball of his forefinger. She squirmed beneath his touch, making little whimpering noises. “Do you like that, Averil?” he whispered in her ear, his tongue now pushing into the shell-like whorl.
“Yesss!” she hissed. Her eyes were closed again, and the look on her face told him her fear had left her, at least for now.
The finger continued to play with her until she shivered with satisfaction, experiencing her first real knowledge of passion. He slowly pressed the foraging finger into her untried body, moving it carefully back and forth. “And do you like this?” he asked her, licking the side of her face with his broad tongue.
“Ummmm,” was her reply.
It was time. He mounted her, pulling her legs wide that he might fit himself between them. Averil did not resist him. He smiled to himself. The little witch was eager even if she didn’t realize it right now. Guiding his manhood he pressed against the opening to her love channel, pushing forward slowly until the head of his lover’s lance was firmly engaged. She moved nervously beneath him suddenly. “Nay, wife, do not fret,” he soothed her gently. “What must be, will.”
“You are so big,” she whispered.
“The better to satisfy your desires, Averil, and I will.” He pressed himself farther, and she gasped with surprise as the truth of his words hit home.
He would surely tear her apart with his member, she thought, suddenly panicking and struggling to free herself from this great peg of flesh impaling her. But he held her fast, and before she might protest he drew himself back, and then thrust hard into her.
Averil shrieked more with surprise than pain as he filled her full. He kissed her ardently, and then began to move rhythmically upon her, starting slowly, his measured cadence increasing in tempo until she was dizzy with a pleasure flowing through her veins that threatened to overwhelm her. “Oh, God!” she half sobbed.
He was panting with his efforts, but he laughed nonetheless.
“Don’t stop!” she commanded him.
“I must sooner than later,” he gasped back.
“Not yet! Not yet!” she begged. She was reaching. Reaching! But for what she didn’t know, or understand, but then she found it, crying out with delight as she was overcome with wave after wave of pure joy. “Ohhhh, Rhys!” she cried out.
He was lost within her, unable to contain himself any longer. His lustful tribute poured forth, drenching her hidden garden with its first taste of his love juices. He was racked with great shudders, and groaned, at last satisfied, but not unmindful of her delicate form. Rolling away from her he lay upon his back, his breath coming in great heaves of air. “Oh, Averil!” he echoed her cry. “What a passionate little virgin you were.”
She began to weep. “I am no longer a virgin. I am no longer a girl,” she sobbed.
“Nay,” he agreed, gathering her into his arms, cuddling her against his chest, “you are not, Averil. You are my own true wife.”
“It was wonderful!” she wept, her tears soaking his chest.
He wanted to laugh with his happiness, but he did not. Looking down he saw the great stain of her maidenhead on the sheet beneath them. “Your sire will be proud come morning, wife,” he told her.
She drew away from his embrace slightly, and looked. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and then she blushed. “He will, indeed,” she finally agreed.
“Now you must rest,” he told her. “You have been very brave, wife.”
“Do we only do it once a night?” she asked him. She honestly didn’t know.
“We will not confine our passion only to the nights, Averil,” he told her, “and in answer to your question, we can do it more than once a night. Tonight, however, we have done enough. You have proved your innocence to me, and to the world. Sleep now.”
“But I liked it,” she replied. “I want to do it again.”
“I need my rest, too,” he explained, “so that my big boy may once again be eager. Look at the poor fellow now. You have worn him out, Averil, with your lustful little nature. In the hour before the dawn we shall exercise him once again, wife. He will enjoy burying himself in your hot little nest.” He kissed her, drawing the coverlet up over them. To his delight she snuggled herself against him as she fell asleep.
When Averil awoke the sky was lightening outside the tower’s window. She was on her back, and there was a distinct soreness between her thighs. Rhys was also on his back, and she inspected him thoroughly for the first time. He was really a very big man. Every bit as big as her father. She considered the hours before she had slept. Her husband had proved both gentle and kind. It boded well for them, but she still did not really know him. Nor if she could trust him. Rhys FitzHugh had spoiled her dreams with no apology, and Averil knew she could not easily forgive him for it although she had to admit to having enjoyed their bed sport.
But what kind of a life was she to have at Everleigh? She would not be mistress of the house, that place belonging to a six-year-old girl. And Mary FitzHugh already had a mentor in the serving woman, Rhawn. Rhawn looked like someone who would resent any interference with her charge. Yet Rhys said his little sister needed to learn gentle ways, and Rhawn could not teach her those. The thought that she should shortly leave Dragon’s Lair was not a happy one, and another unhappy truth was that she no longer belonged in her father’s house. She was married, well and good, now.
Outside the tower window the sky was growing lighter, and she heard a lark begin to sing a morning song. Averil realized she no longer felt like making love. She slipped from her bed, padding across the room to the little hearth to coax the red coals into another fire. Pouring water from a pitcher that had been set in the ashes into a copper ewer she washed herself. The water in the basin grew red as she removed the stains of her virginity from her thighs and private parts. Emptying the water out the tower window she quickly dressed herself in her chemise, a green gown and sleeveless brown tunic. She slid her feet into her slippers. Then refilling the basin she set it on the chest at the bed’s foot, and woke her husband.
He opened his eyes to see her standing by the bedside fully clothed. Hiding a smile he asked no questions. “Is it morning already, wife?”
“Aye. I should like to start for Everleigh today, my lord. We have done our duty, and you have been too long away. The harvest is ready to be brought in, and the bailiff should be there to oversee the work.” There! She had decided. They would go today.
He was impressed by her knowledge. He had not expected it from the Dragon Lord’s proud daughter. A daughter raised to believe she would make a great marriage. He swung his legs over the bed. Then turning, pulled the sheet from the mattress, handing it to her. “Take this to your father and say we have done our duty, Averil.”
“There is fresh water in the basin, my lord,” she replied, taking the bloodied bed cloth from him.
He nodded, now smiling just a little, and was rewarded by a slight smile in return. She hurried from the tower bedchamber, down the narrow, twisting staircase, and into the hall. Her father was already up, spooning oat stirabout from a round bread trencher. Proudly Averil walked to the high board, and handed him the sheet. “It is done, Da,” she said simply.
Merin Pendragon stood, took the fabric from her, and held it out to see the now-brown stain upon it. He nodded. “You have done your duty, daughter,” he told her. “Not an easy duty given that you expected a bett
er match than you have gotten.”
“I believe I was meant for a greater man, ’tis true, Da,” she agreed with him. “But fate had other plans for me. There is no use weeping over spilt milk. I suppose I could kill him and begin anew, but my value was not just in my beauty, but in my virginity. I still have my beauty,” she concluded with a wry smile at her parent.
He chuckled. “And you have your mother’s practical nature, too, I see now. Well, it could have been worse. At least he has a place in life, and did you not tell your mother he also has a stone cottage as well?”
“He does,” Averil admitted.
“Next spring I will send the best of my builder serfs to Everleigh for you. They will rebuild your cottage into a better dwelling,” the Dragon Lord said. “I will not have you living in some hovel, daughter. Remain in the manor as long as you and Mary FitzHugh can manage together though I do not worry about the little lass. It is the serving woman that dotes on her who concerns me. She is obviously used to having her own way. Her master was ill for a time and ’twas easier for him to leave his child in the care of a faithful retainer. Rhys ran the estate. But now another woman comes into the house.”
“I know, Da. I cannot be mistress there, but neither will I allow a servant to rule me as she does the child,” Averil replied. “My husband has asked me to teach his sister gentle ways, which the servant cannot do.”
“She will be jealous of you,” the Dragon Lord replied. “God’s mercy, I should have killed Rhys FitzHugh for having stolen you and been done with it!”
“Once he laid his hands on me, Da, my honor was gone until he restored it,” Averil responded sagely. “I would leave Dragon’s Lair today, if it please you, Da. It is time for the harvest, and Rhys should be home to oversee it.”
“Aye, he should. Your mother will not be happy. She says there are things she must teach you first,” the Dragon Lord said.
“And I would learn from her, but my husband cannot delay, and I must go with him, Da,” Averil told her parent.
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