“I can’t say for certain, not being a man myself, but men are made different from females, and some of the things they get up to are downright shameful. They take to all kinds of unaccountable things like cockfighting, bearbaiting, and cutting each other up with those nasty swords. You can’t go judging anything by what a man likes.” She led Sara over to the bed and tucked her in.
“I heard some of the girls talking once,” Sara said, sinking her voice into a low, timorous whisper, “when they thought no one was about. They said some women like it.”
“There’s females that will say anything for a new dress or a piece of jewelry,” came Betty’s scathing reply. “I’m happy to say that you’ll have no call to know anything about that kind of abandoned hussy. Neither should you be listening to whispered secrets about them. Lordy, whatever will you be doing next?”
“But if some women don’t find it so terrible—”
“Then they should!” said Betty without hesitation. “You’re not to be judging yourself by low-born females. You’re going to be a countess someday, and no countess I ever heard tell of went about talking about being with a man. As for liking it! Well, the idea is scandalous. Now, you just stay here all nice and warm, and put your mind to rest. It’ll be over soon enough, and then you won’t have to wonder about it anymore.”
“But if it’s so terrible …” Sara persisted.
Betty hunched an indifferent shoulder, as though the subject was beginning to bore her. “They all complain about it, but they’re never any the worse for it the next morning. I don’t suppose you’ll be any different.”
Sara had to be content with that. Betty finished tucking her in, banked the fire, blew out all the candles except the one by the bed, and left Sara to await her lord.
It was an awful wait. From the moment she had been told she was to marry Gavin, until Betty closed the door to her bedchamber, Sara had been too busy to do much more than try to understand and follow what was happening to her. Not once had she stopped long enough to wonder about her wedding night, but now it was here, and her husband could enter the room at any minute. She knew nothing of what was going to happen, and as the clock ticked inexorably on, she became more and more apprehensive. The difficulties ahead multiplied as the empty minutes piled up, until Sara was sure the ordeal itself could hardly be more awful than this waiting without knowing. Sara found herself picking at her skin, then chewing on her nails. If he doesn’t come soon, she thought, I’ll be nothing but sores and bleeding stubs.
But she did not have very long to wait.
The door was flung open without warning, and Gavin stood framed in the light. A double ripple of excitement made Sara sit straight up in the bed. The moment she’d been waiting for with fear and anticipation had arrived, but now that it was here, she wasn’t at all sure she didn’t want to postpone it a little longer. Yet the sight of Gavin’s body—as he shed his coat and stood revealed in a sheer shirt and skintight pants—caused her own body to tingle in response. Even without understanding why, Sara felt drawn to that mighty, muscled physique. The long, clean lines of his legs and thighs made him seem graceful, the flowing shirt over hard-sinewed arms gave the impression of sinuousness, but his powerful chest and broad shoulders left her in no doubt as to the rugged strength of the man who was about to claim her. She was shaken by a quiver of pleasurable anticipation.
“The bride in her marriage bed,” Gavin mocked as he advanced into the room.
Instinctively Sara drew the covers around her shoulders.
“What, no warm greeting for your new lord? I might get the idea you don’t wish to lie with me.”
“I am somewhat anxious about it,” stammered Sara, holding on to the covers more tightly still, “but I am prepared to do my duty.”
“Yeah, we must all do our duty,” Gavin growled fiercely, as he drew closer to the bed. He had drunk too much, in the hopes it would numb him to the innocence of his bride and the disgust he felt with himself for acting as his father’s pawn. But now that he was face to face with the blameless victim of their struggle, he felt his resolution draining away. With a fiercely muttered oath, he steadied himself against the bedpost. The brandy hadn’t been able to numb him to the shame he felt at the violation of his own principles either. He was preparing to deflower this innocent girl, a rite of passage she believed would truly make her his wife, but one he knew would only deprive her of something else irreplaceable, and he couldn’t stop himself.
Hell, she married me for what she could get, he thought with a surge of rage. She can damned well take the consequences. “You just do your part,” he muttered. “I’ll do the rest.”
“That’s just it,” admitted Sara sheepishly. “I’m not perfectly sure what my part is.”
No man is ever too drunk not to be sobered by that statement, and Gavin directed his penetrating gaze to Sara’s lovely, fearful face.
“Do you mean to tell me neither that Rachel woman, nor any of the dried-up prunes that infest the place, ever told you about laying with a man?”
“No.”
“Goddamnit to hell!” moaned Gavin, swinging on the bedpost so that he dropped onto the bed. “The wench is not only a virgin, she’s an ignorant virgin. She’ll probably scream.”
“Scream?” inquired Sara faintheartedly, her fear beginning to assume significant dimensions.
“They all do. Seems to be a law or something, that every gently bred female has to shout down the house.”
“But you don’t want me to scream!”
“Of course not. Puts a man out of the mood quicker than a bucket of cold water. Besides, there’s no call to be afraid. You’ll soon learn to like it.”
“Betty says no lady ever likes it.”
“What would a bean pole like her know about men?” demanded Gavin. At that moment, his gaze focused on Sara for the first time, and he immediately became very still and quiet. He couldn’t describe exactly how he had pictured her as he sat attempting to drink himself into a stupor, but the reality of her presence was a far different thing.
The skin which she stigmatized as freckled was rendered dead white by the deathly fear that filled her. Her long, slender throat, compressed lips, and apprehensive light blue eyes combined to present a picture of bemused innocence which her abundant strawberry blond hair, cascading over flawless shoulders in a riot of curls, did nothing to alter. Gavin suddenly realized that Sara looked damnably attractive, at least she would have if she could stop looking like she expected to be drawn and quartered. What could there be about this virginal girl that appealed so strongly to his jaded tastes?
Gavin quickly discarded his shirt. “Damn, it’s hot in here. How can you stay under those covers? Come on out, so I can get a good look at you.”
Sara didn’t have to wonder what Gavin looked like. The light from the single candle fell directly on his disturbingly masculine body; he was within inches of her now and his aroused state was unmistakable. She wasn’t entirely sure of what she was seeing, or why it should be in that uncharacteristic condition, but she had the distinct impression that it had something to do with what was about to happen to her. She did not let go of the covers, but when Gavin pulled them out of her hands, she sat perfectly still, rather than yield to her initial impulse to scramble to recover them. Her young, firm breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing.
Betty had piled several comforters on the bed to insure that Sara would keep warm, but she had taken care to dress her mistress in a thin nightgown that did very little to hide the outlines of her body. In comparison to Clarice’s opulent charms, Sara looked positively boyish. It was true that her breasts were firm and well raised, but they were demure little globes instead of huge pendulous gourds. And the scared, timorous look was definitely at variance with the coy invitation that characterized Clarice’s approach to their times in bed. This was not what Gavin was accustomed to, and his ardor began to ebb.
But Gavin was honest enough to admit it was not just because she was
different. He felt ashamed of himself. He had stormed out of the house and had taken his first drink because he was angry at his father, but he had kept drinking to postpone returning to this room, to blunt the sharp prick of his conscience. He had been able to force himself to marry Sara because he didn’t know anything about her, but the few short hours they had spent together had already changed that. He could still make himself believe that she was marrying him because of his position in society, but he could not ignore the growing suspicion that he was about to destroy something much finer than anything he had ever known.
With a physical effort, he shrugged off his doubts. Pluck up, he told himself. There’ll be plenty of time later to work something out, feed her on double rations maybe, but he had to go through with it tonight. Everybody expected it of him, even Sara.
“Don’t be so standoffish,” he said more kindly, reaching out his hand to her. “It’s not so bad as you think.” Sara couldn’t move. The mere feel of his hand on her skin sent her mind into orbit, her inflamed senses interfering with rational thought. Her body was screaming messages at her brain, but it was speaking a new language, one her brain didn’t know how to translate, so she continued to sit before him, immobile, mute, in a state bordering on shock as he trailed his fingers along her arm and up her shoulder. His touch was a match that ignited a trail of explosive powder that smoldered slowly, irresistibly, toward the powder keg that would soon cause the only existence she had ever known to explode into nothingness, and she was totally unable to do anything to prevent it.
She was unable to resist when he pulled her closer to him. His nearness, the intensity of his presence, the force of his attractiveness took her breath away. Why, when she had thought of him all those years, had she never realized what it would be like, really be like, to be with him? In her imagination, being with him had been a natural thing, something she did willingly, not waiting fearfully and apprehensively in the dark, wondering what would happen next. This was nothing like the wonder and magic she had dreamed of, nothing like the ecstasy she had looked forward to. She felt as though she were not a participant, merely an object to be used.
Sara was unable to resist when he reached over and roughly kissed her full on the lips, but she could not repress a tiny gasp of shock. The trepidation and fear was still there, but deep inside her a tiny kernel of pleasure began to unfold.
Gavin noted both her surprise and her lack of response, but the taste of her sweet lips reinvigorated his flagging ardor and he took her slender, trembling body into his arms. Sara thought she would disintegrate from the impact of her excitement. Her entire body was on alert, every nerve screaming that she was under attack, that something shockingly new was happening to her; she didn’t know how to protect herself, or whether she even wanted to try.
Gavin kissed her again, hungrily this time, his lips roughly crushing her mouth, and pressed her unresisting body against his chest. She was a skinny little thing, but curiously appealing nonetheless. There was a freshness about her, a feeling of newness that was unique in his experience, a sensation he found rather exciting. His tongue forced its way between her tightly compressed lips and plunged into her sweet mouth. At the same time his hands impatiently slipped the nightgown over her shoulders baring the breasts to his attack.
“I’m going to kiss your breasts now. There’s no need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
Sara had not resisted when Gavin’s tongue ravaged her mouth even though she had wanted to. But now her body became rigid, and she gasped when his hot hands cupped her breasts; her breathing became shallow and rapid when his lips deserted her mouth for the rosy, mounding peak of her right breast. If her nervous system was in a panic before, it was having hysterics now. She hardly knew what she was feeling, but she was completely incapable of controlling her response. Everything was new, unsuspected, and affected her body so violently, her muscles rigidly refused to do anything she told them.
Her maidenly modesty, horrified by what was happening, encouraged her to resist, to brush away the hands and lips that were being so free with her body. These feelings were so insistent she was only marginally aware of the sensation of sensual pleasure that continued to flower, that was vainly trying to make its presence known; ignorance and fear were the twin drivers as her emotional carriage careened out of control.
Into his control, she realized. But was it so terrible a thing to surrender to him?
“Don’t fight so hard,” Gavin murmured without ceasing his attention to her breasts. “Relax, and you may find it as enjoyable as I do.”
With a great effort, Sara forced herself to lie perfectly still, not because Gavin told her she might enjoy it, but because she told herself it was her duty. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy this night, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t supposed to know what was happening to her, and she didn’t. But it frightened her. Gavin’s actions were nothing like what she expected. His lips and tongue attacked her body like a starving man at his first meal and his hands were like those of a blind man determined to memorize every inch of her. To lie here half-naked was the final and almost unbearable indignity. She hoped it was almost over. She wasn’t sure she could stand much more.
But there was much more. To her pleasure and horror, Gavin seemed to be tugging at her gown, trying to pull it further down her body. Caught between two powerful but totally opposite sets of feelings, she was helpless to resist at first. Fear was still urging her to violent resistance, but the other feeling was gathering strength, this new and unfamiliar sensation, this feeling of pleasure that sapped her energy and slew her will to resist. She lay immobile, unable to decide what to do, until she realized that he was trying to take her clothes off! Her whole being reacted in panic, and she clutched frantically at her gown. Gavin did not divert his attention from her breasts, and she was able to pull it back up just above her waist, but she had no time to enjoy her triumph.
“You really are quite lovely,” he murmured, “much more than I expected.” He spoke abstractly, as if he, too, were caught in this web of sensations.
His left hand was suddenly on her leg and moving with dispatch up her thigh. She was stunned. Betty had never hinted of this. Surely this could have no part of babies. But before Sara could attempt to think or reason, Gavin’s hand reached the furry crescent between her legs, and her whole being exploded in rebellion.
“Don’t!” The desperate protest burst from her lips as a plaintive, accusing wail.
“What in bloody hell?” Gavin exploded. He neither slackened his grip or arrested his actions, until he realized she was afraid of him.
“Don’t touch me like that.” Sara tried to roll away from Gavin’s grasp, to draw her gown up over her violated body, but he continued to hold her captive.
“I’m going to do much more than touch you,” he told her in a gentle, persuasive voice, as he paused to stroke her hair, “much, much more.” Gavin’s powerful grip, the tenderness in his voice, and her own feeling of helplessness held her prisoner, as he proceeded to explore her body with increasing intensity. “There may be pain at first when I take you. But never again, I swear.”
Sara had no idea what he was talking about, but she made up her mind she didn’t want to find out. “I want you to leave,” she declared, desperation giving her courage.
“On our wedding night?” demanded Gavin, still too swayed by desire to realize that Sara was very badly frightened.
“I don’t care what night it is. I just want you to go away and leave me alone.”
“Easy,” he whispered, doing his best to gentle her. “Your first time can be quite pleasant, I promise. If you like, I’ll tell you everything before I do it.”
“I don’t want to know anything or do anything,” Sara protested. “I just want this nightmare to end.” Her protests became more shrill, but they had little effect on Gavin. His blood thundered in his veins, desire blotting out everything but his need for satisfaction. When Sara’s gown became too tangled about her body for him to re
move, he ripped it from seam to seam and cast it from him. Sara lay naked before him, trembling from head to toe. Her whole mind was filled with panic, but she was unable to move or protest any longer. Even when he paused to look at her unsullied perfection, she made no attempt to escape. She knew he would not be denied, and that it was her duty to submit. Dumbly she waited for the end to come.
Much to Gavin’s surprise, he found he was highly excited by Sara’s slim loveliness, and he shed his clothes quickly. If he had seen Sara’s expression, he might have paused in his headlong rush to enjoy her. He might also have given some thought to what she must be experiencing on this, the most earth-shaking night in her life. But he only saw a flawless body whose appeal riveted every part of his attention.
Sara had never seen anyone naked, but she had already suffered so much from shock, she was unable to do more than unconsciously record the magnificent picture of manhood that Gavin presented to her gaze. All that pierced the haze of her panic was the image of his engorged manhood standing rigidly upright like an angry sentinel.
Gavin lay down beside her, impatient with having to lead her so slowly and carefully. Damn! This was one reason to stay away from virgins. He preferred a woman who welcomed the touch of his hands and lips on her body, one who could give him as much pleasure as he gave her. He felt almost as if he were manipulating Sara.
“I am going to take you now. Can you not try to share some of the pleasure with me?” In quick succession his hands and lips returned to caressing her body. Gently he braced his knee between her legs. “Open for me.”
She tried to keep her knees together, but almost before she knew it, she felt his hot, insistent manhood pressing against her. When he entered her, she stopped breathing, her body opening to him in spite of herself.
“That’s right, relax,” Gavin coaxed. He cursed, but was not deterred when he encountered the resistance of her maidenhead. “It may hurt a little,” he said, and before she could gather herself to resist, he thrust powerfully into her, driving deep. A knifing pain shot through Sara’s body, and she cried out. Immediately she bit her lip; she would not scream no matter what happened.
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