by McCall, Mary
She raised agonized eyes to his. He cupped her cheeks and gave her a tender kiss, tasting her salty tears, then gazed into her eyes.
“Are you almost through?” she asked in a quivering voice.
“Nay,” he said and saw the fear intensify in her eyes.
“Am I too small, do you suppose? Is that why you stopped?”
He caressed her derriere. “I paused only because I wanted you to get used to feeling me inside you this far. I am about to hurt you worse.”
“Can I talk you out of this, please?” she pleaded politely in a tiny voice.
“Not a chance.”
“Does it not hurt you to have that big thing crammed up me?”
“Oh nay.” He closed his eyes against her pain and gritted his teeth. “Your body clamps around me just right.”
“And you will like it better if you hurt me more? ‘Twill please you?”
He opened his eyes and gazed at her, caressing a knuckle down the length of her back. “I do not want to hurt you at all, but ‘twill please my body greatly to be inside yours. Do you still trust me?”
She gave him a hesitant nod.
“Then do not fight me. I’m going to push the rest of the way inside you, then I want you to hold still and not move, so your body can adjust to my size.”
“Will you kiss me first, please?” she begged, resignation in her tone.
He lowered his mouth and coaxingly kissed her until her lips parted. He slanted his mouth, thrusting his tongue within to mate with hers. Her trembling limbs clung to him and he knew that she was giving herself to him without a fight despite her fear and pain. Truly, she pleased him, and if that wasn’t magic, he didn’t know what was.
He stroked her back in a gentle caress then settled his hands on her waist. He tightened his grip as his kiss became more demanding, more masterful. Then he pulled her downward as he lunged upward with his hips, burying his pulsating flesh deep within her. She sobbed in her throat and tried pulling her mouth away, while at the same time, she locked her arms around his neck, as if seeking reassurance that he would soon stop this terrible torture.
Bernon took his mouth from hers and hissed in a harsh breath as she buried her face against the base of his throat. Her tears hit his chest and he tightened his embrace, holding himself rigid, savoring her tight, slick heat molding around him. He fought the urge to pull out and ram back into her. Her trembling seemed to increase and he gently massaged her lower back and kissed the top of her head. “You are doing well. Just try to relax and do not move.”
“Has anyone ever died from this?” she whispered.
“Not that I know of,” he replied, thinking he might if he didn’t move soon.
“I do not want ten children anymore, Bernon,” she said in the most pathetic voice he’d ever heard in his life.
He groaned.
“Are you hurting too?”
“’Tis an exquisite agony.” He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
“Can we stop then?”
Why did that hopeful note in her tone make him feel lower than moat scum? He noticed her tears had slowed. Mayhap she was beyond the worst of it. “Does it still hurt?”
She nodded, sensing the control he exerted over his passion. She felt strangely happy, because he was being so patient with her. His neck’s bounding pulse throbbed against her cheek, and she squeezed his shoulders. “The slicing sting is not as bad though. Will the rest go away soon, do you suppose?”
“Look at me.” He placed a hand at the base of her neck and tilted her head back. She opened her eyes. Bernon gazed into the emerald depths. A fierce need to see her fired with passion and finding her own release seized him. He decided no matter what else he did in life, he would earn sanctity tonight for the trial he was putting himself through to ensure his wife felt pleasure. “The pain has to go away or ‘twould not be called magic.”
He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “You are valuable.” He kissed her eyelids. “You are rare.” He kissed her nose. “You are precious.”
She breathed a sigh through parted lips and instinctively raised her mouth to his.
“You are mine.” His mouth seized her parted lips and his tongue plunged inside, fondling hers. He set upon a masterful conquering of her senses.
His hands roamed, touched every speck of her body. Jolting charges sparked from his fingertips, racing to her womb. ‘Twas as if he was sending his power into her in a glorious rush of pleasure. She whimpered into his mouth, begging for more.
Bernon felt ready to erupt but continued his unyielding seduction. Slipping an arm around her waist, he released her mouth and blazed a trail to her taut nipples and sucked her delectable flesh. Moving one hand between their bodies, he dipped his fingers between her silken folds and stroked her until her desire excited for him. Her erotic moans filled the chamber and she surged her pelvis against his fingers then stiffened. “Bernon, please. What is happening to me?”
“Relax,” he ordered then moved his mouth to her other breast, increasing the pressure of his stroking fingers.
A fire was incinerating her insides. She needed him to douse the flames. Burying her fingers in his hair, she pulled his mouth back to her. Her kiss was a carnal command and she wriggled her pelvis against him.
Her lusty response snapped his control. All thoughts of being gentle fled. Firming his grip at her hips, he raised her then forcefully pulled her back down on him, delighting in the feel of her feminine core entrapping him. She felt like paradise and no other woman had ever fit him so perfectly.
He raised her again and she tightened her hold, forcing herself back down as he surged inside her. She soon caught his rhythm and met his thrusts in an effort to quench the fire burning inside her. Her need became so consuming that she couldn’t get air into her lungs. She whimpered into his mouth and broke their kiss, panting for breath. Her head fell backward with her eyes closed as she savored the tumult of feelings coursing in and around her. No wonder ‘twas called magic. She’d never felt so enchanted and cherished in her life. She wanted to give him everything for making her feel this way.
Warm water lapping over them with each thrust and the swirling currents heightened Bernon’s stimulation. Knowing he couldn’t hold off much longer, he slipped a hand down between them and urgently stroked her, enticing her feminine muscles until they spasmed around his throbbing shaft.
A fiery explosion inside her womb shattered her mind. She knew only the pure pleasure of rapture. She cried out his name in a shout of ecstasy and abandoned herself to the erotic bliss consuming her.
Bernon surrendered to his own release and poured his seed into her womb. His own cry mingled with hers, echoing from the ancient stones.
Moments later he marveled over the intensity of his release with his untried wife. Experience obviously wasn’t all that necessary. She had taken him to Eden and back. He smiled and pulled her limp body against his chest, deciding she fit quite well into his contours.
As her last ripple passed away, she trembled and hot tears hit his flesh. Hell, he should have been gentler with her. He was naught but a rutting centaur to have taken her so savagely. “Did I hurt you too badly? I did not mean to be so rough your first time.”
“Oh, Bernon, please do not be angry with me,” she mumbled against his neck. “I tried, but I couldn’t help myself.”
He frowned and stroked her back. “What are you talking about?”
“I did not mean to move, but my body wouldn’t stop. I will try to do better next time, but I’m afraid I will not. My body does not listen to me much when you are around.”
She was so serious that he had to force himself not to laugh. “If you do any better next time, you will kill me.” Her sobs increased with that remark, so he kissed her forehead and whispered, “I wanted you to move, and I’ll be displeased if you do not next time. I just told you to hold still so you could get used to my size.”
“Did you like it then?” she asked, apprehension thick in her t
one. “I know you’re used to women who know what they are doing, but I promise I will get better. You must teach me what you want, so I can please you.”
He smiled over her head, hearing a touch of command enter her speech. “What you just did pleased me.”
“Thank you, Bernon. You pleased me too.” She smothered a yawn against his neck and patted his shoulder. “I didn’t know magic was so exhausting.”
“Let’s dry off and get to bed. You have had a grueling day and need rest.” Of course she had damn near worn him out too, but he would never admit it. She snuggled against his neck, so he pulled her back and kissed her forehead. “Come.”
“You are through then?” She pushed out her lower lip.
“For now.” He frowned at her disappointment. She had damn near fallen apart in his arms from the magnitude of her release. She couldn’t have any complaints. “Why?”
“I was rather hoping we could do it again.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye, and her finger absently rubbed along his clavicle.
An arrogant grunt escaped him. “We will do it again. A lot. But not now.”
“Oh.” Her lower lip sulked out again. He was strongly tempted to draw the succulent morsel into his mouth.
“Let your body recover from this first time, or you’ll not be able to walk for a week. I promise next time I will keep you awake for an entire night of magic.” He lifted her from his lap. A moan caught in her throat as his shaft left her body. He turned and carefully set her on the edge of the pool. “Are you all right?”
“I feel a mite sore where you poked me.” She blushed and raked her fingers through her hair, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Bernon, I liked that magic part, but will I hurt this way every time?”
“The pain only comes with the first time. From now on ‘twill all be magic.” He kissed her nose and got out of the water. Crossing to the bench, he grabbed a bath sheet and began drying off.
“Do you suppose you could help me with something, Bernon?” she asked in a forlorn tone.
He noticed she still sat where he left her and hadn’t turned to face him. “You’ll have to tell me what you need help with before I can answer.”
Her head dipped lower and her whisper barely reached him. “My legs feel like calves’ foot jelly and I need help getting up.”
An arrogant grin crossed his face. He swaggered over and scooped her up. She yelped and threw her arms around his neck. “After the magic we just shared, my dear, I will do more than help you stand. I will carry you.”
“But I’m supposed to tend you.”
“Not after your first encounter with magic. Tonight ‘tis my duty to tend you.” He placed her on the linen draped bench where she had undressed him and picked up a bath sheet from the opposite end of the bench.
The linen slid over her breasts and she hissed in air. Her breath blew out on a groan. She grabbed his arm and squeezed until he stopped and noticed her struggle. “Bernon, do you suppose I could finish drying me, please? My body doesn’t realize how exhausted it is and it is starting to want magic again.”
He handed her the bath sheet with a smug grin and folded his arms across his chest. Standing nude before her, he watched her continue wiping the moisture from her body. She took peeks at him from under her lashes, and a rosy hue swept her head to toe. If he didn’t give her a moment of privacy, she’d never finish because he would take her again. “Where is your robe?”
“My what?” she asked in a dazed voice.
“Your night wrap.”
“I do not have any night cloths.” She didn’t notice his frown and added, “I was going to wear my shift.”
“Where is your shift?”
“With my clothes on the other side of that screen. Please do not be upset with Ardith. She said you wanted my things moved to your chamber, but she couldn’t take them there, because they are all down here. I’ll take them up tomorrow if you still wish it so.”
“Of course I want your things in our chamber. ‘Tis where you belong.”
Bernon went behind the screen and saw several pegs on the wall. The tattered gown she had worn earlier hung on one and the priest frock hung on another. A black gown with gold trim and a matching shift hung on a third peg. He noticed a frayed dingy shift lying across a small pallet against the far wall. Picking up the garment, he saw at least a dozen mended rents. To hell and perdition with him if he would allow his wife to wear the garment!
Hearing a moan from the other side of the screen, he tossed down the shift and hurried around the partition. “Are you all right?”
“Stay away!” She clutched the bath sheet to her breast with one hand while her other hand fisted over her lap.
God’s teeth, he was getting sick of seeing fear pop into her eyes, and why was she as white as the bath sheet? “What’s wrong?” he asked. Ignoring her order, he crossed to the bench and sat down beside her. She cringed away, and he saw tears well up in her eyes. “Barwolf, you will stop this foolishness and tell me what is wrong with you now.”
She looked down and sniffed then slowly unclenched the fist holding the linen over her lap. He saw two tiny flecks of bright red blood on the sheet. “Poor wife,” he said, caressing a knuckle from her jaw down to her chin then brushing her trembling lips with a finger. “Cora didn’t tell you that you would bleed the first time, did she?”
She shook her head.
“’Twill stop soon.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Where are the rest of your clothes?”
“In Jupiter’s Hall in my pouch,” she mumbled then sniffed and relaxed against him. “I have not yet had a chance to unpack.”
He kissed her damp curls then gently rubbed up and down her upper arm. “What is in the pouch?”
“My gold kirtle and black shift and my other everyday gown. I need to sew the sleeve back on it, but there is still another year of good wear in it. I lost my blue and white gown after I made you The Strangclyf. I looked for it the next day, but ‘twas nowhere to be found.”
“And do you have no other clothes?” he asked in a well-modulated tone.
“I don’t need any more. My father didn’t like me being around when he had guests, so I had no need for fine garments,” she answered with a shrug, not sensing his anger. “Like he said, I cannot wear but one gown at a time, so I had no need for more than two—one for wearing and one for washing. I’m due for new material at the end of the summer, but I stole the blue and white linen from the stores to make the gown I lost, so if you say I cannot have any, then I’ll make do.”
“Where do you get the material to make the clothes for the children?”
“Cora and Ardith and Lori give me clothes their children have outgrown. And when I stole the material for my dress, I took some to make shifts for the girls too.”
“Is there more material in the stores?”
She nodded. “I left my shift on my pallet. Did you not find it?”
“You will not wear it again.” He spoke more harshly than he intended, but honest to God, where did she come by such a giving nature when she had been treated worse than the lowest serf for most of her life?
“What have I done now that angers you so? That is the only shift I have. Is this punishment for something?”
“My wife will not be clothed in tatters. We will see what is in the stores and I’ll purchase anything you need for a new wardrobe that is not on hand. You may wear the black and gold on the morrow. For now, you may wear a bath sheet as a toga like you did earlier. You will not need to wear anything in bed.”
“But I might ruin my fine dress if I wear it tomorrow. I wanted to save it for when we have special guests.”
Bernon canted his head and raised a brow. “You do not consider the king and queen special guests?”
She blushed and ran her fingers through her hair then sighed. “I guess I forgot them. This has been an overwhelming last few weeks.”
“Let’s go to bed. Everything will sort out on the morrow.�
�� He stood and drew her to her feet.
She leaned against his side and slipped an arm around his waist as his arm draped her shoulders. “I hope so, Bernon. I cannot stand chaos.”
Twelve
His wife thrived on chaos.
Bernon secured his scabbard at his side, walked over to the bedside, and stared down at his slumbering wife. An arrogant grin raised one corner of his mouth as he noticed her hugging his pillow. When they had gotten into bed, Barwolf had worried she’d disturb his rest. She hovered so near the edge he couldn’t sleep for fear she would teeter off. He finally hauled her against his side just so he could get some sleep. Then he awoke in the middle of the night to find his wife sprawled across his chest—all cuddled up with a smile on her face.
He had never slept the night through with a woman and a strange desire grew within him to spend time with his wife apart from the carnal aspects of marriage. Something about her lightened his mood, and he found an unfamiliar sense of completeness with her snuggled on top of him.
The realization that he trusted her still stunned him and left him feeling vulnerable. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. How had she maneuvered past barriers he had spent a lifetime erecting? His vulnerability strengthened his resolve. She belonged to him, and he would care for her and protect her, but he would guard his heart.
A sigh whistled from her mouth and she shifted, pulling the covers over her head and hugging the pillow tighter. His lips quirked. She had probably never had such a blissful slumber in her young life. He knew he hadn’t. Awaking with her warm ripe body plastered to his had sent erotic surges through him and set his desires toward a little morning lovemaking. He would have taken her if she hadn’t cried out in her sleep as he’d slipped his fingers between her legs. He would have to discuss the definition of “a mite sore” with her later. Her feminine flesh was so swollen and red that ‘twould probably be at least a week before he could take her again. ‘Twould be a miracle if she could even walk today.
She was right about one thing. She was definitely slow to wake. ‘Twas probably because her little body exhausted itself by working late into the night hours, then she tried to get up without sufficient rest. From what he surmised, her schedule was more rigorous than that of his warriors in training. Not only were some of her duties totally reprehensible, but she had assumed more by taking in bastard orphans.