The Princess

by Elizabeth Elliott

  Gretchen once said that she used to rub Engel’s neck and shoulders when he was upset, and that always put him in a better mood. I didn’t want to think about what Hilda would do. I’d also heard women say that special food and drinks could cool a man’s anger. Despite that look, I would definitely ensure that the sugar boat was delivered to the solar at some point, along with a generous portion of wine.

  In the meantime, the hours stretched before us. Aside from the bedding, which would not end well, I would have to spend the entire night with a man who was angry, frustrated, and unsatisfied. Unless…no. He would surely spend the night here to avoid any questions about the marriage being consummated.

  “This night has taken a far different turn than what I had planned,” he said at last, startling me from my own thoughts. He straightened slightly to look into my eyes. “Despite your claims otherwise, you were a child when you married Hartman. To make matters worse, he did a very poor job of…’Tis little wonder you developed an aversion to sex.” He took my hands in his and made a pointed effort to look me straight in the eye. “Believe me, Isabel, you are not frigid.”

  After all this thinking time, he had fixated on what he could not change, determined that I was somehow mistaken. I pulled my hands from his and released a frustrated sigh.

  His eyes narrowed. “Listen to what I have to say, Isabel. You have been with one man. I have been with more women than I care to admit, although right now, I am glad of my experience. You have almost none, and the experience you do have needs to be forgotten.” He shook his head. “You were wed before you were old enough to know what being a wife meant.” He put his fingertips on my lips when I started to argue. “Do not tell me I am wrong. You are an amazing woman in many ways, but in this, you are amazingly ignorant.”

  “Do you think me some dolt who does not know how sex is supposed to work? Not all of my knowledge comes from Hartman. I have overheard people talk about their experiences in bed. I know other women like sex. I am not stupid.”

  “I did not call you stupid.” He smiled at my expression, which made me angrier. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Ignorance is a lack of knowledge, not a lack of intelligence. As for that lack of knowledge, I intend to be a better teacher than your first. What we do together as man and wife will bear little resemblance to the relationship you had with your prince.”

  He was no longer smiling, and his voice held a definite edge. Had Hartman’s lack of sexual prowess truly been the reason our physical relationship was so horrible? I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. Hartman had mistresses who adored him, who vied to be his favorite. The problem had to be with me.

  “We are going to do the same thing,” I argued.

  “No,” he countered. “You and Hartman performed a duty that you both found unpleasant. I am going to teach you how to enjoy sex, and then I am going to teach you how to please me as well.”

  I searched his face and found only sincerity and confidence.

  If anyone could accomplish such a miracle, surely it was the man before me. “I am listening.”

  “First, you need to stop referring to sex as a duty,” he said, softening the order by rubbing his thumbs across my knuckles. “You are a princess, born and bred, but you must leave the princess at the door to our bedchamber. Within these walls, you are my wife. Here you must learn to be a wife who submits to her husband in all ways, who obeys him without question.” He lifted my hand and turned it over to press a kiss to my wrist. “I need your trust in this, Isabel. No matter how you feel about our marriage outside these walls, when we are alone, you must learn to trust me without hesitation and without question. I promise you, the rewards will be worth your efforts.”

  He sounded so sure of himself. I didn’t know how what he had planned could be all that different from having sex with Hartman, although there was no question that he had far more experience than me when it came to sexual partners.

  My pride was already in tatters. Really, I had nothing left to lose if I tried to follow his lead. “What would I have to do?”

  His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and he gave my hand an approving squeeze. “Kiss me.”

  Surely it could not be that simple? I leaned away from him to study his expression, looking for the trap.

  “You must obey without question,” he reminded me, and then he tapped one finger against the corner of his mouth. “Kiss me, Isabel.”

  I tried not to think as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, but the proximity of the bed was impossible to ignore. His lips moved tenderly over mine and his arm encircled my waist. He took my hand and held it to his cheek, encouraging me to explore the warmth of his skin and the fascinating textures: the rough sand of dark stubble along his jaw, the smooth silk of his hair when I wrapped my arm around his neck.

  His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I opened for him. The sensual assault on my mouth made my heart race, but not all of the emotions sweeping through me were pleasant ones. There was fear as well, along with a little dread, but I could barely concentrate on them while his mouth explored mine so intimately. Just as I began to think too much about the bed just a few feet from us, he pulled away.

  “That was very good,” he said in a low voice. “I will want you to kiss me often when we are alone. Do you enjoy kissing me?”

  The answer seemed fairly obvious, but I nodded anyway.

  He tilted his head toward me and cupped his ear with one hand. “I could not hear your answer.”

  I made a little huff of annoyance. “I like kissing you.”

  “Good.” He reached out to touch my lower lip with his thumb. “Tell me exactly what you felt when I put my tongue in your mouth.”

  My eyes widened and his hand went to the back of my neck to hold me in place when I tried to lean away, shocked by his boldness.

  “You will obey me without question,” he reminded me. “I want to know what thoughts went through your head, and how every part of your body felt when you parted your lips and let my tongue into your mouth.”

  My face burned, and I could feel the blush spread down my chest, but I did as he demanded. “It reminded me of the sex act, when a man thrusts himself inside a woman, but it was pleasurable.”

  “How was it pleasurable?” he asked, his gaze fixed on my mouth. “Tell me your body’s reaction in detail.”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but the heat of my blush seemed to rise several degrees. I lowered my lashes. “There was a feeling of butterflies in my stomach, and all of my muscles seemed to clench, especially those lowest in my belly.”

  “Very good. That is what I hoped you would say.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, and I felt an absurd flutter of happiness that I had pleased him. Rather than kiss me again, he took my hand and drew me to my feet so we stood facing each other. “We will both be more comfortable without all of these formal wedding clothes. Remove my belt and surcoat.”

  Obey without question. Do not think, just obey. I bit my lip and studied his belt. My pulse accelerated, but I reached for the buckle. “I have never helped a man disrobe.”

  “You must remove the weapons first,” he instructed.

  He wasn’t wearing a sword, but I unsheathed the knife he had used at the feast, and then the ornate silver-handled dagger, and set them on the trunk that held my shoes. He reached around his back and produced a deadly sharp misericord that he handed to me hilt-first, and then I set all of the weapons aside. I struggled a bit with the buckle, but it finally came free.

  The sleeveless surcoat was fitted like a vest to his waist, then flared out and reached well below his knees, made mostly of black leather trimmed with silver. I managed to get the garment off his shoulders, but had to go behind his back to tug it down his arms. He just stood there, patient, but entirely unhelpful. The garment felt as heavy as a saddle. I tossed it onto the trunk with his belt and weapons
.

  He gave a short huff of laughter. “My squire will never fear for his post when he sees how you handle my garments. Try not to tangle the laces when you remove my tunic. Just loosen the laces enough that it can slip over my head.”

  He lifted his arms and clasped his hands behind his head to reveal the leather laces at his sides. The tunic took much longer than I anticipated, likely because it was the first time I had ever done such a job. It felt intimate to touch him so much, even so impersonally. At last he leaned forward so I could tug the garment over his head, and then he stood before me in a black shirt and leather pants. Lud, men wore as many garments as women. My gaze came to rest on the laces at the front of his pants, and the clearly visible bulge beneath the laces.

  “I like this gown.” His fingers traced a line down my neck to the tops of my breasts, and then he drew a line across my breasts, on the skin exposed just above the scarlet fabric.

  Hilda had been in charge of sewing the bodice, and it was indecently low. She claimed there was no better time than a wedding for a woman to flaunt her assets, and mine were on full display. I suddenly felt naked.

  “You are trembling, Isabel.” He took my hands and placed them high on his chest, flattening my palms against him with his own. “You need to kiss me again.”

  I rose up on my tiptoes to obey, but I was shaking so badly I had to wrap my arms around his neck and lean against him to steady myself.

  “Shh,” he whispered against my lips. His arms went around my waist to hold me safe. “I will not hurt you, sweetheart. You need to trust that I can make your body ready for mine.”

  He sounded so certain. I was far from it. I didn’t even know what he was talking about, making my body ready for his. My body was ready to leap out the window. I just wanted to get this over with.

  Still, he seemed to have a plan, and I was willing to go along with it. I lifted my lips to his and pressed a kiss there. He took over almost immediately, molding his mouth to mine, his hands sliding possessively over the curves of my back and waist and hips.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever, possessive, but undemanding. The trembling inside me began to subside, but I still felt weak and shaky when he finally lifted his head. I thought he would say something, but he just cradled my head against his shoulder and rested his chin on the top of my head.

  “Hush, now,” he murmured. His hands stroked along my back and shoulders, petting and calming me.

  To my mortification, I realized my eyes were wet and I was making little sounds of distress. “I’m s-sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I do,” he said quietly. When I went stiff in his arms, he gave my hips a squeeze. “And, no, you’re still not frigid.”

  “Am I like your second wife, Edith?” I wanted to take the question back as soon as I asked it, but curiosity won out. “Is that how you know what is wrong with me?”

  “You are nothing like Edith,” he admonished, as if the notion had never occurred to him. “Your…reactions to me have an entirely different cause.”

  I had leaned back to watch his expressions as he made those pronouncements. “If you know what is wrong, you must fix it.”

  His lips curved upward, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I am trying.”

  “You will try harder.”

  “You are too demanding, Princess.” He tapped his finger against my lips, and he looked so handsome doing it that I had a hard time objecting. “This will not work until you let my sweet, obedient wife back into that clever mind of yours. You can be the princess when we are in public, but when we are in private, you must be my wife in the most traditional sense of the word. As your husband, I am your lord and master, and you are pledged to serve and obey me without question.”

  There was that “lord and master” nonsense again. If he thought he could turn me into a servant to do his every bidding, he had another think coming.

  Then again, if acting like a servant would help cure my failings, then perhaps I should not dismiss the notion out of hand. I would only be the servant-wife in private. No one else would ever know that a royal princess had so thoroughly debased herself, and I would deny it to the last breath if he ever dared tell anyone.

  I gave him a bobbed curtsey. “How may I serve you, master?”

  He studied my face. “You can say that again and mean it.”

  Was he serious? I wiped away the last of my silly tears.

  “I am waiting.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I muttered.

  “This is what you asked for,” he countered. “You want to know the secrets of enjoyable sex, and I promise that you will receive as much pleasure as you will give to me. You have my word that I will do nothing to purposely frighten you, and I will never hurt you. I vowed to honor and cherish my wife, and I take those vows seriously. In every way possible. Now, say it again.”

  Ach. I had to become his slave. And mean it. I gave him a subservient curtsey, and bowed my head. This time I kept my tone respectful. “How may I serve you, master?”

  “Better,” he said, “but not perfect. You need more practice. Each time we find ourselves alone together, you will ask me that question.”

  I kept my expression carefully blank. He had promised not to hurt me. It was not such a terrible concession. “Aye, my lord. It shall be done.”

  He gave me an approving smile. “You are going to remove some of your garments.”

  My eyes widened and my pulse began to race. This part was familiar.

  Faulke held up one hand. “Not all of them. Not yet, at least.”

  “Do you…do you want me to put on my night garments?”

  He released a deep sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you ever see your prince naked?”

  My lip curled, I couldn’t help it. “Of course not. We are not animals.”

  Faulke muttered something under his breath. Something that sounded unflattering to Hartman. “We are going to be naked, Isabel. Men and women actually enjoy being naked together, skin to skin. It excites me to think of you naked before me. Indeed, I have imagined it in great detail for the past fortnight. Have you never imagined me without clothing?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  He shook his head. “You will obey me, wife. Answer my question.”

  “I have wondered what you would look like on the practice field,” I confessed, “without your shirt.”

  “Was it pleasurable, the thought of seeing me without my shirt?” he asked.

  Mortified, I could only nod.

  “Take off my shirt.”

  Well, I should have expected that order. I frowned and began to work at the laces, doing my best to take as long as possible, trying to decide if I was excited or frightened to see what he looked like beneath the shirt. He finally made a sound of impatience and pulled the garment over his head.

  My eyes widened, and he seemed to take up even more of the chamber than he did before. His skin looked so smooth, and yet his arms and chest were corded with muscles. He let me stare my fill. He even turned in a small circle so I could see him from all sides, and all sides were equally impressive.

  “While you gawk at me,” he said, his mouth turned up in a grin, “take off your surcoat.”

  It was rather pleasant to look at him as I shrugged out of the sleeveless garment and let it fall to the floor. I tried not to think about what it meant to take off my surcoat. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would want me to disrobe in front of him. All of the laces on my garments were in places I could reach, but only so I could change into the rather risqué night rail by myself while he enjoyed a goblet of wine by himself in the solar. It didn’t occur to me that he would want to watch me undress.

  “I can see your ladies will continue to play an important role in the upkeep of your wardrobe,” he said with a nod at my discarded surcoat
. He crooked his finger. “Come here.”

  I did as he ordered, hardly able to breathe as he removed my belt, and then the gold link girdle that clung to my hips. He stood so close, and there was just so much of him. The heat I could feel coming from his body was not imagined this time. I was close enough to feel it.

  What might have been my imagination was that he seemed to touch me more than necessary when he untied the laces of my sleeves and slid them down to bare my arms. He lifted my arms and had me clasp my hands behind my head in a stance that mimicked his when I had unlaced his tunic, and then he definitely took longer than my ladies ever had to unlace the sides of my gown.

  The trembling started again when I stood before him dressed only in my chemise. The garment was nearly transparent. Already I felt naked. How much worse would it be when I was actually naked? Another shiver went through me. His bare chest no longer seemed so fascinating, and I was no longer excited. My hands were actually shaking.

  “Isabel—”

  “This always happens! It makes me look like a coward, but I am not afraid. I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of anything.” To prove it, I wrapped my arms around his bare waist, and pressed myself against his naked chest, with my cheek resting on his shoulder. “Please, just get it over with.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lovers

  Both our bodies went stiff at the initial contact, but he was the first to recover. He smoothed his hands down my shoulders and bared arms, and then his hands came to rest on my hips. He tried to separate us, but I clung to him like my body had been turned into a magnet.

  “Did you just hear my promise that I would not hurt you?” he murmured. “The marriage must be consummated, but I will not begin it by raping my wife on our wedding night.” His hand moved up and down my back in a soothing motion. “We can take our time.”

  “ ’Tis not rape,” I protested. “I am ready and willing to do my duty.”