He was not how she remembered. The dark oozing scabs of the burns, the weeping sores and blisters had gone. In the candlelight she saw faint silvery scars, barely visible across the pale skin. His nipples and the silky hair sparse over his breast were dark, and the muscles of his body were smooth and sinuous. Emeline sat curled, trying not to show more of herself than she could conceal, but gazed at him, and said, “I think you are – beautiful – too, my lord.”
He snorted, moving close to her again. “Not beautiful, as I well know, my sweet. But deft, and kind, I promise. And I won’t hurt you.” He embraced her quickly, one hand to the back of her hair, cradling her head against his shoulder. His other hand wandered to the dimples at the rise of her buttocks, holding her tightly to him. He felt her trembling and looked quickly down into her eyes. “Not frightened, I hope? You told me once you were never frightened. Can you trust me at last?”
She said, still whispering, “I am – nervous. Just a little. You do – and touch where I have never – and not knowing how – or what to – expect.”
“Then let me show you,” he murmured, and keeping her firm to his chest, he began again to caress her breasts, pulling gently and pressing around the nipple as he talked, his voice like the last hum of the waning fire in the hearth. He said, “So as I touch you here, my love, and here, you feel me where I touch. But as I touch your breasts, you also feel me lower down, in those places where your body ignites, and where arousal touches more surely than I can.” His fingers slipped, smoothing around her navel and down across her belly. “So you also feel me here,” voice softening, “and here, like a hunger, and a need.” He smiled into her eyes, and shyly she nodded. Then he pressed hard into the soft flesh at the base of her stomach. “Here, a throbbing deep inside, and then –” and his fingers pushed down between her thighs and touched very gently, so that she shivered as he said, “and you feel me here, both at the entrance and inside, don’t you my sweet? Sensations new to you, sudden awakenings and depths never realised. For it’s here I enter you, once you’re prepared, and bring us both the pleasure of loving.”
She swallowed hard, her voice tiny, “Enter – me?”
He tightened his embrace, then gently pushed one finger higher, just inserted within her, and whispered, “Inside here, my love, where you’ll open for me.” She drew in her breath and pulled away from him but he smiled and kissed her eyelids shut, saying, “But not until you’re ready, and I have many ways of making you ready.” Then he took one of her hands in his own, moving it down to his groin, and easing her fingers inside the stiffened codpiece and then within the folds of his braies. “This is me,” he said softly, “and we are made to fit together.”
She shook her head, puzzled, for this was not as she remembered him when he had lain injured and sick. She tried to find the words to ask, but at once his fingers, releasing hers, roamed again and he murmured, “Breathe, my sweet, and let me play. This is how I make you ready, and then nothing will hurt, and you will learn why this is called loving, as well as its other names.”
She felt her head spin and her breath quicken, and she said, panting, “Should I do something too, then?”
“No, my sweetling, except open your legs for me. Close your eyes, think of nothing but feeling and wanting, and let me take you swimming deep. One day, when you’re long accustomed to what I do and to what I want, then I’ll show you other roads and other places, and guide you to do as I do. But for now this is not meant as an education. It’s pure pleasure, so don’t hide from me and forget first time blushes. I’ll take you as far as you let me.”
“I couldn’t stop you. I don’t want to stop you.” She sighed, releasing her embarrassment, and when he moved down against her, prising open her legs, she did not resist. Then he laid his cheek on the cushion of her stomach, and with one hand to the curls at her groin, pushed first one, then another finger deep inside her.
She groaned and he looked up at once, saying, “You are very tight, little one. Does that hurt?” But she sighed, mumbling words he could barely understand, and he felt her inner muscles squeeze tight around him, and smiled. Then he moved his thumb, pressing at the entrance just above, moving softly and building friction. She lurched, jerking against him, and wrapped both her arms tight around his neck.
When Nicholas finally released her, sitting back to remove his hose, she blinked up, eyes wide. “It’s all gone – cold,” she whispered.
“Cold? Not here,” he grinned, one hand again between her legs. “You are all aflame, my love, hot as pepper corms and moist as wine. And here,” and he traced the tiny trickled of sweat, one finger following the trail from between her breasts down to her navel. “There is a snail’s sheen of silver and in the candlelight, your skin is golden. So silver, gold, fire and wine – my feast and my delight.”
“Kind words,” she whispered shaking her head, “Is that the way of seduction? But now I feel more – naked – more exposed – more –”
“Vulnerable? And so you are, my own, but now I am vulnerable too, which is how lovers must be at first.” And he unhooked his codpiece and pulled off his hose and braies, and came quickly back beside her, holding her tight.
She again snuggled into the protection of his embrace, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Is this how all men are? It seems so – strange.”
He laughed. “No, only me in all the world and all other men are different, and inferior.” He took her hand, placing it over himself. “But not at all. Of course we are all alike, and not so strange, my sweet. Men and women are made to fit together, and bring pleasure each to the other. Trust me now.”
She did. “I will.” And began to discover that truth was so very much better than all the months of confusion and the endless dreams, the yearning, and the impatient waiting to learn what romance was really all about.
Emeline woke in the night, and found herself again in his arms. She was still naked, as he was, and she felt the unaccustomed strength of his body clasped to her back, his knees tucked behind hers and his arms tight to her belly and breasts. She sighed, and remembered what he had done to her before they slept, and smiled to herself as she sank again into sleep.
She woke the second time as her husband kissed her ear, and said, “Have I exhausted you so completely, little one? It’s long past dawn.”
“Morning already?”
“The usual time for dawn,” he nodded. “There’s light beer and manchet with cheese here on a tray. Eat and claim back your strength. We leave for Nottingham at first light tomorrow, so this will be a busy day.” He wore a bedrobe, fur lined to his feet, but when he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, it fell open and he was naked. Emma had already cuddled deep beneath the eiderdown. Nicholas grinned, put the beer cup into her hand, and swept the covers from her body to the floor. “I forbid timidity. I forbid maidenly blushes. You’ve taken me as husband, and I’ve taken you as wife. The time for hiding is over. Or did you suffer at my hands last night?” He paused, his voice softening, and asked, “Did I hurt you after all?”
“No.” She was blushing, in spite of instructions. “But – this is another day – and everything feels different.”
He crossed to the window, taking down the wooden shutters, but turned and looked at her. “So perhaps I should repeat what I did then, so you no longer feel different, but once again the same? After all, I’ve been ill for a long time and have a great deal to catch up with.” She wriggled, reached over and pulled back the eiderdown, looking meekly into her well covered lap. He grinned. “Don’t worry, little one,” he said, coming back to sit beside her. “You’re sore, as I know you must be. And I can’t spend all my days seducing you, no matter how I’d like to.” He took her cup, put it down beside the bed and wrapped both arms around her. “You’ll get used to me in time. You were beautiful last night. Sweet memories, I hope?”