by Shay Savage
It was brief. It was chaste. And it completely took my breath away.
His fingers stroked my cheek, and I realized I was gawking up at him but couldn’t make myself stop.
“Be sure to breathe, Alexandra,” he said softly so only I would hear.
He took my hand again and turned us both to face the group of witnesses for a moment before linking my arm around his and walking me back down the aisle, out of the chapel, and into the fading sunlight. It was then I noticed the glint of the sun in his ebony, silken hair, and panic overtook me again.
I had just married this man, and I hadn’t even known the color of his hair.
“Alexandra,” I heard him whisper near my ear, “are you well?”
“I’m fine, my lord,” I answered automatically. I didn’t want him to know how afraid I was.
“You’re trembling,” he responded, obviously seeing through my thin façade.
“I might be a little nervous,” I said. His soft laughter filled my ears.
“I believe that’s customary for brides.” He reached for my face again and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. He spoke to me softly and intently. “Do not fear, my wife. You will always be safe with me.”
Hadley appeared behind us, holding the arm of Sir Branford’s best man.
“Alexandra,” Sir Branford said, turning me to face the other couple, “I apologize for neglecting this earlier, but may I please introduce my distant cousin, Sir Parnell, son of Lord Sawyer, Champion of the Iron Horse Tournament, and betrothed of my sister, the Lady Ida of Sterling, Duchess of Peaks?”
Sir Parnell bent at the waist, and I felt heat cover my face that such a man would bow to me.
“Sir Parnell, may I introduce my wife, Alexandra.”
“I’m honored.” Sir Parnell spoke, and his gaze danced over to Sir Branford’s with a strange look before he righted himself.
Before they could exchange any other words, the lords and ladies of Hadebrand exited the chapel and congratulated us both. Many of the ladies who had never bothered to make eye contact with me before gave me quick hugs and words of encouragement though in my nervousness, I didn’t manage to remember a word they said.
Sir Branford never let go of my hand and kept me close to his side as they all paraded by. He pulled me even closer as King Edgar and Queen Margaret approached and stopped before us.
“Congratulations, Sir Branford,” King Edgar said gruffly. He didn’t look toward me at all. “I’m sure your new wife will be able to tend to your needs adequately.”
The way he sneered the word wife made me cringe, and I found myself stepping a little closer to Sir Branford’s side. Though I assumed the king was angry over Sir Branford’s rejection of Princess Whitney, I had no idea what to think of his comment. His tone made it clear he was insinuating something, but I didn’t know what it was.
“If I didn’t know better,” Sir Branford said, his voice cold and hard, “I’d think you intended your comment to be an insult.”
“Of course not,” King Edgar said quickly.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Sir Branford replied with a smile that did not touch his eyes, “because if you insulted my wife, I would be bound by the laws of chivalry to retaliate.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood,” the King replied and walked away quickly.
“Branford!” Sir Parnell exclaimed. “What are you…?”
“Silence!” Branford’s tone was harsh, but he quickly turned to me with a smile. “I believe we’re due for a party, are we not?”
There was a grand carriage waiting for us, and it quickly filled with the wedding party, King Edgar’s family and another couple I didn’t recognize, but Branford introduced them as Duke William of Wynton, and his sister, Lady Susan. I wondered if I needed to remember all of their names and realized I had been in too much of a stupor to have heard every introduction since the wedding. While I tried not to show my unease, they all chatted amiably. I shifted nervously, completely unaware of where we were going. I assumed a reception, but I had no idea where it was to be held and was far too embarrassed to ask. After a short ride, we came to another castle, one I had never seen before though it couldn’t have been too far from Hadebrand.
“Welcome to Sterling,” Sir Branford said. “This was my home as a child though I live in Silverhelm now. It seemed convenient enough for our celebration.”
The castle wasn’t as large as Hadebrand, but the high walls appeared sound enough. As we approached, torches were lit to show us the way through the gatehouse and to the keep inside. Sir Branford took my hand and assisted me from the carriage with Sir Parnell and Hadley following closely behind. When I looked behind us, I could see all the other carriages unloading their passengers as well. Sir Branford led me through the doors and down a long hallway, the walls covered in banners of black and gold.
The reception hall was decorated with yellow and white flowers and many representations of Sir Branford’s gold and black banner, much like the ones in the grand hallway. A feast was laid out on one side of the room, and Sir Branford led me to the table in the very center of the room, sitting me in the middle next to him. Hadley and Sir Parnell sat on either side of us.
“Ida is going to do you grave bodily injury when she finds out about this, you know,” Sir Parnell said, holding his glass up to clink against Sir Branford’s. “I’ll go ahead and speak for her at this point and state that the food is barely adequate and the decorations are atrocious. She would have done much better.”
“My sister would have been hard-pressed to come up with much more with the single day’s notice I allowed.”
“She would have still done it,” Sir Parnell replied.
“Undoubtedly,” Sir Branford said, agreeing with his cousin.
Being completely unaccustomed to these kinds of gatherings, I was terrified of doing something wrong and had resigned myself to not do anything unless Sir Branford commanded me. Dinner was the perfect example since I thought the “barely adequate” food was incredibly extravagant though nearly impossible to eat without getting something on my white dress. I also thought the decorations were beautiful. Sir Branford didn’t seem to mind and indulged himself while making small, quick glances in my direction every minute or so. After a while, he tossed his knife to the table and turned to me.
“Come, my wife.” Sir Branford rose and reached for my hand. “Dance with me.”
“My lord, please,” I said as he pulled me to the center of the hall and placed his right hand on my hip and took my right hand in his left. “I have never danced.”
“It’s simple.” Sir Branford smiled down at me. “Put your hand on my shoulder and trust in me. If you put your trust in me, and allow me to lead you, we will flow together perfectly. If you oppose me, we will likely stumble and fall.”
I had the feeling he was not just referring to dancing. As the minstrels began to play a new song, I tried to do as he said and found when I relaxed and allowed him to move me as he desired, things did go remarkably smoothly. When the music slowed and the crowd began to cheer, Sir Branford held me closer to his chest and brought the back of my hand up to his lips. After our dance, Sir Parnell took Sir Branford’s place, and Sir Branford danced with Hadley. Sir Parnell did not make eye contact with me as we danced, and I did not feel as sure on my feet as I had with Sir Branford.
“That was quick,” Sir Parnell said, his voice so quiet I did not believe he intended me to hear him at all. When I looked in the direction of his gaze, I saw King Edgar and his family leaving the reception hall. Sir Parnell’s gaze finally met mine, and I wished I could understand his expression. “Thank you for the dance, Alexandra.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Sir Branford came to my side again, taking me from Sir Parnell.
“Did you see?” Sir Branford inquired, nodding his head toward the exit where King Edgar had recently departed.
“I did,” the knight responded.
“Did you check the guards?”
&
nbsp; “They are loyal to King Camden,” Sir Parnell said.
“Good.”
Sir Branford led me back to the table where he quickly finished a glass of wine before pulling me back to the dance floor with him. We stayed on the dance floor for some time, occasionally switching partners. When another man danced with me, I felt unsteady, and once I nearly stumbled. I managed to get through the evening without falling to the floor in my white dress and found myself relieved when Sir Branford took my hand again and informed me it was time for the last dance.
“You’ve held up well, my wife,” he said softly before twirling me one last time in a slow circle under his arm. The minstrels stopped playing, and the crowd cheered for us again. Branford smiled and waved, perfectly at ease as the center of attention, while I blushed and hoped I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Many of the wedding guests came to us again, offering their congratulations and wishing us well. Branford seemed to know each one by name and spoke eloquently to them all while I tried not to cower behind him.
“The reception was beautiful,” yet another lord commented to Sir Branford.
“I think it was splendid,” Sir Branford replied, “especially when you consider my eagerness to wed.”
The lord laughed and walked away.
“As splendid as it has been,” Sir Branford said, turning toward me, “I am tired of celebrating with the populace. I think I would rather take you back to my chambers alone so we can complete our union.”
He tilted his head slightly, and his gaze burned intensely into mine. He raised his eyebrows, and his half smile returned though I did not find it as joyous and carefree as it has appeared before. Now it displayed something more primal, something…hungry.
My heart raced, and I found it difficult to take a deep breath. I had been so overwhelmed by the wedding itself and the idea of marrying someone I did not know, I hadn’t even considered the expectations he would have of the wedding night.
Unlike the Princess Whitney, I was a virgin. My first kiss had occurred not four hours ago, right after Sir Branford slipped the ring on my finger. I knew what I was supposed to do. At least, I thought I did. Accounts of the act of marital relations were varied depending on who told the story though most seemed to agree it was for the benefit of the husband and for the creation of his heirs, not for pleasure of the wife. If she were lucky, he would not hurt her much, and it would be over quickly. A brand new panic permeated my head.
And that’s how my wedding celebration ended.
Chapter 3—Timidly Endeavor
Sir Branford led me up the long, curved staircase to an area of the castle sequestered from the rest of the guests by two burly guards at the bottom of the staircase. The guards bowed slightly to Sir Branford, who nodded hurriedly back to them before whisking me along. I don’t know if I would have made it up the steps had Sir Branford not had his hand placed over the one I had on his arm, for my legs were wobbly and my steps unsure. Aside from the near exhaustion I was feeling after dancing and all the mayhem over the last day and a half, my mind was absolutely racing.
My husband, whom I knew so little about, was about to claim my body as the final act solidifying our union. I had only the very basic understanding of what was to come. I was absolutely terrified but trying desperately not to show it. Remembered words of pain and blood scurried through my head as we approached a pair of large, wooden double doors.
Sir Branford reached out and pulled on the handle of the door leading to the last chamber. His eyes traveled up and down my body before he placed his hand on the small of my back, and we walked through. I heard the clang of the latch as the door shut behind us, sealing us in for the night.
Without warning, my back hit the inside of the door. Sir Branford’s hands were on my head, quickly removing my wedding veil and tossing it to one side. He combed his fingers through my hair, letting it flow loosely around my shoulders. Again, his eyes roved from my face to my feet, then back. I looked into his hooded eyes and startled at the way he stared at me before his mouth crashed onto mine.
This was not like the first kiss, when we were pronounced man and wife. It was not like the gentle touches of his mouth to my hand, lips, or neck while we danced. This kiss was hard and fast and filled with urgent need. He grasped the sides of my face with his hands and tilted my head sideways. I felt his tongue as he traced the slight parting of my lips before he pushed it inside my mouth.
At first I was shocked. I felt my body go rigid from the sudden intrusion. The feeling of his tongue in my mouth was not unpleasant but strange and unexpected. I could taste the wine he had consumed after the feast, combined with a simply indescribable flavor that must have been solely his own. I could hear and feel his rapid breaths against my mouth. My heartbeat quickened, and my breathing might have followed if I could have caught my breath at all.
I placed my hands on his wide shoulders, not knowing where else I should put them, and held on while he ran his tongue along mine, touching and tasting me. He dropped one of his hands to my shoulder and then down my arm until it reached my hip. Slowly, he moved his hand around and grasped my backside, lifting me slightly off the floor as he pulled me against his body. I could feel the tip of something long and hard press against my navel.
There was no way…it just wasn’t possible…he couldn’t possibly fit that…that…
I gasped into his mouth, and he released my lips only to travel to my neck, covering my throat with hot, wet kisses. My skin was left warm and tingling. He lowered me back to my feet and moved his hands up my sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts, causing me to gasp out loud. He continued his movements up and around the back of my shoulders, then quickly up and down my back as his lips covered every area of skin they could reach. He continued his effort with his eyes when his hands left me. I watched him reach down and pull off his belt and sash, dropping them in haste to the ground. With his trousers loosened, he pulled the ends of his shirt out before reaching for my hand and pulling me closer to him. His hands moved up and down my back again, searching.
“Damn this dress!” he suddenly cursed. “How does the blasted thing come off?”
“It’s laced up the back, my lord,” I said, my voice quivering.
Sir Branford’s frantic hands on my back stopped short, and he took a half step away from me. I closed my eyes and waited for him to turn me around and tear my dress from me as my earlier panic reemerged. How much would it hurt? He was such a large man in stature, and I was small…what if he found me lacking? He could annul the marriage if he desired. If that happened, what would become of me? Would there be any chance of me being welcomed back into Princess Whitney’s employ, considering the circumstances? I had to relax. I recalled Edith’s voice in my head, claiming it would hurt more if the woman didn’t relax.
“Oh, Alexandra,” Sir Branford said. I felt his breath across my mouth. “Open your eyes, my wife.”
I did as he bade and tried to meet his gaze, but the intensity of his stare was too much. I bit my lip as I looked away. With his fingers, he traced lightly over my cheek, causing me to tremble.
“Are you pure, Alexandra?”
“Y-y-yes!” I said, finally managing to find my voice. Why would he question such a thing now after we had already been wed? If he had any doubts, he should have demanded I be tested as he had of Princess Whitney. If he decided I was not speaking the truth, I did not know what he would do. “I swear it, my lord!”
He took another half step back, released me, and reached his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it and causing his locks to flair out all around his head.
“How old are you, Alexandra?”
“I was born in autumn,” I told him. “This is my seventeenth spring.”
Sir Branford closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long, slow breath. His hand again ran through his hair before he slowly opened his lids and looked at me once more. His eyes went from dark and burning to slowly cooling, emerald embers. I didn’t understand
his expression, but it was clear he wasn’t happy. I must have displeased him, but how? I told him I was pure—what else could I have said? Was there something I was supposed to be doing?
I had no idea.
“Alexandra, my beautiful wife,” he said softly, reaching for me again and stroking across my cheek. “Watching you all night has enticed me so, I’ve forgotten my manners.”
He took another step away from me, his hands dropping back to his sides. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He drove his hand through his hair again, and I wondered if he did that often. Again, I realized how little I knew of my husband, and I furtively dug my nails into the palms of my hands, apprehension overwhelming me.
“I owe you an apology,” Sir Branford said quietly. “This is all too much for you, isn’t it? Perhaps we need to talk for a moment.”
“An apology?” What did he mean? Would he dismiss me now, realizing I was a mistake? Where would I go? Had I upset him? Angered him? I had to do something to make this right. Horrible thoughts of what might become of me if he turned me away now ran through my head.
“There is a kettle near the fire,” Sir Branford said abruptly before I could speak. “Make tea while I…while I compose myself.”
A modicum of relief washed over me at his simple request. At least making tea was something I knew how to do.
“If you wish, my lord.”
I bowed my head slightly and tried to decide if I truly felt relieved at this turn of events or if this would only prolong my anxiety. I went to the fire where I found the kettle, a pitcher of water, and loose tea in a pouch. I placed the kettle over the fire and sat on a little stool, waiting for the water to boil. The coals of the fire were quite hot, and the water boiled rapidly. I placed the soaking pouch in the water to let it steep. I kept my eyes on my work, and after a few minutes, Sir Branford pulled another stool up close to me and sat down. I held a cup of tea out for him, which he took and sipped before setting it down again. He reached over and caressed my cheek.
