by Gayle Callen
“Where are Mama and Papa?” Gwyneth asked.
Her smile faded. “Papa did not do so well on the journey. Mama must be helping him.”
Gwyneth walked farther out into the courtyard where Athelina waited for their parents. The seventeen-year-old frowned up at the coach with the impatience of a girl who believes she can do everything quite well and wonders why others can’t. She gave Gwyneth a distracted smile.
“Are they all right?” Gwyneth asked.
From the front bench, her mother leaned out of the coach window, wearing a relieved smile. “Gwyneth!”
“Mama, let me help.”
“Nay, I am well. Help your father.”
Athelina held open the door, while Caroline and Lydia came to help. Gwyneth reached up with both hands. Her father’s head and shoulders emerged first as he peered out. Was his hair whiter than when she’d left? He was a tall man, once so broad-chested and strong, but now that was only a memory, as the outline of his bones seemed to slowly emerge from what used to be muscle. But he looked about the courtyard with his usual intent expression and then smiled down on her.
“Ah, Gwyneth, do move aside before I accidentally knock you down.”
“Papa, you must be stiff from the long journey. Please take my hand.”
“Allow me,” said a deep voice behind her.
She felt Edmund’s hand settle on her shoulder. She was able to watch her sisters turn as one and stare up at him with wide eyes and open mouths. Remembering how dark and frightening he’d appeared to her at first, she gave them all a reassuring smile and patted her husband’s hand.
“Edmund, meet my family, especially my parents, Chester and Alyce Hall. Papa, Mama, this is my husband, Sir Edmund Blackwell.”
Her mother, whose head was still at the window, smiled politely. “Good day, Sir Edmund.”
Her father sat on the rear bench, though he could still lean out the door. “Sir Edmund, good to meet you. I am glad my daughter looks well.”
Gwyneth laughed and leaned back against her husband, then glanced up at him. He wore a small smile, and perhaps only she could tell that he seemed almost…nervous. She was rather touched by that.
“He has taken good care of me, Papa. Now let him help you.”
She stepped aside and watched her very tall husband put his hands inside the coach to steady her father. Papa took hold of his arms and managed to reach the ground easily. She’d once thought her father the tallest man in the world, but Edmund rose many inches above him.
“Edmund, allow me to introduce everyone to you.”
He glanced up at the overcast sky, and only then did she realize that the mist was starting to soak through to her skin.
“Let us step inside first,” he said, offering his arm to her mother.
She’d always known he had the manners of a nobleman, Gwyneth thought with delight as she watched her mother smile and walk at his side. Her father must have noticed Edmund’s limp, but he said nothing. She held his arm and moved more slowly to accommodate his hesitant pace.
“How are you feeling, Papa?” she asked softly.
“Better now that I’ve seen your face. This is lovely countryside you live in, though the castle seems a bit…in need of work.”
She laughed. “And Edmund is doing it. Wait until I show you all the things he’s done.”
He stopped and studied her. “I admit that you were often in my thoughts, but you look content, Gwyneth.”
She squeezed his arm and leaned against his shoulder. “I am, Papa. He is a wonderful man.”
“Then he has grown to love you?”
Her smile faltered. “I don’t know. I can only hope so.”
With the rain beginning to come down harder, Edmund knew he could not spend any time that afternoon with Gwyneth’s family. He left them to their tours of the castle and his wife’s pleasure in settling them in the rooms she’d prepared. When he returned that evening for supper, the frantic pace of their arrival had settled into what he could see was the relaxed routine of people who knew and loved each other well.
He had supper surrounded by Gwyneth’s family, and he found that conversation wasn’t really required of him. They had so many questions about what her life was like, and he enjoyed listening to her responses. He had dreaded their arrival these past few weeks but found they were not the kind of people who sat in judgment. Gwyneth’s happiness seemed enough for them, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d earned the approving glances they gave him.
Her sisters were as lively as she was. Caroline had pale blond hair and even paler skin, suggesting that she was not always as healthy as she appeared now. Hadn’t Gwyneth praised her sewing skills? Lydia, the youngest, still had the energy of childhood, and he often caught her staring at him. He stared right back, and she only raised her eyebrows before looking away. He had the feeling she wanted to stick out her tongue but considered herself too old for that. Athelina, the middle sister, seemed as though she could easily disappear between the winter beauty of Caroline and the inquisitive vibrancy of Lydia. She had the air of a prim spinster—and hadn’t Gwyneth thought she’d make a good teacher?
Lady Hall was plump and practical, ever watchful of her daughters—and the servants too. This was the woman who’d taught Gwyneth everything she knew and now seemed to be quietly rejoicing. He could only imagine how worried she must have been when Gwyneth had to leave them all for the harsh north and a stranger for a bridegroom.
Edmund did not mistake Sir Chester’s frailty for weakness. He questioned Edmund about Castle Wintering’s holdings and how far along they were with the harvest until Gwyneth, embarrassed by her father’s directness, changed the topic of conversation. But Edmund found himself glancing at Sir Chester throughout the evening. There was a peacefulness about the man that was enviable. Edmund tried to tell himself that Sir Chester’s contentment was because Edmund had now taken on the burden of the Hall family, but deep down he sensed that love had always been enough for them.
When the four sisters retreated to benches before the fire, Edmund decided to let the newcomers hear about Gwyneth’s adventures in private. He said good night to everyone and then went out to the stables. He wasn’t at all tired but needed some distraction. He had meant to go to his wife’s bed and had spent the day imagining the ways they’d pleasure each other. But this night she would be preoccupied with her family. He could tell that her sisters were her closest friends, and they all had much to talk about.
He curried The General for a long time, then fed and watered him. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and looked up at the castle, watching as lights went out in the many windows.
He’d never be able to sleep, but he might as well try.
In the great hall, a few servants lingered after they’d finished cleaning, talking in small groups. Edmund still found himself amazed at the smiles he now received, all since Gwyneth had come. She’d changed how everyone thought of him.
The servants’ wing was lit by torches now that so many rooms were occupied. His own chamber was the last, and he approached it wearily. He pushed the door open, then stopped in astonishment.
Gwyneth was sitting in his tub before the hearth, her damp hair piled up on her head, one foot raised as she washed it. The drip of water off her fingers filled the silence.
She tilted her head to look at him and then gave him a smile. “Edmund, won’t you close the door?”
He did so as if in a daze, then leaned back against it.
“I have nowhere else to sleep,” she said softly.
He must have stared at her with stupid incomprehension, because her smile became tentative.
“I gave my chamber to my parents. I shall have to sleep here from now on.”
As if in a dream, he walked to her and stopped at the edge of the tub. Although soap bubbles floated on the surface, he could see beneath the water easily. He stared at the lush roundness of her pink-tipped breasts, her delicate waist, the slim curve of her hips framing a
triangle of golden-brown curls.
“I’ll be done in a moment,” she said.
“You’re done now.”
Gwyneth gasped as Edmund reached down into the tub and lifted her out of it. Water from her body soaked him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he stared into her eyes.
This was the night, she realized with relieved delight. She was almost glad that they’d waited, because she felt only desire for her husband instead of fright. She looped her arms around his neck, watched as his gaze dropped to her wet breasts. With a gentleness that reassured her, he set her on the bed, and she dropped back on her elbows to look up at him. He put both hands into her hair and began pulling out the pins until the mass of wet hair fell about her shoulders and down her back. He looked at her, unmoving, for so long that she felt her whole body blushing. She shook her hair forward, meaning to cover herself.
“Nay!” He said the word almost harshly, and then whispered, “Just let me see you.”
While she lay there naked, he began to remove his garments with such haste that she heard a button pop at his neck. He threw them on the floor, never taking his gaze off her. As more and more of his skin was revealed, she felt her breathing become more difficult, knew her heartbeat had accelerated to a dizzying speed. When he was wearing only the narrow undergarment at his hips, he seemed to hesitate. His eyes locked with hers, and he let the last garment drop.
Gwyneth couldn’t help staring at his penis, surrounded by dark, curling hair. It was larger than she had thought it would be, very different to look at, and it did seem rather amazing that it would fit inside her. Then she remembered how his first wife had behaved and knew why he hesitated. Smiling, she lifted her arms up to him.
With a groan, he came down on top of her, and she whispered his name in joy at the wonderful feeling of his hot skin on hers. Bracing himself on his elbows, he held her head while he kissed her hard, entering her mouth, sucking her tongue, nibbling at her lips. She felt his erection against her thighs, and in her fevered excitement, she parted her legs so that she could experience again what it felt like to have him touch her there. But instead of his hand, she felt his hips slide between, felt his heavy erection rub against her. She shuddered and cried out beneath his kiss, clasping him hard against her.
She was amazed to hear him chuckle.
“You are going too fast, Gwyn. We have all night.”
“But I want—I need—”
He shushed her with kisses. “Right now I want and I need to taste you.”
She lifted her head up and kissed him, then arched her back when his mouth traced her jaw and her neck.
Into her ear, he whispered, “There are other parts of you I want to taste.”
Just the thought made her body shiver beneath his, and she moaned as his erection slid lower, rubbing against her in the most provocative way.
He echoed her moan as he began to work his way down her wet body with kisses. When his head was between her breasts, she hugged him to her. As he sucked her nipple into his mouth, she arched her back and offered up everything to him. She whispered his name over and over as his tongue teased her breasts. When he slid farther down her body, she felt bereft and tried to pull him back. He laughed at her, white teeth gleaming in the firelight, pale blue eyes shining, as most of his body dropped off the tall bed and he braced himself against the floor. Only his chest was between her legs, and even that slid away from her.
When he started kissing her inner thighs, she shuddered with each touch. He lifted her knees, pressing them up toward her chest, exposing her in a way that should have felt embarrassing but wasn’t, because she trusted him so completely. When he kissed her there, letting his tongue part her flesh and swirl across her swollen wetness, she cried out his name and gave herself up to the passion that overwhelmed her.
When she finally came back to herself, sprawled so languorously beneath him, she realized that he was watching her face intently. She pulled on his arms, wanting him to come back onto the bed, onto her body, but he resisted.
“Edmund?” she whispered uncertainly.
And then she knew that still he worried about her, that maybe some part of him thought he’d hurt Elizabeth with his lovemaking. She would disabuse him of that notion. She’d only experienced half of a wife’s pleasure, and she wanted it all.
“We’re not done yet,” she said firmly, sitting up. Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed, and he straightened as he stood between them. She reached out and took his penis in her hand.
She heard his breath leave him in a gasp, felt his erection pulse against her. He was hot and hard, yet silky soft, and she wanted to give him the same pleasure that he’d given her. With her free hand, she grasped his hip and pulled him toward her. When she bent her head, he groaned and held back.
“Gwyn, nay—not now. I couldn’t—last.” His words sounded hoarse and forced out of him.
“Then let us do it together.” She slid both of her hands up his hard stomach and rubbed his nipples between her fingers. He groaned, obviously liking the feeling as much as she did. He pushed her back on the bed, and she scrambled into the center. He came up beside her, then over her, settling between her thighs, his large palms on either side of her head. It wasn’t enough, so she lifted her knees to feel even more of him.
His breathing was harsh, his face looked pained, as she felt him probing her moist, swollen flesh. He slid inside her by slow increments, then back out again. He repeated the motion again and again, stretching her. She was mildly uncomfortable, but that was nothing compared to her frantic need to feel him inside her.
Desperate, she lifted her feet right off the bed, pressing her hips up toward him. He sank all the way inside her, filling her, and she gave a little gasp as pain blossomed and faded away.
Edmund straightened his elbows, looking down into her face with worry. “Did I hurt you?”
A slow grin widened her mouth and she shook her head. He was heavy and full inside her, and she loved it. She raised her arms over her head, reveling in the way his wide eyes watched her breasts. She trailed her foot along his backside, and he shuddered.
She almost cried out her disappointment when he slid out of her, but then he surged back inside her hard, making her slide up the bed. That wonderful ache began again low in her stomach, stroked into outright need with every thrust of his body. Soon she was pressed against the headboard, gasping his name, feeling more alive and aware of herself as a woman than she’d ever felt before.
This time she cried out with her climax, then could only hold onto him as he shuddered and released his seed inside her stroke after stroke.
Feeling as weak as a newborn lamb, Edmund lifted his chest off Gwyneth. He felt a little tremor in her muscles where she held his cock inside her. He groaned and moved slowly, knowing it wouldn’t take much at all to make him come again.
“Edmund?”
He opened his eyes and suddenly realized he had forced her so hard against the headboard that her head was tilted to the side. With his hands beneath her hips and shoulders, he sat back on his heel, bringing her with him to the edge of the bed. While she straddled his lap, he managed to stay inside her. Laughing, she clutched his shoulders to lean back, with her hair dangling down past her hips.
He bent her even farther backward and tasted the sweetness of her breasts again. Even as she sighed, she ran her hands through his hair, and he turned to kiss her palm.
“You were right, Edmund,” she said.
He pulled her upright until they were face to face. He moved gently inside, watching her exquisite expressions. He had never imagined a woman could enjoy sex this much or how it would make him feel to know that they gave each other pleasure. And he’d thought being married to her would be a hardship. “And what was I right about?” he murmured, kissing the sweet, soft spot behind her ear, inhaling the seductive scent that was all hers.
“If we’d done this on our wedding night, it would not have been the same.”
He li
fted his head and looked at her, shuddering when she rose up, then took him back inside. “Why?”
“We were strangers, and I was very nervous. I do not think I would have felt so”—she tilted his head back so she could kiss the hollow between his collarbones—“so free and comfortable with you.”
Her tongue darted out to lick him, and he shuddered again. He would have enjoyed having sex with her on that first afternoon. But women were different. Though she was brave, he knew she’d been frightened marrying a stranger. She wouldn’t have squirmed so joyously in his lap, not that first day. And it would only have been a release for him.
Guilt swept through him, leading his thoughts away from this pleasant encounter with his astonishingly passionate wife. She never had to know what he’d meant to do with their marriage, with her trust. The plan had existed only in his mind after all and had affected no one. She was even grateful that he’d waited to consummate their vows.
She squirmed again, and his guilt slipped away for the night. He lay back in his bed and taught his wife how to ride him.
Chapter 18
The most difficult thing Edmund ever had to do was lie in bed in the morning and watch his wife bathe in the cool bath water and dress. He knew she would be sore, and he’d even felt uneasy when he’d seen the spots of blood on her thighs. But he wanted to be inside her again, where it was hot and tight.
When she walked over to him, Edmund sat up and swung his legs over the side, pulling her against him. He nipped between her breasts with his teeth.
“I wish you would wear the gown you wore when we were married. I could uncover your breasts whenever I wanted to.”
She laughed and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Would we not have to be in our bedchamber first?”
“I can think of a dozen places where we could find enough privacy for a quick viewing. In fact, you covered yourself far too quickly.”
Gwyneth giggled as her husband unbuttoned her bodice and peered inside her gaping clothing. She barely resisted the urge to hug him close and tell him how much she loved him.
