***
As she entered the chapel Annalise forced herself to lift her gaze from the elaborately tiled floor to look at her betrothed. He stood tall and straight. Any woman would be glad to marry this noble knight. Why couldn’t she accept him willingly? Her eyes went to the beads he wore at his neck. Hadn’t his mother worn the same necklace? It was obviously old, yet the beads shone with a golden glow. His fingers touched the necklace and he clutched the beads for a moment, as if seeking reassurance there. Was he as nervous as she?
Resting in the hand of her uncle, her palm had become sweaty. If only she could wipe it before the Earl gave her hand to Rhys. But there was no opportunity.
The incense was so strong she could hardly breathe. Was the cut of her dress too low? Were the flowers in her hair still straight? Had the heat which seemed to be rising from her body wilted them?
The potpourri sachet prickled a little between her breasts. In truth her whole body was prickly, the heat intensifying when Rhys bent to kiss her. Why had she opened her mouth? It seemed the thing to do, but he looked as confused as she felt when he teased her tongue.
She had often seen her brother’s boy parts when they were little children, but didn’t recall it being anything like the hard length Rhys pressed against her. Why was she so wet in that most private place? Perhaps she was ill?
***
The wedding feast was sumptuous. Guests were served roasted meats and fowl of all sorts, venison, mutton, rabbit, goose and duck. Watching the Earl gorge on his food, Rhys wasn’t surprised he’d become obese. Even his niece seemed repulsed by his manners. Rhonwen laughed out loud when a multi-coloured boar’s head was carried in on an iron pan. Annalise looked at her strangely.
“It’s one dish that never seems to go out of fashion, no matter where you are,” she explained. “Baudoin can tell you what I mean.”
Baudoin nodded and told Annalise the story of his family’s captivity in the fortress of Cadair Berwyn with Rhonwen when he was a child. “Rhonwen protected me and my brother, Robert. At the Yuletide feast our captors served a boar’s head, and it reminded my mother and her maid of feasts at Ellesmere.”
Rhys squeezed his new wife’s hand. “Who would have thought Baudoin would be married to Carys, a daughter born of the union of Rhodri and Rhonwen, and I, eldest son of a fierce Welsh rebel, would be marrying a Norman noblewoman!”
What to think of the look Annalise gave him in reply? But she didn’t pull her hand from his.
***
After the feast came the bedding ceremony. Rhys had made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any embarrassment anyone might think to cause his bride when they were taken to their chamber. “I’m particularly concerned about Rhun and Rhydderch. They’ve behaved themselves thus far, but who knows what they might get up to? Teasing and ribaldry are permitted, watching you and me disrobe before the assembled gathering is not.”
Annalise reddened but was immensely relieved. Having imbibed copious amounts of ale, the twins soon became boisterous, but their teasing of Rhys was all in good fun, and even she smiled at some of their antics. She leaned closer to him. “I can see why you’re fond of those two scoundrels.”
He looked at her strangely. Did he think she’d perhaps drunk too much?
As midnight approached, the two redheads hoisted a laughing Rhys on their shoulders and bore him to the chamber. Sweat broke out on her brow. He was even more handsome when he laughed. Baudoin and another nobleman invited Annalise to be seated and lifted her chair, carrying her off to be with her groom. The knot in her belly tightened.
A screen had been provided in the chamber and Annalise and her maid stepped behind it. Pirette helped her take off her wedding attire. “Should I remove this?” she whispered, fingering the tiny sachet of potpourri wedged between her breasts, held there by a pale ribbon around her neck.
A smile flickered across the girl’s face. She blushed and shook her head, helping her mistress slip on the sheer nightgown that she’d optimistically sewn when she thought she might marry a handsome knight. It was a very feminine garment, beautifully and lovingly embroidered, with bows at the shoulders which, when unloosened, would allow it to fall to the floor. How she regretted the impulse now. She had wed a handsome knight, just not one in love with her. Her dreams of surrendering her maidenhead to a man in her thrall were dead.
She looked over to the other side of the room. She would have to walk past the bawdy crowd in the chamber in order to get to the bed. She looked aghast at Pirette. Fortunately her trusty maid draped a diaphanous wrap around her.
“Merci, Pirette,” she whispered gratefully.
They scurried to the big bed and the maid tucked her in, propping her up on the bolster. Annalise kept her eyes averted from the boisterous behaviour going on at the other end of the chamber. Her face must be a deep red by now.
Rhun and Rhydderch were happily undressing Rhys, tossing his clothing wherever it might land, and he soon stood naked, wearing only his amber beads. The twins looked at the necklace. They seemed momentarily surprised but then smiled and winked.
Men covered their wives’ eyes. There was much laughter and giggling from the women and lusty comments from the men. Rhun held out a bed robe, but then snatched it away, and threw it to Rhydderch. They carried on this game for several minutes, until Rhys grabbed it and put it on.
“Ho ho, Rhys, not cool and calm now, are you?” Rhun taunted as everyone laughed.
Rhys shook his head, aware his face had reddened. “I should have known better than to invite you two miscreants,” he quipped. They teased him because they loved him. They’d never thanked him for their freedom, but were here for him now when he needed their support. Danger still lurked here for them, but it was good to have family close at hand. The twins cheered him on as he crossed the room to join Annalise. She looked nervous. He clasped her hand under the linens and gave it a reassuring squeeze, entwining their fingers together. Her hand felt warm. His shaft responded.
The Bishop of Chester intoned a brief blessing and sprinkled the bed with holy water. But then it was the redheads, with Baudoin’s help, who jovially ushered all the guests out of the room, Rhun closing the door with a wink at his newly married brother.
Rhys suddenly found he couldn’t think of anything to say to the beautiful and very nervous woman he’d married—a unique situation for him to be at a loss for words! Why had he thought this marriage business would be easy, cut and dried?
To cover his nervousness, he said, “Someday I suppose the two of them will grow up.”
“They love you, milord. You’re lucky to have such brothers, such a loving family,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.
Rhys was mortified. He didn’t want his wife to recall their wedding night as a night of sadness. He wanted her happiness. He reached over, wiped her tears with his thumb and whispered, “Please call me Rhys. I won’t be ‘my lord’ in my own bed with my own wife, and I won’t have tears. This is a night of happiness for me and I want it to be the same for you. I’m not the man you hoped to marry, but I’ll take good care of you, and you’ll never have cause to fear me. Perhaps we can be friends?”
She gazed at the linens, her fingers still entwined in his. “I would like to be friends,” she whispered shyly. “I’ve never had a friend.”
His heart went out to her and he rose from the bed, took her by the hand and pulled her up to him. He wanted to enfold her and slay whatever demons she suffered from past hurts. “Many married couples never achieve an understanding of friendship, Annalise,” he whispered, pressing her body to his and cupping her bottom with his hands.
He was elated when her hips moved into him a little. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric that barely hid her body. He kissed her, softly at first and then deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sucking hers into his mouth. His state of arousal urged him to tear away the diaphanous garment and thrust deeply into her, but he wanted her first time to be a good experience. He sl
ipped the flimsy wrap from her shoulders to reveal the nightgown. For the first time he noticed the pale ribbon around her neck that disappeared into—
He inhaled deeply. “You look beautiful, Annalise. Did you make this lovely and enticing garment?” Why was his voice raspy? The lingering after effects of the incense, he supposed.
“I did mi—oui, I made it, Rhys,” she replied, blushing.
He smiled at the thought of his virgin bride making this suggestive and enticing garment. Her very innocence tugged at his heart. She must be aware of his arousal pressed against her. Did she know what was expected of her, of them both? She’d had no mother to counsel her.
He nibbled her ear. “May I undo the bows?”
“Oui, Rhys, you may untie the bows,” she murmured.
Rhys slipped the first bow from its knot. The fabric fell from her shoulder, exposing the top of one enticing breast. He brushed his lips across the curve and she shuddered. He moved her body slightly away from his and slipped the second bow. The silk slid from her with a whisper to fall in a pool at her feet.
He’d never set eyes on such beautiful breasts—large, full, bountiful, topped with taut pink nipples and pale areolas. And there, in the deep cleft between her breasts lay the tiny sachet of potpourri. Aha! He carefully lifted the ribbon over her head and inhaled deeply of the sachet’s perfume. His senses reeled. He wanted to bury his face in the scented warmth of her breasts. She was perfection. He was disappointed her maid had taken out the floral garland. Her hair flowed over her bare shoulders like liquid honey all the way down to her small waist and curvaceous hips.
She nervously tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Are you happy with what you see mi—Rhys? Am I—?”
How nervous she was, and how innocent. “You’re everything a man could dare hope for in a wife, Annalise,” he whispered. She wanted him to be pleased even though she didn’t love him.
He cupped her breasts with his hands, brushing a kiss on each nipple. She tensed and threw back her head. He was aroused further at the possibility he’d married a passionate woman. “Untie my robe so you can see me naked too. We must never be embarrassed to be naked together. Honesty is easier when you’re naked, and it’s important we have honesty between us.”
When she hesitated, he guided her hands to the belt of his bed robe. She pulled it carefully, exposing his body to her view. She gasped and blinked rapidly, her eyes widening. He slipped the robe off his shoulders, took her hand and placed it on his swollen phallus. “Don’t be afraid, little one. This is all for you, my Annalise,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. “I am a faithful man. I will never betray our vows.”
He moved her warm hand on his arousal, encouraging her to explore him. Pleasure soared through him. “There’ll be pain the first time, but it will pass and then there’ll be pleasure. I’ll make you ready. It won’t be too painful.”
The touch of her hand on him sent desire coursing through him.
She nodded. A strange sound emanated from her throat. Passion smouldered in her eyes. Did she understand what he was saying? He drew her over to the bed where he knelt in the centre, inviting her to do the same, facing him. He pressed her body to his, his erection hard on her belly. He moved away and once again cupped her breasts. They were almost more than his big hands could hold, and he tenderly pressed his fingers and thumbs on first one nipple, then the other, then both.
“Rhys,” she panted.
So far so good.
“Don’t fight the sensations, Annalise,” he said. “They are what we were born for. Men and women were made for each other’s pleasure. Don’t be afraid. You know what happens now? You know we’ll join our bodies—become one?”
He silently thanked his parents for the open way in which they’d educated their children about the coupling of men and women. What to do he’d learned from the women he’d bedded. Attitude and beliefs had come from his parents.
She nodded, but still looked apprehensive. He bent his head to suckle one pebbled nipple while continuing to fondle the other.
“Rhys,” she gasped again, clutching his shoulders and arching her back to such a degree he had to free one hand to support the back of her head. He suckled her rhythmically, changing from one breast to the other. He’d never experienced such pleasure, and this was his wife! His forever. He could spend the rest of his life with his mouth on her beautiful breasts. He would die a happy man.
He eased her off her knees onto her back, continuing to suckle and squeeze her nipples. She’d already opened her legs without his encouragement, making the ache in his groin intensify. It was the first glimpse of the haven he sought. Licking his lips, he let his hand wander slowly over her belly and down to the golden curls of her mons. “Annalise,” he whispered. “Remember, you can trust me.”
She looked into his eyes and nodded. He resumed his suckling and his fingers found the swollen bud between her legs.
She was breathing faster. “Rhys—Rhys—”
He stroked rhythmically. “Trust me, let the feelings come.”
She clung to him as the first release tore through her. She screamed a lovely guttural scream, digging her heels into the bed, her head tossing back and forth on the bolster, her hands on her own breasts now.
“Rhys,” she whispered. “I—”
Tears welled in her eyes and his heart skipped a beat. How elated he was to be the one to give this beautiful woman her first experience of bodily pleasure. “It gets better, Annalise. It gets better. Rest a while and I’ll show you.”
He couldn’t wait too long. He licked her nipples and she responded by once more opening her legs. He was sure she would still be wet, but slipped his finger inside her folds to make sure.
“Rhys, mon Dieu—” she moaned, spasms racking her body again.
He was done for then, wanting desperately to be inside her, to release with her and feel her sheath pulsating on him. He grasped the root of his shaft, positioned it at her entry and pushed carefully, feeling the barrier. “Hold me tight. This is where it will be painful.”
She clung to him as he thrust through the gate. He expected her to scream, but she didn’t. Had she fainted? Was the pain too much? He bit his lip, holding his breath, waiting, feeling her wet warmth. She groaned faintly and her hips ground into him. His heart soared and his shaft throbbed. An involuntary groan of pleasure escaped him. He withdrew, then plunged in to the hilt, rejoicing in the wild abandon with which she now matched his thrusts, until he felt the white heat of his seed pump into her. He lost coherent thought as he tumbled into rapture. He vaguely heard her scream as he collapsed on top of her.
When he recovered his wits, she was lazily threading her fingers through his hair. It felt good. He raised up on one elbow and smiled. “I hope it wasn’t too painful for you?”
She shook her head, and smiled back at him.
“You’re a woman now, Annalise, and what a woman you are! That was magnificent. Thank you.”
“I thank you mi—Rhys,” she stammered. “I hope it wasn’t painful for you?”
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “That kind of pain I would willingly suffer every day of my life.”
“I didn’t know—I never had—” she was lost, and completely exhausted by the stress of the day and the passion she’d experienced. Now, her husband had risen from the bed and was carefully cleansing her body, kissing her thighs as he removed the proof of her lost virginity. She watched in amazement as he strode back to the basin and washed his body. He seemed perfectly at ease with his nakedness—and what a magnificent creature he was, all muscle, a powerful yet gentle man.
They were going to live in Wales, and if she had no friend there, how would she survive? Better to be friends with her husband rather than his enemy. This gentle man was going to be her life, and she already knew she couldn’t hate him as she should. Perhaps she could survive Wales with such a man.
He was certainly passionate and had brought experiences and pleasures to her body she
hadn’t known existed. Since she’d first met him she’d suffered an ache deep within her that she’d never felt in the wildest imaginings of her chivalrous knight. When Rhys had asked if he could undo the bows she’d experienced a strange wetness between her legs. No one but her maid had ever seen her naked before, and she found his gaze unsettling. When he’d put her hand on his manhood, she’d averted her eyes and it was then for the first time she’d noticed the Celtic knots tattooed like armbands into his biceps. It was a sharp reminder of the differences in their cultures.
She would be his friend, but would guard her heart. He claimed to be a trustworthy man, and she sensed that was true. But, she must never forget why he married her. Her treacherous body had responded to his for some reason beyond her understanding. To fall in love with him and not to have that love reciprocated would be more than she could bear.
“You look serious. What are you thinking?” he teased as he came back to bed.
“I was thinking I enjoyed that very much,” she said, her blush deepening.
“I would never have guessed!” he laughed, tousling her hair. He wanted to feel those tresses wrapped around every part of his body, but an insistent worry warned him not to care for this young woman too much. Suddenly, he felt the weight of the beads around his neck. He’d forgotten them. Should he give the necklace to her? He hesitated. If he fell in love with her and she didn’t love him it would break his heart. Better to wait.
“We should sleep for a while now and then perhaps later—”
“How often do people—do this?” she asked innocently.
“As often as they like,” he replied, drawing her back against his chest, cupping her breasts in his hands.
“Your breasts are beautiful, wife. I’m a fortunate man.” He fell asleep immediately, utterly content.
CHAPTER FIVE
On the morrow they joined the throng breaking their fast in the Great Hall. His sisters, Myfanwy Mabelle and Carys came to give a kiss of welcome.
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