“You ask me about the first time, Bliss. The feelings that Edmund generated in me were wonderful. I do not have the words to explain, but you will understand tomorrow night when you become one with your husbands. One thing, though. Has Mother bothered to tell you that your first encounter with passion may give you a momentary bite of pain?”
“Nay,” said Bliss, speaking for them both.
“It comes with the piercing of the maidenhead by your husband. For me ’twas but a momentary prick, and afterward there is never again any pain. I thought you should know.”
That thought was the only thing that disturbed Bliss’s great anticipation of her wedding night. Now, sitting up in bed, gowned in an innocent-looking white silk nightrail, her lace-trimmed nightcap with its silk ribbons tied beneath her chin, she awaited Owen FitzHugh. About her the women giggled and chattered as they dashed back and forth between her and Blythe, who she assumed was in a similar condition now in the next room.
Then she heard the raucous shouts and loud laughter of the men, and Bliss’s heartbeat quickened. The bedchamber door was flung open, and Owen FitzHugh, in a white silk nightshirt, was pushed into the room. With astounding agility the Earl of Marwood whirled about, and slamming the door on his escort, shot the bolt home. For a moment there was a mighty pounding upon the door that Bliss thought surely would shatter the portal, but it held.
“Owen,” she heard a voice call. “We’ve not yet drunk the caudle cup.”
“Drink it without me,” Owen FitzHugh called back. “I’ve a more pleasant task ahead of me, and I’ll waste no more time getting to it!”
There was much laughter from the other side of the door, and then a chorus of “Good night then, my lord and my lady,” followed by a semiquiet as the revelers moved next door with the other bridegroom to see him safely bedded. Bliss clutched the bedcovers to her breasts in momentary panic.
Owen FitzHugh turned about and grinned at his wife. “Well now, puss, and here we are at last.” He walked over to the bed, and in one swift motion pulled his nightshirt off, flinging it aside.
Bliss gasped with shock, but she was far too curious to even avert her eyes. She had never imagined a man’s body could look so ... so ... so interesting. Her sapphire-blue eyes traveled across the width of his shoulders and down his chest which was furred with dark, curly hair. Dropping her glance lower, Bliss’s gaze widened, and she whispered, “Ohhhhh!”
The Earl of Marwood chuckled, knowing full well the cause of her exclamation. “Come, puss,” he said, drawing her up and from the bed. “You’ve seen my goods, now let me see yours.” With gentle hands he untied her dainty nightcap and dropped it to the floor.
She was not afraid, Bliss thought, as, undoing the ribbons upon her nightrail, she shrugged it off. Nay, she was not afraid of him, for she loved him. Raising her eyes to meet his, she said, “Well, my lord, and do I meet with your approval as well as you meet with mine?”
Owen stared, both bedazzled and astounded. Bliss was not only fair of face, she had the loveliest form he had ever beheld upon any woman. Her skin was like cream. Her limbs rounded and shapely. Her breasts high and pointed. She turned for him slowly, and he groaned softly as he felt his desire stirring wildly.
“Come, sir, have you lost your tongue as well as your heart?” Bliss mocked him gently.
“God’s blood, puss! Your beauty defies description, but lest you think me a poor lover, Bliss, kiss me before I expire of my longing for you!” Drawing her into his embrace, his lips met hers in a firey union.
As she tumbled headlong and heedlessly into passion, Bliss had one last thought. She hoped that Blythe was as happy at this very moment as she was. Her heart was so full that she wanted to share her joy with the whole world if she but could.
Shy Blythe. Gentle Blythe. He must not frighten her, thought Nicholas Kingsley as the revelers finally made their way from the guest bedchamber, having spent some minutes making ribald jests and drinking down a caudle cup to wish the couple good fortune and many children. Closing the door behind the guests, he locked it firmly, and joined his beautiful bride in their nuptial bed.
“You must not be afraid of me, Blythe,” he began.
“I am not,” she said calmly.
“Your mother has explained everything to you?”
She nodded. “And Blaze also, Nicholas.”
“I will go slowly with you, my love, I promise,” he said earnestly.
“If it pleases you,” she answered.
“But I would please you!” he told her.
“Soon, I hope, Nicholas!” was the reply.
Startled, he could only gape at her.
Blythe took her husband’s hand in hers and spoke softly. “My lord, hear me, I pray you. Blaze tells me that lovemaking is wonderful. Bliss admits to being hot to couple with Owen. Our mother has produced nine children, and despite the fact she is near forty, still smiles secret smiles at our father when she thinks no one is looking. Such things do not betoken an act to be feared, but rather to be enjoyed. I know my defloration will hurt, but afterward Blaze says it is wonderful beyond description. If we do not begin, however, I shall never know, will I? Do not think me bold, my lord, but please kiss me!”
Nicholas sighed with relief, and drawing his new wife into his arms, kissed her most thoroughly and to her complete satisfaction before going on to other and more delectable pleasures that left her equally enraptured and most delighted with him.
Blaze, however, did not stay the night at Ashby, and would not learn until afterward of her sisters’ contentment with the married life. There was simply no room in the Morgans’ house now for additional overnight guests, and so the Earl and Countess of Langford with their armed escort of men made their way home to RiversEdge beneath the light of the moon. The night was calm, and the moon silvered the landscape as they rode.
“You look tired, my love,” the earl worried solicitously. “I must aid your father in building another wing upon Ashby. There is not enough room for us all as it is, and only two of your sisters are wed. What will happen when they are all wed, and there are grandchildren too?”
“Aye, for there will be a first grandchild before year’s end, my lord,” said Blaze softly.
“What?!” The earl looked astounded. “What is it you tell me?”
“That I am with child, my lord. I needed only for my mother to confirm my suspicions, for as I have never had a child before, I was not certain.”
“My God, Blaze! You should not be riding!”
“Why ever not, my lord?”
“You might miscarry of my son, sweetheart! Do you not know that?”
“Edmund, I am well. I will not miscarry of our child. I am just like Mama. I will give you healthy children, I swear it! My mother rode during her confinements until she became too fat to pull herself upon her horse’s back. She lost no babes, as you well know.”
He shook his head. “I will not let you ride,” he said in a voice that she had never heard him use to her. “Once we are home, I will give orders that you are to be forbidden the stables.”
“I suppose that you think a jouncing coach is better for a woman in my condition?” she railed at him.
“Where do you plan to go that you need to ride or sit within the coach?” he asked of her.
“I had thought to visit Blythe and Nicholas, who live not far from us on the other side of the river, and what of your sister? Am I to be forbidden going to Riverside? Doro has been lonely since her husband’s death. Would you imprison me because I am carrying a child?”
“Your family can come to visit you,” he said stubbornly. “If you would go to see Doro, and I see no harm in it, you can take the dogcart.”
“The dogcart?!” she shrieked at him, and the men-at-arms escorting them grinned at each other. “Am I a child that you would have me ride in the dogcart?”
“Do not distress yourself, my sweet,” he begged her. “I am only thinking of your good, and that of the child. Oh, Blaze, my poor Cat
herine lost so many babes, and then I finally lost her. I have found love at a time when I had only hoped to find a second wife who might prove a good breeder. I love you! Yes, I desire an heir; but I would have you safe too!”
“Edmund, having a child is a normal and a natural thing. I am not some delicate creature to be wrapped in cotton wool. The lady Catherine? Was her health only poor when she was with child?”
“Nay. Catherine was always frail,” he admitted.
“But I am not frail, my lord. I am strong, and I shall not be less strong because I am having our child.”
“I want this child, Blaze!”
“I will give it to you, my lord earl, but you must not make me unhappy because I am carrying your babe.”
“No riding! I mean it, Blaze. It is too dangerous, my sweet, and if you must be happy during this time, so must I. I cannot bear the thought of losing either of you.”
“At least let me use a pony cart,” she pleaded. “The dogcart is too slow. It would take me all day to get to Riverside.”
He grinned. “We will consider each situation,” he conceded, allowing her to believe he was willing to bargain with her.
Blaze smiled sweetly. “That is fair enough,” she said, silently thinking if he meant to get around her he was sadly mistaken, but let him learn that later on, for she did not want to fight with him.
The Wye, which only the day before had been a roiling mass of currents, was tonight like a bolt of silvered cloth rolling between the dark spring-green hills. Rumford, the ferryman, brought them across the smooth, calm river while Blaze, leaning against her husband, thought that she had never seen a night as lovely as this one was. Reaching RiversEdge, she found that Heartha had waited up for her, and she was soon luxuriating in a warm bath that smelled of her favorite fragrance of sweet violets.
“Heartha, there is no soap,” she complained.
“Those dim-witted girls,” fussed Heartha. “I should not have let them go to bed until I was certain that they had performed their duties as I told them. I am getting old and careless. Do not fret, my lady, but enjoy your soak. I will fetch the soap, and be back before you even realize that I am gone.”
Blaze closed her eyes and did as she was bidden. It was not too hard a task to relax within the deep warmth of the fragrant tub. She heard the door reopen, and said, “You were quick, Heartha. For an old woman you move like a young girl. Give me the soap.” Eyes still closed she held out her hand, and was startled to have her upturned palm kissed. “Ohh!”
Edmund laughed, and without preamble climbed into the tub with his wife, handing her a cake of soap as he did so. “I sent Heartha to bed, my sweet. She is growing older, and I could see she was tired. Besides, I am expert in playing the tiring woman for my wife, am I not?”
“You have never washed me,” she said, her tone thoughtful.
“You have never washed me,” he replied.
“No, I have not. Shall I do so now, sir?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Do you think you can please me, wench?”
“If I do not, my lord, then you may choose your own forfeit, and I shall gladly pay it,” she answered him.
“And if you please me?” he teased her.
“Then you must pay the forfeit, sir.” Dipping the sweet-scented little bar into the water, she said, “Turn about,” and when he had, with some difficulty, slopping water onto the floor, she began to lather his back with long sweeping strokes.
Edmund closed his own eyes, and enjoyed the delicious sensation. Her fingers kneaded into the muscles of his shoulders, and he suddenly knew how the old gray striped tomcat who was king in his stables felt when someone took the time to pat him. He practically rumbled his contentment as his wife’s hands expertly rubbed him.
“Why have we not done this before, madam?” he demanded of her.
Blaze chuckled. “I do not believe that we ever thought of it,” she replied. She slid her hands beneath the water and boldly fondled his buttocks.
Edmund groaned, but the sound was not one of pain, rather it was a sound of pleasure. “Witch,” he said softly, “you will kill me with your kindness.”
“Turn yourself about, my lord, and try not to splash the water this time,” was her reply.
When he had obeyed her command, she began to lather his chest with the sweet-scented soap. Her slender fingers delicately encircled the nipples on his chest, sending small ripples of delight down his spine. Again her hands disappeared beneath the water to slide over his belly, to caress his rampant manhood. Her heart-shaped face gave no hint of what she was thinking, although he thought he detected the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement.
“Sit back, my lord, and give me a foot,” she finally said. Carefully, with serious demeanor, she washed the foot, soaping it thoroughly, thrusting a suggestive finger between each toe, then rinsing it off. The second foot was given its equal share of the same treatment, and when she had finished, Blaze said, “You are now bathed, sir, and it is my turn.” Then with a little smile she handed him the little cake of soap.
He signaled her to turn about, and began by washing her back as she had washed his. When he reached her buttocks she wriggled most provocatively against his touch. He slid his hands around to cup her round wet breasts, sliding them beneath the soft flesh to gently crush it in his grasp. His thumbs reached up to tweak at her hardened nipples, and she wriggled once more against him, causing his manhood to ache most furiously. “Be still!” he growled in her ear, nipping it with his strong white teeth, then kissing away the quick pain.
“I cannot help it,” she whispered at him.
“Shameless little witch,” he replied, and he stood up, pulling her up with him. Turning her about, he yanked her water-slicked body against him and found her mouth.
Slowly he kissed her, letting his lips move lingeringly against her lips.
The warm water had weakened her after the long ride, and she half-sagged against his lean body. She could feel his manhood raging against her thigh as she parted her lips to receive his tongue. She was dizzy with his kisses which were like heady wine to her.
Picking her up he carried her to the bed, and together they fell upon it, heedless of the fact they had not dried themselves off. Gently he stroked her, his hand moving down her arm, smoothing over the curve of her hip. “I want to love you, Blaze,” he murmured into her ear, “but I’ll not harm the child.”
She struggled to open her eyes, for her lids were heavy with her passion. “Mama . . . Mama says it is all right . . . until the end of June.” Reaching up, she pulled his head down to her breast, and sighed as he clamped his mouth over the nipple, suckling upon her until he drove her into a frenzy of desire. “Now! Oh, please, now!” she sobbed.
“Nay, my sweet. We will take our time, and make these moments last, for soon we will not have them until after the child is born.” He caressed her other breast with a tender hand before bending to suckle upon it.
With great effort Blaze struggled to master her own passion, and when she had succeeded, she felt the sweetness of his love pouring through her, and found greater satisfaction than she had ever found before in his arms. Together they reexplored each other’s bodies, stroking slowly, touching with tenderness, and anticipating without haste the final pleasure to come. When at last he entered her eager body, moving with deliberate lack of haste, it was as if he were determined that they enjoy every second of their coming together.
Her breasts were swollen hard, the nipples tight. The rest of her body felt an almost painful fullness such as she had never felt. She felt the heat of his manhood as he pressed it deep inside her, to be followed by an almost aching suction as he drew back so he might thrust within her again. Her senses were reeling, and she felt suddenly weightless as she was whirled off into a golden haze of the most powerful, undiluted pleasure she had ever known in her young life. Desperately, as if she sought to keep herself from falling, she clung to her husband, her fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders
as with a cry he released his tribute into her waiting body.
They immediately fell into a deep sleep, not awakening until the morning. During the next few weeks the intensity of their passion for each other seemed to grow as if the knowledge of their future abstinence drove them to desperation. Though Blaze found herself nauseous in the late afternoons, there was not, for the time being, any other outward sign of her condition.
News of her impending motherhood seemed to race upon the wind, however, though no formal announcement had been made. As the summer came, and the orchards and fields grew ripe with their crops, so Blaze ripened with her child. To forestall any argument on his wife’s part, Edmund invited his sister to come and visit until after the birth. Lonely at Riverside, Dorothy Wyndham gladly agreed. Though he had not yet found himself a wife, Anthony remained at court. His new status as Lord Wyndham of Riverside had increased his chances of finding a wife, but if there was a woman who had taken his fancy, he had not yet communicated that fact to his mother or uncle.
On the sixteenth of September Blaze and Edmund celebrated the first anniversary of their marriage. Michaelmas came and went along with a particularly rainy autumn. On the last day of November the Countess of Langford had her seventeenth birthday. She was large with child, but she bloomed with a happiness that transmitted itself to all about her. As for Edmund, he was visibly more relaxed than his sister had seen him in years, for as each month of his wife’s pregnancy passed without all the symptoms and emergencies he had come to expect with poor Catherine, he began to believe even more strongly that he would at last have an heir.
So convinced was he finally of his wife’s good health that he did not argue with her when Blaze announced in early autumn that Christmas would be as usual at RiversEdge. Reconsidering somewhat later, however, he was reassured by his sister that she would see Blaze did nothing to injure either herself or the child at this late date.
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