Pendragon

by Catherine Coulter

  “Oh. Oh my, Mary Rose, you’re embarrassed!” Meggie laughed, hugged her again as she said, “You know, I think it is rather exciting not knowing much of anything. Thomas does kiss very well. I assume he can continue this lovemaking business efficiently.”

  “Yes,” Mary Rose said, her voice dry as the cherrywood armoire in the corner, “I believe that he will as well.”

  Meggie said, suddenly appalled, “I cannot imagine speaking to Papa about those sorts of things.” Then she looked thoughtful. “But perhaps you could tell me. Is this tongue in each other’s mouths—is it the done thing? Do you and Papa do it?”

  Mary Rose managed not to swallow her own tongue. “Well, as a matter of fact, if you are truly interested, and I suppose that you are since you have such an inquiring mind, well, I imagine that I would have to say yes, it is very much the done thing.” Mary Rose then smiled, flushed, looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, patted Meggie’s back, and picked up her traveling cloak, a rich burgundy velvet Thomas had given her for a wedding gift.

  Thomas was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. He wasn’t smiling. He was, obviously, anxious to be off. She saw all her relatives spread out behind them, all of them speaking and laughing, the dratted boy cousins being idiots, as always. So many beloved faces.

  She hugged her father, and it seemed to everyone there that she didn’t want to let him go. Tysen saw that Thomas was looking utterly emotionless, but he’d known the young man long enough to realize that he wanted his new wife and he wanted her five minutes ago. He wanted her to himself, and that, Tysen thought, was something he would simply have to accustom himself to. He also saw Thomas looking several times at Jeremy, and again, there was no expression at all on his face. Tysen wondered, but he couldn’t do anything else. He kissed Meggie once, twice more, then patted her shoulder, and placed her hand on her husband’s arm.

  “Be happy, sweetheart,” he said.

  Meggie looked down to see Rory tugging on her skirt. She lifted him up high, gave him two smacking loud kisses, and said, “Say hello to your new brother-in-law, Rory.”

  Rory looked over at Thomas, studied him for a very long time, and said finally, “You are the man who saved my life with that volcano medicine.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” Thomas said.

  “You will give Meggie everything she wants,” Rory said.

  “I will,” Thomas said, and bowed his head.

  Rory patted him on the shoulder. Meggie kissed the little boy one more time and handed him back to their father.

  Her ribs sore from so many hugs, Thomas’s hand firm in the small of her back, Meggie was lifted into the carriage. She leaned out the window, waving, smiling until she was sure her mouth would break.

  Glenclose-on Rowan was gone from her view in the next minute because Thomas had turned her around to face him, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

  He released her even before she’d had a chance to think about that kiss and what she should do. She said, staring at his mouth, her fingertips on her lower lip, “You didn’t open your mouth. You didn’t give me time to do anything at all. Perhaps I would have liked to open my mouth a bit.”

  “I never wish to begin something that I would be unable to finish.”

  “I suppose you’re talking about lovemaking.”

  He didn’t smile at her, just untied the bow beneath her jaw and pulled off her stylish bonnet. He laid it carefully on the opposite seat. “You have lovely hair, Meggie.”

  “Thank you. So do you, Thomas, all dark as ancient sins, nearly as black as your eyes. At least they look black in this dim light. You and I are very different, Thomas, and I like it very much. I will thank God every day for fashioning you just as you are. Now, will you please tell me where we are going on our wedding trip?”

  “No, not yet. You will see. All right, a small bit of a hint. I am taking you to one of my homes.”

  She was nearly speechless with excitement. “We are sailing to Italy?”

  “No. Not this time. You will see. Don’t fret. It will be dark soon. We will spend the night in Exeter.”

  “We are traveling west.”

  “Yes.”

  She poked him very gently in his belly. He obligingly grunted for her. “I am your wife, sir. It isn’t healthy for you to keep secrets from me.”

  He said nothing to that, and she leaned back as he pulled up the window against the chill evening air. “Are we going to Cornwall?”

  “Yes, but it is not our final destination.”

  “I saw you speaking to Uncle Ryder. Do you approve of him now?”

  “I believe him an estimable man. I have also determined that it is wrong to listen to gossip, to lap it up as fast as a racing kitten with a bowl of milk.”

  “That was well said.” Meggie took one of his hands between hers. “You are my husband now, Thomas. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “I wanted you,” he said simply. “And now you are mine.”

  “You make that sound like I was a prize that you somehow managed to win.”

  “Yes. I would say that a wife is a prize.”

  “Bosh. You also make it sound like I’m now some sort of possession. I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

  “You are chattel, though the word doesn’t bring particularly pleasant things to mind. Chattel is owned and so is a wife.”

  She laughed, full rich, that laugh of hers, and he felt the tug of it. “That sounds just a bit like something Jeremy—the Jeremy who was the obnoxious superior one—would say. I pray you, Thomas, never treat me like I have a hollow room between my ears.”

  He gave her a look that, she thought, was far too serious and said slowly, “I’ve never believed that.”

  “Good. I’m sorry that William was unable to come. I promised myself that I would try to be polite to him even though I would have probably smacked him in the head.”

  “I asked him not to come. It would have been awkward, particularly with the Winters family there. I did not wish to have today marred.”

  “I am glad my father told them the truth.”

  “I suppose it had to be done, else Mr. Winters might have shot me during our wedding.”

  “Mr. Winters is a very fine shot.”

  “Then your father saved my life.”

  Meggie laughed. “Will I meet William soon? You know, since your mother and father didn’t live together, how was William conceived? He is five years younger than you?”

  “Just four years. He is twenty-one. When he was born his father sent him and his mother away as well.”

  “It is a dreadful thing, Thomas. I am so very sorry.”

  He shrugged, said nothing.

  “Will William be coming to the one of your houses where we’re going?”

  “We will see,” Thomas said, folded his arms over his chest, and smiled at her. “You look quite beautiful, Meggie. I remarked upon it when you walked down the aisle toward me, when I was not remarking upon Rory, that is.”

  She laughed. “As for Rory, isn’t he a little scamp?”

  “Yes, he is. I’m very glad he survived that fever.”

  “I cannot imagine what it would have been like if he had not. But enough of that. Rory is well and speaking Latin again. Now, you are the beautiful one, Thomas. I am ordinary compared to you.”

  That made him laugh. He lightly ran his fingertip along her jaw. “A man is nothing more than a solid creature, Meggie, whose size allows him both to build and to bash heads together.”

  “And to laugh and to eat peeled grapes like the Romans did.”

  “At least to laugh. I haven’t seen many grapes where we’re going.”

  “That reminds me. I’m very hungry. Mrs. Priddle packed us a basket. Should you like a bit of champagne? Some of our wedding cake? Or scones that she made for my uncle Colin? He’s the Scottish earl, you remember.”

  “Yes, some champagne would be just the thing.” He raised a dark brow. “Should I drink some out of your slipper now?�
�

  “No,” she said, looking at him straight in his eyes. “I would like you to sip it out of my mouth.”

  Thomas refused to open the champagne.

  Thomas had booked them the very best room in The Tipsy Nun’s Inn, a corner room with a lovely view of the English Channel. It was long dark when they finally arrived, but there was a full moon, and it shone down on the Channel water, making it glisten like the brilliant sapphire on Meggie’s third finger. The town was spread out behind them, silent and still.

  “So beautiful,” Meggie said over her shoulder as she pulled back the lace curtain to peer out over the still water. Gentle waves curled onto the sand, then sprawled out like a coquette’s fan.

  “Yes,” Thomas said.

  She turned then, for he was still standing by the closed door, his arms crossed over his chest, just looking at her.

  “Mary Rose asked me if I had any questions about marital sorts of things.”

  If he felt any surprise, he didn’t show it, merely remarked, “Did she tell you what you wished to know?”

  “Oh no. I told her that since you kissed very well, I imagined that you would do the rest of it quite adequately. I did ask her about this tongue business. After much skidding around the question, she finally admitted that it was the done thing.”

  “Since she is your mother, I can well imagine that speaking of such intimate things would make her uncomfortable.”

  “Do you know that she and my father are always touching and kissing, particularly when they don’t think any of the children are around?”

  He really didn’t want to smile, but he did.

  Meggie said, her voice all off-hand, “Perhaps, if we are blessed, we would also have to pay attention when we kiss so as not to embarrass our children.”

  “It is much too soon to think about those sorts of things, Meggie.” He paused a moment, then said, his voice very deliberate, “You are mine now. No matter what happens, you are completely and irrevocably mine.”

  She cocked her head at him. “You have said that several times now, Thomas.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have, but Meggie was never one to falter. She took one of his big hands between hers. “Listen to me. I am your wife. I am not like your father. I will not leave you. Since I am not a rug to be tread upon, I’m sure we will have fights and enough shouting to bring the roof down. If you haven’t noticed, we are both stubborn and have our own ideas about things, but no matter how much we yell at each other, or how loudly, I won’t go haring off in a snit, ever. Goodness, even my papa the vicar and Mary Rose occasionally yell at each other, but that’s nothing, Thomas, nothing at all. We will be together and hopefully life will dish us up more laughter than tears.”

  He said, his voice cold, withdrawn, “That was very eloquent.”

  She said slowly, “Was it?”

  “And näıve.”

  “It is true in my family.”

  He merely shrugged, and kept his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He said, “My father and mother—they are none of your concern. I do not need assurances from you to calm my disordered brain. You seem to think I’m suffering from long-ago pain dished out freely by my parents. I am not. About my parents—I only said what I did because you seemed to need to know, and, indeed, your father demanded to know. It really wasn’t his right to know.”

  “Yes, it was. He is my father. It is his responsibility to protect me.”

  “Your father wanted to refuse me your hand in marriage.”

  “Of course he did. He believed you were a lecher. But it was William. I believe my father was very relieved when he learned the truth of the matter. He wants me to be happy, you see.”

  Thomas said nothing. He looked as if he wasn’t certain what he should do now, as if he was nervous, undecided about something, and Meggie found it utterly appealing. She skipped to him, wrapped her arms around his back, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Kiss me, Thomas. That is something I like very much.”

  She raised her face, came up on her tiptoes, but for a moment, he hesitated, touched his fingertips to her cheek, so soft her skin, flushed now in excitement.

  It was, after all, her wedding night.

  She’d never done anything to harm him, he was thinking, and she was his wife. Slowly he brought his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He didn’t kiss her, just held her. Actually, it was he who was holding on to her. She was half his size and he was burrowing onto her.

  He lifted his head to look down at her. “You’re a virgin, Meggie.”

  She lifted her face and gave him a very small smile, a nervous smile, and he knew it. “Well, yes. I’m supposed to be.”

  In an austere voice he said, “Many women are not pure when they come to their husbands.”

  “I had never thought of it. Are you certain? No, that’s all right. No one else has anything to do with us. Ah, Thomas, kiss me now.”

  He was rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “Do you like your cloak?”

  “It’s lovely. Do you like the onyx pen I gave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mary Rose believed it to be very masculine.”

  “It is.”

  “It is solid, like a man is supposed to be.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thomas, are you uncertain what to do? No, it’s all right, truly, you don’t have to say anything. I rather like that the two of us can begin everything together. I’m sure that we will be able to figure this business out.”

  “You think I’m hesitating because I’m lacking in experience? That I just might also be a virgin?”

  “It’s all right, Thomas.” She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him, a girl’s kiss that made him laugh. Another damned laugh, and he’d even come to like the feel of it, alive and snaking warmth all the way to his gut, and that was alien to him.

  “I’ll admit it, I’m nervous, yes, just a bit nervous,” she said between light nipping kisses, “but we are married now, and you belong to me, and I wish to see what all these marital things are about. Oh goodness, does that sound terribly loose?”

  “A man doesn’t belong to a woman,” he said slowly, his voice suddenly remote, all laughter dried up. “A man is his own being.”

  For an instant, Meggie was blank-brained. Whatever had happened? Had a woman hurt him badly in the past? He wasn’t old enough to have been hurt all that often, surely. “Thomas, how old are you, exactly?”

  “I am twenty-five. I will be twenty-six in December. I was born the day after Christmas. I don’t think my mother ever forgave me for ruining her Christmas.”

  He was making light of it. Well, no matter. If a woman had hurt him, had made him cynical, someday he would tell her and she would fix it. She kissed him again, this time a line of kisses all along his jaw. She said, all the feeling that was in her vibrant in her voice, “I will make you want to belong to me.”

  And she kissed him again.

  This time he kissed her back, hard, telling her to open her mouth, and she did and she felt his tongue sliding over her bottom lip, then inside. It was different, this kiss, urgent, on the wild side. He raised his head just a moment, and said, his hand suddenly cupping her breast, “Meggie, I’m not a virgin.”

  14

  MEGGIE, OVERWHELMED BY that kiss, that surprise attack that had ambushed her and made her want more, exactly of what she wasn’t certain, but she was eager to find out, managed to get herself together since this was obviously the way things were done, and said, “It’s all right that you’re not a virgin. I am not blind, Thomas. I believe that boys are somehow supposed to become experienced, that it is expected, that they aren’t viewed by other men as being manly unless they do this, perhaps quite frequently.

  “I have also seen how boys do not seem to be able to control themselves when it comes to the fairer sex. They step near a girl and begin to stutter, their hands shake, and they say the stupidest things. Just look at what William did.”

  “Men c
an control themselves. It is a matter of will, and a matter of character.”

  “I know that you would never take advantage of a female, for yours is an excellent character. Are you also strong-willed when it comes to matters of the flesh, Thomas?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t matter. I must consummate our marriage or it isn’t really a marriage.”

  “A good idea.” She saw him looking at her so sternly, as if he weren’t certain about something, and just couldn’t help herself. She kissed him again, his shirt fisted in her hands, and she was pulling him down toward her, kissing whatever part of him she could reach.

  He said against her mouth, “I will take your virginity, make you bleed, and only then will you be safely wedded, not before. Then there is no going back, Meggie. You’re mine.”

  That brought her kisses to a stop and a frown to her forehead. “I don’t know why you are worried about this, Thomas. I don’t want to go back. Wait, I don’t like the sound of this bleeding business. What bleeding business? What does that mean?”

  “Oh God, Meggie, I wish you had asked your mother to explain this to you. Don’t you know anything at all?”

  “I now know all about tongues, although it’s still a bit difficult for me to speak in them just yet.”

  Speaking in tongues. He tried to smile at that, but couldn’t, and said, “But you don’t know what we are going to do?”

  “Well, not in any sort of elaborate detail, no.”

  “How about in a vague general sort of way?”

  “I believe you must take your clothes off. I was swimming once when I was very young with my dratted boy cousins, and they took off their clothes. They were certainly different from me, but I don’t know how it all would work to make a baby.”

  “I did ask, didn’t I?”

  “Are you jesting with me, Thomas? Perhaps laughing at me?”

  He seemed to think about this for a goodly number of seconds. He said more to himself than to her, “No, I wouldn’t jest about this, not at all. Now, it must be done, it must.” It was almost as if he was angry with her, Meggie thought, suddenly panicked. He said nothing more, didn’t kiss her, just picked her up in his arms and walked to the large tester bed. “I’ll be your maid,” he said, sat her down on the edge of the bed, realized the buttons on her dress were in the back and pulled her to her feet again. Thomas saw that she was pale, his exuberant Meggie looking a bit on the ragged edge, particularly since they were this close to the bed and his hands on her. He kissed her hard and fast, didn’t try to part her lips with his tongue because he thought she just might bite him in her nervousness, then turned her around. He unfastened the long line of buttons down her back.