CHAPTER SIX
For Eiselle, the ceremony and feasting passed in a blur.
In fact, the entire day had happened so fast that Eiselle felt as if she were still trying to regain her equilibrium. The grooming in the morning, then being married by the smelly priest in wet robes at the nooning hour, and then an entire afternoon and evening of feasting and song and dance.
Truly, it had been overwhelming.
Keeva had arranged for minstrels local to one of the taverns in the nearby village to provide music for the feast, and they had played for many hours as those who had been invited to the wedding feast drank and danced to excess. All of the guests were senior soldiers and knights, as Bric hadn’t been agreeable to the marriage until the bride actually arrived so there had been no time to send out invitations.
A few of the soldiers had brought women with them, and Eiselle had no idea who they were, but they were dressed rather scantily. Since the soldiers seemed to keep them off in a corner, she assumed they were women with unsavory reputations brought in from the village. There were taverns there, and the whores that went with them, so she could only assume that there were whores in attendance at her wedding.
She didn’t mention them to Keeva, however, for fear of upsetting the woman, but the truth was that Keeva was well aware of their presence. She wasn’t entirely pleased about it, but a few whispered words from Daveigh had calmed her. She was evidently willing to overlook it for the sake of the occasion, which was truly a celebration.
Finally, Bric MacRohan had taken a bride and Keeva, more than anyone, didn’t want anything to upset that.
Eiselle knew that Keeva had worked very hard to make this moment possible, but the reality was that she didn’t know just how hard. Although Bric had confessed his reluctance to marry, she really didn’t know the hell he’d put everyone through. All she knew was that she was now Lady MacRohan and that her wedding feast had been full of delicious food, of lively music, and of men and women enjoying themselves.
The musicians were playing a ductia, a complex instrumental piece that, in this case, had words to it. Eiselle had heard it before when she had been at Framlingham and she’d even heard Lady Bigod sing it. As she listened to the talented musician play a long, wooden flute, she found herself mouthing the words as she’d heard them.
Bric, who surprisingly hadn’t left her side since their marriage ceremony, caught sight of the movement and thought she was speaking to him. Unable to hear her over the noise of the hall, he leaned closer so he could hear her words.
“I did not hear you, my lady,” he said. “You were saying something?”
Eiselle’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed that he’d caught her singing. “Nay, I did not speak,” she said. Weakly, she gestured to the musician. “I was simply reciting the words to this song.”
“You know it?”
“I do.”
“What is it called?”
“A Lover’s Lament,” she said. “It is about a woman who longs for a man who has gone off to war.”
He lifted an eyebrow in interest. “Is that so?” he said. “I have heard the tune, but I did not know there were words to it. Will you sing it for me?”
The mottle in her cheeks deepened. “Here? In front of everyone?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “You can sing it quietly so only I may hear you.”
Eiselle didn’t want to deny him, but she was genuinely reluctant to sing to him. Although she loved to sing, it had only been in front of women, or when she was alone in her chamber, so she wasn’t entirely sure she was good enough for a public performance. She didn’t want to embarrass herself and she could feel the return of the dreaded nervous stomach at the mere thought.
However, Bric was her husband now and she wanted to be the good, obedient wife. If he wanted to hear the song, then she would sing it. When the tune started up again on the chorus, she began to sing.
I have loved, all my life, only thee;
The stars know thy name, the sky weeps at your beauty.
I pray thou will return to my arms,
but if not,
I pray to see thy face every night in my dreams.
Eiselle’s pure soprano was crisp and beautiful, and Bric listened to her as if mesmerized. When she finished, she smiled timidly as she hoped for a good response, but all he could do was stare. He was shocked at the beauty that had poured forth from her lips and after a moment, he simply shook his head.
“Astounding,” he said sincerely. “You have the voice of an angel, my lady.”
Eiselle was deeply flattered, thankful that she hadn’t sounded like a squealing piglet. “My thanks,” she said. “There are more verses, but I do not remember them all.”
“A pity,” he said. “I should have you sing to me every night. Do you know more songs?”
She nodded. “A few. But not enough to sing to you every night.”
There was a glimmer in his silver eyes. “Then you shall sing to me all of the songs you know, and I shall select my favorites for you to sing over and over.”
“You might grow bored if I do that.”
“Nothing about you could bore me.”
It sounded very much like a compliment and she smiled shyly, turning her attention to her wine and taking a sip. His praise of her singing made her feel quite giddy. In fact, the man in general made her feel quite giddy.
Ever since she presented herself in the hall for their marriage, the look in his eyes had made her breathing come quicker and her heart beat just a little faster. He looked at her as if… as if her presence actually meant something to him. Nothing else could have explained that glimmer in his eye, but Eiselle knew this marriage wasn’t something he’d been waiting for. He’d already admitted that he hadn’t been keen on it.
But she would have never guessed that by the expression on his face.
Even now, he never left her side, sitting next to her even as his knights sat on his right, drinking and talking and laughing. She could hear them. Zara and Angela and Lady de Winter sat across the table from her, and she’d shared a few small, rather bland conversations with them. It was too loud in the hall to do much else other than shout over the tabletop. There was a lot of smiling going on, however, the ladies smiling at her and Eiselle smiling back. It began to get redundant and towards the evening, she stopped looking at them altogether because she was tired of smiling. More food was brought around, which gave her something else to focus on.
As night settled and after several hours of playing, the musicians finally stopped, and the hall seemed quieter, more subdued, as men ate yet another meal at the wedding feast of Bric MacRohan. Most of them were quite drunk by now, and they’d started up pockets of gambling throughout the hall, which was now smoky from the fire that had been burning bright and steady since noon. A blue haze hung in the air that was becoming thicker by the hour.
As Eiselle and Bric delved into a second round of food, which Eiselle mostly picked at because her stomach was still nervous, an old woman wrapped in servant’s clothing suddenly appeared with a curly-haired toddler. Angela gasped when she saw the child.
“Come to me, my sweetest darling,” she said, taking her son from his nurse. She kissed the child before looking to Eiselle and Bric across the table. “I hope you do not mind that Edward has come to your feast. I promised him that he could kiss the bride, and you know that it is very good luck if a baby kisses the bride. It will ensure your marriage is fruitful.”
Across the table, Mylo rolled his eyes at his wife, who cuddled the boy that looked exactly like him. He’d never heard of such a blessing, and Angela couldn’t stand spending more than an hour or two away from their son, so he assumed it was his wife’s way of permitting the boy to attend the wedding feast. In fact, it seemed that everyone was rolling their eyes at Angela one way or another.
Everyone except Eiselle. She forced a smile at the woman who was trying to bring her baby into an adult gathering, where men were drinking and gambling and cursing. She didn’t think it was a good place for the child.
“That is very kind of you, my lady,” she said. “I can see that your son is a fine lad.”
Angela stood up from the table with the boy in her arms, making her away around the long table and heading towards Eiselle. But the child wasn’t too happy with being held; he wanted to get down and run and play with the dogs who were gathered around the tables, waiting for scraps. By the time Angela came alongside Eiselle, little Edward was screaming loudly enough to pierce eardrums.
“Eddie, behave,” Angela scolded weakly as the boy kicked and screamed. “Don’t you want to kiss the pretty lady? Give her a kiss, Eddie!”
Edward had no desire to kiss Eiselle. He glared at her, barring his teeth, and tried to kick her. Angela finally set her squirming son down on the bench next to Eiselle.
“Eddie, don’t be naughty,” she said. “This is Lady MacRohan. She just married Sir Bric. You like Sir Bric, don’t you? Be kind to Lady MacRohan and give her a kiss for luck.”
Edward was whining and squirming, trying to pull away from his mother, but Angela was thrusting the child at Eiselle, who really didn’t want to be kissed by such a child. She thought his behavior appalling. When Angela tried to encourage him, he reached up and hit his mother in the face. She calmly told him not to hit her and kept trying to thrust him on Eiselle.
“Angela,” Mylo said from the other side of Bric. “Stop trying to force the lad.”
He sounded irritated, but Angela was oblivious. “Eddie wants to kiss her,” she insisted. “Don’t you, Eddie?”
The lad yelled, trying to pull away from his mother, who held him firmly. Mylo sighed with great irritation, hunting down his cup of wine and draining it as his wife wrestled with their son and everyone at the table looked at Angela as if she were a pathetic fool.
Eiselle, however, was trying to be patient about it. She suspected that Angela only meant well, and she knew for a fact that the woman was enamored with her son, as she’d learned on the day of her arrival when that was all Angela would speak of. So, she tried hard to be patient even though little Edward was clearly a beastly child. Angela pushed her son at Eiselle one last time.
“Eddie, please kiss the pretty lady,” she said. “It is right and good that you should do so. You honor her.”
She’d pushed Edward right up against Eiselle’s left arm. Eiselle was smiling politely at the boy, but when he made eye contact with her, he scowled and reached out baby fingers to pinch her right on the top of her hand. It was a hard pinch. Without hesitation, Eiselle pinched him back on his fat baby arm.
Eddie howled.
The table exploded in laughter as Angela snatched her wailing son to her, instantly in tears that her ill-mannered, abusive son had been given a taste of his own medicine. As Edward screamed in her ear, she looked at Eiselle as if she were the most contemptable creature on earth.
“How dare you hurt my baby!” she cried. “My poor, defenseless child!”
Eiselle knew she probably shouldn’t have pinched the boy, but she’d never been one to tolerate an ill-mannered child. The servants at Hadleigh House, those who had children, appreciated Eiselle’s manner with children in general. She was fair, mostly patient, and kind, but she didn’t like ill-mannered or spoiled children, and Edward definitely fell into that category. She was so used to having a free hand with the serving children at Hadleigh House that it didn’t occur to her that she shouldn’t have punished the terrible child.
But rather than defend herself, her naturally honest nature took hold. She’d never been one to hold back, not when it mattered. And at this moment, she felt as if it mattered. These people were to be her family, weren’t they?
She hoped her honesty was appreciated.
“It was hardly a pinch,” she said. “If you look at his hand, I doubt you will even see a mark. As for your son being poor and defenseless, you are mistaken, my lady. That child hit you and tried to kick me. So clearly, he is not defenseless at all. He is badly in need of discipline. You believe that only by loving him, you will raise a great son, but I say that if you do not start showing him some discipline now, he will go to foster one day and will be in for a rude awakening when his masters beat him for his bad behavior. You are not doing the lad any favors by coddling him and allowing him to terrorize you.”
Angela gasped at the words. But at the other side of the table, Keeva suddenly banged on the tabletop. “Here, here!” she said. “Angela, I have told you that before. You are raising a hellion of a child and unless you do something about it, he will be a beastly boy that no one likes. I do not blame Lady MacRohan for what she did at all. Had it been me, I might have slapped his behind, also.”
Angela clutched her son to her as if protecting him against women who wanted to thrash him. Her poor, sweet baby who was as gentle as a lamb! Without another word, she fled the hall in tears, followed by the nurse who was openly weeping. Mylo, who was still on the other side of Bric, watched his wife go. He sighed heavily.
“I should go to her,” he said. It was obviously something he was very reluctant to do. When Eiselle turned to look at him, he smiled weakly. “I do apologize that he pinched you. Eddie is a very bright lad, but you are correct – he terrorizes everyone, and Angela will not lift a hand to him. I fear that someday, he will be in for terrible things from men who will not tolerate that behavior.”
Eiselle didn’t feel any remorse for what she did, but she wasn’t defensive about it, either. “I am sorry to have upset Angela,” she said, and it was the truth.
But Mylo waved her off. “The shame is mine, Lady MacRohan,” he said as he moved away from the table. Then, he glanced at Bric. “You are a fortunate man, Bric. You have a lady with a good head on her shoulders. I envy you.”
As he moved away from the table, Eiselle turned to Bric. In fact, he was the only opinion she cared about. When their eyes met, she smiled timidly.
“You told me that as long as I am always honest with you, I shall exceed your expectations,” she said. “I hope that is still true. I am honest and I am forthright, and I will not allow a child to maliciously pinch me.”
Bric had been fighting off a grin since the incident occurred. But now, he let that smile break through.
“He deserved it,” he said. “Better coming from you than from me. If I pinched him, I’d probably twist his skin off.”
Eiselle laughed softly because he’d said it so humorously. “I swear that I do not make it a habit of hurting children, but that child is a terror.”
“More than you know.”
Across the table, Daveigh lifted his cup to the newlyweds. “Then a toast,” he said. “May your children be far better behaved than Edward de Chevington. And if they are not, may they be able to run faster than their parents when it comes time to discipline them.”
He laughed at his toast as he drank deeply, fairly drunk as his wife shook her head at him. “He does not mean it,” she said. “He has wanted to swat Eddie himself, especially when the child runs into his solar and grabs for his quills. He has set the dogs on the boy more than once, although he will not admit it.”
Daveigh made a face at her, clearly in dispute, as Keeva grinned at the man. There was a good deal of affection in that expression, and between the two of them. Here, in a relaxed situation, that was easy to see. But soon enough, Keeva returned her focus to Bric.
“You have spent long enough at this feast,” she said. “Take your wife and retire for the night. We will see you on the morrow.”
Bric didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been waiting for quite some time to retire with Eiselle, but she hadn’t seemed too eager to leave, so he didn’t press her. But he would take Keeva’s direction and it would give him the excuse he needed to take his new wife to his chamber where it would just be the two of them. No more kicking Edward, no more drunken Daveigh, and no more soldiers gambling and cursing.
Just him and Eiselle.
He was ready.
“Come, Lady MacRohan,” he said as he stood up, politely taking her by the elbow to help her stand. “We have been given permission to leave this frothy gathering, so let us depart.”
Eiselle allowed him to help her to her feet, leaning on his arm so she could gather the skirt of her dress so it wouldn’t drag in the dirt and the old rushes of the hall.
“Do you have everything well in-hand, Bric?” Pearce asked. He was the only one left sitting near Bric and Eiselle’s empty chairs as his wife sat next to Keeva across the table. “We could accompany you to your chamber, of course. I have been married for over a year. You may need my advice on things.”
Bric snorted rudely. “The day I need your advice, de Dere, is the day I lose my mind completely,” he said. “For what I am about to do, I do not need an audience.”
Eiselle heard his words and her cheeks flushed a violent shade of red. She knew what he meant; she knew that everyone looking at her now knew that Bric was about to take her maidenhood and indoctrinate her into the new world of a married life. Fundamentally, she’d known that all along, but now that the moment was upon them, she found she was rather nervous about it.
Now, she was truly to become Lady MacRohan.
As Bric took her through the hall in order to reach his chamber next to the entry, Eiselle could hear Bric’s men shouting words of encouragement to him. Bawdy encouragement, in fact. Eiselle kept her head down, holding on to her husband’s elbow, praying that the men in the room didn’t see how embarrassed she was about all of the attention on them. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected it. She had hoped that everything would have been nice and quiet and private, but that wasn’t to be.
It was becoming a public spectacle for all to see.
By the time they reached Bric’s chamber door, the entire hall was up, shouting encouragement to Bric, who acknowledged them with a simple lift of his hand. Eiselle was fighting down her nerves, but what she didn’t realize was that a gang of drunken revelers had crept up behind them. By the time Bric opened the chamber door, the men flooded in, filling the chamber with their loud shouts and lewd laughter.
Somehow in the process, Eiselle was separated from Bric, finding herself over near the bed as two of the men tried to lift her up and put her on the mattress. Frightened, she lashed out at them, slapping one rather violently across the face.
“Do not touch me!” she screamed. “Put me down!”
The men weren’t trying to hurt her, but they were so drunk and happy that they didn’t pay much attention to the fact that she was genuinely terrified. Then, as it was a custom for men and women to tear a piece of the bride’s dress for good luck, they began pulling at her sleeve and at her skirt, trying to tear free a piece of fabric or fur. Eiselle slapped their hands away as fast as she could.
Bric, over near the doorway, saw that Eiselle was struggling with a few of his men as they pawed at her lovely gown. He knew his men didn’t mean any harm, but he didn’t want them here and he certainly didn’t want them upsetting Eiselle. Tossing men aside, he charged through the crowd to Eiselle, putting himself between her and the men who were tearing at her dress.
“Out,” he growled, pointing to the door. “Everyone out.”
Orders from Bric MacRohan weren’t meant to be disobeyed, and the men began to funnel out, quickly in some cases. Bric left Eiselle in the corner of the chamber and followed the group out, shoving at them until they were clear of the room. Slamming the door behind him, he threw the bolt.
But it didn’t stop the men from pounding on the door, demanding bloodied bedsheets and proof of the bride’s virginity. The shouts were loud and the banging on the door even louder. Apologetically, Bric turned to Eiselle, still standing back in the corner, only to see that she was wiping at her face.
She was weeping.
His heart sank.
“I am sorry,” he said as he quickly went to her. “They did not mean to upset you.”
Eiselle was trying very hard not to sob, but the entire event had her shaken. “They… they tried to tear my dress,” she said, her throat tight. “This is such a beautiful dress. It belonged to Lady de Winter’s sister. She died young and Lady de Winter gave it to me. And they tried to tear it.”
Bric was starting to feel just as bad as he possibly could. With a heavy sigh, he put his hand on her arm, pulling her gently towards the bed.
“I am sorry, Eiselle, truly,” he murmured. “They did not know that. And I know my men; they were not trying to be cruel. They simply did not… think.”
She sobbed softly, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, as he set her carefully on the bed. But she nodded her head, as if to accept his apology, and he took a knee beside her, feeling greatly saddened that she’d been so upset by his thoughtless, careless men. He touched the hem of her gown.
“It does not look damaged at all,” he said, his voice soft and low. “It does not look like they tore the gown, but I shall give it to Lady de Winter and she can look it over herself. If there is any damage, she will fix it, I promise. You needn’t be upset.”
Eiselle was still wiping at her eyes as she looked at him, noticing that his big face was close to hers. She found herself looking into his eyes, such an unusual and pale color. He had a strong jaw, a striking face, one that she found so very handsome.
There wasn’t anything about Bric MacRohan that she found unattractive, in any way, and the fact that he was trying to ease her fear and comfort her made him that much more attractive to her. Only a man of great feeling would be able to show such compassion to a woman’s silly fears. Given his reputation as a fearless and deadly warrior, she found that aspect of him rather astonishing.
It was a side of him she’d never seen before.
“If you say they did not mean harm, then I believe you,” she said, swallowing the last of her tears. “It is just that this dress means a good deal to Lady de Winter. I would be heartbroken if something happened to it.”
Bric was smiling at her, pleased to see that her tears were short-lived. “It is an old custom, you know,” he said. “A piece of the bride’s dress brings good fortune. They were simply seeking good fortune and you cannot blame them for that.”
She shook her head. “Nay, I cannot, but they can tear another dress,” she said, a smile flickering over her lips. “Just not this one.”
He nodded, reaching out to touch her cheek as he stood up. But in that gesture, he realized it was the first time he’d really made the attempt to touch her. It had been so instinctive that the awareness shocked him. Not only was he attracted to her, but it was manifesting itself in gestures he never knew he was capable of – he’d never touched a woman affectionately in his life, at least not with true warmth behind the gesture. Yet, with Eiselle, it had been innate.
As if he’d been doing it all of his life.
It would have been easy to lose himself in that moment, but the banging on the door was distracting him. He realized that he very much wanted to explore his new wife, and he was very curious about his feelings for her, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of that with all of the noise going on.
And, God help him, consummating the marriage with all of that upheaval going on was going to be hellish. He’d never bedded a woman he was deeply attracted to and, for the first time in his life, he wanted to figure out what, exactly, he was feeling. Most of all, they needed privacy.
“It was a mistake to come here,” he finally said.
Eiselle stood up from the bed, concerned. “Why do you say that?” she said, looking at the bed itself. “Whose chamber is this?”
“Mine,” he said. “But, as you can hear, we shall have no peace if we remain here. I did not think on that until now. We would do better up in your chamber. Shall we make a run for it?”
Eiselle could see the glitter of humor in his eye and she grinned. “Will you keep them away from my dress?”
He laughed softly. “My lady, I will beat them off, I swear it. How fast can you run?”
“Faster than you can.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “A boast, I see,” he said, as if both pleased and skeptical. “We shall soon find out if it is true.”
Taking her by the arm, he pulled her over to the door. She was in much better spirits now, and so was he. A quiet chamber awaited them; they simply had to get to it.
“I will open the door and push men out of the way,” he said. “Tuck in behind me and when the crowd clears, run for your chamber.”
“And you will follow?”
A smile spread across his full lips. “My lady,” he said softly, “I will follow you anywhere.”
The giddy feeling in Eiselle’s chest told her that she believed him, implicitly. He had hold of her as he put his hand on the door.
“Ready?” he asked her.
She nodded firmly. “Ready.”
With a wink, he put himself in front of her as he unbolted the door and threw it open. Just as he’d said, a great cheer rose up and he charged out with Eiselle behind him, holding on to his waist. She had her head down, feeling the concussions against his body as he slammed into men, trying to clear a path. Finally, he stepped aside and thrust her forward.
“Go,” he commanded quickly. “Run for the stairs!”
Eiselle did. With a yelp, perhaps one of fear and excitement, she began to run, pushing through men who were caught off guard by her swift move. One or two of them reached out, trying to grab her, but she slapped their hands away. Suddenly, she was free of the crowd as she raced for the spiral stairs that led to the upper floor, and she didn’t stop or look behind her until she reached her borrowed chamber. Only then did she dare to look back as she rushed through the door and bolted it.
Giggling, and breathing heavily with exertion, she stood by the door nervously, waiting for Bric to come. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. He was soon pounding on the door and she opened it, admitting him, before slamming it behind him and throwing the big iron bolt. When he finally came to a halt after the mad dash to the chamber, they looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“A maneuver well-executed, Lady MacRohan,” he said. “You are, indeed, quite fast.”
Eiselle giggled, still winded from the excitement. “It was fear that brought about my speed,” she said. “I did not want to chance having my dress ripped from me by fortune-seekers.”
He was still laughing, still smiling, and it took him a moment to realize he probably hadn’t laughed or smiled that much in a very long time. In his profession, that wasn’t a common occurrence. But with Eiselle, it was becoming the norm. Something about her made him feel light of heart. In fact, the entire day left him feeling light of heart.
Happy.
Of everything he thought his wedding would be, happy was not among them.
“Your dress is intact, my lady,” he said. “And I did not have the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you look in it. When I saw you come into the hall for the ceremony, you took my breath away.”
She smiled modestly. “Thank you,” she said. “May… may I tell you something?”
“Please do.”
“I realize that we do not know each other very well, but it seems odd for you to address me so formally. You have my permission to call me Eiselle, should you wish to.”
His expression softened, as if he was genuinely touched by her words. “I should like to, very much,” he said. “I think I shall call you Lady MacRohan, too, from time to time, because I like the way it sounds. It tells every man that you belong to me, and certainly that is something I never thought I would say, but I am proud of it.”
Given their earlier conversations, Eiselle knew that was probably a difficult admission for him. “I hope that I shall always honor you, my lord,” he said. “I shall always endeavor to try.”
He held up a finger. “If I am to call you Eiselle, then you must call me Bric,” he said. “I do not require such formality from my own wife.”
She laughed softly. “Bric,” she repeated. “It is a very nice name.”
“It does not mean what you think it means; that is to say, it does not mean that I am a brick to be stacked with mortar. In Gaelic, it means a bridge, something strong and enduring, for all men to admire.”
Her smile remained. “I like that a great deal,” she said. “It is a very nice name. Are you an only son, then?”
He shook his head. “Nay. I have two brothers, Brendan and Ryan.”
“Are they knights, too?”
“They fight and live in Ireland.”
She cocked her head in thought. “Do you miss Ireland, Bric?”
He liked hearing her use his name. It was the first time she’d ever used it, and he found it very pleasant to hear it in her sweet voice. Turning to the hearth where the fire was dying, he knelt down and picked up more wood from the box.
“I used to,” he admitted. “You already know that Keeva is my cousin. When she married de Winter, I came as part of her dowry. Daveigh gained Irish lands through Keeva, so I was the exchange – I was to come to England with her and swear fealty to de Winter, thereby swearing fealty to him on behalf of all of his Irish lands. I really had no choice in the matter.”
It was true that Eiselle knew he was Keeva’s cousin, but she hadn’t known the circumstances of his service in England. She watched him as he put more wood on the fire and stoked it.
“But why you?” she asked. “Why not one of your brothers?”
“Because I was the greatest.”
Eiselle couldn’t argue with that. “Then I am glad it was you,” she said. “Otherwise, I would have never found a husband.”
He looked at her as if she were mad, but then he ended up breaking down into soft snorts of laughter. “I suspect that is not true,” he said. “You would have found one, eventually, but I am glad the one you did find was me, thanks to your cousin. Instead of wringing his neck the next time I see him, I do believe I shall thank him.”
Eiselle smiled at him and, for a moment, they simply looked at each other, drinking in the sight of one another and absorbing the situation. They were married now and on this night, certain things were expected of them. Eiselle knew that. Averting her gaze, she moved over to the neat stacks of trunks against the wall and opened up one of the smaller cases. She pulled forth something, something Bric couldn’t really see until she came close and held it out to him.
It was a sash of some kind, made from dark brown wool and embroidered from end to end with very beautiful patterns that looked like shields. As he peered at it, she spoke.
“I made this for you,” she said. “It is a belt for your tunic. I did not know what to give to you on the event of our wedding, so I made this. If you do not like it, I can make you something else. But I wanted to give you a gift and this was all I could think to do.”
Bric stared at it. Then, he reached out and took it from her hands, inspecting the detailed quality of it. After a moment, he simply shook his head, awed.
“It is astonishing,” he said in a tone she’d never heard before. “I have never had anyone make anything for me, at least not like this. Thank you, Eiselle. It is beautiful.”
“Then you like it?”
“I have never had a finer gift,” he said. “I shall carry it with me, always. But that brings me to a very embarrassing admission.”
“What?”
He looked at her as if afraid to tell her. “I did not get you anything,” he said. “I have not had the time and… nay, that is not entirely true. I told you I was resistant to this marriage and the thought of giving you a gift on our wedding day… I could not bring myself to do it. It was going to be my statement to you of how unhappy I was with this arrangement. Now, I am deeply ashamed that I was so cruel about it. I pray you are not too angry with me.”
Smiling faintly, Eiselle shook her head. “We have a pact, you and I,” she said. “All we ask is honesty between one another. You have been honest with me about your feelings and I cannot become angry with you about it. But… but I do hope you shall change your mind. I will do all I can to ensure that you do.”
Bric was feeling terrible about the fact that he had no gift for her. He was feeling about as cruel and nasty as he possibly could, so very cruel to this beautiful and delicate creature who only wanted to please him.
“You have changed my mind,” he said quietly. “I told you I was no longer resistant to our marriage, and I meant it. I will make you this promise – I will purchase a gift for you, something wonderful and lovely and deserving of you. It will be the best gift you have ever received.”
She smiled bashfully. “That is not necessary,” she said. “I did not give you the gift so that you would have to reciprocate. I gave it to you because I wanted to.”
“You gave it to a man who did not deserve it.”
She looked at him, seeing that he was being very hard on himself. A thought occurred to her.
“There is something you can give me,” she said.
“Tell me what it is and I shall get it for you, no matter what the cost.”
She shook her head. “It costs nothing and you can give it to me right now.”
His brow furrowed. “What is this mysterious thing?”
Eiselle felt rather bold with what she was about to say, but something in her wanted very much to say it. He was her husband, after all. Perhaps he wouldn’t think she was being too bold.
“Since we’ve met, all has been quite formal between us, as it should be,” she said. “Now, we are expected to… to know each other as a husband would know a wife. We’ve really not even had a chance to know each other more than just a day, and in that time, as I said, all has been quite formal. If you should like to give me a gift, then mayhap… mayhap you can give me a kiss, as a husband would kiss his new wife. It costs nothing and it would mean a great deal.”
Bric couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. It was, perhaps, one of the better suggestions he’d heard and without a word, he went to her. But he didn’t touch her right away. He just stood there, his body up against hers, gazing down into that perfectly angelic face. He’d kissed women before, but never a woman he’d been attracted to. He was ashamed to admit that any physical interaction with women had been with the kind one usually paid when the physicality was finished.
As a man, he had needs, and it was safer to pay for those needs to be taken care of. He’d never wanted any kind of an attachment, and women who accepted money for their services were his preference. No attachment, no emotion. That was how Bric MacRohan had always lived his life when it came to women.
Until now.
Now, he couldn’t resist this beautiful woman in front of him, a woman who was now his wife. She belonged to him and he could do anything he wanted to her, and she would forever and always belong only to him. Aye, he was going to kiss her, just as she’d asked.
But he was going to do more than that, too.
Putting his arms around her, Bric pulled Eiselle against his hard chest, acquainting himself with the feel of her. She was soft and warm. Dipping his head down, he kissed her forehead, and her cheek. The fragrances of roses met his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. But that sweet scent was to be his undoing; it was lush and alluring. His embrace tightened and he buried his face against Eiselle’s fragrant neck.
Eiselle gripped Bric’s shoulders as his mouth moved down her neck, roving over the soft flesh. She was somewhat in shock at his bold actions. Certainly, she’d asked for a kiss, but this wasn’t what she had expected. She had been moderately nervous for his kiss, praying her stomach would behave, but that nervousness had vanished. In fact, her momentary shock at his bold action evaporated as her heart began to pound so forcefully that she was positive it was about to burst from her chest.
Bric’s tongue, hot and lusty, lapped at the flesh of her shoulder as his fingers pulled aside that beautiful dress. Eiselle could feel his hot breath on her skin, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t even know such a sensation existed.
She could hardly breathe.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sending sparks up the chimney as Bric abruptly swept Eiselle into his arms and deposited her upon her bed. He gently kissed her face, moving to her chin and neck as his fingers went to work on the ties of her gown. Unfortunately, the ties were tight, and didn’t come away easily. Bric had to work at it. He managed to get the ones on the left side undone, rolling her onto her left side so he could kiss the exposed flesh. Eiselle groaned softly with awakening pleasure, realizing that she liked this very much. The man’s touch lit a fire in her, and she wanted more.
Rolling her onto her back once more, Bric removed the gown slowly, running his tongue over every delectable portion of exposed flesh. Eiselle stared up at the ceiling as the surcoat came off her shoulders, her arms, baring her breasts against the weak light of the chamber. She should have been embarrassed at her nudity, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t embarrassed in the least, not even when he pulled the surcoat over her hips and slid it the length of her legs.
Is this what it means to have a husband? Eiselle thought as she wallowed in the boneless, lethargic state of her mounting desire. If this was what being married meant, then she was willing to embrace it completely. If Bric could make her feel like this, with her heart racing and her breathing coming in unsteady gasps, then she would happily let the man do whatever he wanted to her, forever and ever.
She was more than willing to let him claim her.
As Eiselle found herself consumed by her first sexual encounter, Bric was having a difficult time pacing himself. Every touch, every kiss, had him wanting to ram his body into hers until he was satisfied. But he couldn’t do that. He wanted to go slowly with Eiselle because, for the first time in his life, he was building something with a woman and the only way he could think to do that was to be slow and gentle with her. So far, it was working. But the sight of her nude breasts by the firelight very nearly undid him.
He’d never seen anything so arousing in his entire life.
But he didn’t touch her there, at least not yet. He was still trying to acquaint her with his touch and he, in turn, was taking great delight in exploring her body. His hands were on her shoulders, her arms, feeling her silken skin. In fact, he thought he was doing quite well with pacing himself when Eiselle suddenly reached up, took his hands, and put them against her breasts.
“Here, Bric,” she whispered breathlessly. “Touch me here.”
Bric’s control deserted him in an instant. He growled seductively as he descended upon her luscious body. Their lips came together in a cataclysmic clash, his mouth slanting over hers, suckling her lips furiously. Eiselle’s cries of passion were muted against his mouth until he moved away from her lips and feasted hungrily at her breasts. As Eiselle writhed beneath him, Bric moved to touch the unfurling flower between her legs.
Eiselle cried out with surprise when his fingers touched the thick outer lips, matted with a fine fluff of black hair. Bric maintained his hold on her nipple as he gently fondled her to allow her to become accustomed to his touch. Eiselle gradually relaxed as she became accustomed to his fingers, and only when her body eased beneath his touch did he attempt to part her lush petals.
She was as slick with moisture, unbelievably hot. Bric stroked the tender folds, his entire body shaking with the force of his need. He’d never known desire like this and he could no longer hold back. It was time to make her his in every sense of the word.
The wife he never wanted.
Bric finally slipped a finger into her sheath, so incredibly tight that he very nearly soiled himself with the pleasure of it. Eiselle’s pants of shock quickly turned into cries of pleasure, and Bric could feel her tight passage contracting about his slick finger, pulling at him and demanding him.
He could wait no longer.
Rising to his knees, he ripped off his tunic so aggressively that he tore a sleeve. One boot hit the floor and the other went sailing into the wall. His breeches came off so quickly that he nearly ended up on the floor in his haste to remove them.
All the while, Eiselle watched with wonder as Bric disrobed, finally standing before her, nude and proud and magnificent. His broad shoulders sheltered an exquisitely muscled chest, covered with a matting of graying hair. His flat stomach and narrow waist caught her attention and she was awed by the sight of him. It was the first time she’d ever seen a nude man, and she found it most enthralling. Her gaze came to rest on his enormous arousal, knowing that his hardness was meant for her. Soon enough, it would be buried in her body.
Bric didn’t give her time to look at him further, fearful that she might show some apprehension in what they were about to do. So far, she’d been responsive and heated, and he wanted to continue that trend. Climbing into the bed beside her, his big body covered hers, their flesh touching. He could hear himself groaning at the pure delight of it, warm skin against warm skin.
Wedging himself between her legs, he rubbed his manhood against her private core, stroking the outer lips as he had done with his fingers. She was glistening with wet heat, spilling down onto the linens, and he bathed himself in her virginal juices.
Bric wrestled against the natural instinct to ram into her like a rutting bull. He worked carefully, gaining headway bit by bit, feeling her tightness draw him inward. She was so slick that it would have been easy to simply thrust into her, but he refrained. Better to allow her to become accustom to his intrusion before the sting of losing her innocence cast a measure of reality upon their union.
Beneath him, Eiselle was amazingly calm, gripping his muscular arms for support as he forged into virgin territory. Beneath her hands, she could feel his body quivering, straining to maintain control in the face of his desire. She, too, was quivering with anticipation, at pain she knew would soon come.
The moment of possession.
When it happened, it came in a flash. Falling atop her, Bric grasped her breast and descended upon a peaked nipple. Suckling furiously, Eiselle forgot her fears and responded to him in a way she never knew her body was capable of. Her cheeks began to flush with desire as her fingers wound themselves in his thick, blond hair, and Bric knew the time was upon him to act. With Eiselle properly distracted, it was time to take her. Coiling his buttocks, Bric thrust into her harder than he ever thought possible, driving himself the full long length of his throbbing manhood.
Eiselle gasped loudly with surprise at the savage action, a sting of pain rippling through her loins. Bric was seated to the hilt in less than a second and the pain, coupled with his closeness, brought tears to her eyes as she clutched his shoulders with white-knuckled intensity. His swift movement had startled her, and she couldn’t help the soft sobs that escaped her lips.
Fully sheathed within her delicious tightness, Bric struggled to remain still as Eiselle writhed beneath him. When he heard the faint sobs, he raised his head from her swollen nipple.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered huskily. “I would not have hurt you had there been another way.”
Eiselle wiped at her eyes. “It’s not… ’tis not the pain, but… but the closeness. I never knew it could be like this.”
Bric didn’t, either. Wrapping his arms around her, he began to move gently within her. Slowly at first, relishing the feel of his erection embedded within her unbelievably slick folds. She clutched him tightly, wrapping her legs about his hips and clinging to him with an instinctive need.
Bric’s pace increased, quickening his thrusts as he was blinded to all else but the feel of her flesh around him. It was the most satisfying thing he had ever experienced. Against him, Eiselle’s resumed pants of passion told him that she was beginning to experience the same pleasure that had so easily engulfed him. Now, they were experiencing it together as it was meant to be.
But it was a pleasure that was building to a peak faster than he ever thought possible. In fact, nothing on earth could have prepared Bric for his lightning-quick climax. With a roar, he spilled deep into her womb, feeling every last twitch of his spent desire with the greatest of pleasure. But he continued to move within her, wanting her to experience the same burst of pleasure that would erase the sting of losing her innocence.
He shifted his weight, gazing down at her flushed face as he continued to thrust. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and he found his gaze drawn to her beautiful breasts as they bounced against every thrust he delivered. One hand trailed down her neck, encircling a breast before moving toward the junction where their bodies were joined in passion. That was where the magic of her pleasure pulsed, begging for release.
Seeking her hard nub, he manipulated it fiercely, watching Eiselle’s eyes fly open with surprise. In the next moment, she exhaled a loud shriek that echoed against the very walls of the chamber and her entire body bucked and spasmed as she experienced her first release. Over and over the ripples of pleasure rolled over her, and Bric held on to her for fear that she would buck right off the bed. He could feel her entire body quivering and he knew her pleasure had been as good as his, or perhaps even more than that.
The pleasure of a woman, knowing her husband for the very first time.
Enfolded in the warmth of his massive embrace, Eiselle was in a stupor. Her body was limp, her mind a void of satisfaction as she felt the remains of Bric’s arousal twitching within her tender folds. It was the most remarkable, private sensation she had ever experienced, and she would have been perfectly content to remain as they were for the rest of eternity.
No words were spoken. After that, no words were necessary. Sleep borne of a deep satisfaction came quickly and when they slept, wrapped up in each other’s arms, it was as if they had been doing it since the beginning of time.