WEDDING AND FESTIVITIES
Bernadette stood on the steps of the chapel. She looked to her left, where Fraser, Count of Remy, stood beside her. He was dressed in a dark blue tunic and brown trews, the cloak that hung down his back a rich, deep blue. His hair was glossed with brushing and he looked, frankly, stunning.
My husband.
She still couldn't quite believe that was true. He was here with her and he was her husband. They were man and wife.
The servants and village-folk were vociferous in their praise of them. Bernadette felt touched by the shouts of congratulation and joy when they appeared on the steps together. She winced, grinning, as they started to throw nuts and petals at them. After all, they were meant to promote fertile marriages, but she had little desire to be hit on the head with a chestnut, so she gathered her skirts in one hand and, with Fraser holding her other, they ran, laughing, through the hail of chestnuts and to the waiting carriage.
They collapsed, laughing and breathless, into it. They would take a short ride to the house and there sit down to a banquet with their guests.
Then we will both go upstairs.
Bernadette had declined the idea of a bedding ceremony – she knew that, as the count, Fraser could require one. It was traditional for at least two attendants to be upstairs in their chamber with them, to ensure that the son she bore was the count's own issue. However, neither of them wished it.
She sat down at the table opposite Claudine, who sat with Francis and sipped cordial, her sweet smile twinkling when she looked at Bernadette.
Bernadette smiled back silently.
“Auntie?” Nicolene asked.
“Mm?” She smiled at the young girl.
“You look pretty. Can I have a pretty dress like that?”
Bernadette smiled at her, surprised at the lengthy statement. “One day, dearest.”
She looked down at her dress. It was a simple one of blue linen so fine that it felt silk-soft to the touch. It was decorated with embroidery and the veil was gauze so airy she felt as if it barely existed. The dress had a tight bodice and a “v” shaped waist. The skirt was wide and flowing and made a long train behind her.
“You look beautiful,” Fraser seconded. He reached out and stroked her hair, which was loose, as befitted a young bride, but in which she had woven two plaits and a crown of orange-blossom.
“Thank you, Fraser. You do too.”
He laughed. “I'm not sure I do you justice, my dearest. In any case, I will be glad to get out of these heavy robes,” he added, indicating the velvet tunic he wore beneath the heavy cloak.
The words made Bernadette blush.
He caught the expression and grinned. She drew a breath.
When would the meal end?
It was dark outside by the time the guests had finally taken their fill of the fruit loaf and marzipan that were the traditional desserts for the wedding. Bernadette looked around. Claudine looked sleepy. Nicolene had been taken upstairs by the maidservant a few hours before. Francis was leaning back, his hands laced over his belly. He looked content. She glanced at Fraser.
He whispered. “Shall we..?”
She nodded.
They both stood.
“Lords and ladies! Friends!” Fraser said in a loud voice, guaranteed to get the attention of anyone, even those who had imbibed overmuch of good wine. “I thank you for your attendance. Now, I think we are all weary. I invite you all to go to your chambers and rest.”
The guests all cheered, banging on the table, shouting congratulations.
Bernadette felt her cheeks burn as she realized what they were thinking – they knew the newlyweds wished to go upstairs to have time for themselves. But what mattered it? It was their wedding night, after all. That was their prerogative.
The hall emptied slowly. Then they were the only guests. Bernadette looked into his eyes.
Fraser smiled. His eyes glowed with the stirrings of longing she was feeling. He leaned in closer. “Shall we?” he asked again.
“Yes.”
His lips stroked hers. She closed her eyes. She felt his tongue part them gently and sighed as he took a taste. He pushed in further and she let him, her lips parting willingly as he probed the warmth of her mouth.
When he leaned back, he sighed aloud. He stood and she copied him. His arms wrapped her and crushed her to him and the kiss he planted on her lips was heavy and passionate. He tasted like marzipan – sweet and rich – and Bernadette liked the taste on him. She let him kiss her and wrapped her own arms close around him.
Together, arm in arm, they headed out of the solar and down to their chamber.
Bernadette paused at the threshold and he smiled, and then gently lifted her in his arms. They both shivered. She leaned against him, her body pressed tight to his, feet no longer touching ground. He kissed her and swung her lightly into the room.
“For good luck,” he said.
She laughed.
They kissed again, hungrily. Bernadette shivered. She knew very little of these matters, for all that she had been Claudine's maidservant for years before this time and the lady had relied on her for knowledge of these things. She had no idea about what happened between a man and woman, beyond the strange, disjointed parcels of information she'd garnered in the kitchens, in conversations barely overheard.
I don't know why I feel this excited.
She was shivering. She put a hand on his chest and could feel a tremor in his body too.
“I want you,” Fraser whispered.
She felt the desire crash through her like a wave as he pushed her back onto the bed. His hands slid down her shoulders and she sighed as he leaned against her, his hard, muscled body pushing her down beneath him. His body was pressing on hers even as his hands worked fitfully and quickly to undo her clothing.
She gasped as he drew the dress down her body, surprised at how quickly he had managed to tear it away. She felt the cooler air of the room on her skin and felt a little shy as he pressed her back and sat up, staring at her.
Dressed in her petticoat and stockings, she felt his eyes devour her. His gaze moved from the low neck of the petticoat, where her bosom glistened in the firelight, to her toes. She shivered. She expected to feel discomforted by that gaze, but instead it excited her.
He sighed, and then he was upon her again. This time he went slowly, undoing the button at the neck of her petticoat and sliding it down inch by inch, as if teasing himself. Bernadette felt her stomach clench with excitement, his delay of pleasure teasing her as much as himself. His hands stroked her arms and over the place where the gown concealed her belly, questing lower. When he stroked the parting of her thighs, she cried out.
He smiled and drew the dress sharply down. He let out a ragged exhale in wonderment. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed.
She felt her face blush red. “Oh, Fraser.”
“No, you are,” he insisted. “Really and truly.”
Bernadette felt slow warmth spread through her body, from her belly to her toes, as he stared at her.
When he leaned forward and touched her breast, pinching the nipple gently, she felt liquid fire race through her limbs. When he bent down and sampled it with his lips, she thought she would actually die of pleasure. His mouth clung to it and she moaned with longing as he teased the other with his fingers while sucking.
She was slowly drowning in longing when he finished and, shifting, went to kneel between her thighs.
Fraser stared down at Bernadette. She was everything he had imagined, and more. With her full bosom, narrow waist and molded hips, that gentle rounding of her thighs and the sweet paleness of her skin, she was so beautiful. He felt his loins stir and bit his lip to control his urges.
He wanted this to be perfect for her.
With trembling hands, he gently parted her thighs. She obediently allowed them to move apart and he felt his loins tug painfully.
He knelt between them and looked into her trusting gaze. “Yes?” he whispered.
She looked at him, eyes wide, just the faintest apprehension on her face. She nodded. “Yes.”
Fraser closed his eyes. He would give anything not to hurt her! He gently slid himself into her.
She cried out, her teeth clamped on her plump lip, and Fraser winced as his loins flooded with sensation. It was hard not to fill her completely, but he wished to go slow, not to hurt her.
She grimaced as he pushed right in, and he guessed the worst was over when the expression on her face changed to one of sweet pleasure. He smiled. Now he could relax.
He pulled out and plunged in, pulled out and plunged in. She felt heavenly and he could barely control himself, barely ride the crests of longing that were crashing through him and into him and within him.
She cried out, sobbing in pleasure, beneath him. He cried out too, a second later.
His body moved in hers and he collapsed on her chest, breathing heavily. He held her close, breathing in the sweet scent of her. He could barely believe he was here, resting on her chest, his arms around her. When her arms enfolded him, he knew his heart would break. This was the woman he would love his whole life.