A WEDDING AT BUCCLEIGH CASTLE
The fire burned low in the grate. The flames rose and fell, sending orange-gold light flickering about the bedchamber. Marguerite rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. Beside her, Sean smiled.
“My lady,” he whispered quietly.
They were alone in the chamber together. Though it broke with the traditions of the time, they had both insisted on it. It was their wedding night.
“My lady,” Sean whispered again.
He still could not quite believe it. Beside him, Marguerite stirred in the bed.
“Sean,” she whispered.
Her big brown eyes were wide and there was, just at their edges, a hint of apprehension. There was also trust.
Sean felt himself shivering. He was hopelessly aroused, his whole body aching. He stared at her, the way her cheeks were pink-touched in the flame-light, the way her chest rose and fell. He wanted to take her.
Slowly, Sean. She's afeared. Go slow.
He breathed out, raggedly.
“Marguerite,” he whispered. He stroked her hair gently. He smiled down at her. She smiled up at him and shifted so she lay against him, nestled close to his chest.
He leaned down and gently laid his lips against hers. She sighed and her lips parted sweetly. He felt his tongue slide in. His loins twinged and ached.
He probed her mouth and she nestled closer, her full breasts pressing against him. He sighed and his arms tightened around her, drawing her close. He loved the way it felt to hold her in his arms, to feel the warm fullness of her mold against him. He breathed in the scent of her skin and buried his face in her hair.
“Marguerite,” he sighed. He still couldn't believe it. She was here beside him. He let his eyes drink their fill of her beautiful face, her glowing hair, and rest on the sweet full cleavage at the neck of the bridal gown. His loins throbbed.
He reached down and very gently laid his hand there. He felt the soft warm rounds of her breasts and wanted to groan with the pain as his whole body ached. He breathed in raggedly.
“Marguerite,” he whispered again. He said her name over and over and then covered her face with kisses, small, slow ones, relishing the softness of her skin as he moved down her neck to her chest.
He sighed as his lips touched the soft velvet of her skin. He breathed in her fragrance and kissed her there, feeling his whole body ache for her. He moved lower. Then he sat up and looked down into her eyes.
She looked up at him. His hand stroked her breast and he gently moved it up to trace the top of her cleavage. He frowned. She nodded.
“Yes.”
He reached down and then carefully worked at the laces of her gown. First the bow, then the knot, fell apart in his hands. Then, carefully, he worked it apart, separating the two sides and working them down, inch by slow inch, down her breasts.
He slid the dress down, teasing himself as it uncovered her. He felt like a child being given a gift wrapped in a cloth, that he must reveal inch by slow inch, delaying the wonder of it as a kind of sweet torment of himself.
He stared at her.
The dress dropped to the floor. Underneath it, she wore a soft linen shift that molded to the curves of her body. The neck was low and her breasts, free of the gown, were soft and shapely. He reached up and kissed them through the fabric, feeling her nipples tense.
She gasped and the gasp fired his blood. He could feel the warm tautness of them under the fabric and suddenly he sat up and stripped it from her body, moaning with his own desire. She moaned too and twisted beneath him, helping him to strip off the clothing. Then, to his astonishment, she was naked beneath him. He stared.
Her body was sweetly curved, the firelight playing on her full breasts, her pale belly, and her softly shaped thighs. He drank in the curve of her waist, the sweet round of her buttocks, the place where her soft thighs met. In a world of harsh angles and cruel rocks, she was a soft, fragrant, sweet place of rest.
He sighed and crawled up the bed toward her. She opened her eyes, cheeks flushed sweetly pink. Her lips moved apart in a slight moue and he felt his loins ache. He leaned forward and let his tongue push gently between. She sighed and he felt that sigh fire his blood.
He rolled off her and looked down into those dark brown eyes. She was smiling at him, her mouth lifted in a sweet, naughty grin. He shivered.
“You trust me, lass?” he whispered.
She smiled, a happy smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”
He swallowed. “I trust you too, lass,” he said seriously. “You saved my life.”
She giggled. Then she frowned. “We saved each other.”
“Aye, we did, that.” He nodded. “We did.”
Then she shifted slightly on the bed and reached for him and he lost all restraint. He stood and stripped off his tunic and his trews and joined her, naked, on the bed.
* * *
Marguerite let her sight linger on the warm, firm body before her on the bed. She stared at the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, and the chest with its taut muscles. She smiled.
“I never knew men were beautiful too,” she whispered.
He laughed, and blushed. “You think me beautiful, lass?”
She felt a blush creep up into her face. “Yes.”
He sighed. “You are the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”
She felt his words run through her body like a sweet flame, melting her inside. She shifted on the bed and he stared at her, his eyes warm, lingering on her curves.
He smiled again, slowly. “You trust me?” he asked again.
She nodded shyly. Thoughts of what men and women did went slowly through her mind. She had only a sketchy idea, gleaned mainly from her maidservants and, lately, from Rubina. She herself was laughingly vague on the advice; save to tell her that it was a wonderful experience.
“You'll soon never want to let him out of your sight,” she’d said.
Marguerite blushed. Was that true?
He reached over and gently cupped her breast in his hand. His fingers stroked her nipple. She sighed and gasped as they elicited a raw tingling sensation that raced up the nerves and through her body, making her belly tighten with excitement.
He leaned in and took her breast in his mouth. His lips clamped on her nipple as his hands, teasing and tender, played with her other breast. She sighed and groaned as her whole body shivered. When he swapped round, she gasped aloud.
Somewhere inside her a slow, sweet urgency was building. As he touched and teased her, the feeling was growing, flaring, and spreading through each fiber of her being. She shivered, shuddered, and groaned.
“Lass?” he whispered.
“Yes?”
He sat back. She saw that the member – thick and turgid – at his thigh was throbbing a little. Seeing it filled her with need.
“Lass?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she whispered. She knew exactly what she wanted. “Oh, yes.”
He knelt at her knees and gently parted them, then placed his body between her thighs. He leaned forward, so that his body brushed against hers. He reached between her legs and gently parted them, his fingers sliding up between her thighs in a way that made her gasp. The sensation that flared there was almost pain it was such pleasure.
“Yes,” she moaned.
Then he slid inside her. The feeling was such relief, such release, that she cried out. Then a sudden pain flowered in her as he pushed harder. As abruptly as it started, the pain melted away and left behind it the sweet sunshine of fullness.
He was groaning with pleasure, and then he pulled out and pushed in again, filling her quickly and intensely. She sighed, moaned, and reached for him and then he thrust out and thrust in again. Soon he was thrusting into her and out, in and out, pushing and pulsing and probing and filling her again and again with that sweet sensation. She moaned and wriggled a little, until she felt the way he slid into her change, so that it rubbed against her, tingling and tickling and throbbing. She felt that sensation grow and build, the sweet tickling tingle filling her and growing and building until...
“Uh!”
She felt the sweetness flow through her, from her, and out of her, crashing through her like a tempest, washing away her thoughts.
She collapsed back onto the pillows in a sweet, wondrous fullness.
Later, she became aware of his presence as he rolled off her and wrapped her in his arms. She must have been sleeping, for she woke now to feel his lips on her forehead, his arms folding her close.
She sighed and snuggled closer, letting her body mold to his embrace.
He rolled over and his arms wrapped round her. She sighed as his lips touched her cheek and felt her whole self melt as he tenderly kissed her.
When he sat up and looked down at her, she was weeping. However, they were tears of joy.
“Oh, Marguerite,” he whispered.
He made her name a cherished thing, and she felt the touch of it in every part of her. She reached up and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. She felt a sweet fullness inside her, an ache of fulfillment. Her heart melted as he kissed her again.
“Oh, Sean,” she whispered as he lay down again. “I love you forever.”
He rolled over and their eyes met and held. He took her hand. “And I love you forever too, my dear.”
They kissed.