My eyes were burning either from the smoke and the closeness of the fire or the tears that had long since dried on my cheeks.  My face was undoubtedly puffy and red.  I had completely lost track of time though I knew it was very late now.  Four more good-sized logs had been devoured by the main fireplace in the bedroom since I had returned from the hallway overlooking the garden.

I startled when I heard the door creak open and turned in the chair near the fire to see Branford slip through the door and close it behind him.  He walked through the morning room silently, glanced toward the bed, and then looked around the room until our eyes met.  His brow furrowed, and he looked confused for a moment.

“Alexandra, I thought you would be asleep by now.”

I dropped my head down and looked at my feet, realizing I had never even changed into nightclothes.  All my energy had gone into what I might say to him when he returned and into my thoughts about what he might be doing so late at night if not in his own chambers.  I changed that focus quickly because the potential answer was far too mortifying.  Now that he was before me, I couldn’t find the words I had been practicing in my head.

“I was…waiting for you,” I told him.  “I didn’t know if you would want some, um…tea…or anything.”

Branford raised his hands up and ran them through his hair as he crossed the room.

“Alexandra, you look exhausted,” Branford said as he walked to me and reached for my hands.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize you would be waiting up for me.”

Branford pulled me up to stand beside him.  I turned my head away but felt his hand on my chin, forcing me to look back at him.

“Are you all right, Alexandra?”

“I’m fine, my…Branford.”  I sighed internally, frustrated with my ineptitude to remember how to refer to my husband.

“Fine.” He snorted.  “You don’t look fine.”

I tried to turn my head away from him, but his grip held firm to my chin and didn’t allow me to move.  I could only look away from him, my gaze focusing on the fire.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Alexandra,” he demanded, and I felt tears sting my eyes yet again.  All the words I had considered over the hours while I waited for him were gone from my head, and I didn’t know what I should say.

“Tell me!” he said again, his voice more urgent.  He shifted his head to look me in the eyes again.

“I just…”  My breath hitched in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak.  Finally, I managed to get the words out through my increasing tears.  “I st-still don’t know…wh-wh-what’s expected of me.”

Branford closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“I know, Alexandra,” Branford finally said.  He opened his eyes, and I could see his concern in them.  “I’m afraid I haven’t been much of a husband to you thus far.  I’m not exactly sure what it means to be good to you, but I know what I have done isn’t enough.  I didn’t prepare you, and we’ve hardly spoken at all, but it’s late now, and you look so tired.  I should think of your health first, and now is not the proper time to discuss all of this.”

He waved his hand between us before reaching into his hair again.  When he retracted his fingers, his hair stood out all over his head and even dropped down onto his forehead.  I took a moment to rein in my tears before speaking again.

“Are you still angry with me?” I inquired softly, somewhat fearful of his answer.  Branford blew out a large breath before shaking his head.

“No, I’m no longer angry with you, Alexandra.”

“Do you wish to go to…to bed now?  Or would you like something to drink first?  Or—”

“I think bed would be just fine,” Branford said, halting my words.  “I’m glad there’s nothing pressing for us to do in the morning, or you would be very tired.  I should have told you not to wait up for me, Alexandra.  I’m supposed to take care of you, and I’ve failed within the first day.  Please forgive me.”

“Of course, Branford,” I replied, not knowing what else I should say.

Branford told me to prepare for bed, so I went to change behind the screen.  Though I could not see him, I could hear Branford removing his clothing on the other side, near the basin.  I heard the splash of water as he dipped his hands in and realized I had not warmed it from the water in the kettle and knew it must be quite cold.  I pulled my nightdress over myself quickly and ran to the kettle by the fire.  I brought it to the basin and poured it in as Branford looked at me sideways with his half smile.

“The water isn’t hot anymore,” I said apologetically, “but it’s still warm.  I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before you started to wash.”

“That’s quite all right,” Branford said softly.  His shirt had been discarded on the back of a nearby chair, and he was dressed only in the fine linen trousers he had worn to bed the night before.  At least, they looked to be the same.  I averted my eyes and thought I could hear him snicker softly to himself and then sigh.

“Alexandra?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Branford?”  I still didn’t turn back to look at him.

“Would you help me?” he asked.

“Help you, my lord?”  I closed my eyes tightly, knowing I had said the wrong thing again.  All my life I had been taught to address the noblemen as such and trying to address just this one nobleman differently when we were alone seemed impossible.  My frustration at addressing him incorrectly distracted me so I couldn’t think too long about what he might need from me.

“Yes, please,” Branford replied.  “Come here.”

I took a couple of steps toward him but kept my eyes to the ground.  I could see his bare feet on the wooden floor, sticking out of the ends of his pale-colored trousers.

“Here,” he said, and I had to look up to see what he was offering.  In his hand was the washing cloth, soaked in the lukewarm water.  “Will you wash me?”

“Wash you?”  My voice squeaked.

“If you would, yes,” he said.  I was met with his crooked half smile when I looked up at him.  I tried not to focus on his exposed skin any more than I had to but quickly realized I would have no choice but to look at him if I were to get him properly cleaned.

“Of course my…Branford.”

Branford took a step back to give me better access to the water.  He turned so he was facing me directly, his arms hanging casually at his sides while he looked at my face.  I realized I was still staring at his eyes and quickly looked away, feeling the ever-persistent flush covering my face.  I didn’t understand why he would ask me to do this now, right after he had just said it was late.  My mind raced to find the answer as I prepared for the task ahead of me but discovered none.  I dipped the cloth in the water, then pulled it out and wrung it to stop the dripping.  My hand was shaking a little as I reached up and drew the cloth over one side of his face.  He leaned into my touch as I trailed the cloth over his skin, back around his ear and over his neck.  I repeated the motion on the other side before moving to his shoulders, desperately hoping he did not notice the trembling in my hands and think me completely inept.

His muscles flexed beneath my hand, and I was reminded of his firm grip around my waist as we rode to Saint Anthony’s Abbey and the feel of his warm body pressed against mine as we traveled on horseback.  I was finding breathing a little more difficult and didn’t understand why my heart was beating so much harder than it had been before.  My rapid heartbeat was strangely reminiscent of the fear I felt when we entered the Grand Hall to meet King Camden, but I didn’t feel afraid now.  Again I considered his motives for asking me to touch him in this way and came to the most obvious conclusion—if he wanted me to touch him like this out of bed, he was going to want me to touch him more once we were in bed.  My teeth sunk into my lower lip as I ran the cloth up and down each of his arms before rinsing it out again.

I wiped down his chest and stomach and found myself again fascinated by the ridged muscles of his upper body.  My fingertips could feel the outline of his stomach muscles underneath the cloth, and they tensed slightly when I touched him.  Once I was done with his stomach and chest, I washed his sides quickly before I dared look him in the face again.

His eyes were dark, the light from the fire dancing over them in strange, ghostly patterns.  I had learned already that particular look in his eyes and felt my heartbeat increase yet again as a chill ran down my spine.  I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.  I had already decided to tell him I was ready, and this only meant he would agree to my offer.

“Will you wash my back as well?” Branford asked, and his voice sounded as dark as his eyes.  He turned around without waiting for my answer, and I quickly refreshed the cloth before washing from his shoulders down to his waist.  Once the washing was complete, I picked up a dry cloth and dried his back and sides.  Then he turned around to face me again, and with my shaky hands, I dried off the rest of his skin.

“Thank you, Alexandra,” Branford said softly.  “I think I am ready to go to bed now.”

“You’re welcome, Branford,” I replied.  I hung both the cloths on a drying rack near the water basin while I tried to stop my heart from beating so loudly.  I was sure he would be able to hear it if it became any louder.

He smiled down at me again before making his way to the bed.  I took another deep breath before I followed dutifully after him, waited for him to position himself under the blanket, and then climbed in on the other side, only vaguely aware of the softness of the bedsheets and pillows as I settled myself next to my husband.

For a moment, I lay on my back and tried to determine the best possible approach.  Should I just come out and ask him to join with me, or should I reach over and touch him in some fashion?  I understood the ludicrousness of my thoughts as soon as I realized I had no idea how I might touch him to give him such an impression.  It would have to be words, then.  Clear and concise words.  Assertive.

“I want you to…”  I hesitated.  Once the words were out of my mouth, I would not be able to take them back.  However, if he had spent the first part of the night with one of the ladies in the court because he had not yet taken me, he could be discovered.  If he were to be discovered, my virginity may also be discovered.  He could be forced to send me back, and it was very clear what would happen to me if he did.  I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.  “I want you to complete our marriage.”

“We shall, my wife,” he said with a smile.  His hand reached out, and he placed his fingers under my chin.  “When you are ready.”

“Tonight?” My voice did not come out as strong as I had intended.  Branford looked at me warily.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet,” he said simply.

“I am,” I said, trying to remain insistent though I had to tear my gaze from his intense look.  “I want you to.  Please.”

“It’s late, and you’re tired,” he said.

“I want to, Branford,” I said again.  This time my voice managed not to shake.

I felt his fingers on my chin, tilting my head to look at him again.  His eyes glanced back and forth, as if he were searching for something.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said as the relief washed over me.  Once it was complete, we would truly be married, and I would no longer have to worry that he might replace me.  His eyes danced over my face, glanced down my body, then focused on my lips.  Branford's hand cupped my cheek, and he kissed me slowly, his lips pressing firmly but not too hard.  I lay my head back against the pillows as he moved over me.

My mind raced.  I had convinced him.  He was going to do it!  He was going to complete our marriage.  Relief was quickly followed with the same fear that gripped me on our wedding night.  I tried to push it from my mind, but when he rolled over, and I could feel his desire against me, the anxiety from last night attempted to resurface.  I could feel his leg as it nestled between mine, and he pushed my legs apart with his knee.  I kept telling myself it had to be done, and that many, many women had survived this, but the fact was, I feared pain, and I feared blood.  I knew both were to come, but I didn’t want Branford to stop and risk him casting me out.  I had to try to do whatever was right in this situation, so when his mouth covered mine, I remembered his tongue in my mouth from the previous night, and I parted my lips.  He groaned into my mouth as his tongue touched mine, and his hands gripped my waist tightly.

His breath was hot and suffocating.  I could feel one of his hands running over my hip, down the outside of my thigh and lower until he reached the end of my nightdress and began to pull it up.  He ran his tongue over my lips, and then he kissed me roughly before his mouth moved to my chin and then my throat.

I closed my eyes tightly and felt the muscles in my legs tighten as well.  Branford’s bare chest rose up and down with his rapid breathing, pressing my body into the mattress with each inhalation.  His mouth left a warm, moist trail over my skin.  I've got to do this, I told myself.  If I didn't let him do this, I could be sent away.  He was already looking for another.  Indeed, he already seemed to have another.  Had he been with her just a short time ago?  My heart clenched at the thought, and I couldn’t stop the muscles throughout my body from tensing.  It no longer mattered how much it would hurt.  It had to be done, or I would be driven to insanity from worry of where he might be and what he might be doing.

“Alexandra.” Branford’s movements had stopped, and when I opened my eyes, I saw him staring back at me.  His eyes held that dark, hungry look, but it was quickly replaced with anger.  “I have a mind to take you over my knee for lying to me.  You don't want this.  You are not ready.”

“Branford, please,” I said as he rolled back to his side.  His hand pushed the hem of my nightdress back, smoothing it against my leg.  “I am.  I want to…please.”

“No, you don't,” Branford contradicted.  His blazing eyes softened into something I hadn’t seen in his expressions before.  Was it disappointment?  Hurt?  I didn’t know.   “When I look in your eyes, there is no desire there, no want.  I only see fear.”

He cupped my cheek and ran his thumb underneath my eye.

“And tears,” he added.  I felt wetness spread across my skin.  I didn’t realize I had been betrayed by my own eyes.  “I don’t want you to cry, Alexandra.  You are not ready.”

“I am, Branford—please!  I want to complete our marriage!  Please!”

I looked into his eyes and reached for him, my fingers tentatively touching the skin of his chest.  If he stopped now, when would I ever convince him to start again?  I was as ready for pain as I was ever going to be, and whether it was now or tomorrow or ten years from now, I was never going to be more ready for that.

“Please, Branford,” I repeated in a hoarse whisper.  “Please.  Please, Branford.”

He pulled my face to his and kissed me again slowly.  He pulled back after only a moment, and again I repeated my plea.

“Oh, Alexandra,” he said, his voice soft.  His breaths were heavy, and his eyes stared into me as he traced quickly over his bottom lip with his tongue.  “How am I supposed to resist that?”

Again, his mouth captured mine, and his hand grasped either side of my head, holding me close and kissing me deeply but still softly.  He kissed the curve of my chin and around my throat while one hand twisted in my hair.  I felt his other hand against my hip again, his fingers splayed against the silk fabric, gripping my skin tightly.

I ignored the trembling in my fingers as I reached for the ties at my throat and started to pull at the laces so Branford would have better access to me.  I knew he would want to see me bare, and I found a whole new concern that he may not like what he saw.  Would he consider my breasts too small or too large?  I thought them average but had no idea what a man might prefer.  Was I too pale?  I decided it really didn’t matter, given the darkness of the room, and continued my efforts.  I pulled one of the laces out and felt the cool air hit the skin of my chest.

“Alexandra,” Branford grumbled, “would you please stop trying to untie your nightdress?”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” I asked, embarrassed yet again at my lack of knowledge.

“Yes, I do,” Branford said, his voice firm, “but not tonight, Alexandra.”

Realization hit me.  He wasn’t going to do this.  He may have even had his fill for one night and had no reason to want to bed me.  The thought caused my chest to tighten again, and I found myself practically groveling.

“Please, Branford!  I don’t want to wait!” I sounded desperate, and I knew it.  “I want you to…to take me…now…please.”

“Why, Alexandra?” he asked.  “You aren't ready, so why do you beg me to do this?”

Why, indeed?  I closed my eyes and tried to turn from him, but he would have none of that, and his hand firmly gripped my chin again.  Perhaps it wouldn’t make any difference if he did take my virginity.  If afterwards he found me uninteresting, and his preferences were more in tune with someone else—someone with hair the color of a sunset, a more voluptuous body, and the understanding of how to conduct herself with nobles—then why did I do this?  Simply because I had no idea what else I should do.

“I don’t know anything about being your wife,” I finally said.  “There’s only one thing I do know—I’m supposed to let you do this to me, and I haven’t.  I know you want it, and I haven’t…I haven’t…been able to…to…”

“Let me do this to you?” Branford repeated my words.  He sat up in the bed, and his hands moved up to cover his face.  I could hear him grumbling low in his throat though whether he talked to me or to himself was unclear.  “You know so little, and I have no idea where to begin.  I’m such a fool!”

I felt tears sting my eyes again.  I didn’t know anything at all, and that fact was so completely obvious, it wasn’t even worth the effort it would take to say it.  He had to be so frustrated with me.

“Please…just tell me what I should do.” I begged him, reaching out and wrapping my fingers around his upper arm—his sword arm.  My mind flashed to the carriage driver, and when Branford glared at my hands around his arm, I figured he was remembering the same thing.  I quickly released him and mumbled my apology.  “I’ll do anything you tell me to do!”

“Then tell me why,” Branford said.  “Why are you offering yourself to me now?”

“I’m supposed to do so,” I said again.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked.

“You shouldn’t have to lie about me,” I said softly.  “You had to lie to King Camden.  I don't want you to have to speak a lie just to protect me.”

“I'd do far more than lie if you needed protecting,” Branford said with conviction.  “And I never lied to Camden.  I just...misled him a bit.”

“You said there was proof,” I whispered.  “There wasn’t any proof because we didn't...um...do anything.”

“I wouldn't have anyone question us,” Branford said.  “I left...evidence.”

I furrowed my brow, trying to understand what he could possibly mean.  Then I remembered washing his hands in the basin the morning after we were married.

“You cut your hand,” I said.

Branford tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.

“I will protect you,” he repeated.

“You might…”  I stopped, not sure exactly what I would say.

“I might what?” Branford asked.

“You might…you don’t…I know you don’t want to wait.”

“I’m not the only one in the bed, Alexandra,” Branford said, reaching out and taking my face in the palm of his hand.  “We must both be willing, my wife—not just me.”

Branford sighed and slipped back down to lie on his side, propping himself up on one arm and looking down at me.

“Alexandra,” Branford said, “I could certainly hold you down and listen to you cry as I took pleasure with your body without thinking of you.  I’m physically capable of doing that every night for as long as we live.”

He took a deep death and leaned a little closer to me.

“I could do that,” he repeated, “but if I did, every time I would lie here with you, you would give me the same look you are giving me now—one of trepidation and fear.  I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Alexandra.  I don’t want to come to this bed every night, knowing you don’t want me here.”

“I would…I would want you here…” I stammered and then paused. I had no idea what I could say and finally just blurted out what was in my head.  “I don’t want you to go somewhere else!”

“Those are not the same things,” Branford said as he shook his head.  “You may consider my presence preferable to my absence, but that doesn’t mean you want me here.  You are adept at serving those above you, and I’m sure you would manage to find a way to hide your loathing of me, but you would never look at me the way I want you to—with desire in your eyes.  That’s what I want to see, Alexandra.  When I come to this bed and lie beside you, I want to look into your eyes and know you want me.”

He used his fingers to roam over the skin of my cheek, then my chin, and down my neck.  He rested his hand on the top of my shoulder, where the slightly opened fabric of my nightdress met my skin.

“How could you?” he finally said quietly, and I again wondered if he was talking to me or to himself.  “You know nothing of what is to come except what little rumors of horror you have heard, so how could you ever want me?”

A light came into his eyes, almost as if the firelight leapt out from the logs and entered them, only to be directed at me.  His back arched slightly, and he focused on my eyes.

“Alexandra, I would like to try something,” Branford said.  He shifted closer to me again.  “Will you let me?”

“I’m yours,” I whispered softly, trying not to show my increasing panic.  What did he want to try?  Why was he even asking me such a question?

“Yes, you are.”  Branford let out a short, sharp breath and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips for a moment.  When he spoke, his earnest voice was just a little above a whisper.  “I don’t know you, Alexandra.  I chose you on a whim, nothing more.  I’m sure if you ever did think of marriage, this was not the picture your mind painted.  If I am to be honest, I didn’t think far beyond the wedding and the idea of marriage itself, and…well…I don’t know what I should do now.”

His candid words surprised me.

“You don’t know me either,” Branford continued.  “Regardless, I’m going to ask you to do something that may be difficult at first.”

“What do you need of me?” I asked quietly.  I had no idea what he wanted and feared his words.

“I’m going to ask you to trust me, Alexandra.  I want you to listen to me and trust what I tell you to be the truth.  You don’t know me well enough to know if I can be trusted or not, but I’m asking you to do it anyway or at least try.  Will you, Alexandra?  Will you try to trust me?”

“Yes, my lord,” I responded.

“Alexandra…”

“I’m sorry—Branford,” I corrected myself.

“Much better.”  Branford positioned himself on one arm again and looked down at me.  “I'm not going to hurt you.  Do you understand?”

“Yes...Branford,” I said.

“There’s one other thing you must do.” Branford’s tone was serious.  “If I ask you a question, you must answer me truthfully.  Do you understand what I’m saying, Alexandra?”

“Yes, my…Branford.”

“Do not say what you think I want to hear—I want only the truth from you.”

“Yes, Branford.  I will.”

“Good.”  Branford took a deep breath, and he moved his hand over to cup my cheek.  His thumb traced over my cheekbone, and he looked into my eyes.  “May I kiss you?”

“Yes, of course.”  My answer was automatic, ingrained.  When a noble asked something of a commoner, the commoner gave it without question though what the noble required may or may not have been pleasant.

He moved slowly, his gaze still on mine, and his lips brushed against me much like they had during our wedding ceremony.  He backed away and smiled down at me.

“Do you like that, Alexandra?” he asked.  “Do you like being kissed like that?”

“Yes, Branford.”  The ingrained answer was also surprisingly truthful.  He had kissed me softly, carefully—almost like he was afraid I would break if he pressed too hard—and I did like it.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Yes, please.”

Again, his mouth touched mine but for a little longer this time.  His lips hovered over mine before he descended, moving slowly against me.  He turned slightly, changing the angle and kissing me again, but his touch remained light.  I could feel my heartbeat in my chest and my breathing increase in time with his movements.  He pulled back again.

“Did you like that as well?  Do you want me to do it again?”

I could only nod this time, and he kissed me again and again.  His hand moved from my cheek up into my hair, twisting through it and pulling me closer to him as his lips danced over my mouth, leaving me out of breath when he finally stopped.

“Alexandra, will you touch me?”

“What?”

“Touch me while I kiss you.”

“Where?”

Branford chuckled slightly.

“Anywhere you would like,” he said.

“I don’t know where I should,” I told him.

He ran his hand down the outside of my arm until he met my fingers.  He pried gently, releasing my grip on the bedsheets and pulling my hand up to place it atop his bare shoulder.  I hadn’t realized I had been holding the sheets so tightly.

“How about here?” he said with a smile.  I nodded again, and this time when he found my mouth with his, I gripped his shoulder a little and felt the hard, tense muscles under his warm skin.  He moved his hand to the back of my neck, holding me firmly as he continued to softly kiss my lips.  He backed off slightly, and then I felt the tip of his tongue against my mouth.

“Do you like that?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, trying to be truthful.  It seemed when he touched his tongue to mine, his kisses would become much more urgent with need than they had been thus far.  He looked down into my eyes.

“Would it be all right if I tried that again?” he asked.  “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“All right,” I said, acquiescing.  Branford’s hand returned to my face, and he ran his fingers over my jaw.

“I’ll still be gentle,” he said with sincerity.  I looked into his bright green eyes and nodded my agreement.  He touched my lips with his tongue again, and I opened my mouth a little.  He used his tongue to reach inside, and the tip ran along the edge of mine.  I tensed a little, but he kept his movements slow, and it only lasted a moment.

“Was that all right?” he asked.  I nodded again because it had been all right.  I looked up into his darkened, hungry eyes again.  “Do you want me to do it again?”

I nodded and closed my eyes as his tongue entered my mouth, caressing me before pulling my tongue into his mouth and sucking on it a little.  It felt strange, but I found the taste of him to be…intriguing.  He backed off and kissed me softly on my lips again before leaning back and looking intently at me.

“I want to touch you,” Branford said.  “But I’ll only touch you slowly and softly.  I won’t hurt you, my wife.  Is that all right?”

“Yes.”  My voice came out in barely a whisper.

Branford traced over my cheekbone and then down along my jaw.  His touch was soft, and it left my skin tingling when he passed.  He ran the backs of his fingers down my neck, and then he flipped his hand over so his fingertips could glide slowly over my shoulder.  Some of my skin was exposed there, where I had earlier untied the lacing from my nightdress.  My gaze moved to his hand as he slowly—oh, so slowly—traced the tip of one finger across my collarbone.

The blanket was drawn up to just underneath my breasts, and I could see my chest rising and falling as Branford’s fingertip traced back and forth.  His slightly open mouth pressed against my cheek, then moved close to my ear.

“Do you like that, Alexandra?” he whispered into my ear.  “Does it make your skin feel warm where I’ve touched you?  Do you like how that feels?”

“Yes,” I responded in yet another, nearly breathless whisper.

“I want to touch more of you,” Branford said.  He sucked my earlobe into his mouth and then kissed down my neck as I lay there, unmoving, but strangely unafraid now.  He said he wouldn’t hurt me, and so far he had not.  “Just feel, Alexandra.”

I closed my eyes and did as he said—concentrating on the movement of his lips over my jaw and back down my neck.  They followed the same trail over my collarbones where his fingers had recently been.  I felt warm moisture when his tongue danced lightly over my skin, then shivered as he blew cool air in the same spot.

“Do you like that?”  I could feel the movement of his lips as he spoke with his mouth still touching my skin.  I couldn’t even answer him through my shaky breaths.  “You’re trembling, Alexandra.  Are you frightened?”

I tilted my head and looked down to see him gazing up at me.  I shook my head slowly, because I wasn’t frightened, was I?  I had no idea what I was feeling, but if I had been frightened, I would have wanted him to stop, and I didn’t want him to stop.  He kissed my collarbone while keeping his eyes trained on mine, and then he moved away, leaving my skin cold where his mouth used to be.  He stroked over the top of my shoulder again, over to the edge of the cloth that made up the top of my nightdress.  Very, very slowly, he let his finger trace the edge of the fabric, down around the open neckline.  As he moved his finger, he pushed the edge of my nightdress open just a little farther until his finger was running over the very top of my breast.  I gasped, and his gaze flew to mine again.

“Can you imagine what that would feel like,” he whispered, his voice raspy and deep, “if I touched you like this underneath your clothes?”

Branford tilted his hand until three fingers were now moving over the swell of my breasts, moving slowly and gently across the top of both.  I could feel an unusual tingling sensation in their centers, and I felt them stiffen as they did when the winter wind was particularly harsh.  It was not unpleasant, though.  It was not unpleasant in the least.

“I want to touch you more,” Branford said, his voice still quiet, “but as I said quite some time ago, it is very late, and I need to think of your health.”

Before I could respond, he was kissing me again in a slow, nearly chaste way.  When he was done, he looked down on me and smiled.

“Thank you, Alexandra.”

“For what, Branford?” I asked.

“Trusting me,” he said with a shrug.  “You finally stopped looking at me like you thought I was about to cuff you.”

Turning away, I blanched at the thought.  The idea of him striking me hadn’t truly occurred to me—not in so many words anyway.  Branford’s hand cupped my chin, and he turned me to look at him.

“You’ve not given me reason to do such a thing,” he said.  My relief was mixed with concern as I realized he may find reason to hit me at a later time.  “Don’t look like that.”

I took a deep breath to try to relax myself, and Branford’s eyes narrowed.

“I won’t be violent toward you, Alexandra,” he said.  “You would have to do something truly…truly traitorous to incur such wrath from me.”

I tried to keep my mind from the poor carriage driver who nearly lost his life for an accident and instead found myself wondering what Branford would consider traitorous.

“Please,” I heard him say, and when I focused on him again, his eyes held a trace of sadness.  “Please don’t look that way.  I don’t want you to fear me, Alexandra.”

I could not respond, for his mouth had claimed mine again, and he renewed his slow, gentle assault.  It did not last long, but it again left me breathless and left my body crying out for more.  More of exactly what, I could not say, I just knew I didn’t want him to stop.

“You need to sleep now, Alexandra,” Branford stated, his tone commanding again.

“You still aren’t going to…um…”  I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Not tonight, Alexandra,” Branford said firmly, “but it will be soon.”

“When?”  I could not help but ask the question.

He narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

“Three nights,” he said with conviction.  His gaze met mine, and he looked at me intently as he caressed my cheek.  He grasped my head in his hands as his voice dropped to a low, throaty whisper.  “I’ll show you what it can really be like to be with me.  For the first two nights, we will learn more about each other—what we both may like.  And on that third night, Alexandra…I’ll go so slowly.  I’ll be so gentle with you; I swear it…just like I have been tonight.  Would that be acceptable to you, my wife?”

“Yes, my Branford,” I said and then bit down on my lip in embarrassment, realizing I had just combined both his title and his name.  Branford smiled and laughed quietly.

“I like that,” he said.  He leaned down and kissed my lips as gently as possible—his mouth just barely touching mine.

“Three nights?” I inquired quietly, wondering what could possibly happen over that amount of time.  As far as I could tell, he had remained truthful to me.  He said he would not hurt me, and he hadn’t, but that did not change the reality of what was to happen in three nights time.

“Three nights from now,” he repeated, nodding.  He leaned back over me, his warm breath rolling in waves over my ear as his fingers glided softly over the line of my jaw.  “And on the third night, when you are truly ready, I promise you will tremble underneath my touch.  I promise you will feel ecstasy like you never imagined.  I promise you will call out my name when I lie on top of you, and I will fill you over and over again until you simply cannot take any more pleasure.”

My eyes widened, and my slowly calming heart began to sputter again in my chest as I tried to process the meaning of his words.  My fear was still there, and I could not deny it, but it seemed to be accompanied by something completely different, and it was not a feeling I could name.

And that is how we planned to consummate our marriage.