Shaking his head with the embarrassment of an adult recalling youthful antics, he closed his eyes. He had not performed much better his second time. But his third time, well, that had been a different experience entirely. Whether from the skill of the woman, or the fact that he was so drunk, he could not say, but he had learned a great deal with her. Molly. He doubted he would ever forget her name. She had made a good start on teaching him all there was to know about the relations between men and women--and enjoyed the teaching. Aric had continued that learning with each new experience over the intervening years. He had found himself popular with women of every kind. And there had been many of them, whores, maids, and ladies.
So he should really stop dallying outside his bedroom door and get to the task at hand. He should also stop thinking of it as a chore. It was not going to turn out like the last time. He was not twelve anymore.
Rosamunde sat in the bed, petting a purring Soot--that was the name she had chosen for the injured kitten--and awaiting her husband. Aric had stayed on at the table with the men when she retired, no doubt continuing the discussion of what he had seen so far on his tour of the estate and what needed doing. That had been the discussion through most of the meal. Rosamunde had listened silently. But as the meal and discussion had continued, she had noticed that there was no mention of the stables or stablemaster except to comment in a rather vague way that new stables would eventually have to be built.
Desperate to avoid thinking of her father's death and thereby avoid the possibility of bursting into tears at the table, Rosamunde had latched onto that fact and had allowed the anger it stirred inside of her to grow. That anger had stiffened her back and had helped her to keep her dignity. It had carried her through the meal and seen her safely upstairs. But once alone in the room, with only Soot to distract her, her anger had faded and her thoughts had wandered. They had touched on the loss of her father, but the grief that had seared her heart then had turned her to quickly finding something else to ponder, and there had been two doozies awaiting: what she saw as her miserable failure as a wife, and the fact that her husband would come through that door soon, expecting to perform marital relations with her. With such thoughts for company, it was almost a relief when she heard the door open and saw her husband entering the room.
She was sitting on the bed when he entered, still fully clothed and petting the kitten. Managing a smile, Aric closed the door and moved to the bed. Pausing there, he sat down on the edge of it and glanced absently around the room. A fire was burning low in the fireplace and kept the evening chill at bay. Other than that, the room looked pretty much as it had since their arrival. There was nothing to distract him from the matter at hand.
"Husband?"
Giving a start at her soft voice, he glanced at her questioningly.
"Did you still wish to--"
"Aye," he interrupted her anxious words quickly, then glanced down at the cat she still held on her lap. "I shall just...er...remove this little fellow," he announced, certainly not looking for a reason to put it off for another moment. Ignoring the claws and teeth that immediately scourged his hands, Aric scooped the spitting little bundle out of her lap and carried it quickly to a chair by the fire. Settling it there, he then turned back to the bed, only to pause. His wife had shifted while he removed the kitten. She now knelt on her hands and knees on the bed, her skirt hiked up over her waist. The ludicrous posture continued to throw him.
Shoulders slumping, he closed his eyes and counted to ten, then forced his eyes open again. He straightened his shoulders and moved determinedly back to the bed. "Wife--Rosamunde." He corrected himself almost at once and managed to force a smile when she glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Come here." He gestured to the side of the bed where he stood, and her expression clouded with confusion.
"But I thought you wished to commence the--"
"Aye, but first I wish you to come over here," he interrupted.
Rosamunde frowned slightly. His expression was irritated, his voice almost a growl. Obviously she had angered him in some way. Yet again. Sighing inwardly, she straightened and turned on her knees, then crawled across the bed to pause before him, her expression uncertain.
Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her gently forward, bending at the same time until his lips brushed across hers. Rosamunde pulled back at once in confusion. "What are you doing?"
Closing his eyes, her husband gave a long-suffering sigh. "I am kissing you."
"Oh." Feeling slightly foolish, but still not understanding why he was wasting time with kissing her, Rosamunde allowed him to draw her forward again, remaining still and passive as his lips moved softly over her own--until his tongue slid out to touch her lips. Startled, she tried to pull back again, but he held her in place, persistently nudging with his tongue until her lips opened in response, allowing him entrance. His tongue swept inside then, his mouth tilting more and opening wider over hers as he found her own tongue and said a delicious hello. She withstood the attention for several moments, aware of the odd, tingly, hot sensation building in the center of her, then pulled away, fear giving her the strength to break the embrace.
Eustice had said there should be no lewd kissing. Rosamunde wasn't sure if this kiss would be considered lewd, but was sure anything that made her feel so good was probably bad.
"Do you not think we should get to the bedding part?" she asked anxiously.
Aric smiled slightly. Her lips were swollen and rosy from his kiss, her eyes alive with both budding desire and fear. "This is part of it, wife."
He saw doubt cloud her expression, and, remembering their wedding day, and the things she had said when he had tried to consummate their marriage, he decided to clear up any leftover problems right away. "Wife. The nun, the one who told you about cucumbers and such--"
"Eustice," she supplied helpfully, and he nodded.
"Aye. Well, I want you to forget everything she told you. She was wrong."
"She was?"
"Aye."
Rosamunde nodded solemnly at that. "I did wonder," she admitted quietly, and Aric raised his eyebrows.
"You did?"
"Aye, well." Her gaze dropped down to his lap. "It really does not look much like a cucumber. More like a mushroom, really. I--" His hand over her mouth silenced her at once, and Rosamunde's eyes moved back up to his face to see that his eyes were closed, his face slightly red.
Shaking his head, he opened his eyes, a pained expression on his face. "Let us just agree that she was wrong. That I am your husband, and that I shall be more than pleased to teach you all that you need to know on this matter. Agreed?"
Rosamunde nodded, and Aric removed his hand, but he did not give her the chance to speak again. Covering her mouth with his lips, he concentrated his attention on kissing her as he knew she had never been kissed before. He made love to her mouth with his own until she was trembling in his arms and making squeaky little sounds of pleading and pleasure, her fingers digging into his arms. Then he let his hand slide down her shoulders, along her elbows, to grasp her hands. After giving them a gentle squeeze, he tugged them up to his own shoulders, then behind his neck, placing them there to keep them out of the way before skimming his fingers back along her arms to her shoulders. He then slid them down and around to find and cup her breasts through her gown.
Her body went as taut as a bow, her arms tightening almost painfully around his neck, her mouth sucking almost viciously at his own. Aric paused, merely holding her until she became used to his touch. Her reaction eased, her arms loosening somewhat, her kiss and posture melting.
His wife was very responsive, it would seem. He realized it with a heady sense of power, and smiled against her lips before allowing his mouth to trail its way across her cheek to her ear, to nibble softly there. Rosamunde's reaction was immediate. Shuddering in his arms, she nuzzled into the caress, a low moan sliding smoothly from her lips. Quite pleased with himself, Aric released one breast to clasp her bottom through her gown.
He pressed forward, grinding her gently against the proof of his own arousal while gently squeezing and fondling the breast he still held through the material of her gown.
Suddenly she broke away again. Chest heaving, she scooted back on the bed and eyed him with wide eyes, her gaze dropping to the bulging front of his brais, then back to his face.
"I should--" She gasped, then whirled on the bed, taking up her dratted pose on hands and knees again, and Aric sighed inwardly. It seemed he hadn't quite made her forget those damned directions that crazy nun had given her. Shaking his head, he quickly stripped off his clothes, then moved around the bed to settle himself on it before her. Frowning slightly, she straightened to sit on her haunches uncertainly. Aric quickly scooted forward.
Satisfied that she had no room to try to take up her position on all fours again, he then lifted a hand to caress one of her breasts. He slid the other down to catch and lift the hem of her gown enough for his hand to snake beneath. Holding her confused gaze with his own knowing one, Aric ran his hand lightly up the outside of one leg, then slid it between her thighs, finding with his fingers that which he sought.
Rosamunde leaped upright off her haunches as if she had been shot with an arrow. Aric immediately removed his hand from her breast. Sliding it around her waist, he applied firm pressure on her back, to press her against his chest and keep her there as he continued to play with her.
"What?" She gasped, her hands reaching back to catch and clench over the hand behind her as she tried to speak. "What are you doing?"
"Touching you," he answered matter-of-factly, bending to nibble at her neck as he slid his hand out from beneath hers and raised it to find her breast again.
"Why?" she managed in a strangled tone.
"Do you not like it?" he asked, then laughed huskily when she immediately shook her head. "Liar," he whispered by her ear before nipping at it. "I can feel that you like it."
That made her stiffen even more than his touch did. "You can?" she said in a squeak.
"Aye, your nipples are hard." He pinched one through the cloth of her gown, wishing he could get the dress off of her and wondering how long that was going to take him. "And you are all wet and welcoming down here." He slid a finger inside her as he spoke, satisfied by the low moan she tried to swallow. She was moving against his hand now, probably not even aware of her actions, and Aric was finding his own excitement increasing with hers. He kissed her, covering her mouth with his and devouring her. Then he nudged the fiery red strands of her hair aside and ran his lips over her throat, sucking, then nipping, pausing briefly at the surprised "Oh" that slipped from her lips.
"Oh, what?" he asked, his words coming out in a growl.
"I--It...it does not hurt. When you bite my neck. I felt sure it would." She moaned.
Aric was confused by her words, but wasn't of a mind to discuss their meaning at the moment. He wanted her damned dress off. Now. He wanted her flesh against his. He wanted to close his lips around one sweet breast, then the other, then back.... God, at this moment he thought he could die with his face between her breasts and be happy.
Shaking off the hands that clutched his, he distracted her with deep kisses as he began tugging at her lacings, catching her sigh of disappointment with his mouth when he removed his other hand from between her legs to help with the task. Once the lacings were undone, he quickly pushed the gown off her shoulders, then caught her naked breasts in his hands. Rosamunde arched into his touch, gasping something into his mouth, covering his hands with her own as he palmed and caressed her swollen flesh.
That didn't satisfy him for long. He wanted her breast at his mouth. He wanted to roll the pebblelike nipple across his tongue and teeth. Releasing her breasts, he caught her by the waist, lifted her slightly, and caught one of those tempting nipples between his teeth, sucking it deliciously into his mouth.
Rosamunde immediately caught his head on either side and tried to push his lips away with confusion. She said with a gasp, "You will get no milk from me."
"Mayhap not from here just yet, but I will from here." Aric covered the apex of her legs with his palm as he said that against her flesh, then moved his head to her other nipple. Sister Eustice's words whirled in her mind: Lips are for speaking, breasts are for... Rosamunde lost her train of thought as Aric caught her gown and pushed it down over her hips to pool around her knees. Then he pushed her backward on the bed.
She landed with a soft "Ummph," her eyes wide as she watched him pull the gown off her legs and toss it carelessly aside. Her hands immediately moved to cover her nakedness, but Aric brushed them aside, then lay down beside her.
Leaning over her, he kissed first one breast, then the other, and Rosamunde caught his head in her hands, running her fingers through his dark hair. Then his lips moved away, trailing kisses down her belly, and she closed her eyes as she was assaulted by a quivery sensation pinging its way from her belly outward. She felt his lips brush one hip, then the other, and she shuddered and twisted under the tickly touch of his hand at her thigh. She spread her legs at his urging, drawing them up as she did, until her feet lay flat on the bed, her legs bent, but she was hardly aware of having done so. She concentrated instead on the trail his lips were taking.
He sprinkled kisses down one thigh to her knee, and paused to kiss and lick at the inside of that knee before switching to do the same to the inside of the other. His lips burned a trail up that thigh, then found and stopped at the center of her. Rosamunde arched off the bed, a choked sound slipping from her lips as she snapped her legs closed around his head.
Aric caught her thighs and pressed them open again as he laved her, aware that sweat was beading on and rolling off his forehead. His body was as stiff and hard as a sword, and he was hard-pressed not to simply shift between her legs and thrust himself into her. Her passion was a living thing, her response as free and unrepressed as any man could wish--and she was driving him crazy. Mewls, sighs, gasps, and groans were coming from her lips with little concern for propriety. Her body was thrusting and arching. Her head was thrashing back and forth as if she were in the throes of a seizure. Her nipples were pebbles on her goosefleshed breasts that cried for his attention. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her hands were clenched frenziedly in the bed linens. And all his body wanted was to drive itself deep into her and find the warm, wet home it ached for. Yet he was determined to make up for that first debacle, that hellish consummation, so he controlled himself.
But she was making it damned hard. Her desire heated his own, and he watched in fascination as she struggled with her body's need. Just when he thought he might explode without ever even entering her, a high, piercing cry suddenly streamed from her lips, her body bucking beneath him as she sobbed out in release.
Aric was on his knees at once. Positioning himself between her thighs and clasping her buttocks, he raised her slightly and slid smoothly into her. He saw her eyes open in surprise as she caught her breath; then her eyes dropped closed again and her tongue came out to lick at her upper lip briefly as she arched into him. Now she was moving with him, shuddering, raising her hips to his, whimpering with passion. His own excitement increased by hers, Aric met her push for push, startled when he felt her hands suddenly at his buttocks, drawing him in, her nails digging into his behind and urging him on. Then she threw her head back and cried out as passion overwhelmed her again, and Aric felt himself explode within her.
Aric lay on the bed on his back, his hands caught beneath his head, his eyes closed, and a smile curving his lips. He was rather proud of himself. He felt rather like a stud bull. He had performed even beyond his hopes. His timing had been impeccable, his rhythm perfect. He knew he had given his wife immeasurable pleasure. He need never fear her disliking the marital bed again. This was a new beginning for them. Aye, he was sure he had wiped their first time completely from her mind.
A muffled sob caught his ear and erased his smile, replacing it with a frown. A second one brought his eyes open and his head arou
nd to peer at his wife with alarm. She had rolled away from him and now lay half on her side and half on her stomach, her shoulders trembling with the depth of her emotion as she wept into the linens. Aric gaped at her briefly, totally bewildered at this reaction to what they had just done; then another escaping sob made him draw himself up to a half-sitting position and reach over to rub her back comfortingly.
"Wife?" he murmured uncertainly, frowning when her shoulders merely began to shake all the harder. "Wife?"
Concern drawing at his features, he moved his hand to her shoulder and rolled her onto her back, determined to give her comfort. His head jerked back, however, his eyes widening incredulously when he saw that she hadn't been sobbing at all, but was in a paroxysm of laughter. Scowling as the almost hysterical laughter continued, now unmuffled, he glared at her.
"Just what is so damned amusing?"
"I...It...Ohhhh." She gasped breathlessly around her laughter, then managed, "I thought I would rather wash the abbey floor in winter." When Aric blinked at her in confusion, her laughter deepened. She rolled a bit on the bed before her laughter slowed enough for her to explain. "Oh, my lord. Truly, Eustice did not have a clue about it."
Aric frowned slightly. "The nun?"
"Aye." Rosamunde giggled, then mimicked the woman, "'Well, you've seen the animals. 'Tis just like that.'" Shaking her head, she laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. Aric smiled wryly until she said, "You must have thought me the veriest fool! No wonder you have coddled me so. Even I would have refused to allow me out of the keep and near the stables were I in your position."
"Aye, well, regarding the stables," he muttered, then grimaced. He had not really coddled her, though it might seem so to her, but he had been rather harsh about her tending to the animals in the stables. Even Shrewsbury had taken him to task for that. And all because he feared her being unfaithful.