I didn’t know how to respond though I was not surprised by what he said. I had seen the uneasiness when I held the shaving blade near his throat and had felt him relax noticeably when it was over. He had been perceptibly nervous the entire time.
“Would you like me to start? With your bath, I mean?”
“Most definitely,” Branford replied, his eyes sparkling. He turned in a half circle, apparently wishing for me to start with his back. With my hands, I traveled slowly over my husband’s shoulders and down to his waist. Warm droplets of water escaped the washcloth and dripped down his skin, flowing quickly over the outlined muscles before merging into the fabric of his soft linen trousers.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly as I used a dry towel to remove the drops. I immersed the washcloth in the warm water and wrung it out, testing it to make sure it didn’t drip this time.
“I think it just means you’ll have to do it all again,” Branford said as he looked over his shoulder. When I looked up to his eyes, they sparkled with playfulness.
“If you like,” I said, trying to contain my own smile.
“I like it very much.”
I went back to my task, trying to control my smile by biting at my lip. The feel of his skin underneath the cloth made my fingers tingle though I wasn’t sure why. I washed around the muscles in Branford’s back, dried him off, and then washed the backs of his arms as well.
“Will having Amarra share our rooms truly not bother you?” Branford asked suddenly.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve never really spent much time around animals.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “I have to admit I was a little hesitant to ask.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know if you would want an animal in our rooms. Some people don’t think they should ever be indoors.”
“I’ve never seen animals inside like that,” I told him. I ran a dry cloth up and down Branford’s arms until they were dry. “I know there were some hunting dogs around Hadebrand, but I never came into contact with them. I had never touched a dog before today.”
Branford turned to face me and then leaned over a little to kiss my lips softly. He stood back up, and I rinsed out the cloth to start washing his chest.
“Is there another washcloth?” Branford asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “Do you not like this one?”
“I like that one fine,” Branford said.
I reached under the basin and pulled out another cloth, but Branford took it from my hand as he spoke.
“I just thought maybe I should wash you, too.”
I may have actually gasped at the suggestion.
“Would that be all right with you?” Branford asked softly.
“I…I think so.” I could barely make a sound as Branford reached up to my shoulders. He ran his hands slowly down my arms and then back again before he started to open the front of my dress. I stood motionless, my heart pounding as he looked from my eyes to his hands as he worked. He removed the laces and watched my eyes closely as he pushed the clothing from my shoulders and down my arms. He pulled my hands out of the sleeves one at a time. The dress was gathered at the waist and caught there, but I was bare from the waist up. Even though I knew he was looking at me, I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Are you going to finish washing me?” he asked. His voice was still soft, and he spoke slowly. I nodded and reached over to the basin, dropping the cloth almost as soon as I picked it up. I bumbled out an apology of sorts as Branford reached for my hands and drew me closer to him. I stared down at the floor until he tilted my head up to face him. “Alexandra, what’s wrong? Are you…are you frightened?”
“Yes.” I tried to breathe normally.
“I will not hurt you, my wife. Remember what we talked about? I will not take you tonight. I only wish to see you and touch you. It won’t hurt. I promise you it won’t hurt. Right now, I’m just going to wash you the same way you are washing me. Is that all right, Alexandra?”
I heard his words. He was only going to wash me. I felt my body shudder at the thought and wondered if I could possibly be any more nervous. Then I realized I could be, and I would be very soon when he took me to our bed for the first real night of intimacy he had promised. That thought brought on more thoughts—thoughts of the next night. Suddenly, I was more nervous.
“Alexandra…” Branford cupped my face and moved his own head to one side to look at me. I bit down on my lip, sure he was going to be angry with me. Before I could consider what to say to him, he had pulled my dress back over me, and a moment later I was in his arms. He carried me swiftly to the chair where we had sat just a few minutes before and seated himself with me in his lap. “Why, Alexandra? Why does this frighten you so?”
“I’m sorry, Branford. I didn’t…I mean…you didn’t have to…”
“Hush,” he said. He brushed his fingers over my lips then pushed tears from my cheeks. “I’m not angry with you. I just want to understand. Why are you so afraid?”
“What do you mean?”
“You think I’m going to truly hurt you when I take you,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. You aren’t just nervous. You seem as though you aren’t sure you’ll even survive the act! There can be some pain, or so I understand, but the way you react…I don’t know what to think. If no one has ever harmed you in such a way…Alexandra, tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”
“You want me to…to tell you…”
“Tell me what you believe will transpire,” Branford said clearly. “Tell me what you think I’m going to do to you.”
“You will…um…use your…” I stumbled over the words. “Um…to open me…so I can have your children. Shelly told me about it when…when she was, um, given to a knight.”
“Shelly? Was she one of Whitney’s handmaids as well?”
“Yes.”
“She was given as a tournament prize?”
“Yes,” I replied again, my voice growing hoarse. “The knight was asked what he wanted, and he said he would, um…would speak of it to King Edgar privately. Later that evening, Shelly was taken away.”
“Tell me what happened.” I felt Branford’s hand on the back of my head as he pulled my cheek to his chest, cradling me against him.
“When she came back…” The image in my head made me close my eyes and press my face to Branford’s chest as he tightened his arms around me. I saw her in my mind as she stumbled backward, nearly falling to the floor when the guard who brought her released her arm. Her clothing had been torn, and she tried to hold it against her body as she started to fall. Her mouth was cut, her arms bruised, and her face stained with her tears. “She told me what he did…how he lay down with her. She said it hurt…and she bled. She was still bleeding when she came back.”
“Still bleeding?” Branford said. He sounded confused. “What do you mean?”
“She was still bleeding,” I repeated. “She said he bit her mouth, so her lip was bleeding a little. And she was…um…bleeding between her legs.”
“Was it time for her to…well…to be…”
“No,” I shook my head. “It wasn’t her monthly time. I thought all women…um…would bleed the first time. Isn’t that why you cut your hand, to show I was pure on our wedding night?”
“There can be some blood.” Branford’s voice rose in pitch, and he growled suddenly. “But it would be drops, Alexandra! And not always even that! Are you telling me he actually…”
I felt Branford’s back straighten and his arms clench.
“Are you saying he…he injured her? When he took her, he hurt her?”
“I suppose so,” I said softly. “She said he was, um…wild with his lust. He threw her on the bed before he moved on top of her. She said she cried, but he just kept going until he was…sated. Then he called for the guard and told him to take her away—her crying was keeping him awake.”
“What was his name?” Branford spoke each word slowly, one at a time and thro
ugh clenched teeth. I wondered why he held me in such a tight grip and why his muscles were so tensed. Then understanding dawned—he thought that what had been done to his mother had been done to Shelly. But his mother had been a noble, and no one should have touched her in such a way. Shelly was only a handmaid like me.
“She was his prize, Branford.” I knew he had to understand this. He had won many tournaments, as his titles proclaimed. He had to know this was not an uncommon prize for the winning knight. “He had every right—”
“Tell me his name,” Branford said, interrupting me. The words were again short and clipped, and his voice was tight.
“It was just a small tournament,” I said quietly, hoping to steer him from this path, but he would not have it.
“Alexandra, if I have to ask you again, I am not going to be pleased.”
I blanched.
“It was Sir Remy,” I said quietly. “He is King Edgar’s…”
“I know who he is,” Branford said curtly.
“He won many tournaments at Hadebrand,” I said.
“He’s won several in other kingdoms as well.”
“She said he was the same way with her…um…as he was in the battles.”
“My God,” Branford said under his breath. “No wonder you are so terrified. Is that all you have ever heard? That is your only knowledge?”
“Not…exactly,” I admitted.
“What else?”
“Just in passing…women would talk about the pain the first time and how the pleasure was all…was all for the, um…for the man.”
“For the man,” I heard Branford mumble softly. He breathed sharply through his nose and ran his hand through his hair. His gaze moved to mine, and he reached out to cup my face. “Do you remember what I told you before? I do not want to see you hurt. I only want to show you how much pleasure it can bring.”
“Shelly said Sir Remy did feel pleasure,” I said. “I’m sure you will, too…I’ll try to…”
“Not for me, Alexandra!” Branford huffed through his nose again, and dropped his chin to the top of my head. I felt him take another breath. “I want you to feel it as well.”
“Feel what?” I asked.
“If I could just get you to relax long enough, I could show you,” he grumbled, exasperated. He brought one of his hands up to run it through his hair, and then his lips touched my temple. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s all right,” I said quietly.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. He leaned back and tilted his head to look at me. “I have never, ever hurt a woman like that, Alexandra. I wouldn’t. Yes, your first time can be uncomfortable, but that part is over quickly, and you aren’t going to be left bleeding!”
I looked up at him quizzically, trying to comprehend the meaning of his words.
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Branford reiterated. His brow creased, and he traced my cheekbone with his fingers. “If he had gone slow—been careful with her—that would not have happened.”
“What if you…” I stopped, not knowing exactly what to say.
“If I what?” Branford pressed me for an answer.
“What if you…if you get too…if you are…”
“Alexandra, I am perfectly capable of controlling myself,” Branford said, somehow understanding what I wished to say though I could not find the words. “If I could not, I would have had you the first night. If not then, the second. I would have had you that next morning when we woke up or when you first bathed me. I would have had you this afternoon or ten minutes ago. Every time I get close to you, I want you. I will admit it’s difficult sometimes, but I want you to desire me, too. I want you to…someday…pull me into your arms of your own desire. I want you to kiss me, and I want you to someday beg me to take you to bed.”
I certainly blushed and tried to hide my face in Branford’s chest, but he turned me to face him again. His eyes looked hopeful as he spoke.
“I saw it there, you know,” he said. “Yesterday, when I touched you—I saw it in your eyes then, just for a moment. Do you remember?”
Even as he spoke of it, I felt my stomach tighten as I remembered the feeling of his thumb as it rubbed against the center of my breast and how his touch made the muscles in my legs clench. I shifted slightly in his lap.
“You do remember,” Branford said with a chuckle. I could only nod and not actually hide since Branford’s hand still cupped my cheek. He showed me his crooked smile, and then his eyes grew serious. “What can I do? What can I do to convince you I won’t hurt you?”
I tried to look away, but he would have none of it.
We had spoken of starting again—of trying to be good to one another. How could I truly do that if I could not bring myself to trust him? As far as I knew, he had not spoken an untruth to me. In fact, he had been quite forthcoming when it came to information about himself. Whatever questions I had asked, he had answered. Though I certainly still feared his temper, his gentle, nightly touches had not caused me harm. They did quite the opposite, in fact. His touches had been very desirable, just as he had promised.
“It won’t…it won’t hurt?”
“I only wish to touch you tonight, my wife.” Branford’s eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed, his expression uncertain. When I looked at him, I was suddenly reminded of a small boy who would often visit Hadebrand, begging for scraps of food from the castle. Sometimes, when he was worried he might have asked for too much, he would get a similar look in his eyes—both afraid to ask and afraid not to ask all at the same time.
More than anything, Branford appeared quite young and boyish to me for a moment. As his eyes silently begged me to allow him to touch my body, I couldn’t help but smile just a little. His look made my spine tingle, at the same time making him appear much less frightening than he ever had before. I took a deep breath and nodded before turning in his lap to look upon him more directly.
“I believe you,” I said quietly, feeling my blush rise to my cheeks.
“You will permit me to touch you?” Branford’s eyes widened, and his hands moved to my hips. I felt his fingers grip slightly into my sides, and then he tugged at the fabric of my dress. “You’ll let me remove this from you…see you without it?”
“Yes,” I said as I nodded again. I glanced down for a moment, for the intensity of his gaze was too much. “You’ll be gentle?”
“Always,” Branford said through a breath of relief. “I promise you.”
“And tomorrow…when it’s the third night?” I chewed on my lip, wondering if I might actually faint again when the time came.
“I won’t hurt you,” Branford said, his voice pleading again. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone in such a way but especially not you. I swear I will make it perfect for you…as perfect as I know how.”
With a final nod and a deep breath, I released my lip from my teeth, leaned forward, and pressed my lips against my husband’s. I could feel his mouth turn up into a smile as he leaned back a bit in the chair, pulling me tenderly against him as I attempted to follow his movements and not break the kiss. I slid my hands up to his shoulders and leaned against them for balance. I felt Branford’s hands glide up my sides around to my back and then up to my shoulders and into my hair. I opened my mouth, reaching out to touch his lips with my tongue. Branford groaned softly but didn’t push back. For a few minutes, he stayed somewhat still as I kissed him.
We didn’t stop until I backed away, blinking a few times before I focused on his face again. Branford said nothing, but the glint in his eyes and slight smile told me how pleased he was. Feeling slightly emboldened, I let my fingers trace up the side of his neck, across his jaw, and finally settle on his moistened lips. I touched him softly, as he had touched my skin before, and I could feel his warm breath against my fingertips. With my other hand, I touched his cheek, followed the path of his eyebrows, and slipped down to the tip of his nose. His chest rose and fell with his breaths. He closed his eyes and gripped my hips as
I explored his beautiful face.
When I managed to have my fill, at least for the time being, I moved my hands back to his shoulders and tried to figure out a way to stop my ever-present blush from appearing. I must have failed, for he smiled brightly and traced my cheek with his fingers.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
“You’re welcome, Branford.”
“Would you mind if we forget the rest of the bathing?” Branford asked. I shook my head. “You could go ahead and get yourself dressed for bed. Your wardrobe should be adequate now, I hope.”
“It is.”
“There is a nightdress in there,” Branford said, his voice softening. “I’d like you to wear it.”
“Which one?”
“It has laces all the way up the front,” he replied.
“Oh.”
Branford released his grip, and I went to the wardrobe to find the dress he wanted me to wear. I had no trouble locating the one he meant, for not only did it lace up the front, the laces were obviously designed for their simplicity—especially in removal. The dress was blue, lightweight, and the laces did indeed go from the neckline all the way down to the waist. I pulled it over my head and then looked down at the open front with the ends of the laces in my hands. With the laces undone, Branford would be able to see the entire front of me, clear to the bottom of my stomach. My hands shook as I started to lace it from the bottom. Then I wondered if he wanted me to lace it at all or if the act would be fruitless since he would want it unlaced soon enough. I remembered earlier in the day when he had opened my dress and looked at me. He had started to touch me before he saw the mark on my shoulder and had stopped.
I finished with the laces, and with my feet bare against the cool wooden floor, I walked around the screen to face my husband. He looked from my eyes to my feet, then back up again, his smile growing as he took me in.
“You are extraordinarily beautiful,” he said. I felt the heat rise to my face. Branford walked up to me and placed his hand on my cheek and whispered. “Lovely.”
He pressed his lips to mine, and I opened my mouth as I felt his tongue touch me. He left his hand against my cheek as the other one reached for my waist and he pulled my body against his. He broke away soon, and then in one swift movement, he stooped down, wrapped his arms behind my back and legs, and then hoisted me up into his embrace.