Chapter Eleven #3
When Elle’s hair was mostly dry, the innkeeper’s wife neatly braided it and helped her into one of the shifts.
Since Elle knew that the woman was missing a daughter, she let her fuss.
Bess had been so genuinely kind that Elle didn’t have the heart to tell her to go away or that she no longer needed her.
She let the woman neatly hang her clothing, touch her hair again, and then warm her bed with an old copper bed warmer.
When Elle was finally finished with the additional food, she burped in gluttonous misery, which only seemed to please the woman.
When Elle showed an interest toward getting into bed, Bess practically threw her into bed and tightly tucked her in.
After that, Elle was in bed to stay.
She only realized she had fallen asleep when she heard something in the chamber and startled herself awake to see Curtis moving around in the darkness. When he saw that he had awakened her, he paused regretfully in removing the daggers he’d been pulling from his belt.
“It’s me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry to have awoken you. I was trying to be quiet.”
Elle yawned and rubbed her eyes. “You did not wake me,” she said. “I have always been a light sleeper.”
He grunted softly as he continued to remove his things. “That is the life of a warrior,” he said. “I do not think I have had a solid night’s sleep since I was a lad.”
Lying on her side, Elle watched him as he proceeded to undress. “Having a bed this comfortable is rare,” she said. “It is like a warm embrace.”
He smiled faintly. “I know what you mean.”
He continued to undress, and it occurred to Elle why.
The man was her husband, and this was their wedding night.
At some point, he was going to get into bed with her, nude, and he was going to expect husbandly relations.
Her stomach began to twist in knots at the mere thought of it, because the last man who had touched her intimately was Cadwalader.
She could still feel his wrinkled, old hands on her body, disgusting her to the point of feeling ill.
But then something odd happened.
Curtis removed his tunic, and Elle could see his magnificent torso illuminated in the firelight.
He had a beautifully muscular chest and arms, a trim torso, and broad shoulders.
That was no wrinkly body. She watched him untie his breeches, but when he slid them off his hips and she got a look at his tight, bare buttocks, she quickly pulled the covers over her face.
She was both embarrassed and titillated, a strange combination.
She wanted to peek at him, but was too shy to do it.
He continued to move around the chamber, presumably nude, but she heard him come to a halt.
“Am I that appalling?” he asked.
She knew what he meant and could feel her face grow hot. “Why… why do you ask?”
“Because you have the coverlet pulled over your head.”
In the new spirit of honesty between them, she forced herself to answer truthfully. “I am unused to seeing a nude man,” she said. “Surely you can understand that.”
She heard his joints pop as he moved to the bed. Then he was pulling on the coverlet until her eyes were exposed. They popped open, and she found herself looking into his smiling face.
“You will never become accustomed to it if you refuse to look,” he said. “I am your husband. It is your right to look.”
He wouldn’t let her pull the coverlet up again, so she slapped a hand over her eyes, listening to him laugh low in his throat.
“Very well,” he said. “If I am so horrific that you do not wish to look at me, then I will not force you.”
She peeped through her fingers. “You are not horrific to look at,” she said. “It is simply… I am not used to this!”
He chuckled again and turned away from her. “Very well, you coward,” he said. “Now that you’ve hurt my feelings, I’m going to climb into bed next to you and weep.”
Her hands came away from her face, and she sat up, watching him as he walked around the bed and got in on the other side. “Do not be offended,” she said. “My only experience with this was long ago and quite unhappy.”
He knew that. He pulled the coverlet over himself, settling down as he looked at her. “I can only change your mind if you let me,” he said, folding a big arm behind his head. “You were barely a woman back then. Now you are fully grown and fully lovely. And you belong to me.”
She looked at him seriously, thinking he looked awfully handsome lying there on the linens. It was enough to flutter her heart again, something he seemed to be able to do with little effort.
“Have you done this before?” she asked.
The warmth in his eyes flickered. “I have,” he said honestly. “Does that surprise you?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Men do not go to their marriage bed a virgin.”
“There is a reason for that.”
“Why?”
“Because someone has to know what to do, or the entire situation will be a disaster.”
He was trying not to smile as he said it, and that made her grin. “That is very naughty, you know.”
He laughed softly. “Not as naughty as I can be.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He could see she hadn’t a clue what he meant. Reaching up a big hand, he cupped her head and pulled her down to his lips.
“Let me show you,” he whispered.
Gently, he kissed her cheek, so sweetly that Elle felt lightheaded.
That kiss was followed by another kiss to the cheek, to the ear, to the jaw, to the neck.
Each successive kiss made her feel giddier and giddier.
When he finally turned her head slightly and kissed her soft mouth, Elle thought she might faint.
This was no wrinkly old man with foul breath.
This was a powerful, handsome, virile knight.
An English knight. Could a man’s touch truly be this wonderful?
She quickly decided that she would let him show her.
This was all part of opening her eyes and letting the world in.
It was part of understanding that there were people out there who were kind and gentle.
Once Curtis touched her with his big, warm hands, she wanted more.
It was a glimpse into something she’d never had, but something she was coming to want.
She wanted to experience it all. For once, she wanted to be touched and loved. She wanted Curtis’ hands upon her.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
The fighting was over. The hatred was gone.
Curtis was kissing her now, taking the dominant position and forcing her back onto the mattress as he unfastened the ties on her shift.
She could feel his hands on her waist, yanking loose the ties as his kisses grew feverish.
She was breathing so heavily, trying to catch her breath between heated kisses, but instinctively, she moved to help him.
All she knew was that there was a fire building in her body that she had no control over. It was a shocking realization.
Every time Curtis kissed her, the fire grew.
Her shift went over her head and she was nude against his naked flesh.
This wasn’t anything like her time spent with Cadwalader.
She’d shuddered with disgust at every touch, but Curtis ignited a roaring blaze.
Once her shift came free, his mouth left hers, seeking her neck and points farther south.
He was kissing the swell of her bosom with heated lips.
The wildfire raged.
This was something she could learn to crave. He left her bosom and moved to her belly, kissing and suckling the flesh, and Elle heard herself groan in delight. He dragged his tongue over her rib cage, under her breasts, before finally capturing a tender nipple in his mouth.
Lightning struck.
Elle came alive in his arms, gasping and bucking beneath him, hardly realizing he had pulled her legs apart to settle some of his weight between them.
She had her hands on his blond head, experiencing his mouth on her breasts with the utmost delight.
Nothing Cadwalader had done to her came close to this, and she began to see what the excitement was about.
Soldiers and servants seemed to speak freely of coupling, and she’d never understood the allure.
Now, she did. Legs spread wide, she gave herself over to Curtis completely.
His fingers moved to the junction between her legs.
When Cadwalader had touched her there, however briefly, she recoiled.
But she wasn’t recoiling from Curtis. His fingers were stroking her, touching her in a way that made her entire body quiver.
Curtis suckled strongly on her right breast as he plunged a finger into her, acquainting her with his intimate touch.
But Elle didn’t want to simply be acquainted with it—she wanted to know all of it.
If this were coupling as it was meant to be, she realized what she’d been missing out on.
Her nubile body was prepared for him, her woman’s center swollen and primed for his entry.
The next thing Elle realized, his weight came down on her and he was thrusting into her gently, full and hot and hard.
With a gasp, she rose to meet him, winding her legs around his hips and pulling him in deeper.
Curtis’ mouth covered hers, suckling her, kissing her deeply, as he tightened his buttocks and thrust into her again and again, a steady rhythm building.
When their loins came together, that fire burning inside of Elle sparked brilliantly every time.
“Oh… God,” she breathed. “Naughty… Is this naughty?”
Curtis laughed low in his throat, nearly fracturing his concentration. But not quite. He was on fire also.
“I told you that I would show you,” he said, biting gently at her lower lip.
She gasped again as he ground his pelvis against hers. “Swear to me,” she whispered. “This—you—is only for me. This belongs to me.”
That seemed to feed his lust. “Until I die,” he murmured in her ear. “I shall belong to you and only you. And you shall belong to me.”
She nodded her head, wrapping her arms around his neck as he plunged deeply into her, causing sparks to fly.
After a few such deep thrusts, she felt an explosion in her loins the likes of which she had never experienced before.
Nothing Cadwalader had ever done to her could come close.
Tremors radiated throughout her body, and she cried out, clutching at Curtis and driving her nails into his flesh.
Dazed, she lay there gasping as Curtis continued thrusting until he took one hard, final push and she heard him grunt.
She could feel his male member inside her twitching as he released his seed.
Elle continued to lie there, in a stupor, her arms around his neck, holding on to him so tightly that she was afraid to let him go.
Afraid this moment was only a dream and she would awaken alone in a world that was as cold and sorrowful as she was.
Was.
She wasn’t any longer.
All wrapped up around Curtis’ heated body, Elle began to weep.
She didn’t know why, but silent tears came and wouldn’t stop.
They flowed down her face, touching his flesh as he lay there and held her.
She was weeping because never in her life had she ever known such closeness, such warmth, or such care.
Curtis had opened that world up for her.
“What is the matter?” he asked softly, shifting so he could look at her. “Why do you weep? Did I hurt you?”
She hadn’t been as discreet as she thought she had. Wiping at her face, she shook her head. “Nay,” she said hoarsely. “You were quite gentle.”
“Then why are you weeping?”
She almost shut him down, avoiding the question, but she thought better of it. Other than Melusine, she’d never had anyone to confide in, fearful of opening herself up. But with Curtis, she’d already established a pattern of honesty.
She wanted to keep it.
“I do not know, really,” she said. “I suppose because I have spent so much time trying to push you away and keep you at arm’s length that I’m fearful now that I’ve let you in.”
He shifted so his head was on the pillow beside hers. “Am I in?”
“You’ve come through the door I had closed.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “You mean I’ve managed to breach the gatehouse?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Exactly.”
It was a language they could both understand as they learned to communicate with one another. Curtis was quickly coming to be aware of that. “So I am standing at your gatehouse, yet I have no weapons,” he said softly. “What are you afraid of?”
Her smile faded. “I am afraid that this is all a dream and you will leave me.”
He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “I will not leave you,” he said huskily. “That is a promise. But you must stop trying to keep me out of the gatehouse. I want to come in, Elle. All the way in, if you’ll allow.”
She nodded. “I know,” she said. “And I want you to come in, but you must understand that pushing people away has become innate with me. If there is no one for me to depend on, then I cannot get hurt.”
“I understand,” he said, reaching up to wipe an errant tear from her right cheek. “But your days of being alone are ended. You have me now, and about twenty close family members who simply want the opportunity to love you. Give them that chance, Elle. Please.”
She forced a brave smile. “I will, if it is what you wish,” she said. “But I fear I have a great deal to learn about families and this life I now find myself in.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “I was not raised in a fine household,” she said. “I do not know how to manage kitchens or feasts or food or chambers. I do not know how to talk to English lords so they will not think I am foolish. I do not even know how to dance.”
He grinned. “I can see that I have a good deal of teaching in my future.”
“Do you mind terribly?”
He laughed softly and pulled her close. “Of course not,” he said. “I am delighted to do it. But I do not know everything, so I think you will have a few teachers to ensure you are the finest countess England has ever seen.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so.”
The conversation ended, but not uncomfortably so.
In fact, he pulled her close and held her in warm silence as they became acquainted with the feel of one another.
Flesh against flesh, heart against heart.
Elle was soft and pliable in his arms, and Curtis enveloped her in his strength.
It was a defining moment of what their future together would be.
Breached gatehouse and all.
When sleep came for them both, it was deep and undisturbed.
It was a solid night’s sleep for both of them.