Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

“T he House of de Mandeville has been trying to wrest East Anglia from the House of du Reims for one hundred and fifty years,” Christian du Reims was saying over his fifth cup of fine wine. “They actually tried to kill my father, trying to make it look as if it was an accident in battle. My father was saved by his squire, whom he soon knighted and then married off to my sister. A fine story, in fact. They are still married and have nine children.”

Davyss, Cortez, and now Drake were standing near the hearth of Thetford’s hall, listening to the loud laughter of the games going on over by the feasting tables and struggling to hear Christian’s naturally quiet voice over the noise. The atmosphere in the hall was warm, fragrant, and festive.

“I know Edmund de Mandeville,” Davyss said. “His seat is Westleton Manor, to the east of Framlingham. The family is odd, that is true, and I have heard that they have always contested the du Reims claim to East Anglia, but the family never struck me as particularly wicked.”

Christian snorted into his cup. “They are wicked,” he said, looking at Drake. “They are wicked and conniving. Now that you have married my daughter, they will soon enough discover that the title will pass to you. They have been trying to force one of their two beastly sons on me for the past ten years, men I would not wed my dog to. They desperately wanted one of those lads to marry Elizaveta. Have you never met Bruis or Glenn de Mandeville?”

Drake shook his head. “I have not,” he said, “although I believe my younger brothers know them. They are all around the same age, I believe.”

Davyss was nodding. “Indeed they are,” he said. “Bruis has been to Norwich. A big, rather wild-looking lad. He looks like he lives under a rock most of the time. My wife says he smells of compost.”

Christian grunted in agreement. “The de Mandevilles live at Westleton as if no one else in the world exists,” he said. “They do not send their children to foster. They keep them at home. They have an army of about five or six hundred men, men who roam about the countryside in gangs and rob people. I have heard tale that not even Edward will accept the service of the de Mandevilles, which is rather pathetic when you realize they once had great and noble roots.”

Drake scratched his head. “Edward warned me about them when he betrothed me to your daughter,” he said. “He has also made me the garrison commander at Spexhall Castle, which is a day’s ride to Westleton at the very most. I suppose that as soon as the de Mandevilles hear I have married the East Anglia heiress, they will be beating down my door trying to kill me.”

While Drake and Cortez grinned ironically at each other, Christian cautioned them. “Make not light of such things,” he warned. “The de Mandevilles are uncouth barbarians but they are crafty. Be wary of them, in any form or under any guise of peace or friendship. They will not mean it in the least.”

Drake wasn’t particularly worried. “My father is Thetford,” he said. “My grandmother was Surrey, and I married East Anglia. If the de Mandevilles are truly stupid enough to challenge me, then I say let them. I will quash them like a bug with the armies I will summon and wipe them from this earth.”

He had grown deadly serious by the end of his statement, leaving no one to doubt that he meant what he said. Davyss, fighting off a grin at his son who already sounded suspiciously like a protective husband and a powerful earl, put a hand on his shoulder.

“I am sure it will not be as bad as all that,” he said. “But, as Lord Christian said, it is best to be prudent.”

Drake simply nodded, drinking from the cup in his hand and realizing, as his father did, that he had sounded most protective and violent in that statement. He wasn’t quite sure where that surge of protective instincts came from, but he had a hunch. If the de Mandevilles wanted Elizaveta, and East Anglia, then they were going to have to go through him to get them both.

“It is my intention to leave for Spexhall on the morrow,” Drake said, still sounding rather aggressive. “Cortez and James have offered to come with me to help install the garrison because one thousand of Edward’s men should be arriving within the week. I have not seen Spexhall so I do not know what kind of shape it is in, if it will need any work or repair to make it secure. Father, may I also take Denys with me?”

Davyss considered the request. “Why not take Devon?” he asked. “His wife could be a companion to the newest Lady de Winter because I am quite certain you will be busy at Spexhall and Lady de Winter will be quite lonely.”

Drake shrugged. “I did not think you wanted to part with Devon but if you do, I will gladly take Devon with me,” he said. “I am sure my wife would very much appreciate Dannie’s companionship.”

He was referring to Devon’s round and lush wife, Lady Daniella de la Rosa de Winter. A lovely and sweet woman from the notoriously warlike de la Rosa Clan, she had been an utter joy since she and Devon had married almost a year before. Devon was mad for the woman and happier than his family had ever seen him, hence his strong disapproval towards Drake’s reluctance to marry. Devon and Daniella, or Dannie as they called her, set a fine example of a young married couple that Drake had completely overlooked. At least, until now.

“I think that Devon would insist on going with you,” Davyss said cutting in to Drake’s thoughts. “You two have a difficult time when you are separated, so I am sure he would want to go with you.”

Drake was very pleased with the prospect of having Devon along with him. He turned to find the man in the hall, seeing that he was huddled in a private conversation with his wife, and he came to realize that he rather missed the sight of Elizaveta in the hall. His mother had removed her about an hour earlier, no doubt to help her prepare for the night to come, and Drake suddenly didn’t feel much like spending any more time with a bunch of men. He was rather looking forward to spending time with his wife, alone, so he drained the contents of his cup and set it down on the mantel.

“Good men,” he said. “As much as I have enjoyed this conversation, my bride is without her groom at the moment, so I will beg your leave to attend the woman for the night.”

Christian, not wanting to think on the fact that his daughter’s virginity was about to be taken, simply waved Drake off and turned to the table with its full pitchers of wine. Cortez simply grinned and wandered away, back to the cavorting knights, while Davyss was left with his eldest son.

Davyss went to the man, fighting off a smile, as he put his arm around Drake’s broad shoulders. “I do not suppose you need any advice or help from me on this night of nights,” he said. “I fear, based on what your brothers have told me, that you could probably give me lessons in that regard.”

Drake clapped a hand over his face. “Father, please,” he groaned. “This is not a conversation I wish to have with my own father.”

Davyss laughed softly as they turned for the hall entry. “And it is not a conversation I particularly want to have with my own son,” he said. “I will, however, say this: always treat the woman with respect and kindness, lad. Your grandmother told me such things on the event of my wedding to your mother and she was right. You will get out of this marriage what you put into it. If you put nothing in, you will receive nothing in return. But if you put your heart and soul into it, it can be the most rewarding experience of your life. You must trust me on this.”

They were nearly to the entry door and Drake paused, looking at his father, a man he resembled a great deal. “I do, Papa,” he said softly. “Thank you for your patience and your wisdom. I shall endeavor to make the best of this.”

“Promise?”

“I will try.”

That was good enough for Davyss, certainly better than he had ever hoped. Considering how difficult it had been to get Drake to this point, he was grateful for how it had all turned out. He hugged his son before releasing him.

“Go, then,” he said. “We will see you on the morrow. I will inform your brother that he is to go with you to Spexhall, at least for a time.”

Drake nodded, smiling at his father when the man patted his cheek. As his father turned and headed towards the knights who were now trying to wrestle each other, Drake headed out of the hall.

In spite of all of the wine he’d had, Drake was thinking exceptionally clearly. My wedding night . It seemed so strange to think those words, true as they were. He was actually married. Married to a beautiful woman with a sparkling wit and a bright mind. Of all of the things he thought he would feel upon the event of his marriage, a sense of gladness hadn’t been among them. He thought he would have been trying to leap over castle walls and make a run for it as the bride’s angry relatives chased him with torches and dogs. Aye, that’s the way he’d always envisioned his marriage. Running for his life and then being dragged back in chains.

Odd how nothing had happened the way he’d imagined. Here he was, a married man and actually not weeping about it. As he made his way among the ancient berms, the keep of Thetford loomed in front of him and he gazed up at the stone bastion, silhouetted against the starry sky, and imagined what the night would bring.

He imagined what the rest of his life would bring, too.

He realized that he was looking forward to it.

*

The sleeping shift was from Italy, purchased by her grandmother somewhere in the south of France. It was cotton from the Holy Land, as soft and as fine as baby’s breath. Elizaveta hadn’t been allowed to wear the garment until now, as grandedame had held on to it, and held on to many other gifts for her, only giving them to her the day before her wedding. In fact, Elizaveta had found a treasure trove in the small, painted chest her grandmother had given her. It had been a world of exotic and beautiful things.

Along with the feather-soft shift, there had been fur slippers, two beautiful scarfs, combs, and ointments for the skin and lips. There had even been two precious glass phials of perfume, one of rose and one that smelled of exotic spices. It was a rich and heady fragrance. Lastly, there was oil to soften the skin that smelled of flowers and after she had washed with the hot water Lady de Winter had sent to her, she had rubbed the oil sparingly onto her skin. She would have been touched by all of these gifts from grandedame , but she knew the old woman had only purchased them to make her more attractive to her new husband. There had been no more thought given to the items than that.

Elizaveta was seated on a small stool in front of a small, painted table that had a bronze mirror built onto it. It was a lady’s toilette table, the first one she had ever used. She had seen them before, at Rochester Castle, in fact, where the lady of the castle’s table had been dainty and beautifully painted, but she had never personally used one. It held her perfumes and oils and balms, and she kept fingering through them, thrilled to own such things. It made her feel womanly, attractive, as she had never felt in her life. She wondered if her husband would find her attractive also. He had said he thought she was beautiful but it was probably the wine flowing through his veins that made him say so.

Aye, she knew about men telling her she was beautiful. They used to come from miles around, telling her that they had heard tale of her beauty and then spouting off about it in an embarrassing fashion. Some would sing songs about her beauty, trying to woo her, while others would recite prose with the hope of impressing her. One knight, a bachelor knight who was simply looking for a woman to marry so that he could acquire property, compared her looks to that of a magnificent horse.

Elizaveta wasn’t entirely sure that comparing her to a horse was a good tactic, but the nuns at Rochester had chased the man away just as they had chased all of them away. When she went to live with her father at Thunderbey, her father’s men had thrown rocks at the men who had followed her. The memories of the rock-throwing still brought a smile to her face; it had been rather humorous to watch.

But now she was Drake’s wife, marrying not only the only man who had never tried to woo her, but a man who had tried to avoid their marriage altogether. It was rather ironic. As she gazed at her reflection in the small bronze mirror, running a bone comb through her dark tresses, her thoughts began to singularly linger around Drake. She’d only known the man a few hours but already she liked him personally. He was kind and attentive, and he had that wicked sense of humor his mother had warned her about. She found that quite charming.

In fact, she found him quite charming and she was starting to feel rather giddy about the night to come. She had absolutely no idea what to expect other than the obvious, but even in that, she wasn’t entirely sure the process. The nuns at Rochester would never discuss it and the only thing she had ever heard about the coupling between a man and a woman was from the gossip of foolish servants. Therefore, she wasn’t nervous but she was the least bit apprehensive. That was natural.

There was a knock at the chamber door, distracting her from her thoughts, and by the time she turned around, Drake was opening the door. His gaze immediately found her, illuminated in the warm, golden glow of several tallow candles, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. But Elizaveta was gazing back at him with some uncertainty in her expression so he forced himself to enter and closed the door behind him, bolting it. Even then, he simply stood by the door and looked at her for a moment before speaking.

“Did my mother provide you with everything you needed for your comfort, my lady?” he asked, his voice soft. A smile flickered on her lips. “She had four sons and one daughter, and she lavished attention on my sister. The woman had more possessions than she could reasonably use. When my sister was married last year and went away with her husband, I thought my mother would die of heartbreak until my brother’s wife came along. And now my mother has you to spoil, so I would assume that she has done so.”

Elizaveta laughed softly. “Look around you,” she said. “Your mother has done all of this. I have never seen so many coverlets or hides or items of comfort. She has gone to great lengths to make sure we are comfortable.”

Drake shook his head. “Not we, you ,” he said. “I can sleep on a floor and be comfortable and she knows that. All of this is for you.”

Elizaveta grinned as she set her comb down onto her toilette table. “And I am greatly appreciative,” she said, looking to the fluffy bed and its layers of covers. “I have truthfully not known much comfort in my lifetime, at least not like this.”

Drake, who was still dressed in the clothing he was married in, began to move for his belt to untie it simply because he was already thinking of climbing into bed. The sight of the overstuffed mattress, and the sight of his new bride, made getting into bed a very attractive prospect.

“You are the daughter of an earl,” he said, looking at her curiously as he began to undress. “I should think you have led a very comfortable life.”

Elizaveta couldn’t help but notice that the man was starting to strip down and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. “Not really,” she said, watching as he unfastened his belt and loosened his heavy brocaded tunic. “You will recall that I told you that I went to foster at a very young age. I can remember sleeping with other children in an alcove near the master’s chamber of Rochester. We did not have our own chamber. We slept on pallets that we fashioned ourselves with rushes and whatever covering the Lady of the House would give us. We worked in the kitchens, learned to sew and paint and draw, and she taught us to sing and to write in three languages, but there was never much comfort or affection to be had. When I went to the convent, it was even worse.”

Drake pulled the heavy tunic over his head, listening with interest. “You can write?”

She nodded. “In Latin and French and English.”

Drake was impressed. “That is quite unusual,” he said. “My mother and sister know how to write, but I have not met many women who can.”

Elizaveta smiled faintly. “I love to write,” she said. “I am rather good at it, so I am told.”

He smiled in return. “So my wife is well-educated,” he said. “That is a prideful thing for me.”

Elizaveta’s grin grew, now modestly. “Thank you, my lord.”

Drake’s gaze lingered on her dark head as he moved to pull off his second tunic, exposing his broad, muscular chest and arms. “Please call me by my given name,” he said, tossing the tunic over into the corner with the other one. “I do not want you to address me formally, ever. You are my wife and such formality seems unpleasant.”

Elizaveta nodded, afraid she had offended him. “I will not do it again, I promise,” she said. “You may address me however you wish, but I give you permission to address me by my name.”

Drake scratched his arms and his belly thoughtfully, not realizing that his new wife was looking at all of that naked flesh with some shock and apprehension. Already, he was half-naked. He never gave his state a second thought but she, on the other hand, could think of nothing else. He is already half-naked!

“Elizaveta,” he said, rolling her name off his tongue: Eee-liz-uh-VEY-da . “A beautiful name, to be sure, but very long. Did you not have a nickname as a child? Something short and easier to speak?”

Elizaveta cocked her head, also thoughtfully, but she turned back to her mirror in the same motion because the sight of all of that muscular flesh was making her heart race. She picked up her bone comb again and began brushing her hair nervously.

“When I was a young girl at Rochester, I had a friend who could not say my name,” she said. “She called me Vee-Vee instead.”

Drake smiled at the sweet, little name. “Vee-Vee,” he repeated. “I like that very much. With your permission, I may use it once in a while.”

Elizaveta nodded, combing the ends of her hair, seeing his reflection in the bronze mirror as he unfastened his breeches. As she watched, aghast, he dropped his breeches to the floor and stood there absolutely naked. Startled, and deeply embarrassed, she lowered her gaze and looked to the tabletop, furiously combing the ends of her hair and trying to pretend she wasn’t at all bothered by a naked man standing behind her. Soon enough, she heard the coverlets rustle behind her and then the mattress creaked and groaned as Drake climbed into bed. All the while, Elizaveta sat there and combed.

“You are going to comb the hair right out of your head if you do that any harder,” Drake said softly. “Come to bed now.”

Heart pounding against her ribs, Elizaveta stopped her wild combing and set the comb down on the toilette table. Her cheeks were flaming and the thought of climbing into the bed with him terrified her. So she sat there, back to him, and thinking she should probably confess her nervousness. Already, he knew of it. She could tell by the tone of his voice because she’d all but shouted it with her frenzied hair care. Perhaps she should simply come clean and tell him the all of it. Perhaps he would be gentle with her if she did.

“I will,” she said hesitantly. “But… well, you should know that I do not know too much about what we are supposed to do this night. I know that we must consummate the marriage but I am ashamed to tell you that no one has ever schooled me in what that really entails. Of course, I know the basics of a mating between a man and a woman, but that is all I know.”

Her voice was trembling and Drake, propped up on an elbow upon the very soft bed, smiled. “I see,” he said, pretending to be thoughtful about it. “Fortunately for you, I knew that someday we would be facing this situation so I have learned a little something about it. But I cannot teach you if you are over there and I am over here. Either you need to come closer to me or I need to come closer to you.”

Elizaveta was a brave woman under most circumstances. This day had proven that. But at the moment, her bravery was faltering. She sat at the table, her back to him, and trembled.

“May… may I tell you that I am terrified?” she whispered. “I am, you know. I have spent my life around women and nuns, and men have always been frightening creatures to me.”

He was not unsympathetic. In fact, he found her modesty quite touching. “Surely you knew that it would come down to this.”

“I knew.”

“If you would rather not tonight, I am agreeable. But at some point, we will have to consummate the marriage.”

She shook her head quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Nay,” she said. “It must be done tonight. It is your right. I suppose… I suppose I must simply work up the courage if you will allow me that grace.”

He didn’t say anything. He simply climbed out of bed and walked up behind her. Elizaveta heard him moving, coming closer, and she stiffened. He could see it. He could also see his reflection in the bronze mirror, something she could see as well, and his entire pelvic region, including his semi-erect manhood, was in her full view. He stood there a moment, watching her lowered head and stiff posture, before taking a knee behind her. He brought his body up against hers, gently but unmistakably. When their bodies touched, Drake swore he could hear the thunder roll. There was something powerful and electric about it; he couldn’t explain it any other way.

“You are afraid because you do not know what is to happen,” he whispered in her ear, feeling a chill run through her body. “Since you will not come to me, I must come to you. I want you to feel me against you, Elizaveta. Do you feel my body up against yours?”

Elizaveta’s heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. But she could definitely feel his heat against her back, enveloping her with his power and warmth. But there was a distinct comfort to his presence, something she hadn’t expected. She’d never had a man this close to her and of all the things she had imagined it would be, comfortable hadn’t been among them. But the contact between them, of his body against her back even though there was fabric between them, also caused her palms to sweat. She was trembling but not from fear. It was a giddy and overwhelming reaction.

“I… I do,” she murmured, her mouth dry.

Drake had a lazy smile on his lips, amused and pleased by her reaction to him. Very carefully, he brought up his enormous arms and wrapped them around her slender body, hearing her gasp as he did so. He squeezed, but not too hard; just hard enough for her to feel his power.

“This is an embrace,” he told her. “Have you never been embraced by a man?”

Elizaveta could hardly breathe for the feel of him around her. “N-Nay, never.”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. He dipped his head down and planted a tender kiss on the top of her shoulder, near her neck. A chill raced through Elizaveta so strongly that she nearly bolted herself right off of the chair.

“That is a kiss,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her neck again. “Has a man never kissed you?”

Elizaveta was quickly turning into a boneless, quivering mass of heated flesh. “N-Never!” she gasped.

He allowed himself to chuckle then, softly. “That is good,” he said, “for no man but me shall every kiss you. Is that clear?”

She nodded unsteadily. “Aye.”

Drake believed her. He kept his left arm around her as his right arm loosened and his hand went to her head, running his fingers through her soft, dark hair.

“This is a man’s touch,” he said softly. “Does it frighten you?”

She shook her head. “Nay,” she breathed.

He brought her hair to his nostrils, smelling the faint scent. It smelled of herbs and forests and womanhood. It was quite enticing. Then his hand moved to her shoulder, stroking it with his fingers, before moving down her arm. He could feel her quiver violently as he touched her.

“A man’s touch is nothing to be feared, lass,” he whispered. “My touch will always be gentle upon you. You will never know my touch in anger. Therefore, there is nothing to fear from me, ever.”

Elizaveta’s eyes were closed as he tenderly touched the skin on her arm. Her head had lolled back and now rested back against his shoulder, utterly focused on what he was doing to her. It was such an innocent touch, something completely non-threatening, and in that action, she had calmed considerably, just as he had hoped. But he wasn’t going to stroke her arm all night; he had other things in mind.

His hand moved to hers, squeezing it, before bringing her fingers up to his mouth. He kissed every finger gently, even nibbling on her baby finger, causing her to giggle because he was deliberately tickling her. But the moment she giggled, turning her face towards his, he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with more passion than he should have. He simply couldn’t help it. Her flesh was tender and sweet, and her fingers had been delightful, and he very much wanted to taste her mouth.

Elizaveta gasped as he suckled her delicious lips. Her experience with kisses had been chaste ones from her father to her cheek, or perhaps a female friend to her cheek. Never had she been kissed on the mouth, ever, so her first experience with it was overwhelming. Drake’s big arms went around her, holding her against his nude flesh as his lips suckled hers. When his tongue gently probed her lips, she had no idea how to respond until he managed to snake his tongue into her mouth. Then, it was as if the flood gates had opened and passion, in all of its delectable forms, came rushing through. Now she was running on instinct alone, instincts she never knew she had.

Just as he was tasting her, Elizaveta began to taste him. He tasted like wine and leather and steel, everything that was manly and knightly. His kisses were forceful without being overbearing, sensual without being sloppy. Before Elizaveta realized it, he had pulled her off of the chair and laid her upon the bed, where one of his hands, she didn’t know which one, was pulling her shift from her shoulders. His mouth, after having kissed her lips into a red and swollen state, was moving to the bare flesh of her shoulders. He was kissing her there. And she was letting him.

“I am going to remove you from your shift now,” Drake whispered against her silken flesh. “This is what a husband does with his wife.”

In a haze of newly awakened passion, Elizaveta heard his words but didn’t really understand them until he started to pull her shift down to expose her breasts. Then, she grabbed her shift and held it tightly so he couldn’t pull it any further down. Puzzled, not to mention rather perturbed that she was resisting him, Drake looked up to see that she was gazing at him with wide, apprehension-filled eyes.

“I… I do not want to take my shift off,” she said, breathing heavily. “Must I?”

Drake shrugged. “Nay,” he said, frustrated that he wasn’t going to get the opportunity to look at her lush, naked form. “I can work underneath it but it will be awkward.”

Elizaveta could see his disappointment and she was torn between wanting to please him and maintaining her modesty. As much as she had loved what he had been doing to her, the heated kisses and gentle touches, she wasn’t ready to reveal herself to him. No one, not even servants or friends, had seen her without her clothes on. She was fairly proper in that respect. The thought of Drake seeing her without clothing greatly embarrassed her.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I am not trying to be difficult, truly. ’Tis only that…”

He waved her off. “As I said, I can work underneath it,” he said. “I do not want you to be uncomfortable. I want you to enjoy this.”

Eyes still wide with fear and embarrassment, Elizaveta nodded. “Thank you,” she breathed. “You are most kind.”

Drake smiled faintly at her. Then, he lifted up the bottom of her shift and shoved nearly half of his body beneath it, his naked flesh against hers as the shift wrapped around them both. Elizaveta gasped with shock and, quite quickly, ecstasy when his hot, wet mouth closed in over a tender nipple. He suckled her furiously, a big arm wrapping around her when her body arched and bucked. He was out of control at this point, lured by the taste and smell of her flesh. There would be no stopping him.

He could feel Elizaveta trying to pull away from him, climb off the bed even, but he held her fast, nursing on her tender breasts, running his tongue over flesh that tasted like honey. The shift, which she had been so reluctant to part from, enabled him to touch and taste her in ways she couldn’t interfere with. He could feel her hands at his head, trying to push him away through the fabric, but he resisted her. Unless she verbally commanded him away, which she hadn’t yet, he would not be shoved away with the touch of the hand. He had her exactly where he wanted her and he wasn’t about to let go.

But her bucking and twisting grew worse when his free hand moved to the tender core between her legs. She howled with surprise when he wedged his big body in between her legs and fingered the dark curls. She was wet, her body preparing to receive him, and the realization had his heart pounding and his erection as hard as it had ever been. So he stroked her virginal lips, all the while either nursing at her breasts or kissing her belly as he tried to calm her writhing, and he soon became aware that she was no longer resisting him or trying to push him away. The more he stroked her pink, wet folds, the more her hips would thrust forward as if trying to capture that searching finger. It was the most wildly erotic thing he had ever experienced.

Therefore, he inserted a finger into her to satisfy that hunger her body seemed to be experiencing, the inherent need to feel a man between her legs, to breed as nature intended. Elizaveta gasped at the intrusion, groaning softly as he thrust in and out of her, mimicking the lovemaking they would soon be doing. He thrust another finger into her and she gasped, louder, her hips meeting his hand as he moved within her. But Drake would not delay any longer; he needed his manhood inside of her in the worst way. His fingers were still in her as he pulled the shift up over his head, using his free hand to push it all the way up to her neck.

Now, he could see her beautiful body bathed in the firelight. She was full of breast, slender of waist, and her legs were parted and slightly bent as his big fingers thrust into her. Very quickly, he removed his fingers and placed his erection at her threshold, coiling his buttocks and thrusting into her before she realized what he was doing. When Elizaveta became aware, for the feel of his manhood was much different from the feel of his fingers, she started to tighten in fear. Feeling her body tense, Drake lay atop her and coiled his buttocks again, thrusting firm and hard this time. He felt her maiden’s barrier break as he gathered her up into his arms.

Beneath him, Elizaveta was enveloped by his big body, impaled on it, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck as he thrust into her warm and wet folds. There was some pain at first, but he was moving inside of her with great ease as her moist body accepted him, so the pain quickly vanished. All she could do was hang on and experience her first coupling, thinking that she rather liked it. All of the apprehension she had felt was rapidly fading, being replaced by something heated that seemed to be sparking low in her belly. Every time Drake thrust into her, the fire grew.

Elizaveta felt as if she were a ship being tossed on the sea. Although Drake held her fast, she was simply going along with what he was doing to her, feeling her body jar every time his hips met with hers. She was rolling with him, moving with him, and the fire in her loins was growing to a fevered intensity. She discovered that grinding her hips against his when they came together sparked the blaze even higher, so she thrust her hips against his, rubbing herself on him, so much so that when her first climax came, she screamed out as much in surprise as in pleasure.

Drake put his mouth over hers to quiet her cries, knowing that it was a small keep and sounds tended to carry. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed by his family hearing her cries of passion or, worse, his mother thinking they were cries of pain. There was no telling what his mother would do if she thought her son was injuring his new wife. Therefore, in order to prevent his mother from charging into the room, he kept his mouth over Elizaveta’s, kissing her and quieting her, until he felt her tremors die down. Then, and only then, did he join her in her passion. His release was so powerful that he nearly lost consciousness from the sheer pleasure of it.

Several long moments passed with only the sounds of heavy breathing in the chamber. Once in a while, the fire would snap, but that was the only sound other than the breathing. Flat on her back upon the soft mattress, Elizaveta was pinned beneath Drake with her shift over most of her face. It was so bunched up around her head, and Drake’s body was covering all of her, that it didn’t occur to her until her breathing started to slow that, although he hadn’t technically removed her shift, she was nonetheless very naked beneath him on the bed. But truth be told, she didn’t much care. If being naked meant experiencing the pleasure she had just known, then she was quite happy to be naked.

“Are you well?”

Drake’s voice, soft and deep, pierced the quiet. Elizaveta had to reach up and pull the shift away from her eyes so she could see him.

“Aye,” she said, seeing a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. She grinned. “I suppose it was silly for me to tell you not to remove my shift because it very nearly suffocated me.”

He laughed softly. “That is why a man does not bed a woman who is clothed,” he told her. “One can end up strangled at the very least. All of that movement bunches up the clothing in rather critical places.”

It was Elizaveta’s turn to laugh. “I will remember that,” she said, gazing up into his strong and handsome face. She sobered. “I apologize for being afraid of this… this consummation. I should have trusted you.”

His smile faded. “I was not offended,” he said. “I hope it was not as terrible as you had imagined.”

“It was not.”

“Would you like to do it again sometime?”

She blushed furiously. Drake took that as an affirmative response.