Chapter 13 #4
But it was now obvious that he had been too forceful and what she had experienced was real pain, not just a pinch, which was hardly surprising because breaching her maidenhead had felt different from what he had expected.
There had definitely been resistance there, nothing like what he had felt on his wedding night.
He gritted his teeth.
Solveig was the only other virgin he had bedded and he had thought, evidently incorrectly, that it would be the same for all women.
When he had entered her, he had not felt anything tearing, and she had not complained or flinched, never uttered a single whimper of protest. He had always assumed that this was because being taken for the first time only brought a minimal amount of discomfort to a woman if she was ready for it but judging from Merewen’s reaction he was forced to reassess this first, hopeful opinion.
He was now wondering if his wife had not in fact hidden the fact that she was in pain from him.
It would be in keeping with her character to keep silent when she was in agony, to spare him from the real extent of her suffering so as not to inconvenience him. The thought brought a twinge of guilt crashing through him, as well as anger.
He would have liked to be told something as important as the fact that he was hurting his wife!
Didn’t a man deserve to know what the woman he was making love to was feeling?
He had told Merewen it might be uncomfortable when he surged inside of her but it looked as if painful was a more accurate description of what she had experienced.
If he had known the reality of it, he would never have behaved in such a manner.
But as unwelcome as the realization that Merewen was in pain was, at least it meant that he had stopped. Had she not shown her pain he would have carried on, too fired up to think of stopping, too lost to his pleasure to ask if she was all right.
“Merewen, look at me. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be like that. Please, I—”
“It’s all right,” she panted, sounding mercifully less panicked. “Only I… It was not what—”
“I know, you didn’t expect this. Neither did I. I’m so sorry.” He gave her cheek a stroke. “But the worst is over now, at least I’m sure of that. Let me show you the pleasure I promised you. Will you let me do that?”
She took in a shaky breath and nodded.
He withdrew an inch, then slowly pushed back in. Going so slow would be the death of him but there was no other way. He refused to hurt her again. “Better?” he asked, teeth clenched against the urge to start pumping into her.
“Yes.”
“Wolf, Harald is here to see y—”
The man walking into the hut stopped in his tracks when he saw the two people in front of him naked and locked in the most intimate of embraces.
“No!” Merewen cried out, reaching out to her shift, the fur covers, anything to cover her nudity.
Then she turned her face to the wall and screwed her eyes shut.
Wolf cursed at length, withdrew from her and heard her hiss when the move caused her more pain.
There was no time to apologize or ask if she was all right.
Hugo spoke again, hesitantly, like a man torn between his duty and common decency.
“I’m sorry but it’s important. What shall I—?”
“Leave!” he barked at the youth, doing his best to shield Merewen with his body. He could feel her trembling against him, though whether it was because of the pain he had caused her or the shame of being seen in such a compromising position, he could not tell.
Probably both.
To add to his dismay, he guessed that Hugo would have heard her cry of pain. The lad would be thinking that he used his wife to slake his most brutal urges and ignored her protests. The thought sat ill with him, even if he knew it had been nothing like that.
By the gods! Was the world conspiring against them?
This was not what he had envisaged for their first lovemaking!
To be interrupted after his first thrust was the worst thing that could have happened, for him and most especially for Merewen.
It had been her first time and it had not gone as she had expected.
Right now he needed to be with her, reassure her, and make good on his promise to give her pleasure, not pain.
She was mortified, hurt and bewildered by what had happened.
The last thing he should do was leave her.
But how could he refuse to go? Harald had told him the day before that his wife had disappeared.
He suspected her of having fallen victim to the mysterious attacker who had struck the village lately.
A number of women had been assaulted, and a few had even disappeared.
The affair was too grave to ignore. A woman’s life might be at stake.
“Forgive me.” He shook his head. “Hugo said it was important, I should—”
“Go,” Merewen cut through his fumbled explanation. “I know the role you play in the community. I know your life is not your own.”
He winced. Indeed, it wasn’t, but in this instant he dearly wished it was. “I cannot leave you, not now.” He looked around in indecision. How could this have happened to him? He was still lying between her spread legs, ready to resume their lovemaking.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
Wolf rewarded her generous answer with a swift kiss to the temple. Then as he stood up, her gaze fell on his manhood, still hard and tainted with blood.
Her blood.
He saw her bite her bottom lip and felt himself grow pale at the same time.
Could this get any worse? As if Merewen had not been traumatized enough, now she had seen him fully aroused and bloodied by the loss of her innocence.
Seeing the blood would only remind her of the pain he had caused her.
That was another difference with his wedding night.
Solveig had not bled at all. Perhaps she had not lied after all and her deflowering had not been anywhere near as painful…
Small consolation, because he had definitely hurt Merewen.
And now he had shocked her.
What was wrong with him? Could he not have covered himself before standing up?
Or at least keep his erect member out of view?
He reached out for his clothes, cursing his ill luck.
Only a moment ago he had discarded them in anticipation of the most satisfying lovemaking in his life and now he was towering over Merewen’s prone form, feeling like an executioner looking at the butchered remains of his victim.
Once he was dressed, he knelt beside the pallet. “Merewen, I’m so sorry.”
“I know. It’s fine. Just go.”
She did not avert her eyes and to his relief, she did not appear frightened or resentful. Perhaps she did not hate him.
After one last caress on her cheek, he stood up and walked out the door.
How many times had she imagined that moment, Merewen asked herself, imagined having a man inside her, finally giving her what she needed? Yet what had just happened had not resembled anything she had ever envisaged.
The first surprise came from her lover himself.
Handsome as an angel, chiseled and incredibly strong, yet gentle and careful, Wolf was a man the likes of which she had never thought could exist, nothing like the faceless men who populated her dreams, who never seemed to have any real substance or personality, only bodies with which to take her.
And somewhat disconcertingly, he had pleasured her before making love to her, which had been a pleasant surprise, but not during, which had come as a shock.
His possession had not brought her any of the pleasure she had anticipated.
Instead, it had hurt, a lot more than she had thought it would.
Whether that was because she was very na?ve, because he was abnormally large or she particularly tight, she wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain. The pain had shocked her.
It had never happened that way in her dreams.
And as if that wasn’t enough, they had been interrupted before they were able to get past the awkward moment. Wolf had deflowered her but he had left before he could actually make love to her.
No, this was not at all what she had imagined when she finally lay with a man and became a woman.
Cold without the heat of Wolf’s kisses warming her skin, she stood up and got dressed, wondering how odd life was sometimes, forcing you to accept a situation you had thought abhorrent at first and then showing you that what you had always dreamed of having was nothing like what you had imagined.