Blaze Wyndham (21 page)

The evening came and torches were lit, for the music and dancing showed no signs of abating. Lord Morgan’s ale supply was as yet holding out, and few were of a mind to go home, for the night was clear with a bright, almost full moon, and the air still pleasant. Finally, with the sunset at least three hours past, it was deemed time to put the brides and their grooms to bed. Bridal chambers had been arranged in the room that had been shared by the twins and their sisters, and in the house’s only guest chamber. Since the rooms were next to one another there was not too great a difficulty in preparing both girls at the same time, although there was much scurrying back and forth between the two bedchambers.

Bliss flushed with excitement. She looked eagerly forward to her deflowering, although deep within her there lurked the tiniest fear. Still, her mother had given them both a dry lecture on a wife’s duties several weeks before, so they knew what was expected of them. It seemed that Vanora’s tales were fairly accurate, but it was not until Blaze spoke with the twins that Bliss felt entirely at ease.

“Lovemaking is wonderful!” she had enthused to them the evening before.

“Tell, tell!” demanded the twins. They were alone but for Blaze, having firmly ejected their other sisters from the discussion.

“It is really impossible to describe,” Blaze said. “You must be involved to really understand.”

“There must be something that you can tell us,” said Bliss irritably. “The first time! What was it like the first time?”

Blaze laughed softly. “Edmund and I did not celebrate our wedding night for several weeks after our wedding,” she confessed.

“Ohhh!” Blythe’s eyes were round with surprise.

Bliss, as ever, was more direct. “How could you bear to wait?” she demanded. “I know nothing of what lovemaking is, and yet I am so hot to be with Owen that I cannot sleep at night, and worse, I ache with a longing that I don’t even understand.”

“You know Owen, and Blythe knows her Nicholas. Do you forget that I had never even laid eyes upon Edmund until the day I became his wife? How could I desire a man whose face I would not even recognize? When I voiced my fears to him, he understood, and took the time to woo me before consummating our marriage. I think I fell in love with him because of his kindness and patience.

“You ask me about the first time, Bliss. The feelings that Edmund generated in me were wonderful. I do not have the words to explain, but you will understand tomorrow night when you become one with your husbands. One thing, though. Has Mother bothered to tell you that your first encounter with passion may give you a momentary bite of pain?”

“Nay,” said Bliss, speaking for them both.

“It comes with the piercing of the maidenhead by your husband. For me ’twas but a momentary prick, and afterward there is never again any pain. I thought you should know.”

That thought was the only thing that disturbed Bliss’s great anticipation of her wedding night. Now, sitting up in bed, gowned in an innocent-looking white silk nightrail, her lace-trimmed nightcap with its silk ribbons tied beneath her chin, she awaited Owen FitzHugh. About her the women giggled and chattered as they dashed back and forth between her and Blythe, who she assumed was in a similar condition now in the next room.

Then she heard the raucous shouts and loud laughter of the men, and Bliss’s heartbeat quickened. The bedchamber door was flung open, and Owen FitzHugh, in a white silk nightshirt, was pushed into the room. With astounding agility the Earl of Marwood whirled about, and slamming the door on his escort, shot the bolt home. For a moment there was a mighty pounding upon the door that Bliss thought surely would shatter the portal, but it held.

“Owen,” she heard a voice call. “We’ve not yet drunk the caudle cup.”

“Drink it without me,” Owen FitzHugh called back. “I’ve a more pleasant task ahead of me, and I’ll waste no more time getting to it!”

There was much laughter from the other side of the door, and then a chorus of “Good night then, my lord and my lady,” followed by a semiquiet as the revelers moved next door with the other bridegroom to see him safely bedded. Bliss clutched the bedcovers to her breasts in momentary panic.

Owen FitzHugh turned about and grinned at his wife. “Well now, puss, and here we are at last.” He walked over to the bed, and in one swift motion pulled his nightshirt off, flinging it aside.

Bliss gasped with shock, but she was far too curious to even avert her eyes. She had never imagined a man’s body could look so ... so ... so interesting. Her sapphire-blue eyes traveled across the width of his shoulders and down his chest which was furred with dark, curly hair. Dropping her glance lower, Bliss’s gaze widened, and she whispered, “Ohhhhh!”

The Earl of Marwood chuckled, knowing full well the cause of her exclamation. “Come, puss,” he said, drawing her up and from the bed. “You’ve seen my goods, now let me see yours.” With gentle hands he untied her dainty nightcap and dropped it to the floor.

She was not afraid, Bliss thought, as, undoing the ribbons upon her nightrail, she shrugged it off. Nay, she was not afraid of him, for she loved him. Raising her eyes to meet his, she said, “Well, my lord, and do I meet with your approval as well as you meet with mine?”

Owen stared, both bedazzled and astounded. Bliss was not only fair of face, she had the loveliest form he had ever beheld upon any woman. Her skin was like cream. Her limbs rounded and shapely. Her breasts high and pointed. She turned for him slowly, and he groaned softly as he felt his desire stirring wildly.

“Come, sir, have you lost your tongue as well as your heart?” Bliss mocked him gently.

“God’s blood, puss! Your beauty defies description, but lest you think me a poor lover, Bliss, kiss me before I expire of my longing for you!” Drawing her into his embrace, his lips met hers in a firey union.

As she tumbled headlong and heedlessly into passion, Bliss had one last thought. She hoped that Blythe was as happy at this very moment as she was. Her heart was so full that she wanted to share her joy with the whole world if she but could.

Shy Blythe. Gentle Blythe. He must not frighten her, thought Nicholas Kingsley as the revelers finally made their way from the guest bedchamber, having spent some minutes making ribald jests and drinking down a caudle cup to wish the couple good fortune and many children. Closing the door behind the guests, he locked it firmly, and joined his beautiful bride in their nuptial bed.

“You must not be afraid of me, Blythe,” he began.

“I am not,” she said calmly.

“Your mother has explained everything to you?”

She nodded. “And Blaze also, Nicholas.”

“I will go slowly with you, my love, I promise,” he said earnestly.

“If it pleases you,” she answered.

“But I would please you!” he told her.

“Soon, I hope, Nicholas!” was the reply.

Startled, he could only gape at her.

Blythe took her husband’s hand in hers and spoke softly. “My lord, hear me, I pray you. Blaze tells me that lovemaking is wonderful. Bliss admits to being hot to couple with Owen. Our mother has produced nine children, and despite the fact she is near forty, still smiles secret smiles at our father when she thinks no one is looking. Such things do not betoken an act to be feared, but rather to be enjoyed. I know my defloration will hurt, but afterward Blaze says it is wonderful beyond description. If we do not begin, however, I shall never know, will I? Do not think me bold, my lord, but please kiss me!”

Nicholas sighed with relief, and drawing his new wife into his arms, kissed her most thoroughly and to her complete satisfaction before going on to other and more delectable pleasures that left her equally enraptured and most delighted with him.

Blaze, however, did not stay the night at Ashby, and would not learn until afterward of her sisters’ contentment with the married life. There was simply no room in the Morgans’ house now for additional overnight guests, and so the Earl and Countess of Langford with their armed escort of men made their way home to RiversEdge beneath the light of the moon. The night was calm, and the moon silvered the landscape as they rode.

“You look tired, my love,” the earl worried solicitously. “I must aid your father in building another wing upon Ashby. There is not enough room for us all as it is, and only two of your sisters are wed. What will happen when they are all wed, and there are grandchildren too?”

“Aye, for there will be a first grandchild before year’s end, my lord,” said Blaze softly.

“
What?!
” The earl looked astounded. “What is it you tell me?”

“That I am with child, my lord. I needed only for my mother to confirm my suspicions, for as I have never had a child before, I was not certain.”

“My God, Blaze! You should not be riding!”

“Why ever not, my lord?”

“You might miscarry of my son, sweetheart! Do you not know that?”

“Edmund, I am well. I will not miscarry of
our
child. I am just like Mama. I will give you healthy children, I swear it! My mother rode during her confinements until she became too fat to pull herself upon her horse’s back. She lost no babes, as you well know.”

He shook his head. “I will not let you ride,” he said in a voice that she had never heard him use to her. “Once we are home, I will give orders that you are to be forbidden the stables.”

“I suppose that you think a jouncing coach is better for a woman in my condition?” she railed at him.

“Where do you plan to go that you need to ride or sit within the coach?” he asked of her.

“I had thought to visit Blythe and Nicholas, who live not far from us on the other side of the river, and what of your sister? Am I to be forbidden going to Riverside? Doro has been lonely since her husband’s death. Would you imprison me because I am carrying a child?”

“Your family can come to visit you,” he said stubbornly. “If you would go to see Doro, and I see no harm in it, you can take the dogcart.”

“
The dogcart?!
” she shrieked at him, and the men-at-arms escorting them grinned at each other. “Am I a child that you would have me ride in the dogcart?”

“Do not distress yourself, my sweet,” he begged her. “I am only thinking of your good, and that of the child. Oh, Blaze, my poor Catherine lost so many babes, and then I finally lost her. I have found love at a time when I had only hoped to find a second wife who might prove a good breeder. I love you! Yes, I desire an heir; but I would have you safe too!”

“Edmund, having a child is a normal and a natural thing. I am not some delicate creature to be wrapped in cotton wool. The lady Catherine? Was her health only poor when she was with child?”

“Nay. Catherine was always frail,” he admitted.

“But I am not frail, my lord. I am strong, and I shall not be less strong because I am having our child.”

“I want this child, Blaze!”

“I will give it to you, my lord earl, but you must not make me unhappy because I am carrying your babe.”

“No riding! I mean it, Blaze. It is too dangerous, my sweet, and if you must be happy during this time, so must I. I cannot bear the thought of losing either of you.”

“At least let me use a pony cart,” she pleaded. “The dogcart is too slow. It would take me all day to get to Riverside.”

He grinned. “We will consider each situation,” he conceded, allowing her to believe he was willing to bargain with her.

Blaze smiled sweetly. “That is fair enough,” she said, silently thinking if he meant to get around her he was sadly mistaken, but let him learn that later on, for she did not want to fight with him.

The Wye, which only the day before had been a roiling mass of currents, was tonight like a bolt of silvered cloth rolling between the dark spring-green hills. Rumford, the ferryman, brought them across the smooth, calm river while Blaze, leaning against her husband, thought that she had never seen a night as lovely as this one was. Reaching RiversEdge, she found that Heartha had waited up for her, and she was soon luxuriating in a warm bath that smelled of her favorite fragrance of sweet violets.

“Heartha, there is no soap,” she complained.

“Those dim-witted girls,” fussed Heartha. “I should not have let them go to bed until I was certain that they had performed their duties as I told them. I am getting old and careless. Do not fret, my lady, but enjoy your soak. I will fetch the soap, and be back before you even realize that I am gone.”

Blaze closed her eyes and did as she was bidden. It was not too hard a task to relax within the deep warmth of the fragrant tub. She heard the door reopen, and said, “You were quick, Heartha. For an old woman you move like a young girl. Give me the soap.” Eyes still closed she held out her hand, and was startled to have her upturned palm kissed. “Ohh!”

Edmund laughed, and without preamble climbed into the tub with his wife, handing her a cake of soap as he did so. “I sent Heartha to bed, my sweet. She is growing older, and I could see she was tired. Besides, I am expert in playing the tiring woman for my wife, am I not?”

“You have never washed me,” she said, her tone thoughtful.

“You have never washed me,” he replied.

“No, I have not. Shall I do so now, sir?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Do you think you can please me, wench?”

“If I do not, my lord, then you may choose your own forfeit, and I shall gladly pay it,” she answered him.

“And if you please me?” he teased her.

“Then you must pay the forfeit, sir.” Dipping the sweet-scented little bar into the water, she said, “Turn about,” and when he had, with some difficulty, slopping water onto the floor, she began to lather his back with long sweeping strokes.

Edmund closed his own eyes, and enjoyed the delicious sensation. Her fingers kneaded into the muscles of his shoulders, and he suddenly knew how the old gray striped tomcat who was king in his stables felt when someone took the time to pat him. He practically rumbled his contentment as his wife’s hands expertly rubbed him.