The Innocent (16 page)

To his surprise and delight, she gave him a quick kiss upon his lips. "Are you wooing me, my lord Ranulf? If you are, I like it very much." She snuggled against his chest.

"Dear Lord, help me not to hurry her," he prayed silently. Then his hand reached out to stroke her head. "Your hair is the most beautiful color. It is not a fiery red-gold, but rather a soft red-gold. Have you ever cut it, Eleanore?" His fingers pulled the ribbon holding her plait, and undid it. Then they began to unbraid her long hair. "I want to see you naked with only your lovely tresses for adornment, petite." He took up a thick handful of the hair, and pressed it to his lips. "Ummm, you smell of lavender."

Naked? He wanted to see her naked?
Now, here was something she hadn't considered. "Is it fitting that you see me…
naked?
I did not know that husbands saw their wives naked, Ranulf."

"But they do," he assured her. "Did not God send you into this world unclothed, Eleanore? We are taught to be ashamed of our bodies, but why should we? God gave us those bodies."

"Oh." Her voice had gotten very small.

Ranulf tipped her face up to his. "You are beautiful, petite, and I want to see you as God fashioned you. I am pleased you are so chaste, but there is little need for modesty with your husband."

Her cheeks were warm with her blushes at his frankness, but she did not look away from him. "There is so much I do not know, Ranulf. I must rely upon you to guide me."

His arm cradled her. Now the fingers of the hand of his other arm began to unlace the ribbons that closed the front of her chemise. Elf’s eyes grew wide as her bosom was slowly revealed. She wasn't certain at all that she was even breathing, but she seemed to be. The long fingers pushed aside the fabric slowly, slowly, until the chemise slid from her shoulders, pooling just below her waist to rest upon her hips.

Ranulf let his eye roam deliberately and carefully over her perfect form. Round little breasts, no bigger than small apples, and a waist he could span with his two big hands.
"Mon Dieu,"
he said breathlessly. "You are without flaw, petite."

Never taking her eyes from him, Elf unfastened the laces on his chemise, pulling it open and pushing it down to rest below his waist. Breaking the glance between them, she just as exactingly examined him. She remembered the first time she had seen him in the bath, but this was different. Her two small hands smoothed themselves over the broad expanse of his chest, then his shoulders. Running down his muscled arms, her fingers touched and stopped on a short, but thick scar upon his upper arm.

"The bite of a lance during a jousting tournament," he told her, catching her hand up to kiss the palm.

"Did you win?" she asked, taking her hand back.

"Aye," he said softly.

"And this one?" The pad of her forefinger rested at the crest of a longer, narrower scar upon his shoulder. "How did you come by this wound, my lord?"

"In a battle between the king’s and the empress’s forces, petite."

"You need more practice," she told him. "Both wounds are on the same side. You leave yourself open there. If you do not change your habits, you could lose your life through such carelessness one day."

"And how, Eleanore, has my little nun divined such an opinion?" he asked, quite amazed by her astuteness.

"It is not obvious, my lord?" was her quick reply.

"Your eye is sharp, lady," he said softly. His loins were beginning to burn with his longing for her.

"You have an improper look in your eyes, Ranulf. I think you should kiss me." Elf realized he was beginning to lust after her. Just looking at her was stirring his desires. His arm wrapped about her again, and his mouth came fiercely down on hers.
He was dangerous!
Then she gasped, quite unprepared for the feel of the hand that cupped her breast, fondled it gently, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing against her nipple until it was stiff and hard.

"Ranulf!"
she squeaked, trembling.

"Eleanore."

"Oh!"
But Mistress Martha had said men like to touch women’s breasts. She had not said, however, that when they did you would feel both hot and cold at the same time, and that your heart would threaten to burst through your chest. No. She had not said that!

"You are exquisite, petite," Ranulf said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't fathom. His hand moved to her other breast.

Fascinated, she watched the big hand cup her, the very repetitive motion of his thumb as it rubbed, and rubbed, and rubbed until it achieved the required result, and her nipple stood rigid. His fingers tenderly brushed her flesh until it was so sensitive that she actually moaned with his touch. "Stop," she finally whispered. "I shall die! I know I will!"

In response he kissed her again, his mouth playing over hers like a wildfire, brushing, lightly touching, nibbling upon her lips. She sighed with unfeigned pleasure, and he laughed softly. His hands encircled her waist, and he lifted her up, pressing his face into the shadowed valley between her delightful little breasts.

Elf reached out, using her hands to brace herself upon his shoulders as he held her up. It seemed to her that she was but a feather to him. The feel of his face against her flesh was exciting. Then suddenly she gasped as his tongue swept slowly up between her breasts.
"Ohhhhhh!"
The tongue moved on to lick at her nipples. Ripples of pure excitement raced up and down her spine. But he had not yet finished. His lips had closed over one of her nipples, and he began tugging hard upon it.
"Ohhhhhh!"
Elf closed her eyes with the utter pleasure that was sweeping over her. His mouth moved to the other nipple, and she shuddered with the exquisite thrill of it.

Now he slowly lowered her again into his lap, cradling her in his arms. "You are not frightened," he said. It was a statement more than a question.

"No," she said. " 'Tis lovely. I never dreamed…"

He laughed softly. "Of course you didn't, my innocent petite. Little nuns don't know of carnal love, nor should they."

"Matti and Isa used to watch the priest with the dairymaid," Elf told him.

"But you did not, I am certain."

"No, I didn't," Elf answered him. She turned slightly in his arms so that she might touch him again, bending her head and licking at his broad chest. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but he said nothing that would indicate he was displeased by her actions. Indeed his arms fell away from her so she might move freely. The taste of him on her tongue was faintly salty, but the scent of him was more elusive. Soap, and… musk? Yes, there was a muskiness about him, and it excited her greatly.

He watched her innocent exploration of his body. Her head moved lower, then lower still, sweeping over his belly, which was knotting in excitement. He knew he had to stop her now, but it was with great effort he raised her back up so he might kiss her. She melted against him, her warm naked skin pressed to his. Their arms wrapped tightly about each other, their mouths fused in a long kiss. Then Elf pulled away and sighed deeply.

The time was almost right. He slowly drew her chemise off, dropping it by the side of their bed. His lips brushed over her face, her eyelids, her straining throat. One hand grasped her shoulder. The other moved over her body tenderly, exploring loveliness such as he had never known… or even imagined. She writhed like a flame in his arms. Her skin was as soft as the finest silk, and he could feel her quivering ever so slightly beneath his big palm. She was pure perfection with her sweetly rounded hips and her slender legs.

His fingers brushed over the warm, plump mound of her Venus mont, smooth and devoid of hair as a proper lady’s should be. The tightness in his groin was greater than he had ever known. He ceased exploration of her for a moment to pull his own chemise off. Then he began stroking her again. A single finger ran down the shadowed slit dividing her delicate nether lips. He saw the instinctive tightening of her thighs.

To
be touched so intimately.
She had never imagined she would be touched in such a manner. Only now did she realize how naked being naked was. She felt almost threatened, and yet he was not threatening her. The finger began to push into her flesh. She tensed, and he stopped, kissing her lips softly as if he were reassuring her. The finger moved again, deeper, deeper. Elf struggled not to cry out.

She did not need a knife beneath the bed to cut the pain, Ranulf thought. She needed to be well prepared to receive his manhood. His finger sought carefully for the tiny jewel of her womanhood. Finding it, he began to play with it, teasing it with an extremely delicate touch. His mouth kissed her lips, her face. His arm held her tightly. The relentless finger flicked back and forth over the sensitive little nub of flesh, and it began to swell and tingle with its new sensitivity.

What was happening?
Elf felt her heart begin to beat faster. The hidden spot between her legs that he was even now taunting was growing tight, and it felt as if it might burst. She gasped for air as a wave of heat washed over her, and then suddenly she seemed to explode with intense feeling.
"Ranulf!"
she cried his name as she felt the finger leave its place, and push slowly into her. Her lithe body arched against him. The finger was gentle, but a distinct invasion.

Her little jewel had responded quickly to him, Ranulf thought, well pleased. Her body had released a flow of her juices, and his finger was sliding easily into her tight sheath. She winced when it touched her maidenhead, which was tightly lodged, but she did not struggle or beg him to stop. He moved the long finger back and forth within her love channel, and she began to whimper. "Are you ready to be a woman, Eleanore?" he asked her, looking deep into her silvery eyes.

"Yes!" she nodded.
Relief!
She wanted relief from this burning, overwhelming feeling that was threatening to kill her. Instinctively she knew that only Ranulf could offer her that surcease.

"You are dainty, and I am large," he told her. "I could crush you with my size. We must be extremely careful this first time." He lifted her from his lap, and laid her upon their bed. Then he knelt before her, leaning back upon his haunches.

Elf’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and shock as she viewed her husband’s manhood for the first time. This was no boy’s lance, but the full-grown weapon of a man. "You cannot put that in me," she gasped. "It is too big! You will kill me with it!"

"Nay, petite, it will fit nicely, I promise you," he said. "Now, open yourself to me, Eleanore, and trust me not to harm you."

Reluctantly she spread herself before him. Taking her gently by the ankles, he drew her forward until his manhood met her nether lips. He rubbed himself up and down her slit until it began to pout, and give off a moistness of its very own. The head of his lance slipped between those humid lips. He drew her even closer, and she felt him beginning to delve into her love channel. Elf shuddered, not from fear, but rather from anticipation of what was to come.

He felt the head of his manhood penetrate her gently, entering her, moving slowly forward. It was all he could do not to violate her and take his own pleasure, so great was his lust for her now. "When I press deep, petite, wrap your legs about me," he instructed her in a tight voice. He began to push forward into her, and to his delight her slender legs folded themselves about him. She was tight. She was hot and, oh, so very wet! He groaned with the pleasure of her. Her body filled his senses, setting his head awhirl.

Elf gasped as his thick and lengthy manhood thrust into her. She had never felt so invaded-
and yet so complete.
She understood now the need for their position. By coming to him rather than his coming to her, his large body did not crush her delicate one. She gasped again. The manhood was moving back and forth within her. The friction was exciting, and her head spun with excitement as she realized she was actually enjoying his amorous attentions. Suddenly he stopped. His mouth came down hard on hers. Then he drove himself deep into her, shattering her maidenhead as he went. Her cry was lost in his own mouth, but tears pearled her cheeks as the pain of her violation overwhelmed her.

Lifting his mouth from hers, he murmured, "Forgive me, petite. There was no other way, for your maidenhead was very tightly entrenched." He kissed the tears upon her cheeks as he began a rhythmic movement within her that set her senses quickly reeling. Faster and faster, and deeper and deeper he pumped his loins against hers.

The pain was gone. It was as if it had never existed. Pleasure, sweet, hot pleasure was beginning to flood her entire being. She struggled to open herself more to him. Little cries were emitted from her throat. "Ranulf! Ranulf!
Ohhh,
holy Mother, I never knew! It is wonderful! It is wonderful!
Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhh!"
Her body tensed, shuddered, exploded in a burst of delicious feelings.
"Nooooo!
I want more!
Ohhhhhhhh!"
Then she swooned, sliding away into a warm darkness.

He groaned as his love juices erupted to flood her secret garden. He pulsed with pleasure, until finally and reluctantly he withdrew from her and rested on his side.

How many women had he had in a lifetime? Enough to realize that what he had with this girl, this woman, was truly miraculous and special. How he loved her! And she, his sweet Eleanore, could not know. This was her first experience with passion. What if that passion died quickly? Then they would be like so many other married couples, living together with naught but children and hopefully respect in common. He realized he could not bear it if she rejected him. Better she never know he had lost his heart to her. He didn't want her telling him she loved him from pity or duty. If one day she admitted those feelings for him, then, and only then, would he admit his love for her.