Midsummer Magic (Magic Trilogy 1)

She hurt, deep inside, raw hurt. And he was the cause of the hurt and he was inside her, so deep. She hadn’t known, hadn’t realized that her body could allow for such an invasion.

She didn’t want to cry, but besides the pain, she felt defiled and used and angry. And helpless. She stuffed her fist into her mouth, but the sobs broke through. She couldn’t help it. She tried to shove him off, but her hands come in contact with his naked shoulders. She dropped her arms back to her sides and clutched at the rumpled sheet beneath her.

She felt him rear above her, felt him moving inside her. Back and forth.

It hurt, but not as much now.

“That’s it, Frances,” Hawk said between gritted teeth. He felt himself ready to burst, and because there was no reason to draw out this damnable encounter, he thrust deep, letting himself go, spewing inside her.

She felt him tense, heard a deep sort of growl come from his throat. Then she felt the wetness, and knew it was from him.

She didn’t move.

She hated him. This thing he’d done to her was vile, unforgivable.

Hawk caught his breath, feeling her flesh convulse about him, and quickly withdrew from her. He felt her flinch, and was sorry for the pain he’d caused her, but dammit, he’d done it quickly, as efficiently as he could manage it.

“Next time, it won’t hurt,” he said. Did a husband always have to use a cream when he took his wife? He supposed so. Since ladies and wives experienced no passion, a husband simply had to make things as easy as possible. He rolled off the bed and rose. His heart was still pounding from his releasé.

“Are you all right, Frances?” he asked, suddenly concerned at her silence.

“Yes,” she said, her voice dull and utterly lifeless.

He frowned toward her, then sighed. Suddenly he wondered how little she knew. He cursed softly, then said, “When I came into you, I broke through your maidenhead. Please don’t be worried if tomorrow you see blood. It happens like that the first time. There won’t be any pain for you the next time, or blood.” At least he hoped not. He’d never taken a virgin before, and was uncertain.

With those comforting words, he quickly dressed and strode toward the door.

“I will see you in the morning, Frances,” he said. “Uh, sleep well.” And he left her.

Now, Frances thought, now I shall jump through that window. But she didn’t move. She felt sore, her body ached. And there was wetness between her legs.

Blood? His seed?

She didn’t want to know.

There won’t be any pain for you the next time. Next time! How long did it take to make a child?—for surely that was his only reason for doing this to her. How many times would she have to put up with being used like an animal? She wondered if he had really hurt her badly, and only pretended it was her maidenhead. She pictured herself as a castle being breached by a huge battering ram. She didn’t smile at the image.

She was angry with herself when she tasted salty tears on her lips. “I hate you,” she whispered into the darkness.

She wasn’t certain whether it was her husband she hated, or herself.

She rose slowly and padded to the basin atop the commode. She didn’t want to see—anything—and quickly pressed the wet cloth against herself.

Once in his own bed, Hawk stretched his arms over his head. All in all, he was pleased with himself. He’d treated his wife with all the respect she was due. He had hurt her, but it was to be expected that first time. She’d been very small. He frowned as his body reacted to the image of thrusting inside her, filling her. He’d leave her alone for a couple of nights. She would probably be very sore. After all, he was a man, and large, and she was unused to sex.

But did she have to act as if he were killing her? Abusing her, for God’s sake?

I can’t face him, Frances thought, her hand on the knob of her bedchamber door. I simply can’t.

What are you going to do, then, ninny, stay like a coward in this ridiculous room?

She drew a deep breath and opened the door. She cannoned into the corridor while she still felt courageous. She cannoned right into her husband.

“Frances!” His hand clasped her upper arms. “Are you all right?”

God no, I’m not! She said nothing. She wished he would suddenly, magically disappear—from the face of the earth. To her utter chagrin, when he released her, her eyes fell downward, to his belly and groin.

He’d been so large the night before. Where was it? How ... Was he like a stallion? Did he increase in size only when ... ?