"He did?" Moibeal asked breathlessly and then demanded, "When? Where?"
"In the meadow today," Edith admitted, flushing brightly, and then assured her, "He did no' take me innocence though."
Moibeal snorted. "Well, that's debatable."
"Nay. He said so. He said me maidenhead had no' been harmed," Edith assured her firmly.
"Hmm." Moibeal bit her lip and then asked, "What was it like?"
A small smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the experience and then Edith breathed, "It was heavenly. A revelation. I did no' ken such pleasure existed."
"Gor," Moibeal breathed.
"Aye," Edith said on a sigh. "And that's why I was hoping to please him back the same way, but I do no' ken how."
The maid glanced down with a frown, and then sighed and said, "Well, while I've no' done it meself, Magda and Agnes were talking about it one day."
"Aye?" Edith asked hopefully, recognizing the names of a couple of the maids who worked in the kitchens.
"Aye. Agnes was complaining to Magda that her Donald was too big and she could no' get him all in her mouth without gagging, but he was always pushing in deep when he got excited," Moibeal explained.
Edith's eyes widened incredulously at the thought of putting Niels's manhood in her mouth. The man was huge. She'd surely gag too. She'd thought she would only be expected to kiss and lick him there as he had her. It seemed there was more to it than that though.
"So, Magda says as how Agnes should wrap her hand around him in front o' her mouth so as he can no' go in so far, but still feels like he is."
"Hand in front o' her mouth," Edith murmured, trying to imagine it.
"Aye, like this." Moibeal jumped up and grabbed the hairbrush from beside the basin, wrapped her hand around it just above the bristles and placed the uncovered handle in her mouth and then moved it in and out.
"All right." Edith nodded, she could do that.
Tossing the brush back on the table by the basin, Moibeal dropped onto the bed again and added, "And then Agnes said as how she'd try it, but she did no' like doing it anyway, as Donald's seed tasted bitter, especially when he drank too much."
Edith's eyes widened. She would get his seed in her mouth? That was not something she'd expected. And what if Niels's seed was bitter too? She wouldn't want to offend him by spitting it out. That thought made her worry about what she'd tasted like to Niels. Had she tasted bitter too? Worried now, she asked, "Did Magda ha'e any advice about that?"
"Aye." Moibeal nodded. "Magda said as how a dollop o' Jaimie's fruit preserves would fix that right up."
"I see," Edith breathed, wondering if it would work for the woman's taste as well . . . just in case.
"And that's all I ken on that subject," Moibeal said apologetically.
"'Tis fine." Edith patted her hand. "'Tis more than I kenned before."
They both glanced to the door when a knock sounded.
"That'll be yer bath," Moibeal said, standing up.
"Aye." Edith stood as well, but caught the maid's arm before she could go answer it and said, "Do no' do it now, but ere the bedding, mayhap ye should bring up some o' Jaimie's preserves for me."
"Aye." Moibeal nodded solemnly. "I'll no' forget."
"Thank ye," Edith murmured and released her so the girl could answer the door.
"Would ye care fer something else to drink, lass?" Niels asked Edith gently, noting that she'd hardly touched her mead and was simply sitting there looking lost in thought. And fretful thoughts too, it seemed, if one was to guess by her expression as she looked over the great hall full of people celebrating their wedding.
"Nay. Thank ye." Edith managed a smile, and then said, "Actually, m'lord, I think I might like to go prepare fer bed."
"As ye wish," Niels said and stood up at once, more than happy to retire, early as it was.
"Nay." She patted his hand, her smile a little strained. "Finish yer ale, m'lord. I would have a moment alone to prepare meself anyway."
Niels hesitated, wanting to assure her there was no preparation necessary, but it was her wedding night and if she wished a moment alone, he would grant her that, he decided, and nodded. "Go along, then. I'll no' be long . . . wife," he tagged on at the end with a smile.
Edith returned his smile and squeezed his arm, and then murmured, "Thank ye . . . husband."
They grinned at each other briefly, and then she squeezed his arm again and turned to head for the stairs as Niels sank slowly back onto his seat. He watched her until she'd disappeared along the upper landing. He then elbowed Rory to get his attention.
Breaking off his conversation with Tormod, the younger man turned to him in question. "What?"
"Did Edith look pale to ye?" Niels asked with a frown. "She seemed quiet and a touch pale to me." When Rory raised an eyebrow and glanced around for the woman in question, Niels added, "She's gone above stairs to prepare fer bed."
"Oh." Rory peered toward the stairs, but said, "I did no' notice her looking pale. She did seem a bit quiet though," he admitted and then shrugged. "But 'tis her wedding day. She's most like nervous about tonight . . . unless ye already--"
"Nay," Niels interrupted firmly. "I have no' bedded her. I wished to wait until I had her wedded all good and proper."
"Well, then there ye have it," Rory said reassuringly. "No doubt she is simply nervous o' what is to come tonight. She is fine."
"Aye," Niels muttered, and Rory turned back to Tormod, leaving Niels to fret. He supposed it could just be nerves Edith was suffering, but she'd been fine during the ceremony. It hadn't been until they'd sat down to eat that she'd seemed to go quiet and pale. Besides, he'd rather hoped that what they'd done in the meadow might have lessened her anxiety about the bedding somewhat. Although, as he'd told her himself, he hadn't taken her maidenhead that morning, so there was still that to contend with and he knew that could hurt greatly for some women. She probably knew it too, he supposed. Niels took another drink of ale, and then eyed the liquid in his goblet, measuring how many more swallows he would have to take before he could go above stairs. By his guess, he had six or seven swallows left. Not so much, he assured himself, setting down the goblet briefly.
"Oy!" Alick said, slapping his back as he dropped to sit on the bench next to him. "When do we get to cart ye up to the bedchamber, strip ye and throw ye in bed with Edith?"
"Yer no' doing that," Niels assured him firmly.
"Oh, come now, brother," Geordie chided, settling next to Alick. "A wedding is no' a wedding without a bedding ceremony."
"Mayhap, but out o' respect to her father and brothers who have no' been dead a full month, Edith and I decided to bypass the bedding ceremony," Niels announced, lying through his teeth. He hadn't talked to Edith about the bedding ceremony. He hadn't even thought about it until Alick had just brought it up, but recalling Edith's quiet, pale face, he had no intention of putting her through that.
"Oh, aye," Alick said now, sounding much more subdued. "In truth I forgot about that."
"'Tis easy to forget," Geordie said quietly. "Other than the way she fell apart when Cawley died, Edith has handled everything like a soldier."