Feeling the stirring in his nether regions, Amaury quickly shook the image away. It would not do to get excited already. He suspected he had a long stressful night ahead of him in wooing his virgin bride. He intended on making it as easy and bearable an experience for her as he could manage. With that intention, he began to quickly strip. He was unsure how she would handle seeing him in full nudity and thought it might be best to be already abed when she came out.
Best intentions aside, he had only managed to strip his tunic off before she stepped out around the screen and presented herself. Amaury's hands froze on the waist of his braies as he caught sight of her, his eyes widening in shock.
God's tooth, even the woman's nightgown was black! Did she not own a single item of cloth that was not? he wondered in dismay as he took in the voluminous folds of the gown that covered her from her neck to her very toes.
Emma took in her husband's wide-eyed face and tried not to fidget under his gaze. His expression merely assured her that she had been correct in assuming he was untried. Forcing a reassuring smile, she walked cautiously past him to the bed and crawled carefully beneath the bedclothes, then took a great deal of time and care straightening all the wrinkles out of them until they lay across her in a nice smooth wave. That done, she glanced furtively at her new husband, only to find him still standing where he had been, eyeing her with wide eyes. Frowning slightly, she started to speak, then realized he was probably shy.
"I promise I shall not look," she told him gently and to prove it, closed her eyes and covered them with both hands.
Amaury straightened at her action. Giving his head a shake at her odd behavior, he stripped his pants quickly off and moved to the side of the bed, lifting the linen and slipping beneath the bedclothes beside her.
Emma dropped her hands as soon as she felt the bed depress. Turning, she shone a bright smile on him. "There. That was not so bad, was it?" she asked gently. "Now, just lie back."
Amaury swallowed his shock as she pressed him gently back to lie on the bed, wondering what exactly was occurring. Was his wife truly taking control of the situation? His virgin wife?
Once she had urged him to lie flat on his back, Emma smiled sweetly, tucked the bedclothes gently about his neck, then lay back herself, pulled the covers up to her neck as well, and sighed.
Amaury lay silently beside her for a moment, then glanced at her curiously. His bride's eyes were closed, a serene smile on her face. "Lady Emmalene?" he asked uncertainly.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Aye?"
"What are we doing?"
"Consummating the marriage," Emma whispered with a reassuring smile and closed her eyes once more.
"We are?"
Emma frowned at the perplexed tone in his voice. "Aye. We are sharing a bed, sleeping together, lying together."
Amaury groaned as her words tumbled out. His bride, it seemed, was more innocent than he had thought if she believed this to be consummating the marriage. How was he to tell her . . .
"My lord?"
Eyes popping open, he nearly jumped out of the bed when he saw that she had sat up and was now leaning worriedly over him.
"You groaned. Are you in pain? I had heard there could be some pain the first time."
Amaury groaned again and turned his head away. How was he to tell her--
A pounding at the door scattered his thoughts to the wind, and Amaury sat up instinctively, knocking his head with Emma's as he did.
"Sorry," he muttered as the pounding sounded again.
"Is the deed done yet?" The question was called anxiously through the door.
Emma rolled her eyes as she recognized her cousin's voice. Truly, this was going too far. "Aye!"
"Nay!"
Emma's head swiveled, her mouth dropping open at Amaury's negative answer. Why would he lie, she wondered in dismay.
"Well, get to it," Rolfe roared impatiently.
"Get you back to the celebrations and leave us be!" Amaury thundered, then turned to his wife and sighed. "My lady," he began carefully. "I fear you have misunderstood . . ." He paused to frown. "You do not seem to . . . You appear to be a bit lacking in knowledge of what consummating the marriage entails," he got out finally.
"I do?" Emma worried her lip uncertainly.
"Aye," he announced heavily. "There is more to it."
"There is?" She was definitely anxious now, and Amaury cursed her cousin, the bishop, the king, and Bertrand, along with her husband, for this situation. Especially her husband. Had Fulk attended to his duties as he should have--
A pounding at the door distracted his thoughts again and Amaury sighed. "Damn me! Can a man not have a little privacy on his wedding night?!"
"There is a party approaching!" It was the bishop this time. "We fear it may be Bertrand come from the King!"
"Damn!" Amaury cursed helplessly, seeing his dreams of owning this castle slipping away.
"Get the deed done!" Rolfe bellowed.
"My lord?" Emma clutched his bare arm anxiously. "Is there truly more?"
"Aye." He sighed miserably.
"Then we must do it," she said firmly, and Amaury turned to her in surprise.
"We must?"
"Aye, my Lord. Of course we must. I cannot allow my people to suffer under the rule of Lord Bertrand's mother. She would misuse them horribly."
"Aye, my lady, but--"
"There are no buts, my lord. If there is more, we must do it."
When he simply stared at her in an agony of uncertainty, she twitched the bedclothes away from her body and began dragging her black gown off.
"What are you doing?"
"I am naive of what is expected, my lord, but I am no fool. You came to this bed nude, so I must assume that what ever is required necessitates our both being so, else you surely would not risk a chill." The gown flew over her head as she concluded that statement, and Amaury was left staring at quite the loveliest chest it had ever been his pleasure to view. And it was all his, he thought with greedy glee. Then he frowned. It was his if he could consummate the marriage before--
" 'Tis Bertrand!" The dismayed bellow shook the door. "He is flying like the wind. Do the deed!"
Muttering under his breath, Amaury wasted a moment glaring at the door, then turned back to his bride. "My lady. As you said, the first time is usually painful. But not for the man--"
"Prithee, my lord, do not waste our time on niceties. Simply tell me what to do."
"He be at the gate! My lady, he be at the gate!"
"Who the devil is that?" Amaury asked with a frown at the new voice.
"Sebert," Emma answered with a sigh, then when he looked confused, reminded him, "My . . . our steward."
"What? Have they got everyone out there?" he muttered unhappily.
"My lord," Emma said impatiently. "What do I do?"
Amaury turned back to his wife and sighed. "You do not seem to realize the pressure--"
"He be in the bailey!" This time it was Maude's voice. Even Amaury recognized the voice of the plain-faced servant who had refused to let him enter the castle on first arriving.
"They do have everyone out there," he muttered.
"Do the deed!" the bishop roared.
Emma could only think that a series of watches were keeping the people outside her bedroom door up to date.
"We are both under pressure, my lord," she pointed out grimly.
"Aye, but . . ." Muttering, he tugged the blankets aside and gestured to his-- at the moment--nottoo-impressive manhood. It had been quite impressive moments ago, while he had been thinking of his bride undressing behind the screen and imagining the night ahead. But it had shrunk and shriveled with every new shout through the door, until now, it seemed almost to be trying to hide within itself. All was lost, he thought miserably.
Emma stared at the third appendage between her new husband's legs with fascination. Never having seen a naked man before, she had not known they carried one of those around with them. She had been too embar
rassed to look when Fulk had been stripped and set abed with her. She leaned forward to get a closer look at the item now. It looked to be a shrunken, deformed leg, much like the arm of the girl in the village who had been born not quite right. She didn't have any fingers or thumbs on her small stump of an arm either, just as Amaury's extra small stump of a leg seemed devoid of toes. Perhaps this was not common to all men, she realized suddenly. Perhaps her husband was displaying a deformity.