I wiped down his chest and stomach and found myself again fascinated by the ridged muscles of his upper body. My fingertips could feel the outline of his stomach muscles underneath the cloth, and they tensed slightly when I touched him. Once I was done with his stomach and chest, I washed his sides quickly before I dared look him in the face again.
His eyes were dark, the light from the fire dancing over them in strange, ghostly patterns. I had learned already that particular look in his eyes and felt my heartbeat increase yet again as a chill ran down my spine. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I had already decided to tell him I was ready, and this only meant he would agree to my offer.
“Will you wash my back as well?” Branford asked, and his voice sounded as dark as his eyes. He turned around without waiting for my answer, and I quickly refreshed the cloth before washing from his shoulders down to his waist. Once the washing was complete, I picked up a dry cloth and dried his back and sides. Then he turned around to face me again, and with my shaky hands, I dried off the rest of his skin.
“Thank you, Alexandra,” Branford said softly. “I think I am ready to go to bed now.”
“You’re welcome, Branford,” I replied. I hung both the cloths on a drying rack near the water basin while I tried to stop my heart from beating so loudly. I was sure he would be able to hear it if it became any louder.
He smiled down at me again before making his way to the bed. I took another deep breath before I followed dutifully after him, waited for him to position himself under the blanket, and then climbed in on the other side, only vaguely aware of the softness of the bedsheets and pillows as I settled myself next to my husband.
For a moment, I lay on my back and tried to determine the best possible approach. Should I just come out and ask him to join with me, or should I reach over and touch him in some fashion? I understood the ludicrousness of my thoughts as soon as I realized I had no idea how I might touch him to give him such an impression. It would have to be words, then. Clear and concise words. Assertive.
“I want you to…” I hesitated. Once the words were out of my mouth, I would not be able to take them back. However, if he had spent the first part of the night with one of the ladies in the court because he had not yet taken me, he could be discovered. If he were to be discovered, my virginity may also be discovered. He could be forced to send me back, and it was very clear what would happen to me if he did. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I want you to complete our marriage.”
“We shall, my wife,” he said with a smile. His hand reached out, and he placed his fingers under my chin. “When you are ready.”
“Tonight?” My voice did not come out as strong as I had intended. Branford looked at me warily.
“I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet,” he said simply.
“I am,” I said, trying to remain insistent though I had to tear my gaze from his intense look. “I want you to. Please.”
“It’s late, and you’re tired,” he said.
“I want to, Branford,” I said again. This time my voice managed not to shake.
I felt his fingers on my chin, tilting my head to look at him again. His eyes glanced back and forth, as if he were searching for something.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said as the relief washed over me. Once it was complete, we would truly be married, and I would no longer have to worry that he might replace me. His eyes danced over my face, glanced down my body, then focused on my lips. Branford's hand cupped my cheek, and he kissed me slowly, his lips pressing firmly but not too hard. I lay my head back against the pillows as he moved over me.
My mind raced. I had convinced him. He was going to do it! He was going to complete our marriage. Relief was quickly followed with the same fear that gripped me on our wedding night. I tried to push it from my mind, but when he rolled over, and I could feel his desire against me, the anxiety from last night attempted to resurface. I could feel his leg as it nestled between mine, and he pushed my legs apart with his knee. I kept telling myself it had to be done, and that many, many women had survived this, but the fact was, I feared pain, and I feared blood. I knew both were to come, but I didn’t want Branford to stop and risk him casting me out. I had to try to do whatever was right in this situation, so when his mouth covered mine, I remembered his tongue in my mouth from the previous night, and I parted my lips. He groaned into my mouth as his tongue touched mine, and his hands gripped my waist tightly.
His breath was hot and suffocating. I could feel one of his hands running over my hip, down the outside of my thigh and lower until he reached the end of my nightdress and began to pull it up. He ran his tongue over my lips, and then he kissed me roughly before his mouth moved to my chin and then my throat.
I closed my eyes tightly and felt the muscles in my legs tighten as well. Branford’s bare chest rose up and down with his rapid breathing, pressing my body into the mattress with each inhalation. His mouth left a warm, moist trail over my skin. I've got to do this, I told myself. If I didn't let him do this, I could be sent away. He was already looking for another. Indeed, he already seemed to have another. Had he been with her just a short time ago? My heart clenched at the thought, and I couldn’t stop the muscles throughout my body from tensing. It no longer mattered how much it would hurt. It had to be done, or I would be driven to insanity from worry of where he might be and what he might be doing.
“Alexandra.” Branford’s movements had stopped, and when I opened my eyes, I saw him staring back at me. His eyes held that dark, hungry look, but it was quickly replaced with anger. “I have a mind to take you over my knee for lying to
me. You don't want this. You are not ready.”
“Branford, please,” I said as he rolled back to his side. His hand pushed the hem of my nightdress back, smoothing it against my leg. “I am. I want to…please.”
“No, you don't,” Branford contradicted. His blazing eyes softened into something I hadn’t seen in his expressions before. Was it disappointment? Hurt? I didn’t know. “When I look in your eyes, there is no desire there, no want. I only see fear.”
He cupped my cheek and ran his thumb underneath my eye.
“And tears,” he added. I felt wetness spread across my skin. I didn’t realize I had been betrayed by my own eyes. “I don’t want you to cry, Alexandra. You are not ready.”
“I am, Branford—please! I want to complete our marriage! Please!”
I looked into his eyes and reached for him, my fingers tentatively touching the skin of his chest. If he stopped now, when would I ever convince him to start again? I was as ready for pain as I was ever going to be, and whether it was now or tomorrow or ten years from now, I was never going to be more ready for that.
“Please, Branford,” I repeated in a hoarse whisper. “Please. Please, Branford.”
He pulled my face to his and kissed me again slowly. He pulled back after only a moment, and again I repeated my plea.