I may have actually gasped at the suggestion.
“Would that be all right with you?” Branford asked softly.
“I…I think so.” I could barely make a sound as Branford reached up to my shoulders. He ran his hands slowly down my arms and then back again before he started to open the front of my dress. I stood motionless, my heart pounding as he looked from my eyes to his hands as he worked. He removed the laces and watched my eyes closely as he pushed the clothing from my shoulders and down my arms. He pulled my hands out of the sleeves one at a time. The dress was gathered at the waist and caught there, but I was bare from the waist up. Even though I knew he was looking at me, I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Are you going to finish washing me?” he asked. His voice was still soft, and he spoke slowly. I nodded and reached over to the basin, dropping the cloth almost as soon as I picked it up. I bumbled out an apology of sorts as Branford reached for my hands and drew me closer to him. I stared down at the floor until he tilted my head up to face him. “Alexandra, what’s wrong? Are you…are you frightened?”
“Yes.” I tried to breathe normally.
“I will not hurt you, my wife. Remember what we talked about? I will not take you tonight. I only wish to see you and touch you. It won’t hurt. I promise you it won’t hurt. Right now, I’m just going to wash you the same way you are washing me. Is that all right, Alexandra?”
I heard his words. He was only going to wash me. I felt my body shudder at the thought and wondered if I could possibly be any more nervous. Then I realized I could be, and I would be very soon when he took me to our bed for the first real night of intimacy he had promised. That thought brought on more thoughts—thoughts of the next night. Suddenly, I was more nervous.
“Alexandra…” Branford cupped my face and moved his own head to one side to look at me. I bit down on my lip, sure he was going to be angry with me. Before I could consider what to say to him, he had pulled my dress back over me, and a moment later I was in his arms. He carried me swiftly to the chair where we had sat just a few minutes before and seated himself with me in his lap. “Why, Alexandra? Why does this frighten you so?”
“I’m sorry, Branford. I didn’t…I mean…you didn’t have to…”
“Hush,” he said. He brushed his fingers over my lips then pushed tears from my cheeks. “I’m not angry with you. I just want to understand. Why are you so afraid?”
“What do you mean?”
“You think I’m going to truly hurt you when I take you,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. You aren’t just nervous. You seem as though you aren’t sure you’ll even survive the act! There can be some pain, or so I understand, but the way you react…I don’t know what to think. If no one has ever harmed you in such a way…Alexandra, tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”
“You want me to…to tell you…”
“Tell me what you believe will transpire,” Branford said clearly. “Tell me what you think I’m going to do to you.”
“You will…um…use your…” I stumbled over the words. “Um…to open me…so I can have your children. Shelly told me about it when…when she was, um, given to a knight.”
“Shelly? Was she one of Whitney’s handmaids as well?”
“Yes.”
“She was given as a tournament prize?”
“Yes,” I replied again, my voice growing hoarse. “The knight was asked what he wanted, and he said he would, um…would speak of it to King Edgar privately. Later that evening, Shelly was taken away.”
“Tell me what happened.” I felt Branford’s hand on the back of my head as he pulled my cheek to his chest, cradling me against him.
“When she came back…” The image in my head made me close my eyes and press my face to Branford’s chest as he tightened his arms around me. I saw her in my mind as she stumbled backward, nearly falling to the floor when the guard who brought her released her arm. Her clothing had been torn, and she tried to hold it against her body as she started to fall. Her mouth was cut, her arms bruised, and her face stained with her tears. “She told me what he did…how he lay down with her. She said it hurt…and she bled. She was still bleeding when she came back.”
“Still bleeding?” Branford said. He sounded confused. “What do you mean?”
“She was still bleeding,” I repeated. “She said he bit her mouth, so her lip was bleeding a little. And she was…um…bleeding between her legs.”
“Was it time for her to…well…to be…”
“No,” I shook my head. “It wasn’t her monthly time. I thought all women…um…would bleed the first time. Isn’t that why you cut your hand, to show I was pure on our wedding night?”
“There can be some blood.” Branford’s voice rose in pitch, and he growled suddenly. “But it would be drops, Alexandra! And not always even that! Are you telling me he actually…”
I felt Branford’s back straighten and his arms clench.
“Are you saying he…he injured her? When he took her, he hurt her?”
“I suppose so,” I said softly. “She said he was, um…wild with his lust. He threw her on the bed before he moved on top of her. She said she cried, but he just kept going until he was…sated. Then he called for the guard and told him to take her away—her crying was keeping him awake.”
“What was his name?” Branford spoke each word slowly, one at a time and thro