Terri Brisbin - The Dumont Bride

“Your Grace?” Emalie took a deep breath in and continued. “Should we? I mean…what is it you want us to do?”

Undressing before this man would be difficult enough, but with a witness? She had never attended a bedding before. She had only heard whispered tales of the undressing and examination that a newly married couple had to endure so that no objections to their physical suitability could be raised later. Eleanor gazed at her first and then at her new husband.

“Since there will be no repudiation of this marriage by either of you, I see no reason to do anything but wish you well and leave.”

Eleanor turned from them and walked to the door leading to the hallway, pausing with her hand on the latch before opening it. “And there will be no disavowal in the morning, will there? Christian? Emalie?” Not waiting for their responses, Eleanor pulled the door open and stepped into the hall. “I will be gone before you rise in the morn, so I will say my farewells now, my dears. Be kind to each other.”

And with those words, and after all her machinations, the dowager Queen of England, Duchess of Aquitaine and dowager Countess of Anjou left them alone. To begin their married life. Emalie shuddered at what her husband’s reaction would be when he found she was no longer a virgin. He watched her for a moment and then released her hands from his. She wondered what to do next.

“May I have some wine?” he asked in his native language.

“Of course, my lord. Would you sit while I pour some for you?” Emalie answered in the regional French he’d used. After pointing to a bench near the hearth, she filled a goblet for him and refilled her own and then carried them to him.

He accepted it from her with murmured thanks and sat down and stared into the fire for a few minutes. Not knowing what to do, Emalie stood at one end of the hearth, placed her goblet upon the mantel shelf and waited.

“So it was you who visited me while I bathed?” His voice broke the silence and she turned to face him.

“Yes, my lord. I brought you an herbal potion for your bath.”

“You have my thanks. ’Twas very soothing.” He stood and approached her. “But this is what I remember most.” She remained motionless as he reached out and lifted her hair from the edge of the shawl she clutched tightly around her. He slid his fingers through the length of it, gently, drawing it over her shoulders, and then looked into her eyes. His fingers grazed her neck and face, sending shivers through her. The breath she had finally found was lost once more as his hands touched and teased her shoulders and the tops of her breast.

She needed to warn him before this went any further. If he discovered that she had lost her virtue after he consummated their marriage, he might be angrier than being warned first. But the touch of his lips on hers drove any words or explanation she had planned right out of her mind. He moved his mouth over hers, stepping nearer still until he wrapped her in his embrace. His kiss was gentle, like the touch of his fingers on her skin, but persistent, and soon a wave of heat moved through her body until she felt sweat trickle down between her breasts.

Completely unexpected, this feeling of being held by him, of being kissed by him, undid her. She had tried to prepare herself to mate with him, to allow him his marital privileges, but never did she anticipate such a physical reaction from her own body.

’Twas not that she was without experience, although, other than a few kisses, she had no memory of what William had done. She only knew from Alyce that she would not feel a virgin’s pain again so this mating should not be difficult for her. Now, with the heat pouring through her, and his kisses becoming more insistent and impassioned, she thought that she might even tolerate this, but first she must warn him of what he’d find when they mated. Drawing her face from his, she sucked in a gasping breath.

“My lord. Please.”

“Emalie,” he said in a whispered voice. “So sweet.”

“I need to speak to you, my lord,” she begged as she pulled from his embrace. The room around her could not be cold and yet the loss of heat from being in his arms made it feel chilled indeed. She watched the expression on his face and in his eyes change as she stepped back from him. Disappointment appeared in his gaze now.

“You have my attention. What is so important that it can not wait?” His tone carried a sharp edge and Emalie worried about broaching this subject. Mayhap there was another way?

“My lord, I beg your tolerance and patience,” she began as she lowered her eyes. “I had thought that I could simply acquiesce to the demands of this marriage.”

The silence between them grew until she was forced to look up at him. Meeting his gaze and expecting to find disbelief or even anger, she was surprised instead to find a measure of acceptance or understanding in his expression.

“Am I so onerous that you find it, as you say, impossible to acquiesce to your duties?”

“Oh, no, my lord! ’Tis not you. Just that this marriage and its arrangements have happened in such a short time and with so little notice to me that I can hardly believe myself married.” A sad smile crossed his face and so she pressed on with what was probably a hopeless request. “And I suspect that you were surprised by this as well?”

“Surprised? Why would you say that? Marriage is expected of those in our class. The partner and the date of the ceremony are the only questions left awaiting an answer.”

Emalie glanced over at her goblet of wine and reached for it. Sipping it, she tried to regain her calm and focus her thoughts on the thing she hoped to gain from her new husband. Unable to discern a proper approach, Emalie decided to simply ask.

“I would ask that we postpone this…” Unable to say the words, she motioned between them with her hand. “Until we know each other better.”

A choking sound drew her attention. Christian coughed a few times as though he had swallowed his own wine the wrong way. He wiped his eyes and looked at her.

“Lady? You are jesting? A marriage is true only after it is consummated and I will not jeopardize my claim—”

“Your claim to my lands? My title? My people?” A wave of anger filled her and it was impossible to stop the words.

“Aye, countess,” he answered, his voice filled with sarcasm. “What was yours is now mine. And I want no question to be raised about my right to all that was granted to me.”

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