Pendragon (13 page)

He said, his voice cold, withdrawn, “That was very eloquent.”

She said slowly, “Was it?”

“And näıve.”

“It is true in my family.”

He merely shrugged, and kept his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He said, “My father and mother—they are none of your concern. I do not need assurances from you to calm my disordered brain. You seem to think I'm suffering from long-ago pain dished out freely by my parents. I am not. About my parents—I only said what I did because you seemed to need to know, and, indeed, your father demanded to know. It really wasn't his right to know.”

“Yes, it was. He is my father. It is his responsibility to protect me.”

“Your father wanted to refuse me your hand in marriage.”

“Of course he did. He believed you were a lecher. But it was William. I believe my father was very relieved when he learned the truth of the matter. He wants me to be happy, you see.”

Thomas said nothing. He looked as if he wasn't certain what he should do now, as if he was nervous, undecided about something, and Meggie found it utterly appealing. She skipped to him, wrapped her arms around his back, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Kiss me, Thomas. That is something I like very much.”

She raised her face, came up on her tiptoes, but for a moment, he hesitated, touched his fingertips to her cheek, so soft her skin, flushed now in excitement.

It was, after all, her wedding night.

She'd never done anything to harm him, he was thinking, and she was his wife. Slowly he brought his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He didn't kiss her, just held her. Actually, it was he who was holding on to her. She was half his size and he was burrowing onto her.

He lifted his head to look down at her. “You're a virgin, Meggie.”

She lifted her face and gave him a very small smile, a nervous smile, and he knew it. “Well, yes. I'm supposed to be.”

In an austere voice he said, “Many women are not pure when they come to their husbands.”

“I had never thought of it. Are you certain? No, that's all right. No one else has anything to do with us. Ah, Thomas, kiss me now.”

He was rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “Do you like your cloak?”

“It's lovely. Do you like the onyx pen I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Mary Rose believed it to be very masculine.”

“It is.”

“It is solid, like a man is supposed to be.”

“Yes.”

“Thomas, are you uncertain what to do? No, it's all right, truly, you don't have to say anything. I rather like that the two of us can begin everything together. I'm sure that we will be able to figure this business out.”

“You think I'm hesitating because I'm lacking in experience? That I just might also be a virgin?”

“It's all right, Thomas.” She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him, a girl's kiss that made him laugh. Another damned laugh, and he'd even come to like the feel of it, alive and snaking warmth all the way to his gut, and that was alien to him.

“I'll admit it, I'm nervous, yes, just a bit nervous,” she said between light nipping kisses, “but we are married now, and you belong to me, and I wish to see what all these marital things are about. Oh goodness, does that sound terribly loose?”

“A man doesn't belong to a woman,” he said slowly, his voice suddenly remote, all laughter dried up. “A man is his own being.”

For an instant, Meggie was blank-brained. Whatever had happened? Had a woman hurt him badly in the past? He wasn't old enough to have been hurt all that often, surely. “Thomas, how old are you, exactly?”

“I am twenty-five. I will be twenty-six in December. I was born the day after Christmas. I don't think my mother ever forgave me for ruining her Christmas.”

He was making light of it. Well, no matter. If a woman had hurt him, had made him cynical, someday he would tell her and she would fix it. She kissed him again, this time a line of kisses all along his jaw. She said, all the feeling that was in her vibrant in her voice, “I will make you want to belong to me.”

And she kissed him again.

This time he kissed her back, hard, telling her to open her mouth, and she did and she felt his tongue sliding
over her bottom lip, then inside. It was different, this kiss, urgent, on the wild side. He raised his head just a moment, and said, his hand suddenly cupping her breast, “Meggie, I'm not a virgin.”

14

M
EGGIE
,
OVERWHELMED BY
that kiss, that surprise attack that had ambushed her and made her want more, exactly of what she wasn't certain, but she was eager to find out, managed to get herself together since this was obviously the way things were done, and said, “It's all right that you're not a virgin. I am not blind, Thomas. I believe that boys are somehow supposed to become experienced, that it is expected, that they aren't viewed by other men as being manly unless they do this, perhaps quite frequently.

“I have also seen how boys do not seem to be able to control themselves when it comes to the fairer sex. They step near a girl and begin to stutter, their hands shake, and they say the stupidest things. Just look at what William did.”

“Men can control themselves. It is a matter of will, and a matter of character.”

“I know that you would never take advantage of a female, for yours is an excellent character. Are you also strong-willed when it comes to matters of the flesh, Thomas?”

“Yes, but that doesn't matter. I must consummate our marriage or it isn't really a marriage.”

“A good idea.” She saw him looking at her so sternly, as if he weren't certain about something, and just couldn't
help herself. She kissed him again, his shirt fisted in her hands, and she was pulling him down toward her, kissing whatever part of him she could reach.

He said against her mouth, “I will take your virginity, make you bleed, and only then will you be safely wedded, not before. Then there is no going back, Meggie. You're mine.”

That brought her kisses to a stop and a frown to her forehead. “I don't know why you are worried about this, Thomas. I don't want to go back. Wait, I don't like the sound of this bleeding business. What bleeding business? What does that mean?”

“Oh God, Meggie, I wish you had asked your mother to explain this to you. Don't you know anything at all?”

“I now know all about tongues, although it's still a bit difficult for me to speak in them just yet.”

Speaking in tongues
. He tried to smile at that, but couldn't, and said, “But you don't know what we are going to do?”

“Well, not in any sort of elaborate detail, no.”

“How about in a vague general sort of way?”

“I believe you must take your clothes off. I was swimming once when I was very young with my dratted boy cousins, and they took off their clothes. They were certainly different from me, but I don't know how it all would work to make a baby.”

“I did ask, didn't I?”

“Are you jesting with me, Thomas? Perhaps laughing at me?”

He seemed to think about this for a goodly number of seconds. He said more to himself than to her, “No, I wouldn't jest about this, not at all. Now, it must be done, it must.” It was almost as if he was angry with her, Meggie thought, suddenly panicked. He said nothing more, didn't kiss her, just picked her up in his arms and walked to the large tester bed. “I'll be your maid,” he said, sat her down on the edge of the bed, realized the buttons on her dress were in the back and pulled her to her feet again. Thomas saw that she was pale, his exuberant Meggie
looking a bit on the ragged edge, particularly since they were this close to the bed and his hands on her. He kissed her hard and fast, didn't try to part her lips with his tongue because he thought she just might bite him in her nervousness, then turned her around. He unfastened the long line of buttons down her back.

She was looking over her shoulder at him. “Thomas, perhaps I could have a glass of water?”

“No, Meggie. Hush. Don't worry about any of this. Let me do the worrying. It will be all right. Trust me.”

“You certainly are very efficient with all those buttons.”

He smiled, couldn't help it. “Yes. Some men believe it to be a calling. Others must practice assiduously to be competent at it. Be quiet.”

“Thomas, is this going to be a nice thing? Despite the blood?”

At the sound of her quavery thin voice, his fingers stopped, three buttons from the bottom. He looked at her back, at the soft batiste chemise, the lace straps, all of it so feminine, so unlike him, alien from him, this soft creature who now belonged to him. Not to anyone else. To him. No, nothing hard about Meggie at all, particularly not her heart, and he knew it, but he didn't want to let it matter. He had to be strong about it, couldn't let her know. He couldn't. A man had to have his pride. He said, “I will try to make it a nice thing.”

“All right, then I will try not to worry overly about this.”

Slowly he turned her to face him. He pulled the gown down until her arms were trapped against her sides. He lightly stroked his fingers over her jaw, her throat, came to rest lightly on her bare shoulders. She was so bloody soft. “Meggie?”

“This isn't quite what I had expected, Thomas.”

“What did you expect?”

She shrugged, but he saw that she was embarrassed.

“Come, tell me.”

“Perhaps a small dinner by the fire, though it's quite warm, isn't it, so a fire might make us uncomfortable. All
right then. We could leave the table by the window. We could speak quietly to each other, perhaps watch the moonlight play over the water, and comment on the feelings it brings to our souls.”

“That is a bit sentimental for my tastes.”

“I thought it might be. All right, some champagne then. You didn't want any in the carriage. Were you afraid that I would become ill? Were you afraid I'd really force you to sip it out of my mouth?”

He just smiled down at her. So young, he thought, too young. She didn't deserve that he maul her. He leaned down, pressed his forehead against hers. “You array yourself in your nightgown and I will go downstairs and order up a bit of food and champagne from Mrs. Miggs. I believe she is quite pleased that I chose her inn for our wedding night.”

“Maybe she was, but Mr. Miggs just grunted at me and stared down at his shoes.”

“It is Mrs. Miggs who deals with the patrons. Now, do you need a maid to help you?”

“No. I can reach the rest of the buttons.”

He turned to go.

“Thank you, Thomas.”

He paused a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. At the moment she was afraid to ask.

Thirty minutes later they were seated opposite each other at a small table next to the window, Meggie wearing a very lovely peach silk peignoir that her aunt Sinjun had brought her from Edinburgh. Thomas, however, was still dressed in his very nice trousers and jacket and his beautifully polished boots. His cravat looked as fresh as it had in the church that morning. So many changes on this one single day. Tomorrow she wouldn't wake up the same Meggie as she had just this morning. So few hours had passed, and yet her life had changed irrevocably. She wondered if Thomas felt the same way. Surely he must. Men couldn't be that different from women.

“It's strange,” she said, nibbling on a piece of bread, “to be sitting in my nightclothes across from a man who
isn't either my father or one of my brothers, or one of my dratted boy cousins, for that matter.”

“Come, Meggie, I cannot imagine you ever wearing that delicious confection to bed in the vicarage.”

“Well, you're right about that, but still, you're still dressed, Thomas, and I'm not.”

Thomas just smiled and held up a glass. “To our wedding night,” he said.

Meggie was slow, but at last she did tap her glass lightly against his.

He'd given her too much time to fret. He said, “After we have eaten and drunk just a bit more, what were you thinking would happen?”

“Since I don't know anything specific beyond kissing, as you well know, I admit things get a bit muddled. All right, really muddled, perhaps even incoherent. Right now I know I'm happy and that you're smiling. Do you think maybe that could be enough for you to go on?”

“There will be a lot more than just smiling, Meggie.”

“Like what?”

“You are endlessly curious, aren't you?”

“Since this will involve me very personally, I don't think it all that strange.”

“What will happen is pleasure, hopefully for both of us.”

“I have already felt pleasure when you kissed me.”

“Different, stronger pleasure.”

She looked very skeptical about that.

He didn't move from the table until she'd drunk a half glass of champagne. He sat back, his hands laced over his lean belly. “Why don't you get in bed, Meggie. I will blow out the candles.”

“Do you really wish to?”

“To what?”

“To blow out the candles.”

“Ah, a dollop of interest in me?”

“Well, yes, to be honest about it. It's difficult to think about this, but since Mary Rose and my father are married and they do sleep in the same bed, I suppose they do see
each other without their clothes. That is difficult for a daughter to imagine.”

“A son as well. Does this mean that you wish to see me naked?”

She met his dark eyes and very slowly she nodded. “I have been thinking some more about what I want to have happen. I want to add you to my fantasy. I want you to be my main character.” She gave him a nervous smile.

He didn't say a word.

“All right, you force me to be blunt, Thomas. I want you to take all your clothes off.”

“And will you undress for me as well?”

She rose from her chair and walked over to the bed. She paused a moment, and said over her shoulder, trying to smile a siren's smile, not all that successful, but she tried, “Well, this is my fantasy, not yours. However, to be fair, perhaps I can think about that later, much later. You are the one who knows what is going to happen. Let me at least decide how we will begin it.” She sat on the bed and let her feet dangle over the side.

He too rose and walked to the bed, stopping not three feet from her. He stood in front of her for a moment, then pulled off his beautiful buff jacket. “You say I'm beautiful, Meggie, but I'm about to prove you wrong. I'm a big hairy man.”

“I think since it is you, I shall quite like big and hairy. Show me.”

She watched him remove each and every item of clothing, fold each and every item and lay it neatly on a chair, watched him so closely that when he straightened, naked, he was already hard as the oak floorboards beneath his bare feet, and surely that would alarm any virgin.

She stared at him as he stood there, his arms at his sides. He wanted to ask her if she believed him to be as well-looking as Jeremy, but he couldn't, of course, he wouldn't.

“I was wrong,” she whispered, her eyes never looking away from his sex.

He was shaking, getting even harder, something he
wished didn't have to happen, but there was no hope for it, not with her staring at him like she wanted to—no, he wouldn't think about her in front of him, her mouth on him. For God's sake, she was a vicar's daughter. But to the best of his memory no woman had ever looked at him like that. Now that he thought about it, neither had he ever before stripped off his clothes in front of a woman in order to advance her education. He cleared his throat. “What were you wrong about?”

“You aren't beautiful, Thomas.”

“You see, I told you I was just a big hairy creature, and that—”

“You are magnificent. I did not know what a man really looked like. But I do know, all the way to my toes, that no man could be as fine as you.” And, really without thinking, she reached out her hand to touch him.

He closed his eyes, so tense he couldn't breathe. He wanted to spring, jump right on her, but he held himself perfectly still. He felt her fingers lightly touch his belly, just stay there, not moving, her fingers warm, until he thought he'd yell with it, then she stroked her fingers down the line of black hair over his belly, lower and lower, tangling her fingers in the hair at his groin, moving, still moving until she touched him, so lightly, as if she didn't know what to expect, but she didn't stop. When her fingers went around him and he felt the warmth of her hand, his breath
whooshed
out, nearly bowing him to his knees. All things being equal, he didn't want this ever to end. Yes, maybe her mouth as well as her fingers, oh God, this was too much, just too much.

He could stand it—a man could stand this sort of exquisite torture forever—maybe even beyond forever, but then, of course, he knew he couldn't, and it nearly killed him when he gritted his teeth and whispered, in obvious pain, “Meggie, please remove your fingers. Back away. Get to safety. I simply cannot bear that.”

“I don't want to, Thomas. You feel so very different from me. Your belly is all hard and hairy and it makes me feel very strange to touch you.”

That gave him a moment's respite. “It does?”

“Yes, so let me keep—” Her grip tightened, moved up and down a bit.

He nearly lost control of himself. He couldn't allow himself to spill his seed in her hands, he wasn't that great of a clod. He groaned in despair, in utter misery, as he forced himself to pull away from those hands of hers, drew a very deep breath, knew it was going to be close. He couldn't help himself, he had to be inside her, and it had to be now. He came down over her, nearly knocking the breath out of her. He was flat on top of her, pressed against her closed thighs, aware that she was stiff and so soft he just couldn't stand it. He tried to smile. He knew she was worried about all this. And now he was naked and on top of her, and he was big and hairy, so much physically stronger than she was, and his control had gone into hiding, far away, on the other side of the planet.