Caithren’s eyes widened. “Crivvens, what a question! I’ve nothing to compare him to, aye? I can only say that to look at him, he seems too big, but he always seems to fit just fine.” Her half-embarrassed laugh rang through the garden; then she focused on Kendra, shading her hazel eyes with a hand. “It went better for you the second time, I expect. Surely it didn’t hurt.”
Kendra bit her lip. “There hasn’t been a second time.”
“What?” If possible, Cait’s eyes widened even more. “You’ve been married nearly three weeks!”
“I won’t let him. He…we don’t fit. Not everyone does, I expect. In fact, I wonder now why it is that men insist on wedding virgins. You’d think they’d want to try the woman out first and make sure it will work.”
“It will work, Kendra.” Cait bit her own lip, but clearly not in consternation—rather to keep from laughing. “By all the saints, did your brothers not tell you anything? Jason will hear from me about this.”
“Please, no.” Kendra felt her face heat. “He’d make fun of me all my days. What is it he failed to tell me?”
“It hurts most women at first. But only the once, aye? Only that first time, when your maidenhead—”
“I may have heard that word.” Kendra frowned. “But I never knew what it meant.”
“It’s a membrane, inside every woman. Every virgin, that is. You could say it guards your entrance. I read once that it’s properly called a hymen.”
“Hymen is the Greek god of the wedding feast.”
“Really? How fitting.” Caithren cleared her throat. “Now, the first time you make love it is torn, and you bleed—”
“I did,” Kendra whispered.
“But you won’t next time. And it won’t hurt, either, because the maidenhead will be gone. And he’ll fit, I promise.”
Trick had been telling the truth, then. A wave of relief washed over Kendra, tempered by a stab of regret. She should have believed him.
And now shereallywished she’d gone with him.
In obvious wonder, Cait shook her head. “Almost three weeks.”
And another month, Kendra thought, until he’d be back. Remembering his kisses, the way he’d made her feel last night—the way she’d nearly given in—she could barely stifle a groan.
Cait knelt to inspect some bell-shaped flowers. “He must be the most patient man on earth,” she murmured. “Even I could see how much he wanted you. However did you manage to keep him away?”
Kendra gave an evasive shrug. “We were strangers. We still are.”
“You will come to know each other. Just give him another chance.” She frowned down at the plant. “You have dwale growing here!”
“Dwale?”
“Black nightshade. Belladonna. Look.” She waited until Kendra knelt beside her, then skimmed a fingertip over a dingy purplish flower with a berry in its base. “Do you see these dark green leaves? They’re lethal. It’s said that Macbeth poisoned a whole army of Danes by calling a false truce and then offering them liquor mixed with an infusion of dwale.”
“Then why is it here in the garden?”
“Used properly, the root makes a good liniment. It’s the leaves and berries that are poison.” When Kendra reached out, Cait held back her hand. “Don’t touch. It’s possible to fall ill without even eating it.”
“What sort of ill?”
“Shock, fever, slowed breathing, dilated eyes, stomach pain—”
“Enough.” She shuddered. In the year since Caithren had arrived, she’d taught Kendra many uses for herbs and plants. But Kendra wouldn’t take a chance on misusing this one. “I shall tell the gardener to remove it.”
“Make sure he wears gloves.” Cait stood and brushed her hands on her rose-colored skirts. “Now tell me about you and Trick. Besides the problem in the bedchamber.”
Kendra met her sister-in-law’s gaze. “He’s just…well, I don’t understand him, Cait. We didn’t wed under the best of circumstances. For either of us.”
“Nay, you didn’t. But Jase is convinced you’ll be happy. Or so he claims.”
