He studied her face—really studied it, the way she’d seen him assess terrain before making tactical decisions. Then: “The envoy expects tae see blood on those sheets come mornin’. Yer blood. Proof that I took yer maidenhead.”
Heat flooded her face again, hotter than before. “Me… what?”
“Yer virginity.” When she still looked confused, he sighed—not unkindly, but with the weariness of a man realizing the task before him was larger than anticipated. “Claricia, dae ye kenanythin’about what happens between a man and a woman?”
“I ken that we lie in a bed together. That there’s some sort of...” She gestured vaguely, hating how her voice wavered. “Ritual? Apparently, blood is involved, though I dinnae understand how or why, and—” She stopped, frustrated by her own ignorance and the way he was looking at her. Not mocking. Something closer to concern.
“I’m nae a bairn,” she said, defensive now. “I’m nae some sheltered fool who’s never wondered or asked questions. But askin’ and gettin’ answers are two very different things when ye’re a lass of noble birth.”
Something shifted in his expression—understanding, perhaps. Or recognition of how thoroughly society had failed her.
He moved closer, and she tensed, but he just crouched down so they were eye level. Close enough that she could smell him. Something that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t understand.
“I’m goin’ tae explain what the envoy expects,” he said quietly, his voice gone low and careful. “What usually happens on a weddin’ night. And then ye’re goin’ tae decide what we dae about it. Understood?”
She nodded mutely, her heart hammering so hard she thought he must be able to hear it.
Erik reached up slowly—giving her time to pull away, though they both knew she wouldn’t—and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were calloused, warm against her temple. “There’s nay ritual, lass. Nay ceremony. What happens between a husband and wife is...” He paused, seeming to choose his words with unexpected care. “It’s touchin’. Intimate touchin’. And joinin’.”
“Joinin’?” Her voice came out barely a whisper.
“Aye.” His thumb traced her jawline, feather-light, and she shivered. “Our bodies fit together in a certain way. The way we’re made, man and woman—we’re built tae come taegether.”
“I dinnae understand.”
“Then I’ll show ye.” He must have felt her tense because he added quickly, “Just tae explain. Nay more than that. Ye have me word.”
She searched his face for lies, for manipulation, for any sign of the savage they called him. Found only patience and something that looked almost like gentleness.
“Alright,” she breathed.
His hand moved from her face to her wrist, his grip loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted. He guided her hand to his chest, pressing her palm flat over his heart. She could feel it beating—steady, strong, faster than she’d expected.
His heart’s racin’. He’s nae as calm as he’s pretendin’ tae be.
“When a man wants a woman,” he said, his voice gone low and rough, “his body… responds. Gets hard. Ready fer her.”
Her eyes widened. “Hard?”
“Aye.” His other hand found hers, lifted it. For one breathless moment she thought he was going to guide it somewhere—to show her exactly what he meant—but instead he just held it between them. “I’ve a part of me that’s meant fer this. Fer ye. It gets stiff when I’m aroused. When I want someone.”
“Och.” The sound came out strangled. She could feel heat radiating from him, could see something shifting in his expression—hunger barely leashed.
“And ye,” he continued, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in slow circles that made her breath hitch. “Ye’ve a place between yer legs. Hidden. Soft. Made fer exactly this purpose.”
She knew she should be mortified. Should pull away and demand he stop talking about such things. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the heat pooling low in her belly and the way his voice wrapped around her like silk.
“That part of me?” He paused, making sure she was following. “It goes inside that part of ye. We join. Become one, in a sense.”
Understanding crashed over her like ice water. “Insideme body?”
“Aye.”
“But...” Her mind raced, trying to make sense of anatomy and mechanics she’d never considered. “Ye’re makin’ all this up, arenae ye?”
His mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close. “When a woman’s ready—when she wants it—she gets wet. Slick. Makes it easier fer the man tae enter her.”
The word “wet” sent a jolt through her that she didn’t understand. Shouldn’t understand. But suddenly she was very aware of heat between her own thighs, a strange aching sensation she’d never experienced before.
