She clung to him, soon matching his rhythm. His movements quickly grew more fierce, but so did her own. A tautness grew within her that drove her on. Moving her hands to his hips, she clutched him as she tightened her legs around him. She tried to take him deeper within herself. A small part of her was aware of how she lightly scored his skin with her nails, but she was unable to stop it. Suddenly, something within her snapped. She heard herself cry out his name, then lost all sense of consciousness. Only faintly was she aware of his arm slipping beneath her hips to hold her tightly against him.
A sudden wildness in her movements warned Thayer of Gytha’s impending release. When it tore through her, Thayer found himself dragged along. He bellowed her name as his passion peaked. Collapsing upon her, he was blurrily aware of how their bodies trembled, of how their breath came in hoarse, unsteady gasps. He pressed his face to the curve of her neck, savoring the scent of her as he struggled to regain his composure.
With the return of her sanity, Gytha was too shy to speak. She barely glanced at Thayer when he left the bed to fetch a cloth to wash them with. She hid her face in her hands when he gently cleaned her of the stain of her lost innocence. When he rejoined her in their bed, she burrowed into his hold, hiding her face against the thick pelt on his broad chest.
As the silence dragged on, Thayer began to grow anxious, fearful of having left her revolted. “Did your maid, Edna, tell you true then?”
“Aye, but…” she bit off her words, suddenly afraid of disgusting him by saying too much, by speaking too boldly of things a woman should not.
Having braced himself for her words, he was a little piqued when none came. “But what?” He had no real desire to hear her voice her disgust, yet he needed to know her true feelings.
“I do not think I should speak on it.”
“Gytha, tell me—but what?”
Taking a deep breath, she hoped she would not be penalized for the truth. “Edna told me true about what would happen. Mama told me about how it was my duty, a necessary part of marriage needed to beget heirs. Neither told me I should like it—which I rather did.” Fear of how he would react to her bold words began to steal the strength from her voice. “I should not speak of it, for mayhap ’tis unladylike for me to like it or say that I do.”
She felt tension creep through his frame. Her heart sank. Time and again she had been warned about speaking too openly, told again and again that it did not become a woman. When she mustered the courage to sit up and look at him, she found him staring at her in amusement.
“You liked it?” His voice was a little strained as he fought to smother an urge to laugh, knowing she would never understand it as joy.
Flushing, she stared at her hands. “Aye, but we need not speak of it again.”
A wide grin brightening his expression, he pulled her back into his arms. “Oh, I think we might. Daft wench.”
Hearing the amused affection in his voice she peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “You do not mind that I like it?”
“’Tis a burden I am willing to bear.”
A mock scowl shaped her mouth as she saw the laughter on his face. “You tease me. Wretched man.”
“Aye. Our thoughts ran against each other. I thought you disgusted by the act. You thought to like it would disgust me.” He shook his head. “I know not what other men might think, but a wife who likes it suits me just fine.”
“Did”—she nervously cleared her throat—“did you like it?”
Hoisting her up his body until they were nose to nose, he cupped her small face in his hands. “I have ne’er liked it so well.” He kissed her gently. “In truth, I liked it so well I believe I shall have me another taste.”
Her passion reawakening, she arched into his touch. “Right now?”
“Are you sore, little one?”
“Nay, not truly.”
“’Tis all I need to know.”
Yet again he carried her to passion’s heights. With knowledge came an easing of her fears, allowing her greater freedom to enjoy it all the more. She reveled in the feelings he stirred in her.
Thayer made love to her with less restraint, allowing his passion full reign. The signs he had questioned before he now knew to be indicative of her desire. He luxuriated in that knowledge, finding it nearly as intoxicating as the woman herself.
Dawn’s light was swiftly growing into daylight when Thayer awoke. He stared at the small woman sprawled so comfortably across his chest. Soon the wedding breakfast would be brought to their chamber. The stained bed linen would be duly witnessed as proof of his bride’s innocence and the consummation of the marriage. Not eager to have Gytha stared at again, he slid out from beneath her. A faint smile curved his mouth when she frowned in her sleep, then murmured his name. He hurried to fetch their robes. After donning his own, he brought Gytha hers only to discover that his new bride could be difficult to wake up.
“’Tis morning already?” she muttered as he prodded her into a sitting position then began to put her into her robe.
“Aye, and soon there will be people arriving. They need no second view of your charms.”
“Thoughtful of you.” She yawned, letting her head droop forward to rest upon his chest as, finally, he got her adequately covered.
He laughed softly as he lay back down. “Ah, well, ’tis true that I allowed you little sleep.”
