I snorted at that. “And what did they give ye in their attempt to cure yer hysterics?” I asked.
“A tonic to drink that makes me weep and makes me sleepy.”
I arched my eyebrows at that. “But ye are nae weepy or sleeping today.”
Mary offered a wicked smile, showing the lass had spirit. “I have secretly quit taking it.”
“Good for ye,” I said honestly. “Mary, what is it about wedding that scares ye the most? Is it that ye wish to ken the man ye wed, mayhap even love him?”
“Oh, I am in love,” she whispered, blushing. “Though I have kept it secret.”
I smiled at her. “I see. Do ye care to tell me who it is? I promise it will be our secret.”
“’Tis Lord Ogilby. Da would most definitely approve if he kenned. Lord Ogilby is English, but he has a fondness for usScots, and he has the ear of the King of England, as a personal friend, which da would like.”
“If ye are in love, what is it ye are fearful of?”
She bit her lower lip for a moment before speaking, and the blush on her face deepened. “The marriage bed,” she said, her words barely audible. “I do nae ken what happens there. What a man does to a woman. I fear I’ll die of it, or of shame.” Her voice caught. “I love Oggy,” she said, and by the dreamy look on her face, I knew it was true. “I’ve loved him since I first saw him at court. But when he kisses me, I feel such strong emotions that I become afraid. I can nae ask Yolande, of course, or my maids, for fear they will speak of it to others and it will reach my da’s ears.” Tears filled her eyes.
I’d expected a confession of simple deception. Not this raw, real terror that made my chest ache in response. I refolded my hands in my lap, considering my words carefully. When I’d begun my life as a healer, I’d promised myself I would never lie to those in my care, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might be.
“There’s nae shame in wanting to ken,” I said, my voice low and steady. “And there’s nae shame in fear. What happens between a man and a woman in the marriage bed is natural, but that does nae mean it does nae make ye feel strange if ye do nae understand it, nor does understanding it mean it is nae strange the first time.”
Mary wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Will ye tell me?” she asked. “Truly?”
I nodded. “Aye. If ye wish to hear.”
She gave a small nod; her eyes fixed on my face.
“When ye say ye feel such things, is it things like yer core tightening, yer body aching, and mayhap a pulsing sensation near yer core?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
“This is desire. Ye desire Lord Ogilby. This is natural and good.” I took a deep breath. Where to begin? “A man’s body is different from a woman’s,” I said, keeping my tone matter-of-fact. “He’ll come to ye with his body hard and ready. He’ll touch ye in ways that may feel strange at first, as ye have mentioned.” I lightly touched my own breast and the place between my legs. “Ye have felt the stirring, the heat, as yer body responds. As I said, that’s as it should be. When he enters ye and joins yer bodies, there will be discomfort, perhaps even pain, the first time. That too is natural. A barrier will break. Ye may bleed a little. A good man, one who is tender and careful, will be patient. He’ll go slowly. He’ll stop if ye ask him to.”
Mary’s cheeks and neck were flaming red now, but her eyes never left mine.
“The pain fades,” I continued, thinking of James. “The body learns to welcome what it first feared. And when there is love between two people who choose each other, as I think ye wish to choose Lord Ogilby, the act becomes something other than frightening. It can be a comfort. A joy.” I offered her a small smile. “Ye will nae only survive it; ye will likely yearn for it again.” An image of James, standing naked before me, flashed in my mind, and I had to force it away.
Mary let out a long, shaky breath. “Thank ye for speaking so plainly to me,” she said, reaching out and grasping my hand. “I do nae have any friends here at court. It is verra lonely as the king’s bastard daughter. I must be extra careful and extra proper.”
I squeezed her hand. “I am certain it has been lonely,” I said, fully understanding how it felt to keep others away to protect yourself.
“Most people expect young women to learn by doing, or to suffer in silence.”
“That’s cruel,” Mary said, a new steadiness in her voice.
I nodded. “Aye, it is.”
She sat up straighter against the bolsters, pushing her hair back from her face. “Thank ye,” she said. “Truly.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “I would like to do something for ye, in return for your honesty.”
The offer surprised me, but I seized it without hesitation. “There is something,” I said carefully. “I need to get two missives delivered without anyone keening about them. One to a man called James Ross, who is here at the castle, and another to my sister, Millicent Wallace, to the Wallace stronghold, I would think.” I wasn’t entirely certain, and I certainly could not ask Alec, but it made the most sense that Millicent would still be at our home, since she was not yet wed.
“Why can’t ye send out the missive and simply see this man James Ross if he is here?” Mary asked.
I had to trust her. There was no choice, but deep down, I felt I could. I met her gaze squarely. “Because I’m being watched verra carefully by Alec Buchanan, and I can ill afford to cross him outright. He has gained permission from the king to wed me, and I currently do nae have any choice but to feign that I will go along with this.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “I’ll do it,” she said firmly. “I’ll have my most trusted maid take the missive to James Ross and send one to yer sister.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing to a small desk near the window. From a drawer, she drew out parchment and an inkwell, setting them on the desk. “Write them now,” she said. “I’ll see they’re sent.”
