"I should change your bandage," Elizabeth said, taking a step back, "and apply more salve."
"It has been attended to," Geoffrey answered, his voice husky. He was removing the rest of his clothing as he talked. Elizabeth tried to remind herself that she had seen him naked before, but that was when he was unconscious and raging with fever. His desire now had changed his physique considerably, and the transformation terrified her.
"Do not be afraid." The softly spoken command confused Elizabeth. Geoffrey placed his hands on her shoulders. He did not draw her to him but seemed content to lazily study her eyes, her nose, and most especially, her mouth.
"I am not afraid," Elizabeth contradicted, her voice clear and strong. "I have seen you without your clothes on." At Geoffrey's puzzled look, Elizabeth explained, "When I took care of you, it was necessary-"
"I remember," Geoffrey said, smiling inside at the way his wife's face colored with her admission. His hands began to gently massage her shoulders, stroking the knots of tension he knew he caused. "And I have also seen you without your clothes," he said.
His words startled Elizabeth and she was only vaguely aware that his hands had moved to her waist, to the knot that held her robe secure.
"When was this?" she asked, frowning.
"At the waterfall," Geoffrey answered. "You were bathing."
"And you watched me?" she asked, both embarrassed and somewhat indignant.
"I had already decided to wed you, Elizabeth. It was my right."
Elizabeth pushed his hands away and took another step back. She felt the bed behind her knees and knew she could go no farther.
"When did you decide," she asked, her voice a whisper, "that you would wed me?"
Geoffrey did not answer her but stood there and waited.
He wasn't making this moment less awkward, and the uncertainty of what was to come was agonizing. I must get the deed done, Elizabeth decided. Slowly she untied the belt to her robe. Before her courage could desert her, she removed the covering and let it drop to the floor. "And do you still want me?" she asked, her voice husky and, she hoped, enticing.
From the surprised look on her husband's face, Elizabeth decided that maybe enticing was easy work. His stare was so hot that she felt the heat, like an embrace, wrapping around her. She felt like she was being caressed. "Aye, wife, I want you," Geoffrey answered, his voice hypnotic. "Come to me, Elizabeth. Let me make you mine."
It would not take much more to push his control over the edge, Elizabeth naively decided. Then, in her mind's view, he would most probably throw her upon the bed and take her. It would be painful, she knew, but quickly over.
An overwhelming need to have him hold her first, to stroke and comfort her, made Elizabeth 's head spin. She took the first step and was but a breath away from touching him when she stopped and lifted her hands to her hair. She pulled the ribbon free, and the tight crown of curls quickly unwound, falling down below her shoulders. And still her husband did not move. He did not seem overly crazed with excitement or lust either, and Elizabeth realized that she would have to play a far better temptress than she first thought, if she was going to cause him to lose all control.
She raised herself on tiptoes and placed her hands around his neck, moving forward until her breasts were touching the warm mat of hair covering his chest. The contact of her skin against his was surprising; her eyes widened in reaction. Geoffrey smiled then, as if he was pleased with her aggression.
He picked her up and gently placed her on the bed. Before she could move over to allow him room, Geoffrey came down full upon her, all sinewy strength and power touching silky smoothness from neck to toes. His frame seemed to swallow hers. He braced himself on his elbows to share some of his weight, and watched his wife's reaction to his intimate touch.
Elizabeth closed her eyes against the rioting feelings rugging at her senses. His skin was like warm steel; his maleness, the very scent that was Geoffrey, intoxicated her. She felt herself tremble and bravely tried to move her legs apart, knowing, in her heart, that the power of him would most probably tear her apart. I will not scream, she repeated again and again to herself, squeezing her eyes tighter still as if that single action might help lessen the pain of what was to come. "I am ready," she whispered in a ragged voice.
Geoffrey felt her brace herself against him and smiled. "Well, I am not," he whispered in return, and widened his smile when her eyes flew open with obvious distress and confusion. His eyes were full of tenderness and golden chips that showed his amusement. 'Tis not funny, Elizabeth felt like screaming. Instead she whispered in a voice that sounded very much like a plea, "Be done with it, husband." She tried to move her legs farther apart but Geoffrey blocked their movement with his own. Elizabeth looked into his eyes and tongue began to stroke her there. The intimate sparing of his tongue against the most intimate, the most guarded part of her very being, the rough caress of his unshaven face against the ultrasensitive skin on her inner thighs, drove Elizabeth to the brink. She begged him with her moans to cease this tender torture while her hands held him there, against her.
"You taste so good… so sweet," she heard him say in a ragged whisper,
He was slowly driving her crazy. "Please, Geoffrey," she moaned as she arched against him. "Please…" She didn't know what she asked for, only wanted the agony to end.
"Easy, my love," Geoffrey whispered, but Elizabeth was beyond understanding what he was saying. His voice was soothing, his touch wild; she arched her hips more forcefully and raked her nails through his hair.
Her frenzied movements made Geoffrey wild with need. His body trembled and Elizabeth could feel the raw hunger take over. Instead of frightening her, she became more excited, pulling him up toward her face.
Geoffrey's control snapped. He covered her mouth with his, hungrily taking her with his tongue. Elizabeth matched his passion, kissing him again and again with desperate urgency. She found herself becoming the aggressor, wanton with her need, and Geoffrey tried to let her have her way a while longer, until her nails, digging into his shoulder blades, became painfully insistent.
"I want you as I have never wanted another woman," he told her in a ragged whisper. He knelt between her legs, his hands holding her hips. Elizabeth reached up and locked her hands behind his neck, trying to pull him back down to her. She felt him hesitate at the threshold and instinctively arched at the same instant that he plunged. Pain ripped through the sensual haze and she cried out. She tried to pull away but Geoffrey held her tightly against him, and only when he was deep inside her did he stop, giving her time to adjust to him.
He soothed her sobs with honeyed words, promising again and again that the pain was over.
"We are done?" Elizabeth managed to ask, her voice trembling.
"Only just begun," her husband answered. He sounded as if he had just run a great distance, and Elizabeth knew the control he was maintaining for her sake. His consideration for her made her want to please him. He was breathing hard against her cheek. Elizabeth turned her head and found his lips, kissing him passionately.
Geoffrey returned her kiss, cupping her face with the palms of his hands. Then, slowly at first, he began to move. And the pain was forgotten.
Her legs slipped up around her husband's hips. She heard him tell her to hold him, and she tightened her arms around his neck. And then she heard nothing more. She could only feel. Escalating pleasure had taken control. She was racing with the wild beat of her heart into the center of the storm and her husband was guiding her, pushing her.
"Now, Elizabeth," came his ragged whisper, "come with me." And she was there with him; she felt the separation of body and soul, felt the explosion as bolts of lightning ignited and burst into flame inside her with the forceful thrust from her husband. It was terrifying, and it was magnificent.