Page 13 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“I have nothing else to say to you.” He dropped her hand and walked away.
“You didn’t touch me!” she cried.
He stopped and turned back at her.
“I speak the truth, husband. You fell asleep as soon as you were brought to the bedchamber. Do you not remember?”
“So you’re still a maiden,” Harald said. “I should have inspected the sheets more closely.”
Fear coursed through her as he took her hand again.
“Then we shall retire together tonight, after we have dined.”
* * *
Eloise barely ateduring the meal, fear of the night ahead having driven away her appetite. She withdrew into herself, not noticing the usual cacophony of noise around her.
She jumped when she heard her name. One of Harald’s men-at-arms, a muscular man with long dark hair and a scar on his chin leaned across Harald to speak to her, a stench of ale on his lips.
“Your wife does not look well bedded.” he slurred. “Has he given you satisfaction yet?”
She shook her head and a roar of laughter erupted. “Harald, you’re losing your touch. Has Roswyn exhausted you already or has your cock fallen off from overuse?”
“Be silent Wulfstan!” Harald thumped his fist on the table. “Wife, come with me.” He took her hand and pulled her out of her chair. She stumbled to keep up with his long strides and he led her to his chamber and pushed her inside, slamming the door behind him.
His eyes had turned black as he leaned over her. “Undress, so the deed may be done as quickly as possible.”
She removed her gown and sat on the bed, picking up a fur to cover her body.
“No need for modesty,” he glowered. “You’re mine to do with as I see fit. Come here.”
Eloise dropped the fur and stood, trembling. Her face burned with shame as he raked his eyes over her naked body, settling his gaze on her disfigured arm.
* * *
Once again,Harald felt admiration at his wife’s poise. Fear radiated from her eyes, as did shame at her deformity yet she stood before him, meeting his gaze.
Her body was exquisite. She did not possess the earthy beauty of Roswyn or Marlin, but she had a unique beauty all of her own. Though small, she was shapely, her body soft and rounded. Her skin was the color of fresh, creamy milk—flawless save for her arm. Her breasts were small, yet beautifully curved, and his mouth watered at the prospect of being the first to taste the rosy pink nipples that puckered in the cold air. Her waist was no larger than his handspan. Below her slightly rounded belly, her hips flared out. His body stirred at the prospect of being buried among the triangle of soft, fair curls at the apex of her thighs, thighs which tapered towards her feet. His gaze wandered down her legs, his eyes narrowing on seeing a mesh of scars on the inside of one thigh.
He pulled down his breeches and his manhood sprang free. He pushed her onto the bed and covered her with his body. Her eyes widened as he pressed his chest against hers, the rapid pulse of her heart hammering against his body.
He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and she whispered an involuntary plea.
“Have mercy, my Lord, I have never given myself to a man.”
His conscience called for compassion and he propped himself up on his elbows to prevent his weight from crushing her.
“I cannot deny you’ll feel pain the first time a man takes you,” he said, “but I will be gentle.”
Why did a tear roll down her cheek at his reassurance? “Forgive me, my Lord,” she whispered. “I know you’ll not bring me harm.”
Her trust in him was almost his undoing. Holding his need in check, he pressed the tip of his member at her entrance and eased himself in, searching for the barrier of her maidenhead, but as he sheathed himself fully into her he found none.
His bride was not a virgin.
She had lied to him.
“You have known a man.”
