Unexpected Circumstances - the Complete Series

  “There can be some blood.” Branford’s voice rose in pitch, and he growled suddenly. “But it would be drops, Alexandra! And not always even that! Are you telling me he actually…”

  I felt Branford’s back straighten and his arms clench.

  “Are you saying he…he injured her? When he took her, he hurt her?”

  “I suppose so,” I said softly. “She said he was, um…wild with his lust. He threw her on the bed before he moved on top of her. She said she cried, but he just kept going until he was…sated. Then he called for the guard and told him to take her away—her crying was keeping him awake.”

  “What was his name?” Branford spoke each word slowly, one at a time and through clenched teeth. I wondered why he held me in such a tight grip and why his muscles were so tensed. Then understanding dawned—he thought that what had been done to his mother had been done to Shelly. But his mother had been a noble, and no one should have touched her in such a way. Shelly was only a handmaid like me.

  “She was his prize, Branford.” I knew he had to understand this. He had won many tournaments, as his titles proclaimed. He had to know this was not an uncommon prize for the winning knight. “He had every right—”

  “Tell me his name,” Branford said, interrupting me. The words were again short and clipped, and his voice was tight.

  “It was just a small tournament,” I said quietly, hoping to steer him from this path, but he would not have it.

  “Alexandra, if I have to ask you again, I am not going to be pleased.”

  I blanched.

  “It was Sir Remy,” I said quietly. “He is King Edgar’s…”

  “I know who he is,” Branford said curtly.

  “He won many tournaments at Hadebrand,” I said.

  “He’s won several in other kingdoms as well.”

  “She said he was the same way with her…um…as he was in the battles.”

  “My God,” Branford said under his breath. “No wonder you are so terrified. Is that all you have ever heard? That is your only knowledge?”

  “Not…exactly,” I admitted.

  “What else?”

  “Just in passing…women would talk about the pain the first time and how the pleasure was all…was all for the, um…for the man.”

  “For the man,” I heard Branford mumble softly. He breathed sharply through his nose and ran his hand through his hair. His gaze moved to mine, and he reached out to cup my face. “Do you remember what I told you before? I do not want to see you hurt. I only want to show you how much pleasure it can bring.”

  “Shelly said Sir Remy did feel pleasure,” I said. “I’m sure you will, too…I’ll try to…”

  “Not for me, Alexandra!” Branford huffed through his nose again, and dropped his chin to the top of my head. I felt him take another breath. “I want you to feel it as well.”

  “Feel what?” I asked.

  “If I could just get you to relax long enough, I could show you,” he grumbled, exasperated. He brought one of his hands up to run it through his hair, and then his lips touched my temple. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s all right,” I said quietly.

  “No, it isn’t,” he said. He leaned back and tilted his head to look at me. “I have never, ever hurt a woman like that, Alexandra. I wouldn’t. Yes, your first time can be uncomfortable, but that part is over quickly, and you aren’t going to be left bleeding!”

  I looked up at him quizzically, trying to comprehend the meaning of his words.

  “It doesn’t have to be like that,” Branford reiterated. His brow creased, and he traced my cheekbone with his fingers. “If he had gone slow—been careful with her—that would not have happened.”

  “What if you…” I stopped, not knowing exactly what to say.

  “If I what?” Branford pressed me for an answer.

  “What if you…if you get too…if you are…”

  “Alexandra, I am perfectly capable of controlling myself,” Branford said, somehow understanding what I wished to say though I could not find the words. “If I could not, I would have had you the first night. If not then, the second. I would have had you that next morning when we woke up or when you first bathed me. I would have had you this afternoon or ten minutes ago. Every time I get close to you, I want you. I will admit it’s difficult sometimes, but I want you to desire me, too. I want you to…someday…pull me into your arms of your own desire. I want you to kiss me, and I want you to someday beg me to take you to bed.”

  I certainly blushed and tried to hide my face in Branford’s chest, but he turned me to face him again. His eyes looked hopeful as he spoke.

  “I saw it there, you know,” he said. “Yesterday, when I touched you—I saw it in your eyes then, just for a moment. Do you remember?”

  Even as he spoke of it, I felt my stomach tighten as I remembered the feeling of his thumb as it rubbed against the center of my breast and how his touch made the muscles in my legs clench. I shifted slightly in his lap.

  “You do remember,” Branford said with a chuckle. I could only nod and not actually hide since Branford’s hand still cupped my cheek. He showed me his crooked smile, and then his eyes grew serious. “What can I do? What can I do to convince you I won’t hurt you?”

  I tried to look away, but he would have none of it.

  We had spoken of starting again—of trying to be good to one another. How could I truly do that if I could not bring myself to trust him? As far as I knew, he had not spoken an untruth to me. In fact, he had been quite forthcoming when it came to information about himself. Whatever questions I had asked, he had answered. Though I certainly still feared his temper, his gentle, nightly touches had not caused me harm. They did quite the opposite, in fact. His touches had been very desirable, just as he had promised.

  “It won’t…it won’t hurt?”

  “I only wish to touch you tonight, my wife.” Branford’s eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed, his expression uncertain. When I looked at him, I was suddenly reminded of a small boy who would often visit Hadebrand, begging for scraps of food from the castle. Sometimes, when he was worried he might have asked for too much, he would get a similar look in his eyes—both afraid to ask and afraid not to ask all at the same time.

  More than anything, Branford appeared quite young and boyish to me for a moment. As his eyes silently begged me to allow him to touch my body, I couldn’t help but smile just a little. His look made my spine tingle, at the same time making him appear much less frightening than he ever had before. I took a deep breath and nodded before turning in his lap to look upon him more directly.

  “I believe you,” I said quietly, feeling my blush rise to my cheeks.

  “You will permit me to touch you?” Branford’s eyes widened, and his hands moved to my hips. I felt his fingers grip slightly into my sides, and then he tugged at the fabric of my dress. “You’ll let me remove this from you…see you without it?”

  “Yes,” I said as I nodded again. I glanced down for a moment, for the intensity of his gaze was too much. “You’ll be gentle?”

  “Always,” Branford said through a breath of relief. “I promise you.”

  “And tomorrow…when it’s the third night?” I chewed on my lip, wondering if I might actually faint again when the time came.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Branford said, his voice pleading again. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone in such a way but especially not you. I swear I will make it perfect for you…as perfect as I know how.”

  With a final nod and a deep breath, I released my lip from my teeth, leaned forward, and pressed my lips against my husband’s. I could feel his mouth turn up into a smile as he leaned back a bit in the chair, pulling me tenderly against him as I attempted to follow his movements and not break the kiss. I slid my hands up to his shoulders and leaned against them for balance. I felt Branford’s hands glide up my sides around to my back and then up to my shoulders and into my hair. I opened my mouth, reaching out to t
ouch his lips with my tongue. Branford groaned softly but didn’t push back. For a few minutes, he stayed somewhat still as I kissed him.

  We didn’t stop until I backed away, blinking a few times before I focused on his face again. Branford said nothing, but the glint in his eyes and slight smile told me how pleased he was. Feeling slightly emboldened, I let my fingers trace up the side of his neck, across his jaw, and finally settle on his moistened lips. I touched him softly, as he had touched my skin before, and I could feel his warm breath against my fingertips. With my other hand, I touched his cheek, followed the path of his eyebrows, and slipped down to the tip of his nose. His chest rose and fell with his breaths. He closed his eyes and gripped my hips as I explored his beautiful face.

  When I managed to have my fill, at least for the time being, I moved my hands back to his shoulders and tried to figure out a way to stop my ever-present blush from appearing. I must have failed, for he smiled brightly and traced my cheek with his fingers.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  “You’re welcome, Branford.”

  “Would you mind if we forget the rest of the bathing?” Branford asked. I shook my head. “You could go ahead and get yourself dressed for bed. Your wardrobe should be adequate now, I hope.”

  “It is.”

  “There is a nightdress in there,” Branford said, his voice softening. “I’d like you to wear it.”

  “Which one?”

  “It has laces all the way up the front,” he replied.

  “Oh.”

  Branford released his grip, and I went to the wardrobe to find the dress he wanted me to wear. I had no trouble locating the one he meant, for not only did it lace up the front, the laces were obviously designed for their simplicity—especially in removal. The dress was blue, lightweight, and the laces did indeed go from the neckline all the way down to the waist. I pulled it over my head and then looked down at the open front with the ends of the laces in my hands. With the laces undone, Branford would be able to see the entire front of me, clear to the bottom of my stomach. My hands shook as I started to lace it from the bottom. Then I wondered if he wanted me to lace it at all or if the act would be fruitless since he would want it unlaced soon enough. I remembered earlier in the day when he had opened my dress and looked at me. He had started to touch me before he saw the mark on my shoulder and had stopped.

  I finished with the laces, and with my feet bare against the cool wooden floor, I walked around the screen to face my husband. He looked from my eyes to my feet, then back up again, his smile growing as he took me in.

  “You are extraordinarily beautiful,” he said. I felt the heat rise to my face. Branford walked up to me and placed his hand on my cheek and whispered. “Lovely.”

  He pressed his lips to mine, and I opened my mouth as I felt his tongue touch me. He left his hand against my cheek as the other one reached for my waist and he pulled my body against his. He broke away soon, and then in one swift movement, he stooped down, wrapped his arms behind my back and legs, and then hoisted me up into his embrace.

  Though he had done much the same in the arena after he had chosen me, I cried out in surprise and covered my mouth with my hand. Branford chuckled softly as he carried me to the bed and lay me on my back before crawling over the top of me. He kissed me again, gripping the side of my head as his tongue explored my mouth. He paused, slowed, and then stopped. His eyes remained closed as he took several deep breaths before opening them and smiling down at me.

  “I want you so much,” he whispered, and I could not deny the intensity of his words. They both thrilled and terrified me. “Since the moment I laid eyes on you…when I pulled you close to me on my horse…I wanted you then. So beautiful, so soft…”

  He sucked my lower lip into his mouth, tracing the edge of it with his tongue before releasing me, only to kiss me deeper as his fingers went to the lacings at the top of the nightdress. Obviously, there had been no need to lace it up, for the laces were removed only moments later. He didn’t pull it open though. He just lay his hand on my shoulder, his fingers teasing softly under the edge of the cloth.

  “Touch me.” His voice was pleading.

  I placed my hand on his shoulder, splaying my fingers out against his warm flesh. It didn’t stay there long, though, as Branford’s fingers wrapped loosely around my wrist, and he pulled my hand down off his shoulder and across his chest. He brought it all the way down to his stomach where I could feel the lines of muscle I had admired earlier as well as a light sprinkling of hair across his skin.

  “Touch me,” he repeated, and rolled over onto his back, bringing me over to my side. He held my hand flat against his abdomen as we moved and then released my wrist, placing his fingers atop my own. He started pushing my hand lower, and I felt the fabric of his white linen pants against the tips of my fingers.

  As his intentions became apparent to me, I felt my breath catch in my throat. He wanted my hand on him—he wanted me to touch that strange, masculine part of him that was meant to open the way for me to bear his children.

  “Touch me, Alexandra,” he said again. “Please, I won’t hurt you…just touch me.”

  I had felt it before—pushed up against my stomach at times when he was full of desire and need. But to do this…to actually touch his male flesh with my hand? I felt a cold shiver race between my shoulder blades, and if his hand had not been on top of mine, I probably would have pulled away. At the same time, I found myself strangely intrigued. What would it feel like in my hand? What would it look like? I had never seen a man without his clothing and had never given much thought what he looked like underneath. Earlier, Branford had told me he wanted to see me—to see me bare. It was something he desired, and I found myself wondering what he looked like as well.

  “You don’t have to, Alexandra,” Branford said. I looked up to meet his gaze. His lips turned up in his half smile. “But I am your husband, and at some point, you will become fairly familiar with it.”

  I knew I had to be blushing a deeper crimson than I ever had before. Branford chuckled softly and then brought his lips to my forehead.

  “Whenever you want to,” he said. “It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

  “I just…I mean…I never…”

  “I should hope not,” Branford said with mock indignation. “I would be quite affronted if I ever heard of any man getting close enough to you to show you such a thing.”

  I smiled, and then a giggle escaped my mouth. I turned my face into Branford’s chest since his hand prevented me from covering my laughter with my fingers.

  “Do you want me to help?” he asked quietly.

  “Help?” I could barely hear my own voice. Without another word, Branford used his hand to push mine lower. I felt the edge of his trousers at first, and then my fingers came into contact with the very end of him, round and bulging under his clothes. He didn’t pause but continued to move my hand lower until my fingers rested on top of it with only the thin linen separating my flesh from his.

  I closed my eyes and pressed my teeth against my bottom lip. Even through the fabric of his pants, I could feel the heat of him in my palm. I heard Branford’s shuddering breath, and he moved my hand all the way down to the base and then back up to the tip. It was warm, and it was hard, and it was…huge.

  There was no way…no possible way…it couldn’t…it couldn’t…

  “Of course it will, my wife,” Branford said softly. I had no idea I had spoken aloud. “Your body is made to accept me into you. God made us this way to join together, to bring forth children and to bring each other pleasure. It is His gift to us.”

  The top of my hand went cold as he released my fingers and brought his hand to my cheek. He kissed me softly, and when I opened my eyes, he was staring at me.

  “I want to touch you,” he said. “I want to feel your skin in my hands—feel your warmth, your softness. I want to kiss your mouth, your neck, the hollow of your throat. I want to kiss your shoulder, where I??
?where I hurt you. I want to kiss your breasts and suck them into my mouth while my hands explore your body. I want to make you feel like you never have before.”

  I trembled at his words, and I felt that spot between my legs begin to tingle. Branford’s hand began to push back the front of my nightdress, opening it fully and removing the laces from the holes where they once held my clothing closed. My mind was spinning as he reached the end of the ties and fully pushed away the fabric of the dress, and it fell back from my shoulders.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured before he kissed my mouth again, his tongue pushing between my lips and colliding with mine. He kissed me deeply, over and over again before he moved his mouth to my chin, across my jaw, and up to my ear. He sucked the lobe into his mouth a moment and then blew warm air across my skin. He rolled his body to the side, pressing his hard length against my hand, and I started to pull away, but he grasped my wrist again and held me in place. His lips were against my hair as he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly.

  “Your hand feels so good there,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him. He let go of me and raised himself to his knees, once again pulling me with him. My hand fell away, feeling quite cold. As I knelt on the bed facing him, he placed his lips against my throat. He ran his hands up my arms, from my wrists all the way to my shoulders. He carefully avoided the mark on my shoulder, but as his fingers moved past it, he kissed down my neck and over to the mark. He brushed it softly with his lips as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. He pushed the sleeves of my nightdress down my arms and over my hands, pulling them free once again. He caught my wrist in his hand and brought my arm out in front of my body.

  In the dim candlelight, the bruises on my arm were hardly visible, but he found them anyway. His eyes narrowed, and his brow creased as he examined them, and then he kissed them gently with the same strained look across his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in the darkness. “Never again, Alexandra. I swear.”