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“It’s not something I’m good at.” She caught the sparkle in Sara’s eyes. Her maid was well versed in Matilda’s rebellious ways, but she said nothing.
The bath soothed her for a while, but she struggled to eat. Only when Sara badgered her did she manage to finish the platter. “Strength is what you need.”
With her skin dry and her hair presentable, the towelling gown was removed, and she slipped on the shift. Sara laced the front with neat bows and smoothed the fabric. “I think it’s silk. It must be worth a fortune. So strange to spend money on a garment only seen in the bedroom.”
Matilda lay on the bed, her head on a pillow, her hands resting on her chest and waiting for the appointed hour.
Gervais entered, dismissing his manservant at the door. Approaching the bed, he paused to admire her.
“Beautiful. Are you afraid?” he asked.
She nodded. Truth be told, she was filled with trepidation and excitement, but she was not willing to admit to the latter sentiment.
“Don’t be. This won’t hurt you.” He drew off his tunic, leaving on the cambric shirt and simple dark hose. He unlaced the shirt to reveal a smooth chest with tinges of scarring around the ribs. The muscles were bonded to steel sinews, and lean. He carried no waste, no aberration or deformity. He was a soldier still.
She bit her lower lip and accepted she would tremble uncontrollably for the duration of his examination.
He lifted the lowest part of the shift from her legs. “Sara, unlace this. I wish to see your mistress’s flesh.”
Sara, a good servant, obeyed him without question, although her cheeks were flushed and her hands shaking. She fiddled with a few bows, starting with the one under Matilda’s chin. She uncovered two pert nipples and the crescent shapes of her bosom, the flat of Matilda’s belly, the wide girth of her hips, then to Matilda’s shame, the trimmed bush of her mound and the glisten on her thighs. Sara exclaimed an unhelpful gasp.
Gervais merely smiled.
The shift, opened like curtains, fanned out on either side of her in the shape of butterfly wings. Presented to her betrothed, she lifted her chin and stared at the vaulted ceiling. It would be over quickly, she prayed.
Could this not be done in privacy?
“My lord—”
“I trust Sara as you do. She is not only a witness to this examination, but an aide. I have manservants, whom I trust implicitly, mutes bought in foreign markets from vicious slavers. I liberated them and they chose to stay and serve me. What I command, they do without judgement. Sara will act likewise.”
She swallowed hard. “I trust you.”
He nodded. “I ask your maid to stay to ensure there is no impropriety while your virginity is determined. Now, draw down to the bottom of the bed, part your legs, keep them raised and knees bent. Sara, bring me a bowl of rosewater, so that I may bathe my hands.”
Gervais rolled up his sleeves. Matilda carefully shifted to the edge of the bed, so her bottom was perched there, spread her legs and propped her ankles against the bedposts for support. In such a revealing position, her slit opened, she felt the waft of cool air touch the lips shielding her entrance.
She closed her eyes and reached up with her arms and instinctively arched her back.
She waited, breath held, and nothing happened. She opened her eyes and found kneeling before her Gervais, his face struck by awe, his mouth slightly parted and his tongue licking his lips. His fingers twitched by his sides, and he made no attempt to hide the bulge in his hose.
He raised his hands, placing them between her parted thighs, and gently pinched each of her folds between his fingers and thumbs. She sighed, unable to stop the rush of sensations flooding her sex. His thumbs rimmed the opening, stealing themselves deeper, but in a manner that was cautious and unlikely to harm her. She knew that he would meet no barrier, nothing was there to stop him plunging those fingers inside her to his knuckles.
However, he was patient. He glided up and down her slit, probing with one firm digit, ensuring she was able to accommodate its girth. Then, as she rocked her head from side to side, frantically trying to control the urge to buck against his hand, he pressed home the longest forefinger.
There was no cry of disappointment or disgust from him, nothing like what the Abbess had exclaimed when she caught Matilda with the priest. Instead, he moaned softly, and almost with delight. The moment was brief, for he now seemed determined to conduct a more thorough examination for his own purpose of mind. She offered no rebuke of his changing intentions.
“Hold tight,” he said, keenly addressing her. “I need to test the extent of your wantonness.”
Sara had crept away into a corner and presented herself to the wall. The servant was embarrassed, or perhaps aroused; either way, Sara would not interfere.
Matilda faced Gervais and acknowledged what he had discovered with a shameful tear on her cheek. “Now you know,” she said, her eyes filling up.
“Tell me. Don’t be embarrassed. I only want to know how this came to be.”
She shook her head. “It is wicked, sir. I let him, you see.”
“I know, but I would know what it is that made you give him what you should not.” Gervais stroked his hand down her belly, over her mound and touched the apex of her sex. A bolt of lightning shot through her body. “Did he ever touch you here?”
