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Sara, now eighteen, seemed nothing more than a child to most of the servants at Ravensbury, but she held herself erect and demanded respect with a stature she had learned from her mother. She had the confidence of knowing that she came from good and respectable English gentry, and she had married into better.
Her wedding night saw her restless, agitated, and unable to meet her new husband’s eyes.
He took her hands. “My darling…so shy? You needn’t be nervous, we can take this slowly.”
She was in a flimsy nightdress and took his hand and put it on her breast. He looked surprised, but the desire took over and he fondled her, teased her nipples, bent his head as he exposed her lovely young breast and licked the rosebuds into pertness.
“Come, Sara,” he said as he led her to the bed and took the straps of her white nightdress and dropped the gown to her waist.
She said nothing. She couldn’t tell him that what had her nervous wasn’t shyness, no, but the fact that she wasn’t a virgin. Would he know? She had to pretend she was a virgin. Would he wonder if he didn’t see blood? Could she cut herself somehow where he wouldn’t notice and leave a stain of blood for him to witness? How would she manage?
He laid her gently on her back as he rubbed her leg slowly and murmured praise. He found the tuft of dark gold hair between her thighs and expertly cupped her there. Her body responded to him. She discovered she liked his touch.
“There, love, does that feel right?” he said softly as his finger played with her sex. “You are my wife, my treasure…one day you will be the mother of my children.” He bent and kissed her long and passionately.
She threw her arms around him. He was gentle with her, and she wanted it rougher, but she had to control herself. She couldn’t be too forceful. He believed her a virgin.
He had to believe that. It was all important that he believe that.
Oh, but she liked his hands on her…could he make her forget Raoul?
Perhaps? Sara had found the more time she spent with Godwin, the more bored she became. He was good and he was steady, but she wanted wild and exciting.
“I’ll try not to hurt you, precious,” he said as his clothes vanished and he climbed onto the bed to straddle her. He positioned his manhood at her gateway. “Sweetheart, you are so open, so ready,” he said, sounding slightly surprised.
“Because I love you and have been waiting for you to make me yours,” she said as she tensed.
He entered her slowly at first, rubbing his erection against the walls of her opening before he worked his way inside of her. She could feel him hold back and knew he was being careful because he thought her untried. Oh, but this was so different than being with Raoul. Raoul had taken her roughly, boldly, and made her his in an instant that very first time.
Oh, but she preferred Raoul’s lovemaking.
She moved towards Godwin, pressed into him until he had no choice but to drive deeper into her, taking her completely, and she could see he was caught up in his passion and the ardor he exhibited. Would that be enough to distract him? She was so worried. She had to make him unaware that he was not the man who had broken her maidenhead.
“My bride, my beautiful bride,” he whispered, absolutely taken with her beauty. He seemed not to notice anything but that she received him, pumped against his movements, enjoyed him as she worked him into a frenzy. He found her so willing and that willingness excited him. All at once he was slamming into her as he climaxed.
Later, when she lay in his arms, she feigned soreness and managed to cut herself with the little scissors on her nightstand. She made only a slight incision while he slept, just enough that she could drop the blood-lets onto the sheet.
He stirred, suddenly awakened by her movements and warmly snuggled her. “Are you…uncomfortable?” he asked.
“Oh, a little sore…nothing of consequence, but I am afraid…” she lowered her lashes. “I have ruined the sheets with…my…blood.”
“Indeed, my dear, you have ruined naught,” he said, sounding satisfied. He got to his feet and returned with a wet rag. “Here, this is cold, but it might serve to soothe your soreness.”
“You are too good,” she said, and realized that she would never love him. She liked him well enough, how could anyone not like Godwin? He was a decent man, but she had not been satisfied during their lovemaking, and she knew he was not the sort who ever would satisfy her.
* * * * *
Sara was the Lady of Ravensbury Castle in every imaginable way.
She was still young, eighteen, but she had the stature and the will to co
mmand her household, and she did. While her servants did not hold her in affection, they did respect her ability to run the inner workings of their beloved lordship’s estate.
Sara had all she desired—position, clothing, jewels, the tender attention and love of a good man whom she held in mild affection. What more could she want, she asked herself. It should be enough. It wasn’t, and she knew it wasn’t.
Godwin had been tricked that first night, their wedding night. He had thought her a virgin and now she had one more situation to handle, one more trick she had to manage.
She was with child.
