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Merry feared it didn't bode well for the night ahead. She couldn't be sure, of course. Her mother had died when she was just sixteen, and the matter of the marriage bed had never come up between them. Still, she suspected what was to come was not going to be made easier by her husband's being drunk.
A tap on her shoulder distracted Merry from this worry and she glanced back to see Edda. The woman wore a smile that was a little crooked and uncertain. There was a gaggle of maids gathered behind her, however, who were all grinning widely.
"'Tis time for the bedding," Edda announced, not sounding sure whether Merry would welcome the announcement or not.
The answer was decidedly "not," but despite wishing she could scream, Nay, Merry forced a smile to her own lips and got to her feet. Her brothers immediately began cheering, laughing, and making lewd comments, and she felt a blush claim her cheeks. There was nothing she could do about that, but Merry did her best to ignore them otherwise and--resisting the urge to box their ears--mustered all the dignity she possessed and forced her head up and shoulders straight as she allowed herself to be led away.
With so many to help, Merry found herself stripped and bathed in no time. She was perfumed and oiled until she felt like a boar being prepared for the spit before she was allowed to climb into bed. Most of the women left the room then, taking the bath with them, but Una and Edda remained behind. As Una quickly cleaned up the room and put away her clothes, Edda settled herself on the edge of the bed next to Merry and took her hands in her own.
"Merry dear, I know we do not know each other well yet, but I went to my wedding bed not knowing what to expect and I really think it just made things harder and more scary than it needed to be. I know your mother passed away some time ago and so may not have had the chance to talk to you about your wedding night." She paused then and bit her lip briefly before asking, "Do you know what to expect?"
Merry briefly considered lying. Part of her duties as lady at Stewart had been to help their healer tend to the ill and injured. She'd seen boys naked and even a wounded man or two. She'd also helped with more births than she could recall. She did know the physical differences between a man and a woman. She even had some idea of what actually took place but wouldn't mind knowing exactly what to expect. "Nay."
Edda nodded. "Well then..." She paused and bit her lip again and then grimaced and said with a light laugh, "I can see why my mother did not explain, but simply said, 'He will know what to do, just obey your husband and do as he says.'"
Merry smiled, but it was a tense smile, and she said, "If 'tis making ye uncomfortable, ye need no' explain."
"Nay. 'Tis all right." Edda patted her hand. "'Twill be easier on you do you know."
Merry nodded solemnly and waited...and waited.
"Well," Edda said finally. "You see, men are built differently than we women. The man has a..." She paused again and chewed on her lip briefly before brightening and saying, "Have you ever been in the kitchens at Stewart while your cook was preparing a chicken?"
Merry blinked at the question, not at all sure what a chicken had to do with this, but said, "Aye."
"Well, think of the neck when the cook has plucked and cut it off to throw it in soup. A man has one of those between his legs."
"A chicken neck?" Merry asked blankly. She would never have described the few male parts she'd seen as a chicken neck.
"Sort of," Edda said with dissatisfaction. "'Tis straighter. At least 'tis when they are excited. And it does not have the bony ridges and it may be a tad bigger than a chicken neck."
"Oh," Merry said faintly.
Edda nodded solemnly. "'Tis most odd-looking. It sticks out from their body like a misplaced nose, but you must not laugh when you first see it," she cautioned, and nodded to emphasize the point. "They become very offended. For some reason they are very proud of their chicken neck."
"Ah," Merry choked out, trying desperately not to laugh. It would be incredibly rude when the woman was trying so earnestly to help her. Fortunately, Edda seemed to think the amusement she was trying to smother was about men's pride in their parts.
"Aye. Silly, I know, but they truly do strut around with it waving about like a war banner as if 'tis the most wonderful thing in the world. 'Tis really quite sad." She shook her head with mild exasperation and then continued, "And we women have a--Well, 'tis sort of like a sheath for their chicken neck. In fact, they use it as such, wielding their chicken neck like a sword and sheathing it in the woman."
Merry pursed her lips to control her expression. War banner? Sheath? Sword? She couldn't help but notice Edda seemed to use a lot of battle imagery. She waited for the woman to continue, but after a moment noted that her expression was quite satisfied, as if she were done.
"Is that it?" she asked with surprise. "He will just walk in here and sheath his chicken neck and 'tis over?"
"Oh, well, no," Edda admitted. Much to Merry's surprise the woman was now blushing and avoiding looking at her. "He will no doubt kiss you a time or two, and then squeeze your breasts once or twice, and then if his chicken neck is excited enough and stiff, thrust it in your sheath."
"Humph," Merry muttered, slightly disgruntled. It didn't sound all that impressive or frightening to her.
"I suppose I should mention that it will hurt if 'tis your first time, and I am sure it is," she added quickly.
"Aye," Merry assured her solemnly, knowing the woman had merely misspoken in her discomfort and was not trying to insult her.
Edda nodded. "It shall hurt a lot as he breaks through your maiden's veil. That's a bit of skin inside your sheath," she added, gesturing toward Merry's lap before continuing. "And there shall be blood, and in the morning we will come for the bloodied sheet and it will be hung from the stair rail for all to see the proof of your innocence," she finished in a rush.
Merry was worrying about the hurt-a-lot bit when the door suddenly burst open and a group of men began to crowd into the room, carrying Alexander d'Aumesbery before them. It seemed either the men had grown weary of waiting, or the women had informed the men that she was ready and in bed when they'd gone below. She wasn't too pleased about that. Merry would have liked to ask more about this pain and blood. That didn't sound at all appetizing, but then none of it had. Kiss, kiss, squeeze, squeeze, and in it went? It hardly sounded the most exciting business in the world, and it made her wonder why the maids were so willing to let the soldiers and her brothers have at them at Stewart.
Merry's thoughts scattered when her husband was set on his feet, and he promptly fell on his face. This brought laughter from the men, but made her grind her teeth and glare.
"Oh dear, I hope he is not so sotted he cannot manage the matter," Edda muttered.
Merry didn't comment, but she hoped so, too. Not because she would be embarrassed not to have her sheet hung in the hall, but because she didn't wish to go through the next day worrying about the night ahead as she'd done today. That concern in her mind, she watched the men lift her new husband up off the floor and hold him upright to undress him.
She watched his clothing slip away, noting a little distractedly that he really had a fine physique. It was easy to believe the man had been at battle these last three years. He had none of the bloating and flab her father and brothers had from their main pastime of drinking. His shoulders were wide and muscular, his waist trim, his...Merry's thoughts died. That definitely didn't look like a chicken neck to her, she decided as she stared at the erection jutting out from between her husband's legs.
It seemed to her the kiss, kiss, squeeze, squeeze would not be needed to excite her husband. He was already sporting an erection that was large, full, hard, and angry-looking. She wasn't the only one to notice. The men had taken note and were grinning widely and making ribald jokes, and Edda suddenly relaxed beside her and patted her shoulder as she breathed out, "All will be well. The whiskey has not affected his ability to consummate."
Merry suddenly wasn't sure that was a good thing. Honestly, it
looked more like a small log than a chicken neck, and the idea of being stabbed with it was not exactly inspiring either pleasure or relaxation in her right then.
She stopped worrying about that for the moment, however, when she realized the men were done undressing him and were now carrying her husband forward to place him in the bed beside her. Merry steeled herself against what was coming, but still felt her face flush and her teeth grind together as the linen was lifted and she was briefly revealed to all before her husband was in bed beside her and the linens allowed to fall back over her as well as him. And then it was over and the men and women were moving out of the room, leaving them alone.
Merry watched them go, managing an uncertain smile when Edda glanced back encouragingly before walking out. Her brother Brodie was the last to leave the room. Merry released a breath of relief when he went out pulling the door closed behind him, but then just as quickly frowned when the door slid back open a crack, and she realized he hadn't pulled it to.
She wasn't the only one to notice. Her husband muttered a soft, slightly slurred curse before he tossed the linen aside and rose to close it. He staggered a bit as he walked to the door, but made it there fine. It was on the way back that he ran into problems. Merry was so distracted staring at the part bobbing about between his legs that she, too, was taken completely by surprise when he stumbled over the clothing the men had left strewn on the floor. Eyes widening, she sat up just as he crashed into the upper end of the straw-stuffed mattress. At least his lower body did. His upper body was bent forward as he struggled to get back his balance and he was at an angle so that his head slammed into upper post of the bed.
Alex didn't cry out in pain, but a low moan slid from his mouth and then he collapsed, his chest and arms on the bed and his legs hanging off.
Merry stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to lift his head and speak, but nothing happened. He just lay there. After a moment, she cleared her throat and said tentatively, "My lord?"
When that got no response, she reached out to poke at his arm.
Still nothing.
Merry tossed the linens aside and shifted to her hands and knees to see his face, which was turned in the opposite direction. She had to lean far forward to get a look at it. The man's eyes were closed, his face slack. Worried, she gave his arm a shake. "Husband?"
When there was no response and his eyelids didn't even flicker, Merry sat back on her haunches, unsure what to do. The silly man had knocked himself out. She stared at him for a moment, but was starting to feel uncomfortable about sitting there nude and got out of bed to quickly draw on her chemise. She then walked around the bed to get a better look at him. He was definitely unconscious. At least she hoped he was. It was hard to tell if he was breathing, crumpled up on the top corner of the bed as he was.
Blowing a breath out, she moved forward and began to struggle to turn him over so that he was lying properly on the bed. It was harder than she expected. The man was large and heavy, at least six feet of solid muscle. It took quite a bit of effort and a lot of huffing and puffing to get him turned on his back. Merry then promptly stepped back as she found his erection pointing accusingly at her.
She scowled at the limb, amazed that while he appeared dead to the world, it was still hard and ready to go. Forcing her eyes away from the angry-looking thing, she glanced to his chest, a little sigh slipping from her lips when she saw that it was still rising and falling. He was alive, he'd just knocked himself senseless.
Despite having seen it happen and knowing the clothes lying about the floor were at fault and that even she might have tripped over them had their positions been reversed, Merry couldn't help but think he might have managed to save himself had he not been quite so inebriated.
Grimacing, Merry shifted her gaze to his face. When awake, Alexander d'Aumesbery was attractive, with long, blond hair and strong but pleasant features often fixed in a stern expression. But asleep, that sternness was absent, and she could see that he was much more than just attractive. He was actually handsome, and if he spent less time frowning, scowling, and looking pained...
Merry shrugged the thought aside. It mattered little if he was handsome. She would be more pleased to have an ugly but kind and sober husband. Unfortunately, that wasn't what she had. Feeling depression and gloom slip over her, she left him as he was, walked around the bed to her side, and crawled back in. Merry then simply sat and stared at him. It seemed all her worry about the wedding night had been for naught. And she had worried and fretted over it today as she'd waited to be married and then picked at the food during her wedding feast. She'd tried not to think about it, but it had been constantly at the back of her mind. It had been wasted fretting, and now she could fret about it all over again on the morrow. In the meantime, there was little to do but go to sleep.
Shaking her head with exasperation, Merry shifted to lie down in the bed and pulled the linen over herself. She then turned on her side to face her husband, staring at his unconscious form as she tried to relax enough to drift into slumber. However, it didn't take her long to realize that she wasn't likely to sleep anytime soon. Now she was worrying about the morning and the embarrassment of explaining that they had not consummated their marriage.
Clucking with exasperation, she sat up and glared at her husband with resentment. She was wide awake and fretting while he lay there naked and--
Merry scowled, thinking she should probably cover the man, but didn't do so right away. She would have been ashamed to admit it, but the idea did cross her mind that it wouldn't be a tragedy did he catch a chill and possibly die from it, leaving her a widow. Of course, Merry wasn't at all sure she would be a widow since they had not yet consummated the wedding, as the lack of blood on the linen would prove.
That thought made her mouth turn down unhappily. It would be just her luck did the man never wake up from this blow to the head, but die in his sleep on their wedding night without finishing the job and making her his wife. No doubt she'd then find herself married off to another drunk either in Scotland or somewhere else, and possibly an old man with no teeth and bad breath who would make her skin crawl. Clucking with disgust, she peered at her husband again, this time her attention moving to his erection. The thing was still hard and full, looking as if it was ready to burst open at any moment like an overripe plum when squeezed. She sat there glaring at the overblown chicken neck until she was assaulted by the mad thought that there was no reason she could not consummate the wedding herself.
The idea had barely flittered through her mind before Merry was shaking her head. Nay. She couldn't possibly. Why, that was just--
Why not? another part of her mind asked. She was used to taking matters in hand herself, and this was no different. She would simply...Well, Merry supposed, she could sit on it, break her maiden's veil herself with his chicken neck, and 'twould be done. There would be no more fretting about what was to come, no more worry about handing over the linen in the morning...
The more Merry thought about it, the smarter the idea seemed to her. She had overseen the men when Alex had not been up to doing it himself, why not tend to this as well?
It seemed perfectly reasonable to her.
Never one to stall when something needed doing, Merry promptly crawled back off the bed and moved around to her husband's side. It seemed obvious to her that for her to mount his chicken neck, she needed to get his feet on the bed. At least it looked to her as if it would be easier to do so were he flat on the bed rather than hanging off it. Pausing before his feet, she bent and caught him by the ankles and began the long, hard struggle to get him turned so that she could get his legs on the bed along with the rest of him. It was no easy task. The man weighed a ton, and it was something of a delicate operation since every time she dragged his legs toward the bed, his upper body seemed to want to move closer to the edge, threatening to tumble off. But by repeatedly moving his legs to the side a bit, and then setting them down to move to his chest to push his upper body farther
onto the bed, she managed the task.
Once she had him safely on the bed, Merry paused to contemplate him and the logistics of what she intended to do. It didn't take much thought to realize he was too close to the edge of the bed to allow her to straddle him, so Merry shoved him away from the edge and farther toward the center of the bed. By the time she'd accomplished that, however, she was a bit weary and dropped to sit on the side of the bed by his hip while she recovered. Her eyes immediately focused on his erection. Merry stared at it, marveling that it still hadn't deflated or whatever it should do. It seemed odd to her that a man could be completely unconscious but remain erect. She would have expected it to go back to its resting, chicken neck-like state. But then she was new to all this. Perhaps it was supposed to stay hard until it was used. If so, she could only think that was a good thing since she intended to use it.
She reached out tentatively to poke it, watching curiously as it swayed away and then back. When it stopped, she bit her lip and hesitated. It had seemed hard when she'd poked it, and she was curious to know what it felt like. There seemed little harm in giving it a feel. He was her husband, after all, and she intended to do much more than touch it.
