was close to unbearable. She pushed at John’s chest. Instead of pulling away, he lifted her hips, and with one swollen thrust, filled her completely. Jeanne cried out and dug her nails into his back. Tears coursed down her cheeks and still the arms of steel held her prisoner. Strange vibrations pulsed in the most private part of her body, and she realized that John was shuddering. Twisting her neck, she struggled to see his face. It was buried against her throat. The pain inside her had lessened, but the pressure was still very great. Cautiously, she shifted her hips.
John groaned against her throat. The tiny movement was his undoing. He came at once, thrusting inside her over and over until he collapsed against her breast.
Jeanne stared in fascinated horror at the limp body on top of her. The pain between her thighs had diminished to an aching soreness, and the pressure had disappeared completely. The pushing, thrusting body of her husband was once again nothing more than a comforting weight warming the front of her. He looked completely spent and satisfied as if he had fought a great battle and won. Could he possibly have enjoyed himself?
John opened one eye and grinned at her. She was suddenly, illogically angry. “You hurt me,” she accused him.
“I know.” His eyes danced with flickering lights. “I’m sorry, love. It won’t happen again.”
“How do you know?” she asked suspiciously.
He lifted himself off of her. “It only hurts the first time when the maidenhood barrier is torn.”
She blushed, embarrassed at discussing such matters openly. Then she thought of something else. “Why wasn’t it torn last night?”
He looked amused. “Because you fell asleep on me. I spent my wedding night in a state of torment.”
Humiliation flooded through her. She tried to turn away, but he would have none of it. Turning her chin with his hand, he said, “It doesn’t matter, lass. What happens between the two of us in the privacy of our bedchamber is no one’s business but our own. Do you really believe I would tell the world my lovemaking skills are so inadequate that my bride fell asleep on our wedding night?”
Jeanne hadn’t thought of the matter in that light before. He made it seem as if the failure was his own. Immediately, she felt better. Reaching down to straighten the sheet, her hand came in contact with something wet.
Frowning, she threw back the covers and sat up. “I’m bleeding,” she said with a gasp.
John could no longer control his amusement. Was there ever before a woman who had been raised in such ignorance? Throwing back his head, he laughed, a full-bodied, deep-chested sound that swayed the tapestries lining the walls.
Jeanne looked at him indignantly. “Will you please explain what is so amusing?”
When he had finally contained himself enough to speak, several moments had passed. “’Tis proof of your virginity.”
She was too surprised to feel embarrassed. “Do all women bleed?”
“I believe so,” he answered.
“Don’t you know?” she asked curiously.
This time it was he who reddened in embarrassment. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
“By all that is holy, you are the most frustrating woman I’ve ever known,” he cried.
“’Tis said you’ve known many.” Her voice was sweetly sarcastic.
“I’ve never, until this morning, bedded a virgin.”
“Oh.”
John eyed her uneasily. She looked almost disappointed. He sighed. “What is bothering you, Jeanne? Tell me now, and we’ll be done with it.”
“Why have you never bedded a virgin?”
He thought carefully before answering, afraid of offending her. There was no way around it but the truth. “A man thinks of pleasure when lying with a woman,” he answered. “There is no pleasure for a woman the first time.”
Her forehead wrinkled as she considered the matter. “Does it matter to a man that a woman feels no pleasure?” she asked at last.
He nodded. “Aye. The enjoyment is lessened if a woman leaves unsatisfied.”
Jeanne moistened her lips and closed her eyes, unable to look at his face when she told him. “I’m sorry, John. But I don’t believe I’ll ever enjoy what we did.”
The silence was heavy between them. Gathering her nerve, she opened her eyes. He did not look at all devastated. In fact, he looked positively cheerful.
He lowered his head so that his lips played along the curve of her throat. “Was it all bad?” he murmured between kisses.
“Not entirely.” Jeanne was feeling strange. When his hand stroked the side of her breast, she felt tiny flutterings in the pit of her stomach. “I like this very much,” she confessed.