Sybilla, who’d well nigh doomed her kingdom because she’d wanted Guy de Lusignan in her bed. Or her sister Isabella, who’d let herself be bullied into marrying Conrad.
Thankfully, the women in his own family were not like most of their sex. His mother could think like a man, and rule better than most kings. And his sisters had been blessed with courage and common sense, especially Joanna, Marie, and Tilda, may God assoil her sweet soul. He had hopes for her daughter, too, as Richenza did not seem prone to feminine whims or foolishness. And so far, what he’d seen of Berenguela was encouraging. She might look as fragile and unsubstantial as a feather floating on the wind, but she’d showed fortitude and bravery when faced with hardships and outright danger.
Nor was she a casual bedmate, to be forgotten come dawn. She was his queen, his wife, and he owed it to her to make her first time as easy as he could. Moreover, he liked the lass, he truly did. So he’d limited his wine during the evening, wanting to be clear-headed, for he was not accustomed to pacing himself, to hold back when his every urge was to plunge ahead. He’d also told his squires to sleep elsewhere that night, in deference to his bride’s modesty, and had done what he could to keep the bedside revelries brief, knowing this would be her first exposure to bawdy male humor. So by the time he slid into bed beside her, he was feeling rather proud of himself for being more sensitive to her needs than most men would have been.
He’d occasionally heard stories of brides who’d gone to the marriage bed as if to a sacrificial altar, so convinced they were committing a mortal sin that they were trembling with fear or rigid with disgust. He had no such concerns about Berenguela, though, and she justified his faith by smiling shyly when he drew her into his arms. Reminding himself of her inexperience, he kept his kisses gentle at first, murmuring endearments and reassurances in lenga romana as his caresses grew more intimate. She did not reciprocate, but she did not protest as he explored her body. Her breath quickening, she closed her eyes, letting him do what he wanted, and he decided that bedding a virgin was not so burdensome after all.
Despite his good intentions, he realized that he’d risk spilling his seed too soon if he waited much longer, and reached for a pillow, sliding it under her hips before he mounted her. “I will try not to hurt you, Berenguela,” he promised, parting her thighs. Her arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, and he barely heard her response, soft as a breath against his ear. “I know the first time will hurt,” she whispered. “But . . . but will it fit?” He gave a sputter of surprised laughter, delighted by her unexpected spark of humor, and then stopped listening to his brain, let his body take control. She stiffened at his first thrust, but she did not cry out, not until after he’d found satisfaction and collapsed on top of her.
“Richard, I cannot breathe,” she gasped, sounding panicky, and he supported himself on his elbows until he was ready to withdraw, joking that she was too delicate a filly to bear a rider’s full weight. Her eyes were tightly shut, but he could see tears trickling through her lashes. Had it been that painful for her, then? He had no experience in comforting tearful bedmates, and no interest in acquiring any. But this was his wife, and she had the right to expect soothing words, an affectionate embrace. Shifting onto his side, he reached over to stroke her wet cheek. It was then that he saw all the blood. “Christ Jesus!”
Her eyes flew open. “What? Did I . . . did I do something wrong, Richard?”
“Good God, woman, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig!” He started to swing his legs over the side of the bed, trying to decide if a doctor or a midwife should be summoned. Better a midwife, since they were accustomed to dealing with female ailments.
Before he could rise, though, she reached out and caught his arm. “I think this is natural, Richard,” she said, sounding remarkably calm to him for a woman who might well be bleeding to death. “Because I knew so little about carnal matters, I spoke to Joanna beforehand. She said that the first time is