Emma stood in the cool bedroom, shivering slightly and feeling more terrified than ever -- and this had been a day of quivering fear and mixed dread and anticipation.
Three weeks earlier, she had been at her Catholic boarding school, finishing her 'A levels' and wondering if she would get the grades that she needed to study history of art and when she could buy a drink, now that she was eighteen.
Emma had been at her boarding school from the age of eight and as her parents were important members of the Roman Catholic Church, she was sent to the best girls' school, where nuns and various visiting lecturers taught the girls. There were no male teachers at the school and as Emma's parents had rarely been resident in England, Emma spent many holidays at school and as a result, her parents were almost strangers, polite, well-dressed people and she had spent only a few weeks in their company.
As Emma arrived at the family home, she was pleased to see that her parents were waiting to greet her at the door. They hugged and exchanged polite greetings and as Emma was about to climb the stairs to her bedroom, her father stopped her. 'We'll be going out to dinner tonight, to celebrate the end of your exams and to introduce you to somebody very special. Be ready by eight and wear the dress that's on your bed.
Emma ran upstairs, turning as she reached the landing and said 'Thank you, I'm so glad to be home!'
In her bedroom, where she had spent so little time, Emma discovered the dress, the 'welcome home' gift from her parents. It was a silk shift, of rose pink, with small straps and which fell to just above her knees. There was also a cashmere cardigan and a beautiful pair of pumps, with kitten heels. Emma held the dress up in front of her and looked in the mirror. She had long, light brown hair, with tawny glints and large, clear green eyes. Emma had never been given anything so beautiful and could hardly wait for the evening.
At eight that evening, she descended the stairs, having spent the last thirty minutes admiring herself from all angles and feeling very grown-up. Her father was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and he held out his hands to her, stood back, clasping her hands and told her that she looked very beautiful. Emma blushed.
As they sat in the car, which was driven by a chauffeur, Emma's father told her that they were meeting Lord Stornaway, who was an old friend of Emma's parents. They were meeting to plan the summer holiday, as he owned a castle in Spain and would most likely invite them all to stay for a while.
Lord Stornaway was waiting for them, in a private dining room. He was tall and slim, in his late thirties, with light brown hair, intense blue eyes and a very attractive suntan. Emma's parents ordered Dom Perignon champagne and as they held up their champagne flutes, saying 'salute', Lord Stornaway looked at Emma and raised his eyebrows, whilst holding her gaze and making her blush again.
As the family sat eating their desserts, Emma's father clinked his teaspoon against his wine glass and stood up. 'I have been waiting for this day for the last five years. It is a family tradition to arrange marriages, so that the young ladies of our society and religion marry as soon as they finish school. We wish to preserve their purity and innocence and this evening is a night to celebrate our beliefs.
Emma, Lord Stornaway has agreed to marry you and the wedding will take place in one week. You will be married in his private chapel, in his castle in Scotland. The local bishop will perform the ceremony. This is a great family alliance and we are very proud of you. I toast you, Emma and James and wish you many happy years together.
The next week disappeared in a blur. Emma's mother took her shopping and they bought a large collection of classic clothes, shoes and Emma had her hair styled, was shown how to manage this herself and was shown how to apply light makeup. She admired her large engagement ring, a giant solitaire diamond, with matching earrings and wondered what on earth would happen to her.
One night, James had taken Emma out for dinner and as they ate, he told her of his life and what would be expected of her as a new wife. His blue eyes' penetrating gaze felt as though she were being undressed and Emma found that breathing was becoming difficult. He suddenly smiled and asked Emma if she enjoyed beach holidays. Emma admitted that she had rarely been to a resort and James smiled. 'I have a large villa in Corfu, with its own private beach. We'll spend a month there after the wedding. You'll love it.'
The wedding was simple, with only James' parents and household staff and Emma's parents as congregation. Emma trembled as her father placed the veil over her face and her father took her cold hands in his and told her that she was beautiful and that he knew she'd be happy with James. The marriage, he admitted, had been planned several years ago. James had been so excited on the day that Emma finished school that he'd wanted to meet her himself, but had to wait until that first dinner.
They walked down the aisle in the private chapel and Emma promised to love and honour and obey her husband, they prayed and the Bishop celebrated Mass and then the families went to celebrate the wedding.
James kissed Emma for the first time just before they walked back down the aisle as husband and wife. The kiss was gentle, questioning and as Emma's lips surrendered to his, the kiss became firmer and Emma was shaken with a sudden stab of arousal.
That walk down the aisle was on slightly wobbly legs. Emma looked up at her husband and smiled, feeling full of love and the thrill of how romantic it had all been. Fancy having a husband who'd wanted her since she was fourteen? It was so exciting.
The danced together and ate cake and posed for photographs and then all of a sudden, they were alone in James' bedroom. Emma unpacked her white lace nightgown and went to the bathroom to put it on, suddenly shy and having no idea what would happen next.
When Emma walked back into the bedroom, teeth clean and shivering slightly in her white gown, James was waiting for her, wearing a dark red dressing robe.
'Emma' he said with a gentle, loving smile. 'You are a virgin, are you not?'
'Er, yes,' Emma blushed again. 'I have no idea what to do. We had no sexual education at school and we were taught by nuns. I hope you will help me and that' her voice faltered, 'that it won't hurt too much'.
'Sweetheart, you'll be in heaven and I will be your master and tutor. I would like you to always call me 'Sir James', or 'my lord and don't forget, or I'll have to punish you.'
He walked over to Emma and kissed her with growing energy. He ran his hands through her hair and then down her body. He stroked her buttocks, 'hmm, you have a lovely arse'.
