Scotland: 1557
Colin slept little. When he woke, he found that Margarete had moved away from him and turned over. He saw by the single candle left burning that her eyes were open, she was watching him. They lay for some time facing one another. Like him, she was thinking that the consummation of their marriage must come soon, but the news of her brother's coming visit had deepened her passivity. She had thought that sexual relations would be the means by which she would secure Colin's good will, and his receptivity to her brothers' requests. Now, she felt an angry indifference to the success of her brother's plans. At the same time, she experienced a powerful desire to seize control of her circumstances by beginning that part of her married life that was as yet un-tasted. The two impulses swirled confusingly inside her, leaving her inert, immobilized, but alert and waiting.
Colin's implacable grey eyes stared intently into her wide brown ones. Not for the first time, he thought that her eyes had something of the woodland animal in them. Gazing deeply and long into them, he read there her turmoil, but more, he saw her passive expectancy, perhaps even impatience.
He felt an idea emerge fully formed in his mind. "I see that you do not sleep," he said softly. "Very soon it will be dawn. I would like to go riding out with you and greet the new day together as husband and wife."
His words and tone carried an intensity that she felt in her belly. She had the vague sense of his intent, and was willing, in her desperate confusion and longing for clarity, to follow him. "Yes," she said simply, and he smiled. He rose on an elbow, leaned forward, and kissed her softly on her lips.
Not lingering, he rose from bed. She followed him, and together, they made their various preparations for an early ride. She felt dazed and bleary from lack of sleep, and paid little attention to what he did as she pulled on riding clothes.
Walking softly so as not to rouse any of the serving folk, they passed lightly through the great hall, Colin pausing to retrieve bread and cheese from one of the tables. He peered about, looking for Fen, his dog. He saw him sleeping off to one side of the hall, and guided Margarete carefully and quietly to keep well away so as not to wake him. He felt a tiny stab of guilt at deceiving a friend, but he did not want Fen's excitement to wake others, human and K9, who slept.
They emerged into the calm softness of predawn. In the stable, all was quiet. Margarete sat on a bale of hay while Colin saddled and bridled two horses. Still without speaking, she took the reins of the grey mare she had ridden on their first ride together, the morning after their wedding, and led her out into the stable yard.
Once they were mounted, Margarete allowed her horse to follow Colin's. He led them out of the courtyard. Unsurprised, Margarete found that they were headed in the same direction they had taken before. The air was deliciously cool and refreshing. She felt greatly revived to be out of doors and riding. There was something exhilarating about being abroad so early. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, but no one else was about yet. The stillness and solitude seemed to bring tranquility to her troubled thoughts. There was no resolution, but there was peace.
This time, their horses remained side-by-side as they passed through the fields. As the light grew, they became more able to see one another. Margarete smiled broadly to her husband, saying nothing, but conscious of a growing excitement. She felt sure she knew what was to come, and she welcomed it eagerly but patiently.
Feeling no impulse to tax themselves or their horses, they rode up the last hill at a walk. They had exchanged no words since leaving their chamber, it seemed unnecessary, even somehow inappropriate. They moved through the denser darkness of the pines until they came to the clearing. He dismounted first, and she waited for him to help her down.
When he set her feet on the ground, he did not release her, but held her in his arms and kissed her gently on her cheeks, her forehead, then her lips. He pulled back slightly and stroked her cheek. "I have not yet told you this," he said softly, "But you are very beautiful, and I feel that fortune could not have furnished me a more pleasing bride." She smiled into his eyes. "I thank you my husband. Believe me when I say that my distress is not because I am unhappy here."
He felt that there was more which she chose not to say, but he believed her words. "I wish to ask you a question, and I beg you to tell me the truth with no thought for sparing my feelings." She nodded, and he trusted her integrity not to deceive him.
"Do you fear to lie with me?"
She held his gaze steadily and said, "No, I do not. On our wedding night, then I had great fear, but no longer. You have been gentle with me and kind to me, and I crave to be your wife in truth, not only in words. I do not fear it."
His grey eyes had seemed unreadable to her, as obscure as the grey skies of his country, but now, his emotion was plain for her to see there; he was relieved, glad, and eager as she. A slow smile of great satisfaction and anticipation spread across his face.
She had put her arms loosely around him, and now she began to touch him shyly with her hands, curious to learn the feel of his strong body, till now only seen and imagined. After only a short time of this, he drew gently away. He retrieved a water skin from his saddle. "There is a clear stream yonder. Will you go and fill this for us?" His request was oddly formal and deferential. Feeling no impatience, fully willing to let him lead them into this mystery, she took the skin from his hand, and moved gracefully away toward the stream. He watched her with admiration and desire, then turned to his own task.
When she returned with the skin full of cool water, she sat herself down on a fallen log to watch his preparations. He was arranging four thick, long, heavy fallen branches into a rectangular formation. When he had done this, he began scooping up arm-fulls of needles and grasses, and depositing them inside it.
The sun was beginning to rise. The grove was rich with early bird song. The air was alive with the scents of a wood in early morning. All of her senses felt stimulated, and she sat content, but also full of eager anticipation.
When the makeshift bed was piled high with grasses and needles, Colin retrieved a large blanket he had slung over the back of his saddle. He flung it atop the pile, then turned to her.
"I have made a marriage bed for you," he said, his eyes twinkling. He held out his hands to her, and, taking them in hers, she rose to stand before him. She was infinitely glad that he had intuitively understood how alienating the bed in their chamber felt to her. How fortunate she thought, to be wedded to a man who would do this, who would instinctively know how much calmer and more natural she felt here among the beneficent trees. She wanted to say so but could not speak. She tried to tell him with her eyes.
"And now," he said playfully, "I will tell you some truth. I want to divest you of every thread of clothing you ware, to see you gloriously naked in the sunrise, and to begin our life together properly."
She smiled up at him trustingly as he undid the tie binding her braid, and fanned her hair about her shoulders. "You also," she breathed eagerly, "I have a great desire to see your body clearly in daylight." It felt good to speak this desire aloud, and to see the answering gratification in his face.
Slowly, they undressed one another. He marveled to find that she had no overwhelming modesty to inhibit her from being naked with him in the dawn light of this clear, still morning. He knew well that she was not brazen or careless in her conduct. He was her husband, and they were completely alone, but he knew many women would balk at such a venture. Margarete's ease with such behavior was born of long physical intimacy with Lise, which had taught her confidence and enjoyment of her body. To Colin, however, who knew her to be virgin, this ease was another facet of the growing fascination and delight she roused in him.
Margarete gazed at his emerging nakedness with shy curiosity and pleasure. How different a man's body was. His life was an active one, and his body showed it. Her eyes rested on the unfamiliar planes and angles, the defined musculature, the obvious strength of limb, yet how gently he touched her.
She stood still, content with docility, while he ran his hands and deliberate restraint, over her bare shoulders, her soft breasts, warm belly, rounded hips, graceful legs, soft, fragile arms. She held his eyes, her own dilating with pleasure at his touch. Finally, it was she who moved closer to him, put her arms around him and raised her face for his kiss.
Their lips met, not in a passing caress now, but with deep intensity. She felt the familiar hunger rising inside her, but there was an added element that was new to her. Arousal, enjoyment, fulfillment were known to her, but holding herself against her husband, she experienced something deep and instinctive. It was difficult for her to define it to herself, consumed as she was by it. It was related to his scent, his size, his very masculinity. She was accustomed to the feeling of receptivity, but she felt a new urgency in her belly. She knew that he would enter her, not with a tongue or careful fingertip as Lise had so often done, but with the essence of his maleness, that part of him that was the seat of his own desire, that part of him that could give her a child. She felt a deep yearning almost like pain inside herself. Lise had always exercised great care to protect her so that her husband would find her intact. Now, pushing her body against Colin's, opening her mouth eagerly to his kiss, she longed to be opened between her legs also. She moaned unrestrainedly into his mouth. She reached her arms tightly around him, pulling him fiercely against her. The first sight of his penis had been startling. She felt a vague wonder that all of that expanse of firm flesh could be accommodated inside her, but she had surrendered herself fully to the experience, and knew only the most passing of apprehension. It was as it should be. This was her husband, and she longed to possess him fully.
