Free Yearning Heart by Zelma Orr Page A

immediately, stood naked in front of her.
    She gasped at the size of him. His shoulders were wide enough to block out the candle sputtering on the chest against the wall. His waist was narrow, flaring slightly to form tight-muscled hips. Fascinated, her eyes dropped, and she took a step backwards.
    “Do not be afraid, Rebecca,” he said. “I will try not to hurt you.” He tipped her head back. “First, you must bathe me. Come. Aubin left water in the tub for me.”
    Taking her hand, he led her into the small anterooms she had investigated on her own while Stephen was away from the big house. Without looking at her again, he stepped into the water, hunkering down with his knees drawn up so he could fit inside.
    Kneeling beside him, Rebecca took the rough cloth and began to bathe her husband.
    * * * *
    She never knew how he got from the water, or picked her up and crossed to the big bed with fresh smelling linens on it. His hands ripped at her clothing, and she was vaguely aware that he wadded them into a ball and threw them across her into the floor. Then she was crushed in his arms, his mouth moving roughly over hers, his hands seeking parts of her body never before touched by anyone.
    She whimpered but didn't pull away. Stephen whispered words she had not heard before. His breathing was heavy and rough, and then he was kneeling over her, spreading her legs with unsteady fingers. Gently, he touched her quivering softness.
    He looked into her wide, frightened eyes and kissed her lids closed.
    “I will try not to hurt you, Rebecca,” he whispered.
    But he did.
    His gentle probing changed into hard pressure, then into a frustrated struggle to enter her tight body. He pulled away for an instant, and then a sudden plunge brought forth a scream from her as pain tore through her body. His mouth muffled her cries as she felt the hot rush of his fluid inside her. He moaned deep in his throat, his entire body shuddered, and then went still.
    Rebecca's breath came in short, quick puffs, her eyes moist with tears, fingers clenched into Stephen's ribs. She had never hurt so, not even when papa whipped her with a wet rope. This pain was inside, and she felt as though she were torn into small pieces, bleeding from all of them.
    Stephen withdrew the powerful instrument from her body and sat up away from her. He turned away then back to let his gaze rest on her bare thighs. He winced and slowly let his eyes come up to meet hers, wide and dark in a small white face.
    “I will send Malvina to help you,” he said and stood up to reach for his shirt.
    “No.”
    Rebecca sat up and almost cried out at the sight of blood on her belly and legs, dripping onto the white sheets. “I ... I can do it.”
    “You should have help, Rebecca.”
    Her head came up. “No. I do not wish to be helped by Malvina.”
    “That is what she is here for. She knows what to do, and it is her duty.” Stephen brought her gown and draped it over her shoulders. “I am sorry, but it could not be helped. It is always so with a virgin.”
    She turned away.
    “I suppose you have had many such encounters.”
    He laughed. “Not too many virgins, my lady, but I have a bit of knowledge about women.”
    She climbed into the water he had left after his bath. It was cool, but it felt good to her aching body. She stiffened as Stephen's hands slid over her, bathing, moving down to her stomach to her thighs. Gently, he swished the water back and forth, and then lifted her to wrap her in the rough toweling he had used. He carried her across the hallway to her bed and placed her against the pillows and sat by her side.
    “Now you are my wife in more than name only. Your body is also mine.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “And if you say ‘my lord’ once more, I will thrash you roundly, my pretty one.”
    She forgot his threat.
    “Do you think me pretty?” Never had anyone described her thus.
    Interest lit his eyes. It surprised Stephen to realize he did think her pretty. The