Gruoch woke to the grey dawn of Inverness. She was further north than her father's castle, and it seemed that winter had already begun to creep into the air here. In the night she had turned herself to face a small window that was now obscured by frost. In the cold light of the morning, Gruoch became anxiously aware of her nakedness under the bearskin that served as her blanket. She remembered the night before, and became aware of the way she ached so deep inside of herself. Mortified and uncertain, she turned herself back towards the bed where she had left Macbeth to sleep. The man was awake. Not only was he awake, but he was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching his wife.
Gruoch could not meet his eyes. She did not know how to behave in this private moment with her husband. She had half hoped that he would be gone when she awoke, so she could have a moment of privacy to grapple with her feelings. Macbeth would not give her this luxury. He seemed troubled, and seeing her open eyes, he said, "Tell me, wife, were you mistakenly informed that it is customary for a woman to leave the marriage bed to sleep under a rug? Or do you merely wish to insult me?"
Gruoch was angered by the question. She had woken up in a strange land, having been wedded and bedded to a man more than twice her age, a man she did not choose, a man who had only hours before seemed to treat her with some care, and now she was being chastised for seeking a moment alone. Boite had done an abysmal job of preparing his only daughter for marriage. Seemingly from birth, she had been told never to allow a man to touch her. No one had told her why, only that it was absolutely forbidden. When she had begun a bleeding cycle, she had not been allowed unsupervised outside of her own chambers. Now she was expected to change a lifetime of instruction in a single evening. She had never been so much as kissed, and consummating the marriage took every ounce of bravery she could muster. She had not had the strength to fall asleep beside her husband. She could have told the man as much, but she lay silent and defiant on the settee, and pulled the bearskin up so that she was covered to her chin.
Macbeth did not take kindly to this, and rose to head towards the door. He turned for a moment, and Gruoch wondered if he might yell at her for defying him. Instead, he merely said, "Your serving woman will attend you, should you require anything. I have my own affairs to tend to. I will return for the evening meal." With that perfunctory statement, he left. Gruoch was alone. She wiggled out from underneath the bearskin and pulled on her shift, which had fallen to the floor beside the bed. She considered attempt to dress herself in her wedding gown, when the door opened to reveal a girl of about 14, carrying an armful of clothes. The girl quietly set the bundle on the bed, which appeared to be a thick, green dress. She did not meet Gruoch's eyes or speak a word to her, so Gruoch ventured to speak to her.
"Are you to be my serving woman?"
"Yes, my lady," the girl responded.
"And what is your name?"
"Ena, my lady."
The girl did not seem particularly forthcoming with her answers, but she seemed just as frightened as Gruoch felt, so she tried again to engage her.
"Please, do not guard your words for me. I know no one in this castle, and I would not deny the chance for a friend."
The girl looked absolutely astonished to have been spoken to in this way, and stumbled out, "Thanks the heavens, my lady. I did not know I was supposed to serve you without speaking to you, but my mother, Dolina, insisted it was the proper way. She was chambermaid to the Queen until her majesty's death. Now she runs the kitchens for your husband, the Thane of Glamis. She insisted I be the one to serve you because she's getting awfully anxious about me now that I'm nearly old enough to marry, and she thinks that if I learn to be more respectful I might make a better match."
Gruoch laughed to have stumbled across such a pleasant, earnest person in this unfamiliar castle. "Will you help me dress, Ena?," she asked, "And do you know if my cousin, the lady of Macduff, is still in residence? I would very much like to see her today if I could."
Ena excitedly replied, "You mean the lady who's so big with child that she looks ready to fall over in a strong breeze?"
Gruoch laughed again, a laugh that she needed to purge some of the tension that she had held onto for weeks. She confirmed her cousin's identity, and Ena quickly helped her into her dress. Ena led her to a sitting room, and told her to wait while she fetched Gruoch's cousin. Gruoch could not supress her delight at seeing Catriona walk towards her. She rose quickly and hugged her cousin tight, breathing in the familiar smell of her hair. This familiar friend was such a powerful link to the carefree girls that had both been not so long ago, and Gruoch began to weep. She wept like her heart had been melted like candle wax and was now pouring out of her. Catriona hugged back fiercely, angling so that her bulging stomach would not be in the way, and scratched her nails down her cousin's back in a comforting gesture. When Gruoch pulled away, she saw concern on her cousin's face. Catriona said, "My dear cousin, I was astonished to hear you wanted to see me. The fortnight following a wedding is to be time for man and wife to be together and learn each other's ways. I did not expect that Macbeth would not be with you. Do something terrible happen?"
Gruoch had no idea that she had been meant to take time alone with Macbeth. No one had offered her the slightest amount of practical knowledge to be a married woman. She replied, "I do not think my husband desires to be together for that time. He left this morning after I woke and said he would return in the evening. I know I angered him by not sleeping in his bed."
"So he did not take his rights?," inquired Catriona.
"What? No, he… we… The marriage has been consummated. I just slept on a settee afterwards. He fell asleep so soon after he… after… it was done, that I didn't know what to do. I couldn't relax there next to a naked man."
Catriona seemed relieved that all had apparently gone as expected, and replied, "I am quite certain that your lord wanted you to be alone with him for the remained of these two weeks. My own husband saw him this morning, and said he seemed frustrated, not like a man does after marrying a beautiful young woman. That's why I thought he had not known you, or worse, that he had held you down and forced you."
They talked for hours, and Catriona comforted and advised Gruoch. It had taken some convincing, but Gruoch was now determined to speak frankly with her husband. Their relationship could not profit from silence and misunderstanding. Even if Macbeth did think her to be a weak and silly girl, that was better than one who was openly disrespecting him.
When evening came, and Ena had laid a small table with dinner, Macbeth returned to the chambers he shared with his wife. In the warm glow of candlelight, Gruoch could see the lines that crossed his face. Some were from age, some were scars of battle, and she let her eyes meet the deep darkness of his. "My lord husband," she began, "I did not intend to dishonour you by refusing to sleep in your bed. You may think whatever you like of me, but I did it out of my own ignorance rather than to tarnish our union. I have no doubt that last night you saw how my face was blanched with fear, and I must tell you that I understood none of what happened between us. I spoke with my cousin, and she deeply regrets not telling me sooner and more thoroughly. Other than my father, you are the first man to so much as touch my face. I was terrified, and as foolish as it seems I am still terrified. I do not know how I can face … our bodily union again when all I know of you is a single rough night of blinding intensity. I cannot even begin to understand my own feelings, never mind yours. I am truly sorry."
When Gruoch had finished, Macbeth frowned, and she worried that she might have displeased him again. When he spoke, however, she dismissed the notion entirely. "I told you last night, wife, that I have never married or known a maid before you. I must admit I confided in Macduff, and he chided me for how I treated you. He said his own wife was so afraid on her wedding night that they could not consummate the marriage until three days had passed. Her body simply would not open to him. I was a fool to introduce you to the act so quickly. I ignored your fear because I wanted your body and would not deny myself. I had quite a lot of ale, and was not concerned with anything beyond what my rights as husband would allow. You have nothing to apologize for."
Macbeth walked over to his wife, and stroked his hand down her face. "I may have a solution to your fear when we must join again," he said. "Last night you pulled my head to the crook of you neck, and I took it for passion. I wonder now if you could not bear to look upon my face. There are other ways that a man and his wife can make love, and I need not be above you. If you a ready during these next weeks, I beg of you to allow me to try to please you. If you are not, I will still spend this time with you in the hope that you might not fear me."
Gruoch did not know what to make of he husband's proposition. That he would treat her as an equal was beyond hope. He did not have to beg her for anything. A man was master of his wife, and if he so chose he could require Gruoch to spend every waking moment speared on his cock, regardless of how she might feel. He might be older, taller, stronger, and more powerful than her, but he had no better understanding of marriage than she did.
Gruoch gazed upwards into his eyes and simply said, "Yes."
"Thank you for offering me a second chance. Now please, my lady, will you dine with me before we retire?" Macbeth walked to the table expectantly. Gruoch shook her head. Macbeth's ire seemed to flair again, and he responded, "If we are to come to an understanding, how do you expect to do so if you will not share a meal with me?"
Gruoch did not acknowledge him until she had reached the end of the bed and sat upon it. "You misunderstand, my lord. It is not dinner I wish to agree to. I want you to take me again."
Macbeth looked at her as though her hair had just caught fire. "My lady, you cannot mean that. I frightened you, and I have no doubt that you will be too sore to accommodate me so soon."
Gruoch did not know what spirit has possessed her to ask for this, but she persisted. She walked to Macbeth, and saw that he wore a linen shirt nearly identical to the one he had worn the night before. She brought her hands to the broad plane of his chest and untied the front of the shirt. "The fear and shame I felt last night were beyond what I could fathom." Macbeth looked guilty at her words, but did not stop her. "But equal to my fear and shame were my pleasure and my power, beyond what I knew existed, beyond what I thought I could have. Perhaps it will hurt and I will tell you to stop, and perhaps I will hate these new methods you propose, but all I know for certain is that if I don't try again tonight, I may not be able to bring myself to try ever again."
Macbeth could see that his wife was in earnest, and so he acquiesced. "If I try this with you tonight, you must tell me if your pain is too great. You may no longer be a maid, but this is a new experience for you, and I will not have you hurt by my hand."
"It is not your hand that concerns me," said Gruoch. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said, but her husband laughed and led her to their bed. Macbeth said, "What I have in mind is that you might lean forward across the bed, and I will be behind you. You would not see my face, and you would not be entirely bare before me to accomplish this." Macbeth turned Gruoch so that she was facing away from him, and he wrapped his arms around. "I need only lift the hem of your skirt." Macbeth began to kiss down the sides of her neck, and Gruoch felt the same dampness that she had experienced the night before. Macbeth pulled Gruoch's gown up her body so that his hands could caress the tops of her thighs. She felt a warm hand on the small of her back leaning her forward towards the bed, and she let the top of her body fall across it. Behind her, her husband pushed the fabric of her dress forward so that he had access to what interested him. Gruoch felt the cool of the night air against her skin, particularly where she was wet. Macbeth stroked a single finger across her entrance, and she shivered with anticipation. The single finger began to knead at her folds, and Gruoch shifted her hips to get away, to get closer, to submit, to conquer. Her hands darted forward to grab the blankets on the bed, and she held on as though they were all that kept her tethered to earth. Macbeth's single finger began to push into her, and she gasped. The sensation was far more intense than it had been the previous night. She felt bizarrely full, but this time the lingering soreness made it feel as though every nerve ending within her was alive and buzzing. When Macbeth began to push and pull the finger back and forth within her, she now recognized the feeling as a precursor to what his far more intimate flesh would do to her. Gruoch shivered and gasped at the feeling, revelling in the sensation. When Macbeth returned with a second finger, the soreness was far more pronounced. The pain teetered on the knife-edge of too much. When large hands cupped her buttocks and kneaded the soft flesh, Gruoch knew what came next. She felt the warm tip of her husband's cock resting just inside her entrance, and with a single kiss to the back of her neck, Macbeth thrust inside. Gruoch's senses seemed to blaze with such intensity that she was beyond feeling. When she felt again, she felt pain, and registered that she had cried out. She also noticed that Macbeth was no longer inside of her.
"That was too much," he said. "I cannot allow you to hurt yourself using my body." Gruoch felt pain, yes, but it had been addictive pain, like scratching an itch with such intensity that all that remained was stinging. She tried to beg her husband to try again, but he refused. "I cannot trust myself when I cannot see your face. I would not be able to distinguish the difference between your cries."
"Then you shall see my face," Gruoch insisted. She lay back again so that only half of her body was on the bed, but this time she could gaze upwards at her husband. Boldly, she wrapped a leg around Macbeth's waist to pull him in. He had only exposed himself enough to have his cock out, and his sweat made his shirt cling to him. Gruoch had the unfathomable urge to lick that sweat from his chest. Instead, she settled for holding him between her legs. He groaned, and pushed back into her. His hands held onto her hips to give him leverage, but this time Gruoch was able to pull him into her as well. The repeated thrusting hurt, but it hurt less than leaving behind the only world she had ever known to be this man's wife. Each time that hard, hot length of flesh stroked inside of her, Gruoch could feel all of her sadness and uncertainty being pushed away. There was only the rhythm of the cock that claimed her body, and a primal, animal need that broke her, that made her whole. She did not fall apart in pleasure the way she had the night before, but she felt so full, so satisfied. When Macbeth spilt inside of her, she was aware enough to revel in the sensation of hot liquid filling her. Catriona had explained that this liquid is what made children, but Gruoch could not imagine something as pure as a human soul coming from an act that was so deliciously, deliriously filthy. Macbeth collapsed on top of his wife, and breathed heavily. It was only when he brought his lips to kiss her that Gruoch realized that they had not kissed throughout their lovemaking. Macbeth's eyes were hooded with sleep, and he allowed his softened cock to slide out. He pulled Gruoch up, kissed her soundly, and removed her dress, leaving her in her shift. Then he removed his trousers, so that the only thing clothing him was his opened linen shirt. Without a word, he pulled back the blankets on the bed, and pulled Gruoch into the bed with him. He fell asleep nearly immediately, and Gruoch allowed herself to sleep deeply resting in his arms.
