Author's Note: The wedding night! This chapter definitely merits the M rating. Sorry its been a while. Thanks to everyone who's been sticking with this in spite of the breaks.

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Chapter 10

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Not for the first time in his life, but for quite possibly the most important one, Harry turned around, with his nightlight in hand, to face the new Lady Pearce's scrutiny.

His wife, Ruth, was already tucked up in bed wearing only a nightgown with a book in her lap that she was reading by the light of one of the new wax candles. He looked at the small bed and thought of asking her if she would be more comfortable in the master bedroom but he hesitated and then decided not to pursue the matter. This had been Ruth's residence for many years and she would surely be most comfortable in her own chamber. Harry looked up at her then and attempted a small, if nervous, smile.

"Good evening, Lady Pearce."

A small smile back, "Good evening, Harry."

Harry nodded, pleased at the positive nature of this first interaction and felt comfortable enough to progress forwards a few steps. "May I join you?"

"It is your right," Ruth said simply.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tension gather across his forehead and reminded himself to stay patient. Ruth was not Jane. She was not spiteful in nature or deceitful it was simply that this was new to her and she was unsure of how things would be between them now that they were wed. After a lifetime of independence, Ruth had given her whole person and all her property over to him. It was quite understandable that his new wife might harbour some concerns and reservations. He wanted to reach out his hand to her but he could read the tension in her shoulders. Instead he placed his nightlight on the small cabinet on the near side of the bed and sat down upon the edge of the mattress. "Ruth," Harry said, with a softness in his voice that cracked slightly as he spoke. "Would you prefer that I retire to my own chamber tonight?"

"No, of course not. You must excuse me, I don't know what came over me."

Harry attempted to read his wife's peculiar behaviour. Her careful language, her refusal to meet his eye. Ruth clung to the book in her lap with white knuckles. She feared him. The thought shattered his heart. A lump welled up in his throat. Someone, some man, had given her cause to fear and when he found out who it was he was going to skin them alive. He didn't know what to say, he feared that if he opened his mouth he would inevitably give vent to the white hot ire coursing through his veins but in that moment he felt brave enough to reach a palm out across the bed brushing the very tip of his little finger against the tight fist of her hands, just touching and no more. It was the gentlest and briefest of contacts sending sensational tingles dancing across their skin.

Harry watched his wife glance up at him sideways in that tentative way of hers, her pale blue eyes betraying her surprise at his gentility and it brought a smile to his lips. He had a feeling that simply informing her of the sort of husband he intended to be for her would illicit no veritable belief in his sincerity. He would, therefore, exercise self-restraint in order to, he hoped, prove himself worthy of her trust.

Across the bed a little of the tension eased from Ruth's shoulders and her hand relaxed slightly, falling open at her side. Separated by candlelight and the whole width of the bed, Harry could not resist teasing the delicate skin on the inside of her palm, running his middle finger in circles around the most sensitive part of her hand.

"Oh!" Ruth jerked her hand away in astonishment and in spite of his best efforts a small chuckle escaped him at her reaction. His amusement seemed to affect something in Ruth for she looked up at him then and their eyes met and all of a sudden she let out the most delicious burst of giggles and his heart swelled in his chest as he used everything in his power to commit the sound of her laughter to memory. Feeling more hopeful, now, about the direction things might take that night, Harry put his nightlight down on the bedside cabinet and sat himself down on the edge of the bed. Harry's finger found her palm again and he repeated the gesture at which point Ruth slid her fingers through his and joined their hands together.

As Harry had hoped if he was very still and very gentle, Ruth took it upon herself to go on a quest of discovery, gathering all the information she could and he watched her as she examined his palm, his fingers and pressed his palm against her own noting, he could see, how much larger his were to hers.

"Soldiers hands," Harry said with an air of apology. They were worn and callused, not nearly so badly as most of his men but even a General must do some work from time to time. Her hands trailed upwards, investigating the cuff of his nightshirt, the soft skin on the underside of his wrist. "My brother always had soft hands but I have soldiers hands."

"Your brother?"

"Ben. He died."

Ruth thought, then, of the man called Peter who had almost been her step-brother, who had later killed himself. Yet another misguided suitor, declaring love like a little child who had no comprehension of the real world. Fortunately for Ruth her father had then decided against remarrying and the awkwardness could largely be forgotten. General Pearce on the other hand knew the real world inside out. He had lived in it, fought in it.

"The truth is I think I've been very lonely for a very long time," Harry began to speak. "Jane chose to sleep apart for many years. There were women, I was not a faithful husband but I think it was more than that. I think what I yearned for, what I searched for was companionship." Harry concentrated on the feel of the soft skin of her hand and raised his other to a lock of hair that was falling over her face. Gently he tucked it behind her ear and found her eyes boring into his. It scared him, those eyes, the way they stared right through his soul and he found himself tearing his gaze away to protect his heart. "I love you, Ruth," He confessed, "I love you very much."

Ruth smiled at him. She didn't say it back, she didn't want to say it just for the sake of saying it and she knew that Harry was the one who had fallen first and maybe he did love her more, but Ruth had grown to care for Harry very much and she felt there were other, better ways to show it. The words would come in time. "Come to bed, Harry."

Finally receiving the invitation he so desired, Sir Harry did as he was bid and drew back the covers of the bed and climbed inside. No sooner had he lain back against the pillows than Ruth's hand came to rest on his arm and she looked at him in such a way that Harry could not help but lean over and kiss her sweetly on the mouth. Within moments however, Ruth was opening her lips and teasing him with her tongue in a quite surprising manner. Harry drew back.

Ruth dropped her head, "Sorry."

Harry lifted her chin and cupped her face and stared in the eyes that had always been such a startling shade of blue. "You have nothing to apologise for, Madam."

"I thought perhaps it did not please you," Ruth confessed.

"Ruth, everything about you pleases me. I only wondered where you learned to kiss like that."

"Cyprus."

"Ah."

Ruth blushed and then to avoid saying anything further, leaned in and kissed her husband once more. One of her hands lifted to his chest and her palm lay flat against the very middle where his night shirt lay open. The touch of her skin on his was extremely gratifying and he pressed his own hand over hers, enjoying the warmth and the way she made his heart pound.

This time it was Ruth who pulled away, her eyes staring at him in curiosity for the way he was looking at her. "What?"

Harry smiled warmly and clasped her hand in his against his chest. "I like it when you touch me, that is all."

His words seemed to give Ruth some confidence because their lips came together once more in a deeper, passionate, heated union. Her hands gravitated to his body, one clasping the back of his neck and the other caressing the skin of his chest where his nightshirt parted, her fingers creeping underneath the edges of the fabric to discover more of the warm broad expanse of his chest. Having lived aboard a ship for some time, Ruth had seen her share of men's bare chests. Harry's was strong, he looked portly but still had the strength to wield a sword and it was decorated with a good coating of blonde hair that Ruth soon discovered she liked to weave her fingers in.

They broke apart some time later, breathless. Harry could not remove his hands from her beautiful silken locks. Now it had been let loose by the maid he caressed it and cupped her head and trailed his fingers through it. For the rest, Ruth's form was petite and lithe. She was fit and healthy and had good hips although at their age, he supposed such a thing did not matter. He had not married her for her body although he suspected that he would find great pleasure in discovering all the things about her that intimate lovers enjoyed learning. How soft, he wondered, were the back of her knees? Did the colour of her most intimate parts match that of her lips? How would she like him to pleasure her?

"Take your nightshirt off," Ruth whispered.

"Sorry?"

"I wondered...I wish to see you."

Harry hesitated. He worried it would shock her. Had she seen a male nude before? Almost certainly if she had been at sea with her father, he reminded himself. Or even if she had had occasion to view some of the ancient wonders of the world. Many an ancient temple statue was completely nude but while Harry had lived too long and survived too many horrors to be afraid of his body, neither was he under any illusions that he was now the adonis he had once been in his youth. Would he disappoint her? Would she be displeased? Would the sight of his manhood shock her?

"Harry, I am not completely insensible. You told me yourself you did not want a stupid wife. Whatever causes you to hesitate?"

"May I ask, Ruth, in the most delicate way possible: you are aware of how relations work between man and wife?"

"I lived on a shipful of sailors for two years, Harry. Unless you need reminding of the habits of sailors when they put into port?"

"I think not. I wonder sometimes at your father taking you to sea at all."

"Oh, father made it quite clear that I was not worth their while. He had a standing order that any man who came within twenty feet would be hung from the yard-arm in front of the crew and if that didn't do it one sight of the cat usually did."

"Was your ship's cat particularly fearsome?"

"I should say so. It had nine tails," Ruth said.

"Ah. Navy jokes. This is what I am to live with for the rest of my days, is it?"

Ruth smiled shyly and pulled at his collar. "Take your shirt off, Harry. Let me look on my husband."

Harry sighed a great sigh and looked into his wife's eyes for a long moment before complying. Due to the shirt coming down nearly to his ankles, Harry swung his legs off the bed and stood at the bedside to pull it over his head. He would have simply kneeled on the bed itself had his knees been up to it but they had not been for some five or six years now since a battle on the Iberian peninsula where he had taken a blow to the leg while seated on his horse. In fact as he removed the only item of clothing left on his person, he could see that Ruth's eyes gravitated not towards his manhood as he might have suspected but flitted between the myriad scars and injuries that littered his body from his many years at war.

"Your shoulder!" Ruth exclaimed and she rushed forwards, climbing out of bed to better inspect the battered, scarred remains.

"I took a musketball," Harry supplied. He watched her carefully. There were scars on his arms, scars on his knees, scars on his torso. Even his hands had seen their share of cuts and bruises. As horrific as some of his injuries must look to the uninitiated, Ruth was no innocent. He saw her assess each one and the process by which it was made. Sword, shrapnel, musket.

"Are there any more? Injuries, I mean?"

"Oh, yes, I should think so. I've cracked a few ribs more than once, broken an arm. I've been punched, kicked, fallen off my horse, stamped on...treated by Doctors..."

"Harry," Ruth admonished, "You can hardly put a Doctor into the same category as a musket shot."

"No, the musket shot is kinder."

Ruth decided that Harry was clearly going to be stubborn about this and so did the only thing she could think of doing which was to kiss him again and when she kissed him her hands went to his chest again and when they stopped kissing her hands stayed there and guided him over to the bed to lay down. It wasn't that Ruth wasn't nervous about her wedding night, but she had always been an inquisitive person and she had decided earlier as she was waiting for Harry to come through from his own chamber that she would look on it as an opportunity for study. She could not forget her husband's declarations in the early days of her acquaintence and she hoped that with a little patience he might be willing to indulge her, and so it proved. Harry did as he was bid and lay back on the bed, allowing Ruth to study his body to her satisfaction.

For Harry, he was happy to oblige his wife and reminded himself to be patient with her. The entire future of their marriage might depend on his conduct on this night and he was absolutely determined that he would not show himself to be a brute and a deviant. He would allow her to explore so that they might come together naturally as two lovers might, no matter how thin his self-control wore at times. Harry was sure it could not have escaped her notice that under her ministrations his manhood had swollen but for some considerable period of time she elected to completely ignore it until Harry pleaded with her to touch him.

Fleeting eyes glanced against his and Harry tried to give her all the reassurance he could in a single gaze. He dare not say anything further for fear that Ruth's shyness would get the better of her. Ruth was tentative at first, he could see that, but once he'd begged a little, her hand moved to his penis which lay half-hard against his thigh. Instead of doing as he wished and massaging him to further arousal, Ruth took this as a cue to explore that part of him which she had previously ignored and Harry had to concentrate on breathing very carefully as her small palms cupped and massaged his scrotum and then she discovered the sensitive spot behind, her touch sending a jolt of arousal through him that elicted the moan of pleasure he had been holding back. With half-lidded eyes he guided her hand to where he wanted it, showed her how he like to pleasure himself.

"Like this," Harry whispered, guiding her hand up and down, with a small twist at the end. "Now use your thumb."

Ruth was an attentive student. In blissful pleasure Harry lay back and closed his eyes, focusing on the paradisical sensation of his arousal and Ruth's hands giving him pleasure until abruptly it all stopped.

"Harry?"

"Yes Ruth."

Ruth hesitated. Didn't he want to kiss her again. Did he not want to explore her body. She had been anticipating this night, she had felt nerves for this night and he was just laying there...

Harry opened his eyes and saw at once dissatisfaction in her eyes. However due to the bliss swirling in his mind it took him a moment to comprehend the expression on his wife's face. He smiled to himself. Apparently she was done exploring. He was still smiling as he propped himself up on one arm so that he could kiss her properly. "Let me undress you," Harry mumbled against her lips.

With that one phrase his deep, husky voice reverberated through her body and her stomach clenched. As Harry pressed her back into the bed however, Ruth put a staying hand on his shoulder.

"Harry..."

"Yes, my love..." Harry's lips moved down to her neck. They kissed it, nipped it, licked it in a most distracting manner. Ruth attempted to push him away, she did not mean to be distracted before she had a chance to say this.

"Be gentle with me?"

Harry paused. He had forgotten, in his blissful arousal, the blind terror that had fleetingly crossed her features when he had first appeared in her chamber. "Always, Ruth."

"What I mean to say is, I know that it shall hurt a little and if I could only beg you to minimise-"

"Ruth..."

"...because I am led to understand..."

"By whom?" Harry demanded. "Ruth, the pleasures of the flesh are, surprisingly enough intended to be pleasurable and may I respectfully suggest that those who say otherwise are simply not doing it correctly."

Ruth could not help but smile at her husband's words. She had never heard it suggested by anyone that there was an incorrect way of carrying out one's marital duties and the thought was actually quite amusing.

"There are unfortunately many men who are insensible to any thought but their own pleasure and indeed if such a man was to lay with his wife on his wedding night he might force his manhood inside his wife without any thought to her comfort and quell her with his insistence that it is perfectly normal to be in pain. I like to think I am not such a man, Ruth. You must be aware of course that I have experienced intimacy before and not, God forgive me, solely with Jane."

Ruth had suspected as much, but she was soothed by the fact that he appeared genuinely contrite and had expressed more than once his desire to be a good husband to her. Ruth extended a hand of comfort to her husband's forearm. More than anything the guilt which crossed his features when he metioned such things spoke of an inner turmoil he had barely touched on in their discourse this far.

"But my experience has taught me something and that is that a woman's body is capable of a level of arousal to which many men in their selfish desires are completely insensible. So long as one incites the appropriate level of pleasure in one's partner..." Harry's hand picked up Ruth's, his thumb running gently over her small fingers. "...and one is patient, there need only be a little discomfort, I think, while one becomes accustomed to the...situation."

They stayed that way for some time, their heads bowed close together and their hands joined in a quiet moment of contemplation. After some minutes, Ruth shuffled backwards on the bed and then slowly began to lift her nightdress over her head. Silently, Harry helped her and discarded the garment at the side as he looked on his wife for the first time. She was exquisite. Small but perfectly formed. The lines of her flat stomach, the petite form of her breasts. The proportions of her legs and her hips. He found himself breathless, his eyes sweeping over her body like brushstrokes on a masterpiece. When he tried to speak, his voice was hoarse.

"Beautiful," He breathed. Previously Harry had never minded the fact that all of his women had had relations before him. Even Jane had made it quite clear that she was not a virgin on her wedding night. She had, it turned out, been hoping for the other brother. The question of whether his children were his own or Ben's had stopped mattering around about the same time that Ben had died and Jane had begun drifting away. Suddenly however, he found himself selfishly possessive of his current wife. The thought that she was his and his alone, that no man had lain with her before filled him with a surge of masculine possessiveness and he climbed over her, pressing her into the bed and pressing his lips against hers. Only when she refused to kiss him back did he falter and come back to his senses. She was quaking underneath him.

"Ruth," Harry drew back in horror. "I did not meant to...I am sorry."

"Its quite alright. I am quite alright. You only startled me a little, is all."

But it was not all. "No," Harry paused. "I think it is not all. My passion got the better of me, I apologise. The truth is, Ruth, that I find myself quite overcome by your presence, but that is the second time you have started so and while I did undoubtedly give you cause to be surprised, I hope I have never given you cause to be fearful of me. Which leads me to the inevitable conclusion that some other man has done so and I must know Ruth, before we proceed any further."

Ruth wished at that moment that she could be anywhere else but here. The scrutiny that moments before had been immensely pleasureable now was replaced with the immediate urge to cover herself and she at once climbed under the covers and pulled the linens up over her chest.

"Ruth, I mean no slight upon your honour."

"No slight upon my honour, Harry?"

"Ruth, may I tell you a secret?"

Ruth's eyes turned from glacial melt water to solid iron.

Harry sighed. In for a penny...

"Graham may not be my son. I discovered on my wedding night with Jane that she had been, for some time, in a most intimate relationship with my own brother, Ben. On my wedding night, as a newly married man, I lay with a woman whose womb was still wet with the seed of the man who had stood at my side in the church not hours before and then lay with his brother's wife in his brother's home on iour/i wedding day. I know a little of the indignities of the marriage bed, Ruth. The fact that Ben was sent away by our father as punishment for the affair means that Catherine, at least, I may possibly count as my own. Graham however was almost certainly fathered upon Ben's return..." At this point Harry tailed off. He was drifting into the past and he cleared his throat and reminded himself to stick to the present. "The point, Ruth, is that you are no Jane. You never have been and never shall be. If you so much as looked at another man with lustful thoughts you would blush so hard you would glow like Mars in the night sky. I know you, Ruth, you would sooner die than lose your honour so, if you are indeed lacking in honour it is not because you have given it away it is because some...some man...has removed it from you by force. Am I not correct?"

Ruth was very, very quiet.

"I promise you may tell me the truth without fear or censure, Ruth, so that I may perform my duties as a husband and take care of you. Love you. For I do love you. I love you with all my heart as I have never loved another. Will you tell me?"

Ruth cleared her throat. She did not want to, for surely no woman who had been attacked wanted to confess it to her husband but Ruth could not help but conclude that Harry deserved to know.

"I was attacked, by an acquaintence. I was cornered and he...he got his hand under my skirts." Ruth's eyes fell away, her voice dropping with her head. "He violated me," Her voice was quiet,"With his hands and then...he was startled. The attack stopped when he was startled. Someone came too close."

"Do I know this man?"

Ruth's silence spoke volumes.

"Ruth? Let it not be Hunter or Carter, at least?"

"No, of course not! How could you think such a thing? Adam is like a brother to me!"

"And Hunter?" Harry asked.

Ruth's fingers began to fidget with the embroidery on the bedlinen. "Not Danny," She said.

"Not Danny..." Harry mused. His brows drew together in an inevitable, horrifying conclusion.

Later, Ruth would compare the reaction of her new husband to the time she had witnessed the eruption of Mount Etna on Sicily.

"Lord Hunter?" Harry exploded, jumping right out of bed. "I swear to God I am going to skin that bastard alive, if its the last thing I do!"

Slowly, as Harry ranted and shook with visceral anger, Ruth slid out of bed and walked across the floor. Without saying anything she laid a gentling hand on him and all the anger seemed to shrink. It was still there, but Ruth could see it being pushed down replaced with a sort of stillness. The power Ruth had over him was almost supernatural, but with her by his side all else paled into insignificance.

"Harry...come to bed?"

"Ruth, that man assaulted you! He hurt you! He violated you!"

"Yes, he did Harry but he is not here tonight and you are and I will not have that man discussed in my bedchamber. I wish to enjoy my wedding night with my husband."

Harry nodded and allowed her to take his hand and lead him back to bed. She pulled the covers back first and lay down, facing him. He could see in her eyes that this was it, that somehow he had proven himself to her, he could see she wanted him and her bright blue eyes had him transfixed. Like a man hypnotised he did her bidding, sliding in between the the covers and close to her. Harry kissed her, their lips wet and sensuous in the candlelight. She was soft now, receptive to him and with one arm propping him up over her body he lifted his other hand to caress the soft skin of her throat. Ruth hummed under his attentions and lifted his hand, placing it over her mons. Her eyes opened, staring at him with clear intent and Harry's fingers parted her lips for the first time and found her most intimate place wet and warm for him. He spread the wetness he found, gently caressing her with his self-confessed soldiers hands and she moaned in response. He touched her clitoris and her hips surged towards his hand. Reading Ruth's body, he carefully teased her entrance with a finger, stroking around her entrance and then inside her, arousing her and stretching her. He removed the finger and tried again with two.

"Oh!"

"Its alright, Ruth, just relax. Your body will adjust."

"Your fingers are bigger than mine!" The words were out before Ruth could stop them and she immediately blushed, which was somewhat amusing given Harry's current position.

"Are they indeed?" Harry leaned down and offered his lips to her once more. To Harry's immense pleasure Ruth's tongue soon began to tease him and her passion for kissing his lips soon made her lose any tension that the unusual sensation of his larger fingers had caused. Her body relaxed around his digits and he began to massage the walls of the hot, wet, secret place that would soon be his. Under his hand she moaned and bucked and clenched her muscles and Harry added a thumb to tease her clit. He concentrated solely on her pleasure, reading her body and responding and stepping up his ministrations each time she seemed ready. Before long she was fucking herself on his hand, whimpers of pleasure escaping her lips as the sound of flesh on flesh echoed around the bedchamber. Harry lay close, enjoying watching her and the pleasure gracing her features. He was hot and hard and he wanted her and he would have her, but after this. After this. After this she would be ready.

Ruth closed her eyes and gasped as white hot pleasure tingled in her limbs, radiating outwards. More pleasure than she had ever been able to achieve on her own but every time she felt herself about to tip over the edge Harry's hand would slip out and he would drip soft words in her ear until her body cooled and he would let her have his fingers again until she couldn't stand it anymore and desired, most fervently, to have her pleasure.

"Say please, Ruth," Harry nibbled her ear.

"Please..." It was whispered on a breath but once more his fingers slid inside her and this time instead of letting Ruth take the lead Harry's fingers mercilessly sought out her pleasure centres. With his eyes fixed on her face he fucked her with his hand, his thumb on her clit bringing her to the edge until she shattered and cried out into the night and still her husband's hand worked, shattering her again and again until she was so wrung out from pleasure and oversensitive that she put his hand on his wrist and begged him to stop.

Harry pulled his hand away and used it to shift her leg, parting her so that he might look on her womanhood and stroked himself under her gaze until he was fully erect. A small glance at her and he got a tiny nod in return. He would be gentle, he would not have her afraid of him but he would not hide from her. Carefully he lay himself between her legs so that his manhood pressed against her thigh and then he kissed her, because he could not bring himself to look on her lest he should hurt her, and wetted the tip of his erection on her wetness before pushing gently against her body. Harry felt the whimper of discomfort as the head forced its way inside and then stopped.

The kiss broke off. He waited and said nothing. Eventually when no reaction came he nuzzled her face with his own and Ruth's body relaxed. A sigh escaped her and her breathing evened out as if she was more in control of herself. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. Strange. Different. She could feel her body stretching around him as he pressed his way inside and it did cause some discomfort but Harry was right, there was no pain.

Harry said nothing and she couldn't bear to open her eyes to look at him. She had expected this to be a duty, to be at best boring and at worst painful. It was slightly uncomfortable, her body had never accepted a man in this way before and she bit her lip and closed her eyes, willing the feeling to pass.

Harry leaned down and kissed her eyelids. "Move your hips up a little."

She did so and Harry responded. Small movements, a gentle rhythm that allowed her husband to work his way inside as her body stretched for him until he was seated and she felt full and whole, for the first time in her life. Ruth was at that moment infinitely glad that Harry had been so careful to give her pleasure first. Had she been unprepared for this she though it could be quite painful and unpleasant. As it was, the sensation was strange but oddly good. Something sparking through her led her to clench her muscles and on top of her Harry let out a deep groan and let his head fall beside hers on the pillow. She felt the brush of his hair next to her, the soft breaths on her bare skin, the ridge of the head of his penis against the sensitive skin inside her.

Slowly, Harry pulled out. Slowly he slid back in again. Every breath, every groan rang in her ears. Under his encouragement Ruth responded to the gentle rhythm and moved her body with his. It was strange, new...and rather sensational. On top of her, her husband changed the way he moved his hips sparking fire inside her body but the wonderous feeling got away from her as his pace began to pick up and Ruth struggled to keep up. She felt full and stretched on the knife edge between pain and pleasure and she didn't know what he wanted and it was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable...

"Harry..."

And then a geat groan escaped her husband and there was the oddest sensation inside her as he stilled completely and filled her, she realised, with his seed.

Harry lay above her for a while, holding himself up on his elbows, his member still inside her. Ruth opened her eyes, wondering if he had fallen asleep and when she looked at him his eyes struggled to focus on hers, "I'm sorry, my love," He whispered and then his hands were on her in the most intimate way and once more bringing her pleasure and kissing her when she cried out. "I'll do better, next time."

Ruth wasn't sure what that meant, but she enjoyed the pleasure her husband brought her and the rest of it, Ruth had nothing with which to compare it. There was some discomfort and some pleasure, but she supposed she would get used to it with time. Right now she was warm and her whole body tingled with warmth and there was a closeness between them that hadn't been there before. A union.

Yet Harry avoided her eyes. Beside her, her husband had moved to lie on his side. One of his hands sought out hers and Ruth rolled onto her side to face him. Her thighs were wet and he quietly slipped out of bed and fetched a cloth to attend to her, apologising to her all the time.

"Harry," She said at length, "Hush. Lie down."

Harry merely nodded and climbed back in. "That wasn't...its meant to take a little longer. I lost myself there, for a moment..."

His apologies fell on deaf ears as his wife snuggled into his side and lay her head on his chest, regardless. Harry's embarrassment seemed not to matter a whittle to her and Ruth stared in astonishment as she curled up at his side. Harry realised he was unable to remember the last time he had lain with a woman and been welcome enough to sleep at her side. Not with Juliet. Not with Jane. Not with any of the married women he had frequented while his wife saw married men. It was...nice.

Beside her, Ruth found comfort and closeness with her husband. It wasn't so bad, it was in fact something that Ruth suspected she could grow to enjoy very much and she was sure that there was a new found closeness between them after consumating their marriage and sharing such intimacy. With the comfort of her new pillow, and the warmth of Harry's hazel eyes in her mind, Ruth sighed and closed her eyes.

She didn't remember falling off to sleep, but when she woke later she was lying on her other side and there was a weight against her back and the sensation of warm flesh and skin-on-skin. Harry's arms felt good, they felt safe and as she awoke she became aware of the physical evidence that he had brought her pleasure in ways she had never experienced before. It was still pitch black and the candles were out but his hand fell on her hip and Ruth realised Harry must be awake as well. His lips nibbled the back of her neck, than hand on her hips slid down to caress between her legs.

"Ruth..." Harry whispered. Her name carried everything, all his love, all his pent up desire for her.

Ruth wanted him too, she realised. Her body hummed in anticipation, the wetness growing between her legs as he fingered her clitoris. His name escaped from her lips, a gasp of pleasure, and Ruth could feel his manhood nudging against her buttocks. "Harry..."

Ruth had expected him to let her go so that she might turn to face him in order to carry out their marital duties in the proscribed manner as they had done before but to her great surprised he pulled her body close to his and thrust in from behind. He was attentive, he was alive to her wishes but he was less gentle this time with long, deep determined strokes that soon had her whimpering with pleasure. Harry said nothing, adjusting the way he moved inside her until he seemed to find all the ways that sent sparks of fire soaring through her. He moved deeply inside her, insistently, the sound of their bodies smacking together in union with the sound of the mattress creaking. Ruth reached her hand back and caressed his hair, needing to touch Harry when they were joined so intimately and then when she couldn't hold off her pleasure any longer he pulled out until her orgasm had lulled and then slid back in. Ruth ground her hips down against him seeking the way he had pleasured her not moments before and Harry responded by grabbing her hips with bruising fingers and thrusting hard. This time his attentions were hard and fast and nothing like their union before. It was slightly uncomfortable with the way he filled her so completely and yet she soon found herself crying out with pleasure as her husband let out an animalistic grunt and his seed filled her in long, thick, heavy pulses.

This time Harry did not part from her but fell asleep almost instantly exactly where he was. Ruth closed her eyes, her body cruising the residual wave of bliss that washed through her and pondering on how it felt to be a married woman as she once more slipped into unconsciousness, their bodies pressed close together in their union.

End Note: This is a bit more explicit than I would usually write and smut is surprisingly tricky to write, for anyone who hasn't tried to do so. My solace is that if it is terrible, I am good company with all the esteemed published authors who have won the Bad Sex in Fiction Award - which is a real thing! Look it up!