This chapter is dedicated to my muse, you know who you are...

Chapter 11. Sense and Sensibility

Anora sat nervously, fidgeting with her fingers in front of the dressing table as Erlina unbraided her long blonde hair. She kept touching and looking at the diamond wedding ring she wore on her finger.

At least the dressing room felt very feminine. Little things, like a vase of flowers or little decorations, clearly spelled that this room belonged to a woman. A woman who was also a Revered Mother of the Chantry, she reminded herself and cringed inwardly at what a ludicrous place this was to celebrate a wedding night.

She took her eyes off the ring and looked at her image in the mirror in front of her, watching as Erlina carefully braided two long locks of hair that framed her face and then tied them behind her neck to keep the rest of her hair from falling into her face.

Anora nodded approvingly at the result and then adjusted the straps of the nightgown Erlina had somehow managed to find. She didn't even want to think about where she had found it, or who it might have originally belonged to. It was a sleeveless white gown, simple but with an elegant cut, and rather low in the back. She had to admit that it looked good on her. She hoped Michael would agree. Then she frowned. Why would it matter anyway? It was their wedding night and she'd hardly need to entice him.

She realized that she wanted to reason with her new husband first. Talk to him and maybe try to come to some sort of agreement about how they would deal with the intimate part of their marriage before simply climbing in between the sheets and starting with it.

She cursed herself for a fool and tried to calm herself. How complicated could it be, really? It's not like she hadn't bedded a man before. Obviously it would feel different to actually desire him, as opposed to going through the motions, like with her previous husband. That much she realized from the tingling feelings she would get when she was near Michael sometimes. The act itself was simple enough though. With Cailan it was mostly finding a comfortable position and waiting for him to be done. How different could this be?

"That will be all, Erlina," Anora said finally.

Erlina nodded and flashed a brief smile before leaving the dressing room.

Anora remained seated, staring at the mirror and trying to compose herself. She had no business getting butterflies over this. She just needed to find a release from this spell she had fallen under, and then she could concentrate on more important matters.

She took a deep breath and rose from the chair and walked towards the door that led to the bed chamber, where she knew her new husband awaited her.

Anora opened the door and saw Michael standing in the dim light, naked to the waist, facing away from her. He had just put down the last of his swords and then bent down to remove one of his boots. For a moment she stood silently and watched him. He really did look good, she had to admit. It was exciting to think that she would be able to put her arms around those shoulders soon. Then she closed the door behind her with an audible creaking sound.

Michael turned around smiling, and then the smile faded into an almost surprised look.

"Maker's breath! You're beautiful, Anora," he said.

She felt strangely hot and tried desperately to resist making a silly grin. She was being foolish, she knew. It was just meaningless flattery, but still it made her heart skip to hear it.

Anora forced herself to stop fidgeting with her wedding ring and walked over to the bed. It really was quite wide and luxurious of a bed, for a Revered Mother of a village chantry at least. It would be intimate to sleep two in it, but not uncomfortable. Anora wondered if the woman who lived here might be some nobleman's daughter, sent away to the chantry to simplify the inheritance. Obviously she must enjoy a bit of finery, despite her vows.

Anora sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Michael. He was only wearing his small clothes now and she couldn't resist taking a little extra look at him. Then he smiled and winked at her, when he noticed her interest and she looked away quickly.

"Look, husband," she began. The word husband sounded strange in her mouth. "Maybe we should talk before we... get down to things."

Michael arched an eyebrow, but then he nodded and sat down beside her. His arm brushed her and she felt a little shiver at his touch.

"Don't worry, Anora," he said and looked at her with a friendly smile. "It's all right to be a little nervous. We can just take it one step at a time—there's no hurry."

"Yes, well, that may be best when we get there," she replied uncomfortably, "but I was still wondering: What do you really expect of this? How often do we share a bed and so on?"

"As often as we care to, I suppose, or not at all if you really prefer," Michael said and shrugged.

"Yes, but how often would that be, if I could…tolerate you? Once a week or more?"

Michael frowned and looked at her, and then he shook his head.

"Do you always plan everything in your life like this?" he asked her.

"Well, yes," Anora answered defensively. "It's sensible to plan things, isn't it?"

"Just forget the planning a little," he whispered and leaned in towards her.

Anora swallowed and felt a little jolt as he brushed away her hair and let his lips touch her neck.

"I… I'm not saying we won't get to that, too," she said, trying desperately to keep her head clear as the tingling sensations in her grew worse than ever. He wasn't just kissing her—he was actually using his tongue to gently lick her neck.

"I just thought it was better if we had an agreement about it so we both would know what to expect," she continued with half-closed eyes.

It was getting difficult for her to breathe normally and she thought her voice sounded unnatural. Then she felt his calloused hand touch her shoulder and gently pull down the strap on her nightgown, and she tensed as her breast was exposed.

"Please," she said huskily, trying to see past the sensations that filled her. "I just think we can be reasonable about—" Her words ended in a sharp intake of breath as his hand gently cupped her breast.

"You want a schedule maybe?" Michael wondered humorously, his hand gently massaging her breasts, her sensitive nipples stiffening in response to his tender ministrations. "Like, on Tuesdays you get to be on top?" he murmured softly in her ear.

"Maybe… what? No," she said, eyes suddenly open in consternation.

She tried to pull away from him, but somehow she only ended up lying down on the bed. For a moment she thought he would climb on top of her, but instead he settled down beside her, leaning on one elbow.

"I don't see why you have to be like this," she said a bit petulantly. "Why can't you discuss things first, before you…?"

Her words broke off as he lowered his head and softly kissed her naked breast. Her mouth closed and then opened in a little "o", as he gently sucked her nipple and withdrew his lips, brushing her skin with his teeth as he did so. She was momentarily lost to the jolts of pleasure coursing through her body.

She opened her eyes and looked down to see him smile up at her.

"Do you always talk so much in bed, dear?" he inquired softly.

"No… I mean, it's you who won't…"

She never finished the sentence as he let his mouth close upon her nipple once again. The pleasurable sensation he was causing made her squirm with delight. His mouth continued to slowly suck and lick her nipples. She had to clench her teeth to avoid moaning aloud, because as delicious as his actions felt they were also becoming pure torture.

When he finally released her breast and met her eyes again, he was still smiling, but behind the smile she saw something else. He was almost breathing as heavily as she was. Maker's mercy, she thought to herself, he's getting as excited about this as I am. Somehow that thought made her desire rise even higher.

Then she swallowed as she felt his hand move gently down her side with feathery touches until it reached the hem of her nightgown. His fingers lightly pulled the hem up revealing her slender thighs. She grabbed hold of the sheet squeezing the fabric in frustration as his fingertips gently brushed her sensitive skin.

She desperately tried to compose herself and regain some measure of self control, quivering as his fingers moved up between her half-parted thighs. Instinctively she closed her thighs at the unfamiliar touch, but Michael continued to caress her until she let him gently ply her thighs apart again, and he could slip his fingers between the now painfully sensitive folds of pink flesh.

He teased maddeningly around the edges, before he finally let two fingers slip delicately into her trembling body. As his fingers entered her slippery sheath, her hips jerked as she sought even more friction to meet the demands of the desire that seemed to rob her of all reason and sanity.

She almost cried out in frustration as he suddenly, without warning, pulled away from her. She watched as he removed his last garment and returned, poised between her thighs, fully naked. Undulating her body, almost shivering with lust, she managed to hastily remove her own nightgown.

She desperately wanted to feel his length inside her now, but instead he returned to gently licking and sucking the soft globes of her tender breasts.

"Please, Michael, can't you just get this done now?" she croaked.

"You're forgetting this could be the last time I have a woman in a year, by the terms of our agreement. I'm determined to make this last."

She groaned in distress as he softly licked and kissed the valley between her breasts. To her surprise he didn't stop at that, but continued down, licking and kissing her abdomen as well, making her squirm, panting with desire.

A sudden suspicion seized her as he continued downwards. In shock she felt him kiss her even lower, towards her womanly core, with its patch of blonde hair.

"Michael, stop it," she whispered, eyes glazed. "You can't. That's… that's nasty…"

Anora gasped and her hips bucked violently as his tongue reached the centre of her desire and he licked and sucked on the sensitive nub, she'd barely been aware of. Then the pleasure stopped as quickly as it had begun, leaving her maddeningly unfulfilled. She stared down in disbelief as he lifted his head to look up at her.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he murmured.

She clenched her fists and almost cried out in frustration.

"No, damn you…" she surrendered finally.

"Please, please don't stop," she begged him as he waited just a little longer.

He then arduously returned his attention to pleasing her once again, his tongue continuing its tender torture, driving her wild with desire.

When she finally thought she could take it no longer, he withdrew his head from between her thighs and sat up. She closed her eyes and expectantly waited for him to finally join their bodies completely.

Then she gasped and opened her eyes in surprise as he first lifted one of her legs in the air to rest on his shoulder and then the other. For a second she almost panicked, the unfamiliar position making her tense. Then she forgot all else as he finally buried his length as deeply as he could inside her.

She was held down by his weight, feeling totally exposed to him. He drove her with a sweet, sensual rhythm that robbed her of all control. Not even her own body would obey her. Beneath the desire and the need, she felt a sliver of fear. The all-consuming pleasure that was engulfing her was frightening in its newness and intensity.

She moaned with pleasure, wildly tossing her hair, as he filled her again and again. Somewhere she heard a cry that may have been her own. Her whole body shook as the tide finally swept her away. Her last coherent thought was that she'd been so wrong. This was nothing like anything she'd ever experienced before.