A/N - This chap is prectically one big lemon...I do have an edited version for those of you who want it (but it is barely one page on my word doc!) Thanks for reading, as always!

"You may leave, Luned." Edward continued, standing just inside the room and swaying on his feet, clearly well and truly on his way to being drunk. Or at least enough to be slightly unsteady.

Bella's heart stuttered, but not with fear--with surprise and a small element of excitement.

"My lady?" Luned questioned, her small hands balled into fists at her side. "I do not think…"

"Luned." Edward interjected, more insistent than angry. "This is my family's castle and you are but a servant. It is up to me where you go and what you do, and I have asked you to leave. I will assist your lady."

Luned looked at the floor, a flush of annoyance coloring her cheeks, but she clenched her jaw and said nothing.

"It's fine, Luned, really." Bella tried to give the younger woman a small smile, but it came out resembling a grimace. "I mean it."

Luned nodded, not lifting her eyes from the floor, and walked slowly to the tapestry. Her hand on the woven material, she looked back at Bella, her eyes huge and concerned.

"Truly, Luned." Bella added.

"I will be with Lady Alison if you should need me for anything."

Bella nodded.

"We will require no more from you tonight, Luned." Edward responded, giving the serving woman a gentle push between the shoulder blades. "I promise I will not hurt your lady."

Luned left with a soft snort at Edwards words.

When Bella realized it was just the two of them, she gulped hard. Is this really what I want to walk into? She chided herself. I know what he's asking. I knew it once I understood the song he was singing. Am I certain? I can still leave now…

She took a subconscious step forward and stumbled over the slightly longer than usual sleeves of her gown, slipping across the floor and straight into Edwards outstretched arms.

His hands gripped her shoulders tightly and his eyes smiled down into hers as she looked up at him, her face beet red with shame, her eyes lowered to hide her confusion.

"Lady Isabella, you are very receptive of my advances, I see." His smile was the same crooked one he had directed at her earlier when singing of swords and sheaths. Her breath became shallow, her head a little fuzzy, despite the fact she had drunk very little at dinner.

Drunk with lust, she thought to herself. I can hardly breathe when he is this close. As if to emphasize her point, her throat constricted on a wave of his scent; leather, wine, and pure, sexy man.
A shiver ran over her skin.

He smiled wider, clearly feeling her tremble under his fingers.

"Shall I help you with your girdle, my lady?" He asked, slipping his hands down from her shoulders to her hips, resting them lightly on the cold metal there.

"Uh…" I should say no, I know it. But I can't. I want him to. I want him to tear it all off and have his wicked way with me! She giggled nervously.

Edward took her timid laugh as an affirmative and slid his fingers around the front, lightly brushing the material of her dress above the place where the girdle ended in a vee.

Her legs wobbled. The friction caused by that one gentle touch was almost more than she could bear.

It had been so long since she had been really touched by a man--well, if truth be told, boy. Four years to be exact. Not one of the guys she had dated after Jacob had seemed worth the effort, worth the loss of self respect. She supposed that was why they always ended up running off with someone else, because she wasn't one to put out. Even with Jacob it had only been a few times, in their final weeks together, just after senior prom, and just before he had sworn he would marry her one day.

Something had been off, even though she loved him, as though…they didn't exactly fit. Like a square peg in a square hole, but a peg that was slightly smaller than it should have been.

Right now, with Edward, there was no thought of misplacement, no curiosity, just animal instinct, fierce longing.

And wetness. Lots of that.

Edward's large hands stroked gently over the metal of her girdle, pressing it against the skin at her waist and--she moaned softly--the mound between her legs.

Typical, medieval barbarian. She thought absently. Straight to the heart of the matter.

How wrong she was. His fingers abruptly quit their trailing and unclasped the gold buckle to let it fall to the floor with a muted ringing sound. His hands moved instead up the sides of her body, over the lacings of her dress, to the intricate design of her hair.

"I would prefer this…free." He murmured, releasing the soft, dark locks from the coiled braid, unclipping the metal fillets that held the ends, and running his fingers gently through, untangling it until Bella was surrounded by a halo of untidy waves.

"Your hair--it is so short, Lady Isabella." He ran his fingers through again, and Bella let her head fall to the side, enjoying the feeling of him tugging gently.

"Mmm."

"But it frames your face like the foam graces the waves. In perfect symmetry."

She blushed again.

He continued to run his fingers through her locks, fluffing them out in order to catch the faintest waft of--something fruity. Strawberries. Her hair smelt of strawberries. How apt. He smiled in pure delight. The symbol of peace and perfection.

She seemed to be a sensual little thing, the way her head leant into his caress, her eyes drifting closed to further enjoy the sensation, her mouth parting just the merest bit to exhale a little sigh of delight.

He was constantly hard in her presence, constantly aflame.

It seemed it would be more than easy to seduce her and ruin her.

The wine made his brain fuzzy, so he closed his eyes also, reveling in the soft silkiness of her hair. Normally, the women he bedded had hair that reached to their knees, but he found himself glad Bella's fell just past her shoulders--he would have no fears of being tangled or suffocated with her.

He leant towards her, searching out her mouth with his, finding it quickly. He kissed her full bottom lip, her soft top one, and ran his tongue lightly over both.

She whimpered, the sound quiet but encouraging, and he smiled, feeling relieved at the thickness of the walls, for otherwise the whole castle would hear every noise she would be making this night.

Edward nipped at Bella's bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, and she leaned against him, her hands drifting up his muscular back to close around his neck and hold him in with all the strength of her tiny arms.

He smiled against her mouth, wrapping her dark hair around his hands and locking her kiss with his. He pressed his advantage, kissing her roughly until her mouth fell open entirely, her small tongue reaching forward timidly, seeking his own out.

He responded with arrogance, with forthrightness, his tongue tangling with hers, tasting the inside of her mouth, enjoying the mint flavor. He ran his tongue over the edges of her teeth, and fought with her desperately returned kisses and tastes.

She couldn't get enough. The mint and wine flavor of his mouth was intoxicating--it drew her in and consumed her, like a drug. The more he gave, the more she wanted, and the more she fought, the more he gave. Her body became weaker, relying on him more and more to hold her upright.

She whimpered, she moaned, she thought she may have even pleaded when his tongue thrust lightly into her mouth, mimicking what it was she needed more desperately.

Her legs shook, her hands locked together at the back of his neck, her skin was on fire.

But it wasn't enough. She wanted more, wanted all.

He moved his hands from her hair, back down her sides, gripping her hips tightly and pulling her roughly against him so that his erection pressed into her belly. He was huge; she could feel it between the layers of clothes.

She ground her hips against him instinctively, moaning softly, wishing for nothing more than to have him inside her already, to be past the foolishness of kissing and teasing, to get straight to the heart of the matter. But still he held her, never breaking the kiss, inflaming her further.

Until he stepped away from her suddenly, and she wobbled, her legs like jelly, her eyes pleading for more, her breath coming in hurried pants.

"I think I should rid you of this bliaut, Lady Isabella." He held the material of the dress at her waist crumpled in his fist.

"Ugh." Was the best response Bella could manage, so she nodded quickly, not wanting him to confuse her garbled answer with a no.

Nimble fingers loosened the ties at her right side, all the way to the arm, before repeating the action on the left.

"Next time," he muttered mutinously, "I will leave this task for your maid. It is far too time consuming."

She giggled nervously.

The laces undone, he slid the material up, over her hips, over her breasts, over her head and left it to flutter to the floor, and Bella shivered in anticipation in the gold kirtle.

"So it's called a bliaut?" She whispered, blushing at the stupidity of the question.

"Mmm." Was his reply as he stood back, admiring the view.

The kirtle skimmed her tiny waist, high breasts, and rounded hips like a second skin, flowing over her like water. The gold thread in the cloth winked at him in the dim light of the fire, teasing. But, as beautiful as it was, it wasn't what he truly wanted to see.

Kneeling at her feet, he gripped the hem of her kirtle, keeping hold of it as he rose, moving it up over her body like the bliaut, but this time with the added benefit of feeling her body beneath. As he raised the dress, his hands skimmed the shift underneath, feeling the outline of legs, hips, waist, ribs, breasts…he yanked the material over her head, and returned to kissing her furiously. Her small hands grabbed desperately at his hair, pulling roughly, trying to enforce his continued advances. Inside him something yelled with joy, while the better part of him floundered under the night's excesses.

He touched her face with gentle fingers as he explored her mouth--her closed eyelids, her small nose, the cheekbones--before stroking her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ears, her ear lobes themselves. She moaned and whimpered and held on tighter, fearful he might pull away again.

He didn't, instead moving his hands down to the material at her breasts.

Damn shift. He thought. Women wear far too much.

Never stopping the kisses he grasped the material there and pulled her forward roughly, tearing her shift away from her body.

This time it was her that broke away with a muffled oath of shock.

She stood there, in nearly nothing, finally remembering what he would find at the same time his eyes stared down at her lingerie in shock.

"What is that?" He asked, amazed.

"Uh…underwear?" She replied, too overwhelmed by desire to think of anything else to say.

"Whatever they are, Isabella, I like them. I only wish other women would buy their undergarments from France--they clearly know what they are doing when they make them. I see why they call it the court of love." His voice was husky with need, his eyebrows raised, and then he closed the space between them again.

Bella blushed and said nothing. If he believed they were from France, then so much the better for her, no awkward explanations, and he could get back to what he was doing.

And he did, with a vengeance. His calloused hands explored every bare inch of skin while his mouth claimed hers, thrusting his tongue inside more insistently. She arched her back into him, belatedly noticing the softness of his clothing against her bareness, remembering that although she was clad in nothing more than her blue bra and panties, he was wearing all he had been when he had entered. She tugged gently at the material of his tunic, wishing it would tear under her hands as easily as her shift had under his.

He laughed into her mouth at her feeble attempts. Never breaking the kiss, he held her behind her shoulders with one arm and swung her off her feet with the other, carrying her bodily to the enormous bed waiting for them in the centre of the room. She clung to him tightly, her nails digging into his back, refusing to move her mouth and tongue from his, despite the fact that his strides made it more difficult to gain all that she wanted from it.

Without notice, he tossed her on the bed, and she lay there, looking up at him.

Her brown eyes were wide, her cheeks a rich shade of pink, her mouth now red and swollen with his kisses. He loved it, seeing her laying there, the bright blue of her undergarments making her pale skin gleam like fresh milk, her dark hair a stormy cloud framing the heart shaped beauty of her face.

And she wanted him, badly.

Her legs were slightly spread, and he smiled; she probably didn't even know that she was inviting him in, begging him almost, but he did. And he was not about to refuse. She wanted him naked, then naked he would be--with rapid, perfected movements he drew off his tunic, chausses, and braies, ignoring the snap of the ties as he pulled too roughly.

He stood before her, completely bare and proud.

She had been right, he was huge. His erection stood before him proudly, drawing her eyes straight to it. She shivered with delight at what would come next, what she had wanted since almost the first day she had seen him. That in her.

He sat lightly on the bed beside her, tracing the floral pattern on her bra with his fingertips, marveling at how the material seemed to show more than it hid. The creamy skin, the fullness of her breasts, the tight pink buds that were her nipples. Fascinated, he leaned over her, pressing his mouth to the material over her nipple, sucking softly at the material and the bud underneath.

Her sharp gasp drew him forward. His remaining hand cupped her other breast, kneading gently, thumb flicking over the peak, while his mouth continued its journey, biting down gently, making Bella call out in surprise. He smiled, moving his mouth over her chest, to the hollow in her throat, and back down to lavish the other breast with the same attention he had given the first. She arched and bucked under him as one hand kneaded and his mouth caressed, and he shifted, moving himself over her, his erection pressing again the slip of material covering her mound.

The rough and silken texture delighted his senses. He moved his mouth from her breasts, her hands pulling at his hair, and rose up to kiss her again.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he groaned--she was so innately passionate!

Unable to wait another moment, he tore off the material between her legs.

"Yes." She mumbled against his lips. "Oh god, yes!"

He drew his face away, gazed down at her open mouth.

"This will hurt at first, but I will go slowly, and I promise you will find pleasure."

She looked up at him in confusion.

"Hurt?" He was big, but surely…surely he would fit? Had he found women who couldn't take his size?

"I know you are a virgin, Isabella, I will be gentle, I promise."

Oh! He thought she was…she colored an even deeper shade of red. Should she interrupt this erotic, fantastic moment with the truth? Should she hold the lie?

She bit her lower lip and he groaned.

"I swear, Isabella, I will be gentle, I will!"

She nodded. She wasn't worried; gentle, rough, she just wanted it now, and if playing the virgin would get her what she wished for, then virgin she would be!

He groaned again, resting his erection at her entrance, and moved a hand down between them, rubbing gently at sensitive nub. Her legs shook, she her back arched sharply, her breathing came in gasped pants.

The ripples of electricity shimmered outwards from her groin, moving toward every part of her body, from toes to fingertips.

"Ooooh." She moaned, desperate and longing, wanting to thrust upwards and force him in.

He continued to rub in slow gentle circles until the electricity thrummed throughout her, and his hand grew damp with her desire. He inserted one finger, slowly, feeling her body buck against it, her passage hot and tight. He could wait no longer. Removing his hands and resting himself on his elbows, his mouth raining kisses on her heated face, he pressed forward, slowly entering her, giving her muscles time to accept him. He pushed forward a little more, and moved his mouth to her ear, kissing, licking and nipping.

She flailed frantically, and he felt himself slide in fully with a desperate thrust of her hips, so he bit down hard on her lobe.

She cried out, clearly in pain from the breaking of her maidenhead, and he stopped, allowing her time to adjust, for her body to become accustomed.

Bella bit her lip again. When she had thrust upwards, no longer willing to play her role as meek maid, wanting all of him and screw the consequences, he had bitten her ear. Hard. For a moment all desire had fled, replaced with acute agony.

But as he held there, the hard length of him filling her completely, she grew tense again, the muscles in her stomach contracting and releasing. She thrust upwards once more, feeling him buried deep within her and she growled, a primal, craving sound.

With her growl of desire, he lost all sense. He pulled out quickly and thrust all the way in again, groaning as the muscles constricted and expanded around him. He pulled out and thrust once more, seeing stars as she called out his name.

She was raking her fingernails across his back and down, grabbing his buttocks to draw him in deeper, and he obeyed; withdrawing and thrusting, his pace increasing, his breathing labored, her yells and pleading driving him mad.

"Please, oh please!" She sobbed, grasping and bucking, legs locking around his back, trying to hold him in. "Oh! Oh!"

She was almost to the edge, the blackness behind her eyes was dancing with color, the tension building in her belly was ready to implode. She dug her nails into any part of him she could find, desperate to be filled to the brim, screaming, on the verge…

Then falling. Open mouthed, open eyed, her mind exploded. She yelled, cursed, pleaded; her legs trembled. Every nerve in her body sang.

"Oh!"

He thrust into her roughly as she yelled--the tension unbearable--and roared her name, his seed spilling hotly. He covered her open mouth with his, and kissed; tasting and releasing and lost.

* * * *

Down the hall, Alison squeezed her eyelids tightly shut, trying to halt the passage of falling tears.

"Luned." She murmured. "Your lady will need you tonight."

A/N - Ok so I promised to dedicate this chapters first lemon to a couple of people, so just ignore this if you like =) - for Naomi and Sylvia...LOVE TRUNCEHON! There you go, it's in there - thanks for the laughs!

And for Leah and Melissa FRESH MEAT! And lot's of it!