Bertrice Small - A Moment in Time

With a groan he sank into her, and she was as sweet as a split peach. When he encountered her maidenhead and stopped a moment in his intent, Wynne thrust her young body up hard, encasing him fully within her ripeness. He kissed the silent tears upon her cheeks away. And then certain the initial pain of Wynne's deflowering had eased, Madoc began to move on her, pressing forward slowly, withdrawing as lingeringly to ensure her a full measure of pleasure.

The pain of his initial entry had exploded blindingly before her eyes and, unable to refrain from her cowardice, Wynne closed them. Then, as suddenly, the sting and the burning she had felt were gone. Wynne began to relax, deciding that Madoc's movements were really quite delicious. He had told her that she need do nothing but enjoy his attentions. Now free of her previous fears, she did. Whimpering with a need she still did not quite understand, her fingers kneaded at his shoulders, digging into his flesh more sharply and with greater urgency as she felt a rising tide of ecstasy sweeping up to overwhelm her.

Every new sensation assaulting her was an acute one. She could actually feel his manhood, warm and pulsing with life, within her own body. Each stroke of it seem to push her further and further away from reality. Yet his hungry possession of her body was the greatest reality of all. Like a song bird she glided higher and higher, seeking a pinnacle she had never known. Then as suddenly she found it. Great shudders racked her from the deepest chasms of her body, even as rainbows of light burst wildly upon her from behind her eyelids. Wynne opened her mouth gasping for air, and having gulped some, expelled it almost immediately before fainting dead away, her last sensation being that of being flooded with total warmth.

Madoc groaned with satisfaction as his own passions burst forth at precisely the right moment. He rolled half off her as he shuddered a final discharge of ecstasy. For the first time in his life he was transported himself into a semiconscious state. Never before had he known such bliss with a woman as he did with this woman. Nothing had changed in that respect, he thought hazily. Then he allowed himself to float free for a few minutes, reveling in the sweet sensations that assailed him like an afterglow. As his mind grew clearer he began to realize that Wynne, an untried virgin, had galloped the entire course of passion in her first attempt. She was amazing and obviously had an incredible capacity for loving. This shadow between them had to be dissolved.

She began to stir beside him, and pulling himself up into a seated position, Madoc gathered his betrothed wife into his arms. He cradled her gently, smoothing her wonderful long black hair away from her face, for it had come undone and tangled with their love play. It was such beautiful hair, he thought. Soft, smelling of white heather and silky beneath his fingers.

Wynne opened her eyes and studied the fierce features, suddenly gentle with his open adoration for her. "Will it always be as wild between us, my lord?" she asked softly. "Will I die a little death each time you pleasure me with your skillful lance? Will you show me how I may pleasure you as greatly, for having opened such a wonderful world to me, Madoc, I now find I am in your debt."

"Your pleasure is my pleasure," he told her sincerely. "There is nothing more."

"No ways in which I may offer equal bliss?" she pressed him. "Did you not say you would teach me? Do not deny me the right to give you the same pleasure that you gave me!"

He smiled ^reassuringly into her distressed face. "I will teach you how to give delight with touches and kisses, Wynne, but my greatest pleasure does indeed come with your own pleasure. I swear it!"

"But I want to see your happiness even as you saw mine!" she protested.

"That is possible, for sometimes one lover may move more quickly than the other. Then, too, it is also possible to give and take multiple delights in a bout of passion," he told her.

"Oh, yes! Teach me that, my lord!" She almost wriggled with her excitement, very much like an eager young puppy.

Madoc laughed, charmed with her enthusiasm, which, in all his years of watching over her, he could have never guessed. Perhaps, however, he should have and would have had he not been so entranced with her. Wynne had a great capacity for life and for living. Then he sobered. This experiment in passion had been performed for the express purpose of jogging her memory. "Tell me, dearling," he questioned her, "have you remembered anything of times past now?"

Wynne considered and then shook her head. "It matters not," she said, dismissing his query airily. "I love you, Madoc, and that is what is important to me. What was between us is a time long gone. It is now that I care about."

"Nay," he said. "You must remember, Wynne. If you love me, you must remember for my sake, if not your own."

"Then help me, Madoc! Help me to remember what I must for both our sakes! For the sakes of the children I will surely bear you!" Then she smiled. "Perhaps we just need a little more time, Madoc. After all, this is the first time we have made love, at least in this life." She smiled mischievously at him. "I think we need to make love again and probably yet again before I will begin to remember."

He laughed. "You are a vixen, I vow, my adorable dearling! You may be correct though." He cupped a small breast within the palm of his hand and fondled it teasingly.

"I will do whatever my lord commands," she replied in dulcet tones, and turned her face up to his for a kiss.

THE LADY OF RAVEN’S ROCK
WALES, 1061

In introducing Wynne to lovemaking, Madoc had opened a whole new world for her. It was a world in which she was completely comfortable. It was a world that she enjoyed more fully than he would have thought possible. She was an apt pupil in the arts of Eros. Indeed, she wanted to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her. As each day passed he could see her genuine love for him growing, along with her passion for him. That knowledge tore at Madoc, for despite all Wynne strove to give him, it would not be enough unless she could remember that fatal moment in time that had set the course of their mutual destinies.

January passed. Then February. In mid-March the springtime burst upon them and the hills were bright with colorful blooms. Wynne sensed his rising despair. "I did not come to Raven's Rock to make you unhappy, Madoc," she told him one evening as they lay together. "I came to be your cherished wife. Yet my very presence, for all our passion, breaks your heart. I can bear no more of it, my love!" She pushed back an errant lock of her raven's black hair. Her face was even paler than usual. "I have tried to remember, but I cannot! It is as if something is preventing me and I know not why. You cannot tell me what it is that binds us together you say; but I must still know if we are to be happy. Help me, Madoc! Help me to remember that other time since I seem so unable to do so myself.

Madoc sighed deeply and then he looked up into her beautiful face. "I will blend a special packet of herbs for you, dearling. When you are ready to make your journey in time, Wynne, mix them in a goblet of wine and drink it down. You will fall into a deep sleep. The herbs in the wine will free your mind to remember that past which you and I shared. The wine will relax you so that you have no fear."

"Have we not shared more than one past together, Madoc?" she gently pressed him. Now that her decision was made, some deeper instinct was stirring within her.

He nodded in the affirmative. "We have."

"Why now and not before?" she wondered aloud.

"God has a great sense of both justice and humor, Wynne. The timing was never quite right. This is the first time we have been lovers since then."

She nodded and then asked him, "How can I be certain that I will remember that particular life which seems to trouble you so greatly?"

"Because that is the life that you wish to remember, dearling," he told her. "That is the door which will open for you. It is as simple as that."

"How long will I sleep, my lord?" She pushed nervously at her hair again.

"A few hours. A few days," he told her quietly. "It depends upon how much you choose to remember."

"I would know everything, Madoc," she told him resolutely. "Though I believe the past is best left behind, I can see that the pain of that past will not leave you until I have relived it, though I do not understand why. Still, I will do it for you because I love you! I want us to get on with the lives we now live. There is so much ahead for us to share, my love!"

"Pray God you are right, Wynne!" he cried wholeheartedly and, reaching up, he drew her down into his gentle embrace.

She snuggled against him for a moment and then said, "I will not get lost in time, Madoc, will I?" It seemed to be her one great fear.

"Nay, darling," he promised her. "You will only sleep. Your lovely body will remain precisely where you lay it down. You will awaken when you choose to awaken. You need have no terrors over it."

"Is there anything else that I need to know?" she fretted.

"Nothing." He paused and finally said, "When do you wish to do this thing?"

"Not for a few days' time, but blend your herbs, Madoc, for there will come one moment in which I shall be braver than in any other moment. It is then I will depart on this adventure, so be prepared."