Ranulf let his eye roam deliberately and carefully over her perfect form. Round little breasts, no bigger than small apples, and a waist he could span with his two big hands. "Mon Dieu," he said breathlessly. "You are without flaw, petite."

Never taking her eyes from him, Elf unfastened the laces on his chemise, pulling it open and pushing it down to rest below his waist. Breaking the glance between them, she just as exactingly examined him. She remembered the first time she had seen him in the bath, but this was different. Her two small hands smoothed themselves over the broad expanse of his chest, then his shoulders. Running down his muscled arms, her fingers touched and stopped on a short, but thick scar upon his upper arm.

"The bite of a lance during a jousting tournament," he told her, catching her hand up to kiss the palm.

"Did you win?" she asked, taking her hand back.

"Aye," he said softly.

"And this one?" The pad of her forefinger rested at the crest of a longer, narrower scar upon his shoulder. "How did you come by this wound, my lord?"

"In a battle between the king’s and the empress’s forces, petite."

"You need more practice," she told him. "Both wounds are on the same side. You leave yourself open there. If you do not change your habits, you could lose your life through such carelessness one day."

"And how, Eleanore, has my little nun divined such an opinion?" he asked, quite amazed by her astuteness.

"It is not obvious, my lord?" was her quick reply.

"Your eye is sharp, lady," he said softly. His loins were beginning to burn with his longing for her.

"You have an improper look in your eyes, Ranulf. I think you should kiss me." Elf realized he was beginning to lust after her. Just looking at her was stirring his desires. His arm wrapped about her again, and his mouth came fiercely down on hers. He was dangerous! Then she gasped, quite unprepared for the feel of the hand that cupped her breast, fondled it gently, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing against her nipple until it was stiff and hard.

"Ranulf!" she squeaked, trembling.

"Eleanore."

"Oh!" But Mistress Martha had said men like to touch women’s breasts. She had not said, however, that when they did you would feel both hot and cold at the same time, and that your heart would threaten to burst through your chest. No. She had not said that!

"You are exquisite, petite," Ranulf said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't fathom. His hand moved to her other breast.

Fascinated, she watched the big hand cup her, the very repetitive motion of his thumb as it rubbed, and rubbed, and rubbed until it achieved the required result, and her nipple stood rigid. His fingers tenderly brushed her flesh until it was so sensitive that she actually moaned with his touch. "Stop," she finally whispered. "I shall die! I know I will!"

In response he kissed her again, his mouth playing over hers like a wildfire, brushing, lightly touching, nibbling upon her lips. She sighed with unfeigned pleasure, and he laughed softly. His hands encircled her waist, and he lifted her up, pressing his face into the shadowed valley between her delightful little breasts.

Elf reached out, using her hands to brace herself upon his shoulders as he held her up. It seemed to her that she was but a feather to him. The feel of his face against her flesh was exciting. Then suddenly she gasped as his tongue swept slowly up between her breasts. "Ohhhhhh!" The tongue moved on to lick at her nipples. Ripples of pure excitement raced up and down her spine. But he had not yet finished. His lips had closed over one of her nipples, and he began tugging hard upon it. "Ohhhhhh!" Elf closed her eyes with the utter pleasure that was sweeping over her. His mouth moved to the other nipple, and she shuddered with the exquisite thrill of it.

Now he slowly lowered her again into his lap, cradling her in his arms. "You are not frightened," he said. It was a statement more than a question.

"No," she said. " 'Tis lovely. I never dreamed…"

He laughed softly. "Of course you didn't, my innocent petite. Little nuns don't know of carnal love, nor should they."

"Matti and Isa used to watch the priest with the dairymaid," Elf told him.

"But you did not, I am certain."

"No, I didn't," Elf answered him. She turned slightly in his arms so that she might touch him again, bending her head and licking at his broad chest. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but he said nothing that would indicate he was displeased by her actions. Indeed his arms fell away from her so she might move freely. The taste of him on her tongue was faintly salty, but the scent of him was more elusive. Soap, and… musk? Yes, there was a muskiness about him, and it excited her greatly.

He watched her innocent exploration of his body. Her head moved lower, then lower still, sweeping over his belly, which was knotting in excitement. He knew he had to stop her now, but it was with great effort he raised her back up so he might kiss her. She melted against him, her warm naked skin pressed to his. Their arms wrapped tightly about each other, their mouths fused in a long kiss. Then Elf pulled away and sighed deeply.

The time was almost right. He slowly drew her chemise off, dropping it by the side of their bed. His lips brushed over her face, her eyelids, her straining throat. One hand grasped her shoulder. The other moved over her body tenderly, exploring loveliness such as he had never known… or even imagined. She writhed like a flame in his arms. Her skin was as soft as the finest silk, and he could feel her quivering ever so slightly beneath his big palm. She was pure perfection with her sweetly rounded hips and her slender legs.

His fingers brushed over the warm, plump mound of her Venus mont, smooth and devoid of hair as a proper lady’s should be. The tightness in his groin was greater than he had ever known. He ceased exploration of her for a moment to pull his own chemise off. Then he began stroking her again. A single finger ran down the shadowed slit dividing her delicate nether lips. He saw the instinctive tightening of her thighs.

To be touched so intimately. She had never imagined she would be touched in such a manner. Only now did she realize how naked being naked was. She felt almost threatened, and yet he was not threatening her. The finger began to push into her flesh. She tensed, and he stopped, kissing her lips softly as if he were reassuring her. The finger moved again, deeper, deeper. Elf struggled not to cry out.

She did not need a knife beneath the bed to cut the pain, Ranulf thought. She needed to be well prepared to receive his manhood. His finger sought carefully for the tiny jewel of her womanhood. Finding it, he began to play with it, teasing it with an extremely delicate touch. His mouth kissed her lips, her face. His arm held her tightly. The relentless finger flicked back and forth over the sensitive little nub of flesh, and it began to swell and tingle with its new sensitivity.

What was happening? Elf felt her heart begin to beat faster. The hidden spot between her legs that he was even now taunting was growing tight, and it felt as if it might burst. She gasped for air as a wave of heat washed over her, and then suddenly she seemed to explode with intense feeling. "Ranulf!" she cried his name as she felt the finger leave its place, and push slowly into her. Her lithe body arched against him. The finger was gentle, but a distinct invasion.

Her little jewel had responded quickly to him, Ranulf thought, well pleased. Her body had released a flow of her juices, and his finger was sliding easily into her tight sheath. She winced when it touched her maidenhead, which was tightly lodged, but she did not struggle or beg him to stop. He moved the long finger back and forth within her love channel, and she began to whimper. "Are you ready to be a woman, Eleanore?" he asked her, looking deep into her silvery eyes.

"Yes!" she nodded. Relief! She wanted relief from this burning, overwhelming feeling that was threatening to kill her. Instinctively she knew that only Ranulf could offer her that surcease.

"You are dainty, and I am large," he told her. "I could crush you with my size. We must be extremely careful this first time." He lifted her from his lap, and laid her upon their bed. Then he knelt before her, leaning back upon his haunches.

Elf’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and shock as she viewed her husband’s manhood for the first time. This was no boy’s lance, but the full-grown weapon of a man. "You cannot put that in me," she gasped. "It is too big! You will kill me with it!"

"Nay, petite, it will fit nicely, I promise you," he said. "Now, open yourself to me, Eleanore, and trust me not to harm you."

Reluctantly she spread herself before him. Taking her gently by the ankles, he drew her forward until his manhood met her nether lips. He rubbed himself up and down her slit until it began to pout, and give off a moistness of its very own. The head of his lance slipped between those humid lips. He drew her even closer, and she felt him beginning to delve into her love channel. Elf shuddered, not from fear, but rather from anticipation of what was to come.

He felt the head of his manhood penetrate her gently, entering her, moving slowly forward. It was all he could do not to violate her and take his own pleasure, so great was his lust for her now. "When I press deep, petite, wrap your legs about me," he instructed her in a tight voice. He began to push forward into her, and to his delight her slender legs folded themselves about him. She was tight. She was hot and, oh, so very wet! He groaned with the pleasure of her. Her body filled his senses, setting his head awhirl.