And she had no need to be.
Not when she was with him.
He was her guardian, had always put her first, and just being near him was enough to slow the rapid beating of her heart, to still the hints of panic that were coming about the edges of her consciousness.
How could he affect her so with just his proximity? To make her feel so safe and so exhilarated all at once, to draw the breath from her lungs when he looked at her a certain way, when he smiled at her with that clever smirk, when he teased and shared and was so very sweet, always so careful of her...
And she loved him so.
There was much she did not understand, and perhaps this matter was not something that could be read about in one of her books, but had to be experienced for herself.
With him.
She bit her lip, and Grimult was there with a kiss, keeping her from abusing herself with her conflicting emotions.
“Breakfast first,” he murmured, pulling away. “Then a bath.”
She swallowed, her pulse already quickening in anticipation. “What then?”
Another kiss, another promise.
“Then,” Grimult answered, his voice a rumble that sent a shiver through her. “A seduction.”
Eight
Penryn was before the fire, putting Grimult’s feathers back to rights, unable to keep either her blushes or her smile completely from her features.
She peeked over Grim’s shoulder, shaking her head to herself as he stared at the fire drowsily, but even there were the upturned corners of his mouth.
She was happy he was pleased.
“We are going to have to be more mindful of your wings, the next time,” Penryn announced. They had meant to be, Grimult easing her back on the bed and settling over her, his mouth and hands teasing and reassuring in turn.
But at one point reason had left her and their roles were reversed, and while Grim had complied readily enough, his wings did not appreciate being crushed so thoroughly beneath him.
“I have a greedy wife,” Grimult complained, although she did not think he truly minded, not when he had kissed her so thoroughly, leaving no question in her mind just how desired, how wanted she was by the man she was privileged enough to call husband.
If the word had seemed foreign before, not quite fitting with hastily spoken promises given between them, it settled rightly now.
Even his explanation of her physiology made more sense to her now, for after the act there was an acute awareness of... something, and she could feel the pull to simply let go, that a fledgling really would be a wonderful addition. They had a dwelling here, for the moment, and she was so very curious to see what one of their offspring would look like. A bit of her, a great deal of him...
But she pushed it back, and the awareness left, and she felt a moment’s loss, then an even greater relief.
Grimult had looked at her quizzically, and she could well understand how his father had difficulty explaining such a sensation. Like with the copulation itself, it was one best experienced rather than explained, although even now, her thoughts burned as she settled feather after feather, her mind not yet ready to leave the bed behind them.
Grimult had been right—the bath was a wondrous thing. There were nerves to contend with, most especially when they were both naked at last before a steaming tub that awaited their attention. They had done it before, she reminded herself firmly. Exposed to one another as they bathed, although travels had made the experience far more necessary than it was now.
And while there had been temptation there as well, at least on her part, restraint had been a mutual agreement.
It certainly was not now.
At first their glances were shy, timid and stolen as they regarded one another for the first time.
A husband and his wife.
The thought was a thrilling one, and set a pulse deep within her, something ancient that she could not quite name.
And suddenly she was filled with visions of the illustrations from the husbandry book. Were they well proportioned for one another? She hoped so, for she could not imagine being with any other. Would not be, even if there was another to choose, for Grim was hers, and she was his, and she loved him so...
And he was too far away.
He took such careful attention to the experience, running foaming hands of fragrant soaps across her skin, leaving her breathless and wanting when she was able to release her initial trepidation.
Her belly full of the breakfast they had prepared together and the cups of tea shared in their respective chairs, their hands twined together, unwilling to be fully parted, it was she that had insisted her bath was finished. Perhaps she was a poor receiver when it came to seduction, for he had chuckled at her that he had expected it to take more effort to persuade her to the bed. There was a moment’s doubt, a wonder if it was some ancient game that she did not know the rules of how to play, but he had kissed her sweetly, and she could see the apology there for drawing out her concerns. “I was not complaining,” he assured her, and she did not remember to be cross with him, not when he picked her up, towel and all, and brought her to the bed.
One meant for a life of solitude, of days spent in quiet and loneliness, but instead was shared.
And most deliciously so.
And even in her solitary wonderings, she had never given much thought to how it might feel, skin on skin with one’s beloved, the excitement mixing with sheer joy at a wish fulfilled, and it was possible that she cried a little, not from discomfort or the mortification that did not come, but from the rightness, the completeness she felt to
