She shrieked when he grabbed her and pulled her up against his chest, both of them kneeling now in the middle of the bed. She was entirely naked but he still had his breeches on, though they had slid down his hips. That was her last observation for a good while, because he seemed intent on demonstrating to her how very seriously he took this kissing business.

Poor Sally, who had married her father’s law clerk for his reliable ways and calm good sense.

“You’re thinking again,” he said. And: “I can fix that.”

He moved her on the bed, nudging gently as he tasted and rubbed and suckled, her flesh pebbling and flushing hot with his attention. Then oddly enough she was lying crosswise on the bed with her legs dangling over the side, pillows under her head and shoulders. Daniel stood before her and, bending at the waist, he covered her. Hip to breast she felt him hovering there, with his weight on his feet. It left his good arm free for things other than holding himself over her.

And he made excellent use of that good right arm and hand and every finger on it. Except he hadn’t yet touched her where the ache was worst. She was wondering if she dare ask him for such a thing when his hand moved up her thigh into the soft folds of her sex. At the same moment he drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled so hard that something deep in her belly flexed and began to flow. The sound she made shocked her but she could no more be silent than she could stop breathing.

There was no place to put her legs; she drew her knees up and then dropped them, ran her heels down his thighs rock hard with tensed muscle and she realized first, that he had lost his breeches somewhere along the way and second, that she had wrapped her legs around him and his sex was pressed up against hers.

At that moment he let her nipple go with a soft plop and she saw down the length of her body to his. Her new husband, naked and fully aroused. Clearly what they were about to do must be possible, but now the mechanics struck her as absurd.

“Dear Lord.” She put her head back and closed her eyes. Then Daniel was beside her, flat on his back.

“I meant to distract you,” he said.

She burped a small laugh. “I have this image in mind, of somebody trying to put a cucumber through a buttonhole.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, and giggled anyway.

Daniel lifted himself up over her on his good arm, his expression blank. Then his mouth twitched and they were laughing, both of them, like loons.

She said, “Is it hopeless, do you think?”

Daniel cupped her face. His smile was so open and sincere she had to love him just for that. He said, “I’ll do my best to get you ready.”

She wanted to ask what he meant, how it was possible to make her ready and what that had to do with the pain she knew was coming. But then they had talked enough, and Daniel’s expression was so focused and intent that she was drawn in and curious and eager, less worried about pain than she was fearful of disappointing him.

At first the lightest of touches, nothing more than the brushing of his mouth against her neck and cheek and brow. Then his teeth nipped at her earlobe, worried her lower lip. Before she realized what she was about, she reached up, grabbed one earlobe, and brought his mouth to hers so she could kiss him properly, a tender kiss that made her whole body soften and open to him.

Because she did want him; that was the simplest truth.

He moved, his mouth sliding down her chest, back to her breasts where he lingered until she was gasping, and down farther and farther until he was kneeling on the floor, his head buried between her legs.

Her breath hitched and caught as he spread her flesh with two curious fingers and then kissed her, hot and openmouthed, where she had been expecting an invasion of another kind.

Martha moved under his touch, twisted and opened, wrapped herself around him.

She was trying to catch her breath when he got to his feet to stand between her legs and press himself against her. Arched over her, he whispered into her ear, his voice deep and sweet, every word as powerful as his touch. He told her things she never realized she wanted to hear, about her own body and the feel of her skin and the taste of her. Salty sweet, like the sea.

She said, “I’m ready now. I think I’m ready.” That she could blush in this situation was a mystery, but she felt her color climbing.

He said, “I’ll be the judge of that.” And he went back to his work, though she was already dissolving like sugar in hot water.

And when it was time, when the urge to lift her hips to welcome him was irresistible, then he came to her. Sealed their marriage by penetrating her body with his own, stretched her to the bursting point and filled her to overflowing.

The pain was sharp, upward-spiraling, all-consuming, and then it fell away to a throbbing ache. He inhaled her cry and spoke to her, his voice reedy with the strain, and breathless. Hold and wait and feel me. Feel me inside you.

With his forehead pressed to hers she could not hide what she was feeling, or ignore the things she saw in his face. Concern, worry, and a flickering of pleasure that caught and flared. His whole body trembled but he held himself still while she shifted and adjusted herself around him. He throbbed within her like a heart grown suddenly too large.

When the pain began to fade Martha let a long hitching breath go. She realized then that his hand was on her breast, cupping it as gently as an egg. One finger traced the lower curve and then he opened his hand and touched her nipple with his palm. A strange sound came from her own throat and he dropped his head and drew that nipple into his mouth. Her muscles began to twitch and spasm around him and her hips rose of their own volition as if to ask for more.