He had watched the changing expressions on her face. It was like watching a clear sky turn stormy. “Can you feel the pleasure beginning, my lambkin?” he whispered to her. “Is it good? Let me complete what we have started. I long to possess you completely!”
“Yes!” It was clearly said.
She felt his muscled thighs pinion her firmly. He began to piston her with quicker strokes of his manhood. Faster, and faster, and faster, and then a sharp burning pain overwhelmed her as her maidenhead shattered before the onslaught of his weapon. The pain swept up her torso, filling her achingly as he sheathed himself completely within her with a triumphant cry. Cailin gasped as the fire filled her belly. Her nails clawed at his straining back. She would have screamed in her terrified agony had he not covered her mouth with his own at the precise moment he deflowered her.
He had hurt her! He hadn’t even warned her of this torture! Of course he hadn’t. He knew full well she would have not allowed him the liberty of her body had she known of this horrendous pain. She hated him! She would never forgive him. She … she … she was suddenly aware of a new and absolutely delicious sensation sweeping over her. The pain had vanished as rapidly as it had come. Nothing remained but warm, sweet pleasure. Wulf was moving again upon her, and the honeyed fire pouring through her veins was akin to nothing she had ever experienced before.
“Ohhhh!” she half sobbed as he released her lips. “Oh!” There was a hot tightness building inside her. “What is happening to me?” she moaned desperately as she felt her body beginning to spiral out of control. She was soaring! It was wonderful! She didn’t want it to stop! Up. Up. Up. She could go on forever like this. Then the sensation climaxed, bursting like a thousand shooting stars inside both her body and her brain. “Ohhhhh!” she cried, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and disappointed as she felt the deliciousness melting away as quickly as it had come upon her.
“No!” Cailin said, and then she opened her eyes and looked into his. “More!” she demanded.
Wulf Ironfist burst out laughing, but there was no mockery in the sound. It was the laughter of a happy and relieved man. He smoothed her hair from her face and rolled off of her, kissing the tip of her nose as he did so. Then propping himself up against the wall of the bed space, he looked down into her face and said, “I hope you gained as much pleasure from our passion as I did, lambkin.” Then he drew her into the safety of his strong arms.
Cailin nodded, turning her head to look up at him. Her euphoria was abating slightly, but she was not unhappy. “After the pain it was wonderful,” she told him shyly.
“There is only pain the first time,” he promised. “We shall make fine children. The gods have been kind to us, Cailin Drusus. We are well-mated and well-matched, I think.”
“Your seed is fierce,” she said, blushing with the remembrance of how she felt it flooding her with sharp bursts. “Perhaps even now we have begun our first son, Wulf Ironfist,” she finished as they slipped beneath the coverlet again.
He lay his great blond head upon her breasts, and was pleased when she cradled him as protectively as he had her. He had come to the Dobunni seeking land. The gods, in their wisdom, had given him Cailin, and a brand new future.
“If we were in your world,” he said, “and I had asked your father for you, and he had consented, how would our marriage be celebrated?”
“The ceremony would begin at my father’s villa,” Cailin told him. “The house would be decorated with flowers, if there were any, and boughs of greenery, finely spun colored wool, and tapestries. The omens would be taken in the hour of the false dawn, and being auspicious, the guests would begin arriving even before the sunrise. They would come from all the neighboring villas, and from the town of Corinium, too.
“The bride and the groom would come to the atrium, and the ceremony would begin. We would be brought together by a happily married matron who would be our pronuba. She would join our hands before ten formal witnesses, although actually all our guests would be present.”
“Why ten?” he asked her.
“Ten for the ten original patrician families of Rome,” she answered him, and then continued, “I would then say the ancient words of my consent to our marriage. ‘When—and where—you are Gaius, I then—and there—am Gaia.’ We would then move to the left of the family altar and face it, sitting on stools covered with the skin of sheep sacrificed for the occasion. My father would then offer a cake of spelt to Jupiter. We would eat the cake, while my father prayed aloud to Juno, who is Goddess of Marriage. He would pray to Nodens, and to other gods of the land, both Roman and Celtic. Afterward we would be considered truly wed. There are other forms of the marriage ceremony, but this was the one always used by my family.
“My parents would then host a great feast which would last the entire day. At the end of it pieces of our wedding cake would be distributed to our guests for luck. Then I would be formally escorted to my husband’s home. You would seize me from the shelter of my mother’s arms, and I would take my place in the procession. We would be led by torch bearers, and musicians, and anyone along the way might join in the parade. Indeed, this procession was considered the final stamp of validity to a marriage in the old days.
“It is customary for a bride to be attended by three young boys whose parents are both living. Two would walk next to me and hold my hands, while the third would go before me carrying a branch of hawthorn. Behind me would be carried a spindle and distaff. I would have three coins of silver; one I would offer to the gods of the Crossroads, the second I would give to you, representing my dowry, and the third I would offer to your household gods.”
“And would I do nothing except stride proudly along?” he said.
“Oh, no,” Cailin told him. “You would scatter sesame cakes, nuts, and other sweetmeats among the bystanders. When we reached your house, I would decorate the door posts with colored wool, and anoint the door with precious oils. Then you would lift me up and carry me across the threshold. It is considered bad luck if a bride’s foot should slip while entering her new home.”
“I would not let you slip,” he promised, and lifting his head up, he kissed her lips. “Is that all?”
“No,” Cailin said with a little laugh. “There is more. As you carried me into the house, I would repeat the same words I had said to you at our marriage ceremony. Then the door would be closed to the crowds outside.”
“And we would be alone at last!” Wulf Ironfist said.
“No,” Cailin answered, giggling. “We would have certain invited guests with us. You would put me upon my feet and offer me fire and water as a token of the life we would share, and as symbols of my duty in our home. There would be wood and kindling already set in the hearth, which I would light with the marriage torch. Then I would toss the torch among our guests. It is considered very lucky to gain possession of a marriage torch.”
“Then our guests would go home, and we would finally be alone,” he said. “Am I right, Cailin Drusus?”
She chuckled. “No.”
“No?” he said in exaggerated tones of outrage.
“I would have to recite a prayer first,” she said.