Behind a screen, maids undressed the two of them. Then, clad in nightgowns and robes, they were brought before each other. The Bishop once again bound their hands with his stole to symbolize their union, then blessed them, tracing a cross on each of their foreheads with Holy Water.
The bed was also generously sprinkled with Holy Water, and Eric and Matilda lay down on it together. Then, everyone left, and they were alone.
Only Eric and Matilda remained in the room, and the once-spacious chamber now felt small.
Matilda could clearly hear the sound of Eric’s breath.
He then moved on top of her.
"We should begin," Eric said.
Matilda turned her head aside, and Eric instantly removed her golden hairnet.
Her long, reddish-gold hair spilled across her right cheek, and her snow-white skin began to flush.
He then lowered his head, kissing her face, throat, and neck.
The fragrant oils gave her smooth skin and soft curves a unique allure.
Moreover, her skin was fair and flawless, and her features were so exquisite that no one could deny her beauty.
Eric then cupped her face, kissed her mouth, and parted her teeth.
The kiss was so intense it made it hard for her to breathe. Her hands dug into his shoulder blades in an attempt to fight back.
But it was useless. He seemed not to feel it at all, which annoyed Matilda.
It was a long, lingering kiss. She gasped for air, and in that slightly suffocated state, she felt a morbid excitement.
She kissed him back, her hands moving down his sides to feel the curve of his ribs and the swell of his hips. His skin was smooth and soft, and his breath smelled of wine and cardamom.
Then she slowly unfastened his nightgown.
He simply pulled his own nightgown open, and it was the first time she had seen his body. He was young and powerful, like a young golden lion, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach.
A strange sensation surged through her, while the rest of her body softened with need.
She knew it was desire, not love, but because of the Church’s sacrament, it was more than just desire. They both bore the responsibility of consummating the marriage.
He tore open her nightgown, lightly kissing her beautiful body and grabbing her hips to hold her in place.
The delicate, fair skin of her throat; the small hollow beneath her ear; the perfect angles of her forehead, cheeks, and chin. He wanted to change nothing about her. He gently stroked her arm from shoulder to hand, admiring the silkiness of her skin.
"You will receive the respect you are due. It is your right, I promise," Eric said suddenly.
"Don’t make promises so easily," she said, biting her lip as she tried to maintain a cold demeanor. "I will hold you to it every single day of our marriage."
"I stand by my word. The respect I give you will be no less than the respect you give me."
"Swear it." She suddenly pushed him over, rising and straddling him, pinning him to the bed.
"I thought I already promised," he said, "but if you need it."
His tone remained even, as if he held more mysteries for her to discover, and this displeased her.
"You must swear it again," she said. "Because three times makes it binding."
She leaned down and bit his chest, the pressure just right—both painful and exquisite.
Eric suddenly hugged Matilda, pulling her against him. He let out a low chuckle. "If you are ready to fulfill your responsibility, then I am ready to fulfill my duty."
"If you grant me respect and rights, I shall grant you respect and rights of equal weight. I swear it now, and I will never break my word—not before my noble Marchioness, not before my beautiful wife, not before my Matilda. Not ever."
He nuzzled her throat with his beard. Now it was his turn to nip and suckle, and Matilda felt herself drowning in desire.
Tonight, she supposed, she was a sinner.