Christine declines

Christine looked back and forth between the two, first at Marielle's sparkling eyes and mischievous grin to the Verderer's somber blue eyes that stared at her with an unsettling steadiness. She could not know what the goodwife had in mind when she invited Christine to share their bed, but she did know for sure what she wanted from her handsome savior. How could someone as sheltered and innocent as she was, crave the touch of a happily married man so much that she feared to be with him even with his wife in the same bed?

Christine had at best only the vaguest idea of how a man might take pleasure from the soft body of a young woman. Christine was even more sheltered than many other young noblewomen her age; with her mother as sickly as she had been the past few years, she missed the private instruction that may have better prepared her for a marriage bed. What she did know though, was that every glance from the Verderer made her insides bubble like a cauldron of porridge, she couldn't trust herself if he so much laid a hand upon her soft flesh.

"May I see the room?" She asked softly not daring to make eye contact with either Werner or his earthy wife for fear that she might be disappoint them. How could she explain that it was not them that she mistrusted, but her own weak flesh that threatened to betray her.

"Of course, Evelyn. Werner will take you there now and even check the ticking for rats." Marielle's warm laughter put her at ease, "but remember that you are welcome to share our room with us any time you like." Christine felt a profound sense of relief that she had not disappointed her good-natured hostess, the Verderer on the other hand still had the same inscrutable stare as before.

"Oh, but I can't wear this beautiful gown to the stables."

"You are an angel, aren't you?" The goodwife took her by her arm even as she turned to speak to her spouse. "Werner, go shake out that old mattress and make sure there's a clean blanket for Evelyn, we'll go have her change into something for the night."

So it was that a few minutes later she had changed into a simple linen shift that scraped against her stiff nipples every time she moved. After the creamy softness of the cotton undergarment, the simple homespun fabric felt even more coarse than it probably was. It did not help that every inch of her soft skin felt hyper-sensitive.

It was probably the stress of all the horrific events leading to this moment, but that did not explain why when Master Werner took her hand to lead her through the darkened stables that her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm sorry about the lack of light, Miss Evelyn," his baritone rumbled out of the blackness, "we'll not take the risk of an open flame, with all the dry wood and straw." It was unlikely that the Verderer saw her nod, but she did not trust herself to speak. "The steps are directly in front of you," he told her as he took her hand in his and pressed it against a rough wall to her right, "there is not enough room for the two of us in that small room, so I'll bid you good-rest from here." Christine climbed one step and then turned to face where she knew the handsome man was standing.

"Thank-you, Master Werner." Christine finally found her tongue, and in spite of her sincere intent to be good, somehow her hand was resting on the man's broad chest and she could feel his heart beating wildly even through the thick quilting of his tunic. Even standing on the step, the Verderer was still almost a foot taller than her. It was easier to speak in the dark and the words spilled out freely "Thank-you for everything - saving me from those vile brigands ... for letting us ride your horse … and your hospi-" She was stopped by the Verderer's fingers covering her lips, but it did not ease the burning in her core, if anything, his touch made her want to collapse into his strong arms.