My mind drifted to the feelings he evoked inside of me as he entered me the first time. I remembered the feeling of spreading warmth through my body as he found his pleasure inside of me. I recalled the feeling of his hands in my hair and on my hip, holding me to him as he cried out, and the strange, incomprehensible meaning of his words as he thrust inside of me.
“I wish I knew what was going on in your head,” Branford said. I startled and looked back to his eyes. He did not appear to be agitated, just inquisitive.
“I was wondering about something you said.” I bit down on my lip, wondering if I should ask. What if it was something he did not want me to question? I took a deep breath, and tried to give him the opportunity to refuse my queries. We were not in our chair at the moment, and I was still unsure when I should ask him questions and when I should not. “You do not have to answer if you would rather not.”
“What did you want to know?”
“You said, um…when you were…” I bit down on my lip, not sure how I should phrase it. “You, um, you said, ‘He was right,’ and I wanted to ask what you meant. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to.”
Branford was silent for a moment before he let out a low chuckle.
“Something Father Tucker has told me on many occasions.” Branford smiled sheepishly.
“Father Tucker?”
“He is the priest in the chapel near the castle,” Branford explained. “I have…confessed to him. He knows of my past transgressions, and he always told me if I would wait until I was wed—wait until the act was sanctified in the eyes of God—then the pleasure I felt would be so much better.”
I kept looking into his eyes, trying to understand exactly what he meant.
“Father Tucker was right,” Branford finally said. “It felt so much better to be inside of you than it ever has before. I honestly had not believed him before this night, but being with you…”
He stroked the side of my face with his knuckles, slowly dragging them over my skin as he followed the movement with his eyes.
“It felt right.” His voice was soft, and I kept looking at his face, bathed in the light of the candles around us. “It felt like I was supposed to be there.”
It had felt right, and I found myself feeling strangely empty now that he was no longer buried inside of me. I remembered some of his words in the meadow—how he had said he had an appetite for such acts—and I wondered when he would take me again. He had said earlier he would want me in the morning, but I was still not sure if he was serious or not. If he was truly so insatiable, I thought I would likely be with child, his child, before the end of summer. Then I realized it was entirely possible, however unlikely, I was carrying his child right at this moment.
“What are you thinking?” Branford asked. He pushed a piece of hair away from my face and back behind my ear.
“I was thinking…or wondering, really…I know it is not very likely…”
“What is not likely?”
“I just wondered if you…if you might have, um…started a baby.”
Branford’s eyes became unfocused for a moment, and then he glanced down at my belly. He shifted his weight and dropped to the bed at my side. He pulled his arm back and he rested his warm fingers over my smooth, flat stomach. The corners of his mouth turned up as his fingers danced over my skin.
“I would like that,” he said. Branford stretched and slid his body down a little, resting his head against my shoulder while his hand caressed my belly. The ends of his hair tickled my chin, so I brushed them aside, marveling again at how soft his hair felt in my fingers. I watched the strands as my fingers ran through them. Finally, Branford spoke again.
“Do you like children?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you say that only to appease me?”
“I’ve always liked children,” I repeated. “I used to care for Hedda when her wet-nurse was busy with other tasks. I liked taking care of her.”
Branford nodded, but his forehead was furrowed, and his mouth was turned down in a scowl.
“I will make sure we find plenty of trusted servants as wet-nurses and nannies—you won’t have to raise them yourself.”
Visions of the wet-nurses as they held Hedda and their own children to their breasts, talking, laughing, and caring for the little ones flowed through my head. Though I had played with Hedda and the other children in Edgar’s castle, I remembered being somewhat envious that I could not nourish them as their nurses did. Another vision came to me—one of a tiny baby boy with wisps of dark hair on the top of his head. In my mind I saw a woman with an indiscernible face, holding him to her chest while I looked on, and I immediately frowned.
“I wouldn’t mind taking care of them,” I said quietly. Branford turned and looked at me, his eyes wide and sparkling. As the image faded from my head, I spoke again. “I want to be the one to raise our children.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.” Branford tigh
tened his arms around me, and I wondered how much he worried about having nannies around his children. Tension in his shoulders I had not even realized was there released, and he relaxed against me with a slight smile displayed on his face. Minutes went by in silence as he ran his fingers over my belly, and I stroked his hair back off of his forehead. Eventually, he spoke again.