A young girl is married to an older widower. Her mother dares to speak to the groom.
|The bride's mother didn't smile at the anxious groom. |
He was a Commander in the Prince's Palace and this woman's look of judgment had him literally shaking in his boots.
She was a bold one, warning him, "You are fortunate to marry my daughter. Be gentle, she does not know men. I have explained what a proper wife must do."
He lowered his eyes, "I understand, Madam, and am grateful."
An arranged marriage; it was common in their culture.
He was twenty years older than the bride and had been married twice already.
Both wives had died in childbirth.
Waiting for him now was a lovely virgin and only fifteen.
Her groom knocked.
She bid him, "Come in".
Stunning in a lovely cream satin lace nightgown, she welcomed him with a shy smile.
The scene was seductive yet innocent, like her flawless peach skin.
Candles softened the old suite and a lavender scent kissed the air.
He undressed; her eyes grew wide at his erect maleness.
First kisses were gentle and sweet. He took the time to arouse her with gentle fingers. She opened like succulent honeysuckle.
He cared that she enjoyed his gift of love.
The next morning, the new wife looked directly into her mother's questioning eyes,
"I enjoy marriage very much."
Her deep blush spoke volumes.
The woman felt a brief moment of envy. Her own wedding night had been agony.
As a loving mother, she felt a sigh of relief. Her baby had flown from the nest with delight.
By Kathie Stehr