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On the night of their wedding, Stede and Mary Bonnet laid side by side, not touching. The new embroidered coverlet, which had been a part of her dowry, was carefully pulled up to their chests. Mary tried to remember what her mother had told her to do. The mechanics seemed impossibly complicated, and they had relied on her new husband taking the lead. Hours passed in silence. Mary could tell Stede was just as awake as she was.
“Well,” she started finally, unable to turn towards Stede to look him in the face. She thought he was a bit awkward. And his name was stupid. Did he think she was pretty? He’d given no sign. She thought of what to say to make it better. “We don’t have to, tonight.” That was true, wasn’t it? There would be time for all that the next night. Or the night after that. They had an infinite number of nights stretching out before them. It would get easier. Probably.
“No, of course not,” Stede agreed, chancing a sidelong look at his bride. She was still staring carefully at the ceiling. He liked her profile all right. Maybe if they became friends first, this would become easier. He’d always thought he could manage it, with a friend. “Only if–”
“What?” Mary made accidental eye contact with him and tried in vain to hide her panic. What was he asking?
“Well, if you wanted to–” Stede started, intending to communicate that he would defer to whatever she thought was proper and prudent tonight. The marriage wouldn’t be sealed until it was consummated, technically, though he didn’t mind about that. No one had to know what passed between them. He thought of the books on his bedside table, and how much he’d rather be reading one of them.
“I don’t want to–” Mary said at the same time, meaning she didn’t want to force it, but she heard the way it came out. Stede breathed a sigh of relief.
“All right, that settles it,” he said, clearly relieved. He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. She flinched. “We can try again tomorrow.” Already he was reaching for the sea adventure on his nightstand.
“No, wait,” Mary turned to face him and found his back was towards her already. That made this easier to get out. “Stede,” she began, wetting her lips. “I think we should try.”
After a long moment, he turned to face her. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, and she leaned in to kiss him. He closed his eyes with a breathy sigh. “That’s nice. Never been kissed before.” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, simply because it was true. There had been the time when a boy at school had made him kiss a pig while blindfolded, but surely that didn’t count.
That made Mary a bit sad, but “nice” would have to do. She wished he would look at her. She wriggled out of her nightdress while his eyes were still closed. She kissed his eyelids and he opened them.
“Oh, you’ve undressed,” Stede squeaked, flushing bright pink as he took in her naked body. “Well.” He couldn’t think what to say. It was about what he’d imagined. She was the very picture of what he’d been told to expect. And he felt nothing except a vague pang of embarrassment.
She thought she looked fairly good: full breasts, good hips, skin buffed to a shine by her mother’s lotions. This was her prime, after all. “Do you mind?” She asked, aiming for the coquettish tone she’d practiced at home, alone in the mirror.
“Mind? No,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss her again. “You’re very lovely. Like a painting.” It was Mary’s turn to blush. She rolled closer to him and kissed up his neck until she reached his ear. Her mother had told her to pay attention to the earlobes. Stede giggled. She pulled back, insulted. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said acidly, pushed him on his back, and rolled on top of him. She squirmed against him, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for him to take the lead. He did not. He mouthed wordlessly at her for a few moments while she tried to arrange herself in a posture he’d find attractive. Perhaps he was the strange kind of man who liked when women were assertive. She’d heard about such men, though she couldn’t imagine any man she knew personally being like that. Stede was odd, she decided, so perhaps odd would get through to him.
“I’m not sure that’s how it’s done,” he said finally, hands scrabbling at her hips with too much gentleness for her liking. “I thought we’d have to be… the other way round?” His father had told him the fastest way to an heir was to arrange the woman beneath him. This couldn’t be right, with Mary straddling him the way she was.
“It’s fine,” she assured him again, grabbing one of his hands and pressing it to her breast. “This will work.” She moved against him again, then stopped. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No! I’m afraid I’m just a bit nervous.” He looked green now, and Mary believed him. She was surprised his father hadn’t taken him to a brothel to get the nerves out of his system. Wasn’t that what was normally done? Should he be as ignorant as her? She shook her head in wonderment.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the nervous one?” she joked, taking the hem of his nightdress and sliding it slowly up to bunch around his stomach. She sat back and admired the view. He had a nice figure, she decided. She could work with this. “Do you know what we’re supposed to do now?”
“I– I think I do,” Stede stammered, hand still on her breast. The other hand was clenched in the bedclothes at his side. His knuckles were turning white.
“Could you do it, then?” Mary asked, exasperated. In all her preparation for this moment, no one had told her she would have to convince her husband to consummate their marriage. She had been prepared for him to hurt her, she had been prepared to bleed, she had been prepared for roughness and speed and discomfort and disdain, but she hadn’t expected…this. A strange and gentle man who wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Give me, give me a moment,” he pleaded. His eyes were closed tightly. If he thought about the lighthouse from the minister’s sermon, if he thought about ships and salt and strong arms rowing him out to sea, perhaps he could…
Mary felt him stir to life, and she moved against him in her own rhythm. He swelled against her and she gasped a little when she felt his cock rub its way between her thighs. He grabbed himself and opened his eyes to find hers. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked weakly, guiding it to her entrance. She nodded and bit her own lip, hard, as he pushed forward.
It hurt, but it wasn’t as awful as in the stories she’d been told. After a few minutes, she started to feel better. If she closed her eyes, she could remember the face of the stable boy at her parents’ estate, the one she’d always dreamed of kissing, who’d had dark eyes and hair and who had looked nothing like her new husband. She’d wanted to run away with him when she was fourteen, and she’d gone so far as to write down a plan for escape in her diary. But in the end, she’d been as obedient as any other girl of her station. She looked down at Stede again where he was rutting up into her. His eyes were screwed shut, and she was glad he wouldn’t see the look of disdain she felt on her own face. She hated herself for doing what she did, for going along with this. She’d taken the name of a man who couldn’t even look her in the eyes.
“What are you thinking about?” Mary asked suddenly, desperate to know. Why won’t you look at me? she wanted to ask, but then realized she didn’t want to hear the answer. Stede opened his eyes.
“The ocean,” he said, his voice rough with pleasure. “I’m– I’m thinking about the ocean.” With a small spasm, he finished inside her. Mary felt a hot rush between her legs and hoped she’d be with child soon, so that they wouldn’t have to do this very often. She rolled off of him and turned away, towards the wall.
I hate the ocean, she thought bitterly, and fell into an uneasy sleep.