Virginia And The Wolf

by Lynne Connolly

  So much man stood before her. What seemed like acres of him to her dazed senses. She took inventory. A broad, hair-sprinkled chest, wide shoulders and strong arms, all beautifully sculpted with smooth muscle. Narrow hips and long legs. What reared between them—passed her understanding. Long, thick, slightly curved, and for tonight at least, all hers.

  “When you’ve finished your study, do let me know,” he said in a fashionable drawl, laughter in his voice.

  Her attention flew to his face. He was smiling, but he had not lost that sultry, fiery glow in his eyes. Leaning forward, he urged her back to lie against the banked pillows. Slowly he climbed onto the bed, his movements smooth but determined, until he straddled her. Dipping his head, he touched his lips to her forehead, her nose, and her lips almost reverently.

  “I won’t ask you if you’re sure,” he said, “but I would like you to know that if you tell me to stop now, you’ll kill me stone dead.”

  That made her laugh. She was still laughing when he kissed her.

  He plunged her into passion. Virginia returned his kiss, more confident now, lifting her hands to grip his shoulders, holding on for her life. He finished the kiss, only to drop small, feathery kisses either side of her mouth, down her neck, pausing to lick the hollow at the base of her throat, where he’d caressed her before. He must already know she was sensitive there.

  But not her breasts. He made up for that lack now, cupping the plump mounds, rubbing the tips with his thumbs before lowering his head and taking her right nipple into his mouth.

  Sensation shot from her nipple to her groin. If she’d thought she was aroused before, she was doubly so now. Moaning, she turned, so he had to chase his quarry, but she didn’t resist. He kissed the nipple and switched to the other one, delivering the same delicious torture, making her sigh and moan.

  Kissing underneath her breast, he nuzzled the soft skin and continued down, laying a trail of soft, damp kisses down her rib cage, lingering at her navel before continuing down.

  Where was he going? What was he doing? Did men do this? As he urged her to spread her legs wider, he pushed his arms under her knees. “Open for me, sweetheart. Let me in.”

  After a second’s resistance, she did as he bade her. He rewarded her with a lick.

  Virginia came off the bed, and if he hadn’t pushed her down, his hands on her hips, she would have vaulted right off. The sensation was as if he’d sent lightning flashing through her. She’d touched that place before, but she had only brought herself comfort, not this wild, uncontrollable feeling.

  Shuddering, she uttered small wordless sounds. If she’d thought his treatment of her breasts was intense, she was wrong. This was intensity personified, tingles pouring through her whole body, turning her into a creature of desire, with one aim, one desire. “Francis…?”

  “Lie back, let me do it all,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid, don’t worry. I’ll make this good for you.”

  After kissing her, tasting her, and rendering her completely helpless, he returned the way he’d come, only this time something much thicker and longer than his finger nudged her entrance. He pushed slightly, just enough to lodge himself at her entrance.

  He gazed down at her, smiling reassuringly. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.”

  She gripped his shoulders as he reared up over her. He gave a few short, exploratory jabs, pushing his hips in and down. Then, before she could catch her breath, he plunged deep, piercing her maidenhead in one hard thrust. She had expected a pinch. Sharp pain arced through her body.

  “Ah!”

  She hadn’t meant to cry out, hadn’t intended to indicate this was something she’d never done before. Then he was with her, holding her, kissing her lips with a soft tenderness she’d never experienced before in anyone, not even him.

  “All done,” he murmured against her lips.

  Virginia opened her eyes wide, met his, so close she saw the darker rings around the gray centers. “You knew?”

  “Not for sure, but I suspected you weren’t as experienced as I’d thought when I kissed you that first time. You did not kiss as if you were used to it.” His voice shook. “Virginia, sweetheart, I have wanted to make love to you for so long.”

  He was inside her now, his shaft disturbingly different, filling her to the brim. Not sure she was comfortable with this new sensation, she shifted, only for him to groan. “That’s it. Move. Get used to the way I feel inside you.”

  “Oh. How did you know?” She tried another move, wriggling her hips.

  He closed his eyes and groaned. “Can we talk about it later?”

  She saw his point, especially when he responded to her next tentative shift. “Is that right?”

  “Everything is right. Everything. What we do here is for us and nobody else.”

  That suited her. When he kissed her this time, he was not gentle. He swept his tongue into her mouth, stroking her tongue, teasing her and delivering a succession of jabs, as if mimicking what was happening below. For he did not remain still any longer. He moved up and down, gently at first as if testing her, each thrust increasing in power.

  By the time he lifted his mouth from hers, he was moving in earnest, driving in and then out, varying his strokes, moving his hips until she cried out. This whole experience was intense, but this was above everything else.

  “Ah, there it is.”

  Whatever he had been searching for, he’d found. Keeping the angle, he pushed, withdrew, thrust, pulled back, repeated the action until a spot inside her burned, sprang a flood of sensation, growing and deepening until it encompassed her whole world. She knew nothing else, wanted nothing else.

  As her body convulsed around him in a series of spasms that delivered exquisite sensation to every inch of her body, Virginia cried out, calling his name.

  In response, he pressed his forehead to hers and groaned low as he, too, reached his pinnacle.

  Chapter 15

  To Virginia’s consternation, Francis insisted on cleaning her with a cloth dipped into cold water. He enjoyed her confusion and that he could persuade her to trust him. He didn’t want her to suffer any discomfort. And he had every intention of indulging his powerful urge to look after her.

  Despite her weak protests, he nudged her legs apart and placed a cold, wet cloth over her sex. She snapped her legs shut, an adorable pink flush spreading over her breasts and neck, but then gave a wry smile and opened them again. She sighed happily.

  “See?” he said. “That feels good, doesn’t it? I don’t want you to be sore.”

  “I didn’t think you’d notice,” she said.

  “What? That you were innocent?”

  “I was not innocent!” she fired back. “I knew what was about to happen, and I wanted it. I made my choice freely, Francis.”

  And he would be ever grateful that she did. He loved her fiery response. She was right, she was not innocent. “I know that. But why were you still a virgin?”

  Emphasis on the past tense, because she wasn’t one now. He wanted this part of the evening over with, together with her uncertainty. It was so unlike Virginia, who had conquered society with a quiet, gracious confidence. Until that first kiss, he’d thought her experienced, if only in a physical way. Despite his age, Ralph Dulverton had given every impression of a man in charge of his world.

  “Yes.” She paused. “How did you know?”

  “Your kiss was wonderfully fresh, untutored. I enjoyed you learning with me. After that I thought your marriage might have been one of those where making love was a swift, clinical business. Some couples regard it as a necessary task, rather than the joy it can be.”

  She said nothing for a moment, then, “It wasn’t like that. I will tell you. Let me find the words.”

  He gave her the time, until he removed the cloth.

  Tossing the cloth in the bowl, he returned to her. “Not m
uch blood, a mere trace, so you need not worry that the chambermaid will know that there was anything amiss.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and drew her into his arms before drawing the sheet over them.

  “Good.” Virginia rested her head on his shoulder. He relished the way their bodies entwined as one, when she nestled her leg between his.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened? Or to be more precise, what did not happen?” he asked her.

  “I did not, that is, I was willing, but…”

  He stroked her back, trying to soothe her. “It’s all right. Take your time. I’m content if you choose not to tell me at all.” She was as skittish as a kitten.

  “No. I will tell you. If I cannot trust you, I can’t trust anyone. And Ralph is gone now, past his pain.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “You know Ralph was injured. He made no secret of it. But nobody knew how badly, except his doctor and me.”

  After a short pause, she carried on. “He was serving in the colonies when he took a bullet. In fact, he took two bullets, but he insisted on staying in the field where he rode out the worst of his pain, only leaving when he was sure his men were safe. He was shot in the leg, and further up in his groin.”

  Here came the important part. “Because of the groin injury, amputation would not have helped him. For a few days the doctors thought he would not live. News that he’d inherited the title arrived while he was sick, and when he heard that, he determined to survive. He was very brave.”

  Francis grunted, an essentially masculine sound intended merely to tell her that he was listening. The groin injury was news to him. Why had Ralph kept it quiet, when everyone knew he’d been hit in the leg? When Francis had met him on his return from France, the general always used a cane.

  “My father had served under him, and they had become friends when my father sold out.”

  Francis had never noticed before, but Virginia never used a fond name like Papa when she referred to her father.

  “By then I was out, and a failure, as I told you before, so I was reconciling myself to a single life.”

  Before he was done, he’d ensure she never saw herself as a failure again. “Had you met him before?”

  “Only a few times, as a child. I barely remembered him. At first Ralph talked to me as a friend and confided in me. I accompanied him on his daily exercise. He was determined to walk without a cane, so he took a gentle tour around the gardens every day. He was then General Lord Dulverton, learning his new life. The title had passed indirectly for the past few generations, so Ralph was the nephew of the previous viscount.” She sighed. “He was much older than me, but he was a strong man who treated me well. My life with my family was not happy.”

  He swung up on one elbow, alarmed by her last words. “How? Tell me. I want to know everything.”

  “Everything?”

  He dropped a kiss on her lips, because he wanted to. “All of it.”

  “Then you must tell me your story in return.”

  What there was of it society knew already. There was no secret, but he would tell her when she needed a rest from pouring her heart out.

  Her story might be the key he was looking for, the reason why she married a man so much older than herself. He knew what a bride much younger than her groom looked like when love truly passed between them.

  Although Virginia and Ralph gave every impression of a devoted couple, the few times he had met them, or seen them together, had revealed none of the telling touches, the small smiles passing between them that were the common currency of his own parents.

  “Are you an only child?”

  “Their only daughter. I have a brother ten years younger than me. He was the miracle. My parents had not expected to have another child.”

  She paused. “For my first few years, I was pampered and indulged. My mother in particular doted on me. But when my brother arrived, everything changed. The only notice they paid to me was to criticize me. I was never good enough for her, never learned my lessons properly. My brother was now the favored child.”

  Francis sucked in a breath, angry for her parents’ treatment of her. “Did they hurt you?”

  Her shrug lacked conviction. “Sometimes. But they never marked me. They were careful not to do that.”

  If only he had met her then! So young, so untutored, and so beautiful.

  “I was glad when Ralph courted me. Glad to get away.”

  Abandoned and ignored by her parents, Virginia had fallen on the visitor who had paid her attention. For her sake Francis quelled the anger rising like a tide inside him. Virginia deserved tender care tonight, and he would give it to her. “I see. Now tell me why you were still a virgin after marriage to such a vital man.”

  “I feel as if I’m betraying Ralph by telling you.”

  He touched her lips with the tip of his forefinger. “You know I will tell no one. And as you said, he is gone now, past his pain.”

  She nodded. “Ralph was strong and steadfast, a man to rely on. Also three times my age when we married, but I did not let that concern me. Apart from his injuries, he had the body of a man half his age. But during our bride-trip from my home in Nottinghamshire to Devonshire, he did not touch me, did not come to me at night. He said he wanted to save it until we were in his home. Then, when we were finally at Dulverton Hall, he came to me.”

  She paused for so long Francis thought her confidences were at an end. But then she spoke again.

  “He—he was abrupt. He did not kiss me. And we did not remove our nightclothes. He said it was to spare my blushes, but I suspect he did not wish to remind me of his scars.” She swallowed. “I saw them another time. But he did not—could not…”

  Francis nodded. He did not need the gory details. Ralph’s groin injury had rendered him impotent.

  “He said I was at fault.”

  How could this exquisite woman believe she was to blame for her husband’s failure? How could Ralph have done this to her?

  “He said I did not do things right. I did the best I could.” She met his eyes boldly, but Francis read distress there.

  He was pushing her too far, but he desperately needed to understand. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No. He kept trying, but the result was the same. To protect his reputation, he told people I was barren.” She bit her lip. “I might not be.”

  He would not tell her the shock that realization had brought to him. He had prepared to accept her, barrenness and all, but perhaps he did not have to. “Did he strike you?”

  “No!” Fire returned to her eyes, and he untensed. This was the Virginia he knew, not the frightened child he’d briefly glimpsed. Dulverton had been her escape, but she’d found a different horror with him. Frying pans and fires came to mind.

  And yet here she was, facing him with defiance and fire, telling her story as if it was a normal series of events. While her husband had been a fearsome warrior in full public view, Virginia had fought a secret battle. And come out of it triumphantly. He would never forget that, or her honesty with him tonight.

  He brought the discussion to an end by the simple expedient of kissing her. “Are you tired?”

  She shook her head. He got out of bed and unashamedly moved about the room, lighting candles and closing the shutters. He felt her eyes on him and gloried in it.

  When he returned to bed after giving her the respite she needed, she moved to him and let him take her in his arms.

  They would not be making love again tonight, even though the temptation of her body sliding against his was almost too much to bear. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and more besides. But even now, winning her would prove difficult. Virginia was fiercely independent, and she had won her status dearly. She would not give it up easily.

  * * * *

  Francis lay awake long a
fter Virginia had fallen asleep. Should he tell her that he remembered what she had told him the day of his injury? That she had asked him to wait six years? She might insist on it, and that he would not bear.

  Presumably the property would revert to Jamie when they married, where it should have been in the first place. What did that matter? He didn’t care if she came to him with nothing. Clearly, he had work to do.

  Ralph had hurt her. Virginia was a strong woman, but his accusations that she was responsible for his failure as a husband had burrowed into her skin. And his will had done the rest. He could not have her, so nobody would. In six years society would have slotted her into her allotted role: benefactor, philanthropist, widow.

  She deserved more than that. If she was entirely content in her role, he would have left her alone. No, he amended, he would probably have waited for her.

  He would have to wait until she confided in him and told him her secret again. Or should he tell her that he already knew? Damned if he knew.

  And he wanted her so badly, to have her by his side, to introduce her as his wife.

  Virginia should not have to give up her dreams. He would not force her to bear children, but after what they had just done, conception might have happened already. And the thought of a child—their child—filled him with excitement.

  God help him. What a fool he was, to want all those things when he could not even persuade her to marry him. But if he was foolish, so be it.

  He drifted off, holding her close, her soft breath warming his chest.

  * * * *

  In the morning they had breakfast in their room before climbing into the carriage Hurst had acquired.

  Francis was so careful of Virginia, determined to keep her this time. He hadn’t made the mistakes he’d committed before. She accepted him as a lover. But he wanted more.

  This one was worse than yesterday’s, smaller, the bodywork dull with age. Another hired coachman sat on high, bundled up despite the heat of the day. Hurst and Butler climbed up behind, and they were off.