The wood nymph m-2

by Mary Balogh

  But there was something upsetting about it. She so wanted him to be perfect. Helen had long ago lost faith in the people of her class, both male and female. But he had seemed different. Despite the fact that he looked stern and almost morose at times, she had seen humor, kindliness, and intelligence in him. She had dreamed that he was like her, dissatisfied with the rigidity of the code of behavior by which they were expected to live, eager to find out some of the deeper meanings of life that must be hidden behind the superficiality. And, of course, she liked to believe that the man to whom she was so strongly drawn physically was worthy of her regard.

  Helen dreaded now to find that he was really no different from any other man. It would be almost impossible, of course, for him to fall in love with the girl he thought she was. But sometimes it was pleasant to dream that the impossible could happen. Now the afternoon had been somewhat spoiled for her. She did not know whether she still wanted to see him. It would be painful to discover that perhaps her suspicions were true, and that he was interested only in the rather interesting physical relationship that had budded the day before.

  Yet she knew that she had to go. Tonight he would know the truth. For the rest of her life, long after he was married to Melly, perhaps, she would wonder what would have happened had she gone to meet him. It was altogether possible, of course, even probable, that he would not come. He must have a great many social commitments with which to fill his afternoons. She would go and consider herself fortunate if he did not appear.

  ***

  William Mainwaring was in a similar quandary for different reasons. He had suffered a half-hour of guilt and remorse as he had walked home across the fields the afternoon before. He should not have gone to see her. Meeting a young girl alone in the woods was a potentially dangerous situation under any circumstances. In his case it was perhaps doubly so. He was unhappy; for almost a year he had been separated from the woman he loved and would never possess, and he had recently been reminded very forcefully of the fact. He was lonely and felt more so among these strangers who would not leave him to his own solitude.

  She had come almost like a gift from heaven, his little wood nymph. A gift from the devil, more like! She was beautiful and she was very unusual and he wanted her more than he had imagined he would ever want a woman after Elizabeth. He had wanted very much earlier to lay her down on the bank and to lift her skirts and bury all his hurts inside her. He could only imagine what it would be like. He had lived an almost totally womanless existence despite his one-and-thirty years. But he had wanted Nell, had been closer than he cared to think to giving in to the temptation. And he did not think that she would have resisted. That fact alone scared him. The responsibility, the decision, was entirely his.

  He could not do that to her. She was probably an innocent. He would have all the responsibility of having taken her virginity if he gave in to his desires, and would perhaps ruin forever her chances of making a contented marriage. If he felt an honest affection for the girl, perhaps there would be some excuse for him. But how could he offer any woman even the smallest part of his heart when it all belonged entirely and forever to Elizabeth? He would be using the girl purely to soothe his physical frustrations. Somehow he felt that Nell deserved better than that. For all that she was a poor and uneducated girl, she had feelings as he or anyone else had and she deserved to be loved by the man who would possess her first.

  By the time he reached home after his encounter with Helen, Mainwaring had decided that he must go no more to the woods. He must not see the girl again. He must make a more determined effort to mix with his neighbors, to keep himself occupied so that he would not have the time either to brood about his lost love or to think with lust about Nell. In an effort to put his resolve into immediate effect, he had stridden to the stables, saddled his horse himself, and ridden into the village to return a book that the vicar had loaned him the previous week.

  It was while he was riding down the village street that he had met the two elder daughters of the Earl of Claymore. He had raised his hat, made his bow, and prepared to ride on. But Lady Melissa Wade had stopped with the obvious intention of conversing with him, while the other girl had bowed rather haughtily and passed into the milliner's shop behind her. Lady Melissa had asked him if he was to attend Lord Graham's ball the following evening. Her intention had been obvious. She must have known very well that he would be there.

  Nevertheless, Mainwaring had fallen into the trap almost willingly. If he must forget the past, and if he must resist the temptation presented by the little wench, then what better way was there to do both than to attach himself to another lady? He must only be careful not to so single her out as to feel himself honor-bound to offer for her.

  "May I hope that you will reserve the first set for me, Lady Melissa?" he had asked, smiling down at her. "Or am I too late and your card is filled already?"

  She had tittered. "Really, sir," she had said, "you are not in London now. We do not generally choose partners before the ball begins, you know. But I should be delighted to reserve the set for you. What a delightful horse you have, Mr. Mainwaring. He is very obedient despite his great size and strength."

  "We have been a long way together," he had said, patting his horse's flank.

  "Indeed?" she had said. "I was under the impression, sir, that you did not have much love of horses. Riding is one of my greatest pleasures. I insist on exercising my horse myself each morning, no matter what the weather."

  "Perhaps we could ride together one morning," he had suggested politely.

  "Oh," she had said, raising surprised eyes to his, "what a perfectly splendid idea. I would have to ask Papa if I may, of course. But I think he will agree, provided I take a groom with me."

  "Until tomorrow evening, then," he had said, raising his hat and bowing to her again before riding off to the vicar's house with the grim satisfaction of having done the right thing to try to set his life in order.

  That had been the day before. But somehow matters did not appear so simple in the light of morning. It was a particularly beautiful day. He had no commitments until the evening. And when he went into his library to select a book to read on the terrace outside, he took down, without conscious choice, his, copy of Lyrical Ballads. The volume opened on its own to a much-loved poem-one about Lucy. And he smiled as he read about her:

  She dwelt among the untrodden ways

  Beside the springs of Dove,

  A Maid whom there were none to praise

  And very few to love:

  A violet by a mossy stone

  Half hidden from the eye!

  – Fair as a star, when only one

  Is shining in the sky.

  William Mainwaring looked up and smiled. The poet might almost have been describing his wood nymph. Nell. And she would be waiting for him that afternoon perhaps, wondering if he would keep his promise to read her some of these poems. There was something of a poet in her, something of an artist, he felt sure. If only she could have had the benefit of an education, she probably would have been a very interesting person. Not that there was anything dull about her now. She would enjoy hearing these poems, he was convinced. Should he go and read them to her?

  Could he go and keep himself from touching her? Just yesterday at this time perhaps he could have answered in the affirmative with some confidence. But he had touched her already, and that brief embrace had awoken a hunger in him that he did not believe he could easily quell. It would be far safer to stay away. Far safer for her and far better for his self-respect. He did not like himself for hungering after one woman while loving another.

  Perhaps the very best thing he could do with his life would be to marry Lady Melissa Wade. He did not think he was flattering himself to believe that she would accept him. She was a pretty girl with her fair hair and blue eyes, and she seemed amiable enough. He could never love her, or feel any deep affection for her in all probability, but then, chances were that she would not expect any such devotion. W
ith her his life would take on some stability. With her he would be able to satisfy those physical cravings that the girl in the woods had just reawakened. And with her he would be beyond temptation. He did not believe that his conscience would allow him ever to stray to another woman if he had a wife to whom he owed his loyalty.

  He got up from his seat on the terrace and wandered back to the library. But he did not put the book back on the shelf. He tapped it against his free hand and stared sightlessly at the titles before him. If it was to be so, if he really was to take such an irrevocable step, perhaps it would be safe to see Nell one more time. After all, he had almost promised her that he would go. He would see her that afternoon and begin his serious courtship of Lady Melissa that evening at Lord Graham's ball. It was very possible that the girl would not be there, anyway, and then matters would be taken out of his hands.

  William Mainwaring strode out of the library and took the stairs up to his room two at a time, the volume of poems still clasped in one hand.

  ***

  Despite the precaution she had taken of hiding her shabby cotton dress close to the western edge of the wood and putting it on before going to the clearing by the stream, Helen was again the first to arrive there. Indeed she thought he was not coming. Time seems long when one is waiting for someone one is not even certain will come, especially when one dare not fill in the time with a book or a sketchpad. She was sitting a little back from the stream, sheltering from the heat of the sun beneath the shade of a large tree, when he came. She sat cross-legged, her chin resting on one fist. She did not move when she saw him come.

  "Hello, wood nymph," he said, stopping when he was still several yards away from her and smiling.

  It was the smile that did it. She knew beyond any doubt that the unthinkable had happened. She loved him. She could not believe ill of his motives. There was such gentleness in his smile. "Hello," she said.

  "You see?" he said, holding up the volume he clasped in one hand. "I have brought the book. You will like some of the poems, I believe." He came and sat beside her under the tree so that she felt suffocated, unable to breathe freely. "You do not look very pleased," he added. "Am I forcing myself and my interests on you, Nell?"

  "Oh, no," she said, and looked up into his dark eyes, I disturbingly close to her own. "I thought you were not coming, and I would have been disappointed if you had not. Please read to me."

  "Would you?" he asked. "Have been disappointed, I mean? I would have been here sooner, but I had an unexpected visitor and had to stay and be civil."

  He looked across at her as if he expected her to say something, but she looked back silently. Finally he opened the book and thumbed through the pages. She waited with great interest to see which poem he would choose to read first.

  "Here it is," he said at last. "This, I think, you will appreciate. It is one of my favorites."

  And he began to read her the poem about the rainbow, which was not one of her favorites-it was her very favorite.

  My heart leaps up when I behold

  A rainbow in the sky;

  So was it when my life began;

  So is it now I am a man;

  So be it when I shall grow old,

  Or let me diet

  The Child is father of the Man;

  And I could wish my days to be

  Bound each to each by natural piety.

  He read slowly and distinctly, savoring every word.' By the time he had finished, Helen had her eyes tightly closed, enthralled as much by his voice as by the sentiment of the poem.

  "Do you like it?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes." Her eyes flew open and looked into his. "It is just exactly as I feel, you see. But people keep telling me that I shall grow up one of these days and that I shall then become interested in the more important things of life. I shall not. I would rather die!"

  He smiled gently and his eyes dropped involuntarily to her mouth. "You need not fear, little wood nymph," he said. "You will never change. At least, you will never lose your love for what you have now. It is too deeply a part of your nature, I think."

  She could feel tears welling to her eyes and dropped them hastily to look at the grass between them. No one had ever understood before, and no one had ever spoken with approval of her strange tastes. Was it possible that he felt about her as she felt about him? But, no. He was to dance with Melissa that very evening, and ride with her one morning soon. He would perhaps be betrothed to her before the summer was out. And she herself was a mere village wench, as far as he knew. She jumped to her feet suddenly and moved away from him among the trees.

  "What is it, Nell?" he called after her.

  She did not answer. But she did not run far away, either. She merely wanted a few moments to collect herself. She did not want their afternoon to end so soon, their last afternoon. Within a few hours he would know who she was, and his approval would turn to amusement at the best, contempt at the worst. It was perhaps acceptable for a serving girl to love the woods and the sky and the stream, but there was something definitely odd about a society girl who preferred those things to. fashion and gossip and visits. She stopped at the big oak that she had climbed the day before and leaned against it, resting one cheek against the rough old bark and wrapping her arms as far around it as she could reach. She closed her eyes.

  "What are you doing now?" William Mainwaring asked from behind her. His voice held a mixture of concern and amusement.

  "This tree was here for hundreds of years before you and I," she said, neither moving nor opening her eyes. "Can you imagine all the life it must have seen and all that it will see long after we are dead and buried? Sturdy as an oak' is such an apt phrase. It lives, you know. If I were led here blindfold and did not know what I clasped, I would know it was a living thing."

  "Would you, Nell?" he asked gently.

  "Oh, yes," she said. "It is so full of life. If we could only understand a tree! Do touch it. Run your hand over the bark. You will see what I mean."

  She felt his hands touch the tree on either side of her, just above her own hands. He did not touch her, though every inch of her body was aware of the closeness of him. Neither of them moved-or breathed, it seemed-for several seconds, and then she turned, or he turned her, she was never sure which.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair and held her face turned up to him. He was looking deeply and questioningly into her eyes. She gazed back, not even trying to hide the longing and the love that she felt. She closed her eyes.

  "Nell," he murmured, and he was kissing her throat, her cheeks, her eyes, and finally her mouth.

  Her arms went up and around his broad shoulders and she let her body sag against his so that she could feel the strength of his chest, the powerful muscles of his thighs against hers. He was so much taller than she. She felt small and very feminine in his arms. Her mouth opened beneath the pressure of his and his tongue came inside again, but more knowingly this time. He found and teased the soft flesh beneath her tongue, stroked with agonizingly light touch the roof of her mouth. Helen moaned.

  He raised his head and moved his mouth to her throat again. She inhaled sharply as his hands came away from her hair and clasped her breasts, massaging them slowly beneath his palms.

  "Nell," he said, lifting his head again and resting his forehead against hers. "Stop me. Stop me if you do not want this."

  For answer she put her hands over his against her breasts and turned her head so that their mouths met again. She was in a strange world. Much as she was involved in the embrace, she was still quite aware of what was happening, knew with perfect clarity what was about to happen, and could foresee without any doubt how horrified she must feel afterward. She knew that she was about to lose her virginity, that she was about to give away all chance of making a good marriage, unless she were to lie to her prospective husband, that she would be outcast if the truth ever became known. She knew all this, but she did not care. She was powerless to prevent her own ruin because she had no wish a
t this moment to prevent it.

  William Mainwaring shrugged out of his coat while continuing to kiss her. She could feel his movements though she did not open her eyes. She opened them only when he raised his head, took her gently by the shoulders, and lowered her to the grass, the coat that he had dropped beneath her head. He raised her skirt to her waist with gentle hands. She averted her face and closed her eyes as he removed her thin undergarments. She kept them closed as she listened to him shed his own clothing. And she lifted her arms up for him when he came down beside her.

  He kissed her again and reached under her dress to touch her unconfined breasts, but he made no further attempt to prepare her. He moved across her and lowered his weight onto her unresisting body. She parted her knees beneath the pressure of his and allowed him to spread her legs wide on the grass. And then she felt him and knew with something almost like triumph that it was too late now to change her mind.

  It hurt and hurt. She was unaroused and dry, and his slow entry seemed to tear her apart. She bit her lower lip and felt as if she must cry out in panic until the pain crested and he continued his entry unimpeded. She forced herself to relax when he stopped, forced herself to realize that she was a woman and shaped for such sexual activity, that no damage could be done. She forced her body to push against him. This, then, was how it felt.

  She cried out in protest when he began to withdraw. Not yet. It could not be over yet. But he eased his hands beneath her to cushion her against the hard ground and thrust himself in again. And he repeated and repeated the movement, slowly, but with deep, hard thrusts, until she was moist and could delight in the discovery of her own sexuality. She was not fully aroused. She was not herself headed toward any climax. But she clasped her arms around him, twined her legs around his, and watched the treetops above them, waving in the gentle summer breeze, while he repeatedly, and with growing urgency, drove into her body. She smiled and caught her lower lip between her teeth once more.