When she lifted her head, naturally, she kissed him. Anxiety dissolved, anticipation remained.
Yes, she would enjoy herself and give no thought to past or future.
The kiss was short, sweet, and enjoyable, but then he released her. “I ordered dinner sent up. This is a small but efficient establishment, so you can hire a maid if you want to.”
To have a maid again, someone to unlace her and brush her hair, would be…
Useless. Virginia could easily manage, and so she told him, “I’ll be completely different for the next few days. The kind of person I might have been, had Ralph not met me.”
She crossed to the trunk and opened the lid, looking for the brush Butler had bought for her. As Lady Dulverton, she had a polished mahogany dressing case banded with silver, filled with crystal and monogrammed bottles, containers and brushes, everything a lady could wish for. It even had a secret drawer for love letters. She had never used the drawer, never needed to. That had gone before her in the crested carriage.
As Mrs. Ferguson, she owned a brush, a pot of hair powder, which she had yet to use, and a small case of hairpins. That was all. Simple and easy.
They ate in their room again.
“What will we do if someone sees us?” she said over a generous helping of meat and potato pie.
“Use our acting skills?” he suggested. “We look most unlike our usual selves, that unless we come face-to-face with someone who knows us well, I doubt that will happen.” He spoke soothingly, as if reassuring her.
She was not reassured. “We should consider the possibility.”
He shook his head. “As long as we maintain a good distance between ourselves and your cousin, I can’t see it happening. I have a few ideas. Most of them include this.” Wryly he lightly touched his wig, below which the healing gash lurked. “We can say I was out of my mind, delirious with a fever, so you were good enough to care for me.”
She regarded him, her eyes narrowed. Would that work? It might. But his words reminded her of a duty she had yet to do. “I have to look at that.”
“It feels fine.”
“Nevertheless…”
Perhaps the leap she had taken today would not happen. She would refuse him if she saw any trace of infection. Anxiety rose once more. Francis would be unlikely to tell her unless he was in so much pain he could not bear it. Even then, he would not tell her. But she’d seen no trace of fever, nor felt it.
“Eat this excellent food, then I’ll call the maid to take the plates away.”
They finished the meal in harmony, chatting to one another about matters outside this room and their immediate dilemma. Such as her parents. “You rarely speak of them,” he said.
She shrugged, feigning an insouciance she did not feel. “We live separate lives, and we have for some time. I had my season, a short one, when I was presented at court. I took fairly well, but I had no serious suitors.”
She had told the story before and practiced hiding her pain. A young girl’s brutal disillusionment.
“You took, yet you found no takers?” He leaned back in his chair, his attention riveted on her.
Virginia tried not to squirm under his perceptive gaze. “The year of my presentation contained many beauties. They sparkled more than I did, and there were a good number of heiresses presented that season, too.” She shrugged and glanced down at the remnants of their meal. “Everything worked out well eventually. I married Ralph, and I became Lady Dulverton.”
He glared at her. “If I had met you during your first season, you would not have married him.”
Heat flared between them, but neither moved. He nodded. “I take it his wound did not help his mood?”
She sucked in a breath at that reminder of Ralph’s nature. “It did not. He was injured abroad and was shipped home as soon as he had recovered enough to do so.” As far as anyone knew. “His wound pained him at times, but he bore it bravely.”
“In which battle was he wounded? I forget.”
No he didn’t. Francis never forgot anything. “A skirmish in the colonies,” she said lightly. “He was so angry that he missed the Austrian war because of his wounds, but he had attained the rank of general by the time he retired from active service. He met me after my season, when he came to Nottinghamshire to visit my parents.”
From the moment Ralph had arrived he’d watched Virginia. Everything she did and said, everywhere she went, there he was. But she had admired him, and Ralph had a kind of rugged handsomeness.
Flattered by his attentions and wounded by her mother’s comments after her lack of success in London, she’d been easy prey. “When my parents told me who I was to marry, I was flattered. I imagined myself in love with him.” She bit her lip. Too late to amend what she’d said. And of course, Francis picked up on what she’d said immediately.
“Imagined yourself in love?”
She laughed, but it sounded false even to her own ears. “Imagined, yes. I was barely eighteen.”
“And by the time I met you?”
“I’d been married six months. I loved my husband,” she affirmed, more to herself than to him. After all, while their relationship had been unconventional, she’d had a fondness for Ralph. He’d taken her away from her parents and introduced stability into her life.
“Naturally.”
He snapped that word off so quickly, she wondered at it. “You lingered on your Grand Tour.”
“I did.” Again that sharpness. “Fortunately, I discovered some lucrative investment opportunities on my travels.”
Which had forced society to acknowledge him. Wealth had triumphed over his mother’s low birth. An earl of moderate means with a low-born mother had turned into a wealthy peer with influential friends. More than that, he’d become—Francis.
She recalled the gossip. “You were in Paris, but people talked about you. I heard about you long before I met you after you returned.”
“I’m sure you did.”
She remembered the moment. “That ballroom…”
A smile teased the corners of his lips. “I remember. I had just arrived back in Devonshire from Paris. I was an oddity, and people did not know what to do with me. The son of a peasant, someone called me.” The smile disappeared. “Nobody did that again.”
He was too wealthy to ignore, but that was not the reason. When Francis entered a room, everybody looked, including her. Her first sight of him at twenty-one, diamond earring and all, had fascinated her more than the first, if that was possible. Enthralled her, and at that moment, she’d understood what she had lost by marrying Ralph. Not that she’d had much choice.
Her first sight of him in Devonshire she had put down to an immature passion, one that would pass. And indeed it had seemed that way until he’d returned from the Grand Tour, polished and wealthy, and a man. Then she knew her feelings for him hadn’t changed.
Until tonight, wild horses would not have dragged that truth out of her. She’d denied it even to herself.
She’d been a new bride when she’d first met the Earl of Wolverley. After her one dance with Francis, Ralph had ordered her to ignore him. She did not do so, and when Ralph taxed her with it, she told him that was all that society needed to point at them all. Ralph was forced to agree, seeing the truth of her words, but he only ever treated Francis with distant politeness.
“The Duke of Richmond still refuses to receive me,” he continued. “Pompous oaf.”
Most of society shared that opinion about the duke, but few were quite so honest, even in private. She smiled. “He nods distantly to me.”
His laugh warmed her as a knock sounded on the door. Before she could give her automatic “Come!” Francis got to his feet and crossed the room to let the maid in.
The woman cleared up the remains of their meal, leaving the wine behind, and carried the heavy tray piled with dishes and cutl
ery as if it weighed nothing. Francis opened the door for her and latched it behind her. Then he picked up his chair and took it to the door, wedging it under the top rail, tilting it so that nobody could come in. The door had no lock.
“You can move this any time you like,” he said, coming back across the room to her, his tread heavy on the floorboards. “But only you.”
Standing before her, he held out his hands. Without hesitation, she took them and let him draw her to her feet. “You’re shaking,” he murmured. “There is nothing but pleasure ahead for you. For both of us.”
Breathing deeply, she tried to calm her pounding heart, her tightening throat. One more thing remained. “Your head. A few days ago you were at death’s door. Promise me, Francis, that it doesn’t pain you.”
Francis smiled down at her. “If it did, I would not notice. I want you so much, Virginia. From the first moment I saw you. Learning that you were married was a blow. Then we were on distant terms for so long. That time is over, but say the word and I will treat you like my sister, rather than the lover I long for you to become. Say it now, Virginia. Tell me no.”
Keeping her gaze locked with his, Virginia said nothing.
“So be it,” he said, softly, like a prayer, before he drew her into his arms.
Slowly, as if savoring every moment, he curled his arms about her, held her firmly, though not with the overwhelming, unthinking passion she had expected. When she’d imagined this, she thought they would be overcome by passion, that everything would unfold without thought, a surge that would guide them both.
Francis did nothing of the kind. He lowered his head slowly, his gray eyes shining with an inner light. When he pressed his lips to hers, it was with a reverence she had never known, a steady claiming she welcomed.
Hooking her arm around his neck, she held on and did her best to respond. He’d taught her how, even though he was probably unaware of it. No, not probably. If he suspected for a second that this was her first time, he would be on the other side of the room, leaving her to guard her virtue.
She would not allow that to happen. She must be bold and confident, responding as a woman should. That should come reasonably easily because of the way she felt about the man holding her so tightly.
Truthfully, she couldn’t stand not having him. She’d held him off as long as she could, but given this opportunity, the chance of knowing, of holding him, and being able to walk away afterward—she couldn’t resist that.
She wanted Francis so much, she couldn’t bear it if he left her now. Climbing the hurdle to surrender had taxed her, but she was over her self-imposed barrier now.
Francis kept his movements soft and sweet, even when she opened her mouth under his. He took her invitation, swept his tongue into her mouth, and made a small sound that reverberated through every inch of her body.
He roamed the length of her back, his strong hands encompassing her, claiming her, and she responded, pressing close to him. When he finished the kiss, he lifted his head and gazed at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Then, sweetheart, allow me to help you to disrobe.”
His first tug loosened the fichu she wore over her breasts. She had not secured it with pins, merely tucked it in, so it came away easily, pulling free of the low neckline of the jacket. Francis lifted his hand and traced the swell with one finger. Her breathing grew shaky, and he smiled. “I love knowing that I affect you so much. You do the same to me, Virginia.”
Pushing his finger into the opening of the jacket, he found the first hook and slipped it free. He passed on to the second, dispensing her of it just as easily, and the one after that.
Virginia held still, watching the small frown between his brows as he concentrated on freeing her from the garment. “This has served you well,” he said, “but now it’s time to give up your secrets. I intend to see every inch of your delectable body.”
Her throat caught on her next breath, but she let him continue. Once he had the front undone, all he had to do was to slide it off her shoulders and pull it down her arms. The linen ruffles were attached to the elbows, so it fell away, leaving her in stays and shift.
He smiled at the sight of her brocaded silk stays, obviously a costly garment, all she had left of her usual finery. “Like a pearl revealed at the heart of the oyster. But it stands in my way now. Turn around.”
Obediently, she did as he asked. His fingers unlaced her stays, the sound of the cord whipping through the holes loud in the stillness of their room. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, “just loosen it.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I know how stays are laced. I want you out of this thing.” He stopped pulling the cords free. “Arms up.”
Like the best lady’s maid, he eased her stays up and pulled them free, over her head. The cord caught in her hair, and he stopped to untangle it patiently, as if they had all the time in the world. Apparently he meant to keep his promise about only giving her pleasure.
After tossing the stays over the nearest chair, he finished unfastening her hair, pulling out pin after pin until it fell free, cascading over her shoulder blades. And with it went all her misgivings.
Francis let out his breath in one long sigh. “You can’t know how often I’ve wanted to do that, to see your hair down, and to do this.” He threaded his fingers through the locks, sliding them gently through. “Pure silk.”
When he walked away, she turned around to see him take a few steps to the chest of drawers pushed against the wall by the window. Carefully he placed the pins there, then came back to her, slipping off his coat on the way and letting it fall to the floor. “Explain to me why we wear so many clothes,” he said, unbuttoning his waistcoat.
She laughed. “Speak for yourself. I seem to have considerably less.” She had to work to keep her mood as insouciant as his. But she was supposed to be used to this kind of thing, so she’d better put on a show to hide the sensations rioting inside her, as if she’d swallowed a gallon of bubbles.
“Let’s correct that, shall we?”
He kept watching her as he unfastened the buckles at his knees and the fall of his breeches, kicking out of his shoes, and dragging breeches and stockings off in one impatient motion. His shirt hung down nearly to his knees. Virginia braced herself.
His erection made the fall of his shirt awkward but ripe with promise. The muscles of his arms and chest proved he needed little padding in his coats. She narrowed her eyes. He looked bigger out of his clothes than in them. “You have a magnificent tailor.”
Bursting into delighted laughter, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. “Now who is overdressed?” he growled before claiming another kiss.
Virginia gave herself up to him with pure pleasure running through her veins. When the cord of her quilted skirt loosened, she merely stepped back a little to allow the garment to fall. Francis dealt with her pockets and her petticoats the same way. Virginia only felt freed. The fewer clothes, the nearer she got to her ultimate objective. And now she was this far in, she didn’t want to go back. Ever.
Once she’d rid herself of this idiotic virginity she’d been carrying far too long, she could free herself from the years of secrecy. This man was in her head, constantly in her thoughts, even when she was not sharing a cramped carriage with him. Perhaps this would help. Either that or make the fever worse, and at this point, she didn’t care which way it went.
Did every man kiss so divinely? Francis certainly did. He explored her mouth with his tongue, sometimes delicately, then with a passion that burned her from the inside out. Virginia did her best to respond, clutching those powerful shoulders and tasting him, twirling her tongue around his, gaining in confidence as he accepted her caresses and returned them.
When he drew away, she gazed at his reddened lips and half-closed eyes. She’d done that, made him look like that. Totally enthralled, which would be even better if
she didn’t feel the same way. Virginia preferred to remain in control, but she was losing it fast and not regretting it like she should.
She had no choice but to give herself to him and trust him to return her at the end of their time together, more or less intact.
“Time for bed,” he murmured, so softly that even if the room had been filled with people, only she would have heard him.
Before she could turn he scooped her up and, smiling, carried her there. After depositing her gently on the floor, he swept back the bed covers, revealing pristine linen sheets.
He picked her up again, his muscles flexing deliciously, and placed her down. Virginia stroked the bulging muscle in his upper arm while he bent and lifted her shift above her knees, disposing of her garters with two quick flicks of skilled fingers.
Her stockings went the same way. Without being prompted, Virginia sat up, her hands going to her shift. Before she could outthink herself, she pulled it up and over her head, emerging breathless with her hair in her eyes.
Pushing it back, she laughed, and watched the change in his expression as she revealed her body.
Awe shaded his gaze. “My God, Virginia. You’re beautiful.”
That she could cope with. “So I’ve been told.” Not by her husband, but he did not have to know that. Only by her maid.
Mustering all her self-control, she assumed the pose of a society lady waiting for her lover, one she’d seen in a so-called classical painting.
Raising a knee, she rested her wrist on it and gave him a bored stare through half-closed eyes. Her thigh grazed her nipple as she leaned forward, making her suck in a breath. She was so sensitive. Seeing him fix her with such an intense scrutiny only made her nipples tighten more, and the place between her thighs dampen.
He didn’t laugh this time but paused to unfasten the buttons at his cuffs and get rid of his neckcloth and shirt. They fell—somewhere, she wasn’t watching.
Virginia And The Wolf Page 17
