Virginia And The Wolf

by Lynne Connolly

  When he settled between her legs, he hooked his arms under her knees and drew them up, opening them wide, and she adored the way he kissed down her body until he touched the heart of her passion, licking, kissing, caressing, and finally taking her up to ecstasy.

  Virginia came off the bed, an orgasm rocketing through her. He’d taught her the words, too, the wicked words nobody ever uttered in her presence before. As he came back up the bed, she pulled him close, kissed him lavishly and tasted herself on him.

  Francis guided himself home and plunged deep.

  Virginia gasped, lifted up, responding to his thrusts, holding her body up, keeping it rigid, taking all of him. They kissed, murmured, and she brought her mouth to his ear, telling him graphically what she wanted him to do to her.

  Taking her off balance, he rolled them, so now she was on top. His eyes had softened and deepened in color, the pupils wide. Was it wishful thinking that made her believe he had dropped a barrier between them? She had thought they were all gone, but no, there were some yet, a few they still had to overcome.

  Not tonight. Tonight they moved as one. Sitting up, she rested her hands, palms down, either side of him and brought her knees up to hug his waist.

  “I’m all yours,” he said. “Do everything you want, everything you just told me.”

  Her laugh made him shift inside her. She did it again, enjoying what it did to her. Shivering, she sat up. Francis guided her hands to his chest, and she moved, taking control.

  The joy of doing what she wanted, bringing the fulfillment to herself, instead of letting him do it, made her peak sharper, more intense. He held her waist, moving up into her with sure strokes. “Keep your eyes open,” he ordered, his voice commanding.

  She met his gaze, drowned in him as he cried out and dragged her away, letting his seed pulse out onto the sheets. Pulling a corner free, he roughly cleaned them and pulled her close.

  They stayed like that, breathing, kissing, enjoying what they had shared.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Virginia gazed up at Francis. He was leaning up on one elbow, watching her with a softened, sated expression. She had to assume she was watching him the same way.

  “You already asked me.”

  “The choice is yours, and only yours. Forget what waits for us outside this room. Forget everything except this and us.”

  “Why?” She placed her palm on his chest. His heart beat, slow and sure. “Why are you asking me now? You must know that I’m yours.” She shifted, reminding them both of what they had just done.

  “Because I want you to come to me of your own free will. Only because you want me.” His gaze sharpened and held hers. “Come to me because you want to.”

  “What if I can’t answer now?”

  “Then I will ask you every time we make love, every time we kiss, until you answer me.” He smiled, turning his words into a verbal caress.

  “Is that not…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Badgering? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tire of you and send you away?”

  “No to both. I love you, Virginia.”

  His heart gave one steady thump under her hand before returning to its regular rhythm. Hers did the same. She felt the union, sensed the life surging between them both. She loved him too, but she couldn’t say it. Disappointment shaded his eyes, but he did not remark on her failure to respond.

  “I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you, although at first I put it down to lust. When I saw you ignore my mother’s offers of friendship, I grew angry, but that was because you followed Ralph’s instructions, was it not? But I didn’t know that then. It was easier for me to believe that I despised you. I never did, Virginia. I will love no other woman.”

  Nobody loved her, ever. Despite what they had let society think, to Ralph she had been a prize. While he might have been fond of her, their wedding night had destroyed any normal relations between them.

  “Before I answer you, may I tell you more about my marriage?”

  “Yes. Then we may have done with it.”

  She swallowed, forcing the memories back, the ones she’d submerged for years. “He made me do things, said they were usual for married couples.”

  His expression hardened, his eyes lightening to the color of polished steel. “What things?”

  “Some of the things I have done with you with pleasure, he made me do, and I found no joy there.” All her illusions had vanished then. “I was not sure what I was supposed to do, but whatever I did made no difference. Other things, too, until he blamed me. He called me cold and unfeeling, said I had the appeal of a dead cat.”

  Francis gathered her up, then, and rolled onto his back so she was curled up against him.

  “Out of bed he was polite in public, but he ruled the house with a control that was inviolable. If anyone made the least little transgression, he would gather us all together and tell us how disappointed he was in us. But he never dismissed a servant, never left us alone. In private he told me that he should not have married me, that I was a complete loss to him. He criticized my clothes, the way I did my hair. I was young, and I believed him. After the way my parents had treated me, I thought I was as useless as he said. The more I tried to please him, the more he treated me like his servant. In public he doted on me, told everyone he loved me.”

  Francis said nothing, only watched her, but his eyes kindled, and his mouth flattened. Still, he held her gently.

  Giving in to her weakness, she leaned into him. A weight left her shoulders, the burden she had been carrying for so long. That of the barren widow, a dual curse. No man wanting an heir and honorable marriage would approach her before this, but Francis accepted her for what she was, not what she could never be.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He raised a dark brow. “Yes?”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you. As soon as you like.”

  He froze, his expression changing. A glow warmed his eyes, and the lines bracketing his mouth lightened. “You mean it?”

  She nodded. “I love you, Francis. That is what makes this so different.”

  Only then did he let his feelings out. “My love, you make me happier than a man has any right to be.”

  He drew her close with the reverence of a man overwhelmed by his good fortune. She curled into his arms, slid her hands under his coat and encircled his waist, lifting her face for his kiss.

  She didn’t understand why he wanted her when she was bringing him nothing, but she wouldn’t question it any longer. Despite all her misgivings, he was right, the man she wanted.

  He loved her. That made everything right. And her love made their union perfect.

  * * * *

  Francis listened to Virginia’s words with outrage, anger simmering through him. He had to fight to stop himself reacting as he wished, shocking her into pushing him away. She must not do that. She would not.

  If he could, he’d have beaten Ralph to within an inch of his life for doing that to Virginia. Even if she had been any other woman, one he was not involved with, her story would have infuriated him. That he had done that to Virginia made him incandescent with rage.

  Ralph had taken a young, lovely woman from her unhappy family situation, ensnared her by making her his bride, and then methodically destroyed her, before setting her up to become his creature, his possession, even after his death. Not a wife, not the woman she should be, but someone who needed him for reassurance and approval. All because he was impotent and couldn’t give her the most intimate pleasure. The cause of his wound was not her fault, but she had suffered for it.

  He had already condemned the dog-in-the-manger attitude, but not this.

  Who was he to snare her again? He made a decision, one he might live to regret. He would do everything in his power to prove to her that if she married him, she would not be diving into another restrictive, con
trolling relationship.

  He took her hand loosely in his. “Sweetheart, I won’t trap you. Ever. You will have everything you need. Half of everything I am free to give you.”

  Her mouth rounded to an O.

  Smiling at her response, he continued. “We will be man and wife, because we’ve already burned our boats on that. But you and I, we will know. We will be equals in everything. I will settle an amount on you in any case. Let society believe what it will, but I will not force you into doing anything you do not wish to.”

  “You mean it?”

  He nodded.

  Her smile warmed him. “And I can continue with the orphanages.”

  “Be assured of that.”

  “I had a lot of pleasure out of doing that. Being of use to someone.”

  He suspected that setting up the orphanages had gone a long way toward restoring her self-respect after first her parents and then her husband had destroyed it. He would not add to their efforts. Instead, he would do his best to restore it. So by setting her that task, Ralph had done her a service. He would have regretted it.

  Drawing her close, he felt sleep creeping over his sated body. “When we’re recovered, we will travel to Wolverley Court as man and wife. The ceremony will take place there, but we’ll keep it private. Agreed?”

  “You must wish to see your mother. You are close to her, are you not?”

  “Mmm.”

  Not as close as he was to Virginia, Lady Dulverton.

  Chapter 22

  Wolverley Court was only a day’s travel from Jamie’s house, but Virginia and Francis took their time leaving for the journey. A week passed before they arrived there, prepared to face the life awaiting them. Jamie and Maria elected to accompany them, but this time they would travel in state. Virginia sent for her luggage and jewelry from Hatherton Cross and asked her Exeter solicitor to attend her at Wolverley.

  As Francis’s wife, she would have larger establishments to care for, more social events to attend. That meant she would need to appoint managers.

  They traveled to Wolverley Court in style. She did not feel at all a fraud, climbing into his luxuriously equipped berline with the Wolverley arms emblazoned on the doors, even though they were not yet married. They would be soon. He had put her mind at ease, assured her she would never have to depend on a man ever again.

  And of course told her he loved her.

  The day was fine. In fact after that fateful moonless night on the coast, the sun had been reminded of the season and was making a daily appearance. In her apricot gown and new bergère hat, a double ruffle of lace at her elbows, Virginia felt more herself. And yet renewed.

  Jamie and Maria followed in their vehicle, and another brought up the rear, carrying servants and jewelry. Virginia wore a double string of fine white pearls and matching earrings that Ralph had given her on their marriage. Later, he’d told her that pearls meant tears.

  But they were lovely, and she wore them anyway. The first of many decisions that did not depend on what Ralph thought or what her parents told her. Her decision had liberated her, given her something she had never had before. So had her confession of love to Francis. The moment she’d said it, she felt the truth of it.

  They settled in the carriage. Francis looked himself again, with a rich suit of dark red cloth and a new waistcoat of palest gold lustring. His wig was a fashionable confection of pure white, but once they were on their way, he pulled it off and tossed it onto the opposite seat. “While it’s good to have something that fits, I confess I’m tired of wigs,” he said.

  “I love you with or without them.” Following his example, she untied the ribbons of her hat and tossed it to join his wig, mute witnesses to their intimacy. “You know that if we call ourselves married for long enough, a court may rule it valid,” she said lightly, surprised at how little she cared.

  “I do, but I want us wed in truth. I have sent a message to my godfather, asking him to come to Wolverley.” Reaching out, he took her hand, winding their fingers together. “It means something to me. What matters more is sharing my life with you.”

  “Oh.” Tears of happiness threatened, but she blinked them away. She wasn’t sure what to say.

  They arrived at Wolverley Court in a few hours, well in time for dinner. Since Francis had sent a rider to advise them of their imminent arrival, the staff was ready for them. And so was his mother.

  Wolverley had been remodeled by Francis’s father into the elegant house she saw when she got out of the carriage. The elegant front in cream stone was pleasantly balanced, with small wings on either side. Large, modern windows let in plenty of light. This was the opposite of a house like Combe Manor, with its narrow windows and dark interiors. Virginia loved it.

  Lady Wolverley met them in the main hall. While it wasn’t the most imposing hall she had ever entered, the proportions were elegant, and it had a sense of the open air that appealed to Virginia. The walls were pale blue, the woodwork gleaming white. A portrait of the old earl hung at the first landing, before the main stairs split into two and climbed up to the floor above.

  And it was crowded with neat lines of servants.

  A quick tally told Virginia there were about forty servants ranked here. They waited, standing, presumably ranked most important to least.

  When she married Ralph she had gone through this ritual, which was common when a new master or mistress entered the house. However, she was no cowed eighteen-year-old today. Nearly twelve years and a world of experience lay between Virginia and that girl.

  When she would have curtsyed to Lady Wolverley, the lady prevented her by embracing her warmly.

  “Welcome,” she said. “This will be the final time I say that to you, as you will be welcoming people from now on. I can only extend my best wishes that when your time comes, you will do it as happily as I do now.”

  Goodness. Of course Virginia had met her ladyship before, but only briefly, since her husband had not approved of the countess. “A common dairymaid!” he had exclaimed to her. “I cannot have you hobnobbing with her. I forbid it.”

  Virginia had curtsyed and murmured her acceptance, as she always had with Ralph. The twin burdens of obligation and expected obedience had kept her to that resolve. But not now. Then she had behaved coldly to her ladyship. She was deeply sorry for that now.

  Her ladyship smelled of spring flowers, and her fine blue silk gown was entirely appropriate to the heat of the day and the occasion. She spoke with no discernible accent and smiled with real friendliness.

  “I am truly happy to be here,” Virginia replied.

  The countess glanced around at the silent, serried ranks behind her. “You may not be by the time we have finished here. Do not try to memorize all their names. I have instructed them all to introduce themselves as required.”

  With an equally warm embrace for her son, and a few murmured words of affection, she moved on to speak to Jamie and Maria.

  Despite what the countess had said, Virginia did her best to remember all the names. Some ladies never even tried but used generic names for all their members of staff. But she was not of that ilk. The butler here was one McIver, a dour, tall man with a startlingly sweet smile.

  “I have brought my butler from my house in town. He has been injured in my service, and I wish you to take special care of him.” They had loaded Butler into the servants’ carriage, well wrapped up and coddled. “My maid is Winston, and my footman is Hurst. The others are yours.” She wanted Hurst retained, and she would find a place for Butler. Perhaps in his home city, in charge of her London establishment. He would never lack.

  Nobody objected. She would ensure Butler was put in a comfortable room and had everything he needed. However busy she was, she would do that. She moved on, meeting the housekeeper, then moving on to the housemaids, the chefs, two of them, the kitchen maids, scullery maids, footmen, pageboys, an
d then some of the outdoor staff, the head gardeners, the grooms, including one who would be assigned for her use, and others.

  Lady Wolverley waited with Jamie and Maria, who had declined refreshment in favor of a tour of the house.

  And so Francis showed Virginia his house and welcomed her into his life. So different to what she had left behind! Dulverton Court was not so lovely, nor so modern.

  Her husband’s predilection was to fill the grand Jacobean house with armor. A great display of swords, shields, daggers, and rifles had graced the hall of her previous home—no, residence, because she had never felt at home there. Hatherton Cross, which Jamie had promised to bestow on her as a wedding present, was much more modest.

  They ended in the drawing room, a state room with human dimensions. Virginia did not feel overwhelmed in this warm room with its windows flung open to catch the breeze. Lady Wolverley poured tea, and the maid brought them over. “I am expecting guests hourly,” her ladyship told them, “so I might have to excuse myself to greet them.”

  “Who are you expecting, Mama?” Francis asked, his brow arched in query.

  “Guests for the ball. I have arranged a ball to celebrate your marriage and invited half the county.”

  Taking exaggerated care, Francis put his tea dish back in the saucer and replaced them on the table. “How did you find time to do that?”

  His mother smiled. “You sent me news a week ago, but I saw the way the wind was blowing in London. I’ve had plenty of time, my boy. Invitations went out a few days ago. I’ve arranged the ball for Monday. A comfortable affair, with dancing and supper. And a dinner to celebrate your nuptials.”

  Francis shot Virginia an “I told you so” look. He had said his mother would arrange a celebration, but the lady’s efficiency impressed Virginia, who had never arranged a ball with less than two weeks’ notice. She had a reputation for efficiency, but Virginia had never personally witnessed it before.

  “I will introduce you to the county as Lady Wolverley, then I will take myself to Arkerley,” she said.