by Stella Riley
‘Oh.’ She looked up. ‘I did?’
‘Yes. You followed orders and managed not to have hysterics. I was grateful for that.’
There was a long silence, during which Eden carried on with his meal. Finally, Lydia said, ‘I don’t know what to say to you. Thank you doesn’t seem enough.’
‘It will do.’ He rose and returned his empty plate to the tray. ‘Peter went back with Aubrey and they’ll tell Henry you’ll be staying here tonight.’
Lydia also came awkwardly to her feet.
‘I could go home once my gown is dry.’
‘You could. But since there is no way on God’s earth that I am going out again tonight, you won’t,’ he replied pleasantly. ‘I see that Alice has made up the bed for you.’
‘Yes.’
Suddenly the room seemed inexplicably warmer and smaller than it had a minute ago.
Lydia summoned what was left of her courage and walked over to lay a hand on his arm.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
She reached up to place a brief kiss on his jaw … and somehow managed to brush his lips instead. Eden remained perfectly still, his eyes locked with hers.
He realised that, after the hellish evening they’d both had, he shouldn’t be thinking what he was thinking … but, equally, he knew exactly why he was thinking it. Not because she was standing so close that the faint elusive scent of lavender was clouding his reason or even because they were alone and, although decently covered, he suspected she wasn’t wearing a great deal. No. This was more – so very much more – than simple lust. Indeed, if he was honest with himself, this moment had been inevitable for a long time. Perhaps, he thought distantly, it was time to surrender to it. He was still wondering that when he heard himself murmur, ‘Is that all my heroics deserve?’
Her breath snared. ‘No. But I – I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. Or myself.’
That sounded like an invitation. He decided to take it as one.
His drew her up against him and said, ‘You won’t. But you’re welcome to try.’
And then his mouth came down on hers.
~ * * ~ * * ~
FOUR
In the space of an instant Eden stopped thinking about what was wise and sensible … what he should or should not do. In fact, he stopped thinking about anything at all. Miraculously, his shoulders – sore and aching from his earlier activities – seemed to stop hurting; or if they hadn’t, he was no longer aware of it. All he knew was the intoxicating sweetness of her mouth and the fact that, beneath the green wrapper, the body pressed against his own was wearing little or nothing; that every lovely slender curve was there within reach, awaiting the discovery of his hands. And the knowledge was enough to drive out any possibility of sensible thought … or, indeed, anything at all.
He began with the slight indentation of her spine; that indomitable spine that was at the core of everything she was but which felt so fragile beneath his fingertips.
The merest ghost of a thought drifted by.
So delicate … so soft and pliant; and yet I’ve known men with less resilience.
He moved on to the line of her waist and hip, pressing lightly against her pelvis with his thumb whilst teasing her mouth with his own. She trembled a little, clutching the front of his shirt. Fisting one hand in the thick mass of her hair, he released her mouth in favour of her throat. Immediately she let her head fall back in invitation. Eden took advantage of the offer. He nipped and tasted his way down to the vulnerable place where her neck met her shoulder and, feeling her fingers tangling in his hair, loitered there. Then, gathering her closer, he kissed her again and encouraged the wrapper to slide from one shoulder so that he could trace her collar-bone beneath that warm, soft skin.
Lydia explored the muscles of his shoulders and back; she kissed his throat and jaw, wanting to take as much – to give as much – as these brief, transient moments allowed.
He’ll stop. It will be like before. Any minute now, he’ll end it. But please … not quite yet. Please … this time give me just a little longer.
His hand in the small of her back encouraged her to press even closer. Heat sped through her veins and odd little pulses of sensation flicked along her nerves. When he pushed the wrapper aside, she instinctively shrugged so that it slipped a bit further and sensed rather than saw his smile. He murmured, ‘This garment belongs to Alice?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s horrible.’
‘I know.’ Her face hidden against his neck, she said, ‘I could take it off. Or you could.’
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, as if the words were being wrenched from him, he said, ‘I could. But first you should consider where that would be leading us … and whether it is somewhere you want to go.’
Unable to believe he seemed to be offering what she so badly wanted, she whispered, ‘I have. And it is.’
Eden took a moment to control the surge of exultation that surged through him. Then he kissed her with a sort of fierce hunger and managed to send Alice’s despised wrapper slithering to the floor. Wasting no time, his hand blazed a slow lingering trail from shoulder to waist, skimming her breast through the flimsy lawn chemise and sending a new pleasure streaking through her. Lydia gasped and clung.
He felt so good … so right; but his shirt was in the way. Her hands tingled with the need to touch his skin, so she tugged impatiently at the annoying thing until Eden realised what she wanted and pulled it off over his head.
‘Oh.’
She slid her palms over and over warm firm flesh and its underlying muscle. There were a few old scars … as old, perhaps, as the one on his cheek … and some bruising still showed from the more recent injury to his ribs. Lydia stroked that gently before linking her arms about his waist and laying her mouth against a scar on his shoulder.
Eden drew a sharp breath, causing her to look up at him in sudden doubt.
‘I’m sorry. Should I not do that?’
‘Yes. Oh yes. You most certainly should.’
He gazed into her eyes for a moment longer, wondering if he should ask just once more if she was sure and then realising, from her expression that it was unnecessary. He’d been determined to take this slowly but suddenly doubted his ability to do so. It had been a long time … and he wanted her more than he could remember ever wanting anything.
In an effort to reclaim some self-control, he stepped back and, reaching out to brush her cheek with light, insubstantial fingers, said huskily, ‘Darling, you may do anything you wish and be quite sure that I’ll like it.’
Her colour rose. Somewhere at the back of her mind a disturbing little voice reminded her that she had something to tell him but she ignored it rather than spoil the moment and, instead, moved back into his arms. They closed about her, enveloping her in the heat and scent of him
Eden guided her to the bed and sat down beside her, his eyes on her face and one hand finding its way beneath her shift to caress her thigh.
Fire licked her skin, a pulse throbbed insistently low in her body and her breathing grew uneven.
Still struggling for control, he gestured to the shift and said, ‘May I?’
A small tremor shook her and she nodded. Then he was looking at her, his eyes dark and intent and, so softly that she barely heard it, he said, ‘Oh God. Even lovelier than I expected,’ before pushing her gently back against the pillows.
Slowly, savouring each new discovery, he explored her body … first with his hands and then with his mouth. Lydia gave a sobbing moan of delight, oddly mingled with a species of impatience she didn’t understand. Everything inside her was melting in the inferno created by those clever, seductive fingers which seemed to know exactly where to touch her and how. Her own hands raced over him; seeking, worshipping and telling him that whatever he wanted, he could have. By the time he left her to shed the rest of his clothes, nothing in the entire universe existed but him and the wild demands his body was arousing in hers.
She gaz
ed at him now … at that intelligent, fine-boned face and lean, compact, perfectly-proportioned body … both of them a true reflection of the incredible man inside. Her heart swelled with love for him and she forgot everything else. She even forgot the small but vital piece of information she ought, by now to have given him. Words were beyond her so she held out her hands in mute appeal.
That and the exquisite sweetness of her response almost undid him but he held fast to the dwindling threads of his will-power.
Not yet, he ordered himself. Not … quite … yet.
He returned to her, his caresses growing ever more intimate and his own desire blazing to almost impossible heights. And only when she could no longer remain still against him … when he knew she was burning up in the same fires that consumed him … only then did he permit himself the ultimate pleasure.
He knew she was ready; more than ready. So although he took her slowly and with infinite care, he didn’t hesitate … with the result that he was through the unexpected barrier in the exact same instant he detected it. Suddenly very still, he thought, Christ Almighty. Did I really feel that? And looking sharply into her face, now tense with a discomfort she was trying to hide, knew that he had.
He said, ‘Lydia?’
‘Yes.’ She shut her eyes, ‘I’m sorry.’
He supposed that he was, too; but right now, surrounded by the tight heat of her body with sensation taking over again, he couldn’t think properly – or even at all. He wanted – was becoming desperate – to move inside her but tried to hold back for fear of hurting her. Then her eyes opened again, their expression changing gradually to one of confused wonder and, in a very different tone, she said, ‘Oh. I – oh. Yes.’
And after that, it was easy; easy and astoundingly wonderful, watching her pleasure build again along with his own; feeling her climb with him and fall into ecstasy only a second before he did so himself.
Too easy, he soon realised when his brain started sluggishly functioning again.
He’d meant to take one simple precaution. He hadn’t.
He was suddenly and very unpleasantly alert. He moved away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. A glance over his shoulder showed her curling on to her side, watching him warily out of wide, dilated eyes. He knew he ought to say something. He just didn’t know where to start.
There were two issues here. He’d unwittingly bedded a virgin and felt, not unreasonably, that she might have acquainted him with that fact in advance. But worse yet, he’d failed to minimise the risk of pregnancy outside wedlock – a fault that was entirely his own.
The only words that formed in his throat were ‘Hell and damnation’ but he managed to swallow them. He knew what she wanted right now. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her hair and murmur something comforting. He wanted that, too.
He couldn’t do it. Not yet, at any rate. Rising, he dragged on his breeches and said, ‘Forgive me. I know this isn’t …’ He stopped and tried again. ‘I’m aware we should talk – and we will. Just not right now.’ Crossing to the wash-stand, he dipped a cloth in the water, wrung it out and walked back to put it her hand. In other circumstances, he’d have handled that differently but right now he wasn’t capable of such an intimate gesture; nor, given the fact that she’d never been with a man before, did he think she would welcome it. He found his shirt on the floor and, seeing her shift lying nearby, picked it up to place it within her reach. ‘I’ll see if your gown is dry and – and …’ He stopped for the second time. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t be long.’
Once outside the door, he merely leaned against it for a moment, trying to order his breathing and ease the turmoil inside him. Then he went downstairs, hoping he didn’t meet his mischievous, inquisitive brother on the way.
Lydia stayed where she was, listening first to the stillness and then to his retreating footsteps. Tears stung her eyes and burned in her throat. After the incredible beauty of what had just passed between them, his coldness was more hurtful than she would have believed possible. She knew she ought to have told him. She’d known he might be annoyed that she hadn’t … but she’d never expected this chilly, impersonal withdrawal.
She stared blankly at the cloth he’d placed in her hand and the purpose for which it was intended finally dawned on her, bringing wave upon wave of mortification in its wake. Was that what happened afterwards? Practicality without warmth or kindness? She doubted it. And the fact that Eden had treated her that way left her unsure whether she wanted to cry or vomit.
But she wouldn’t do either. She had some pride, after all and there had been humiliation enough for one night. She didn’t know how long he’d be away and she would not let him come back and find her helpless and broken.
I won’t cry. I’m stronger than that. So he’s angrier than I expected. Well, I don’t see why he should be but I can be angry too, if it comes to that. I will not cry.
She used the damned cloth, then hurled it across the room. She dragged her shift over her head and clambered from the bed to wash her hands and face. Finally, once more swaddled in Alice’s wrapper, she sat down by the fire to wait … her back straight and her chin up so that there would be no sign of the gaping hole of misery in her chest.
Eden returned bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses.
His mind was calmer but not particularly clearer and his guts were still churning – both with anger at his own lack of control and the knowledge that he’d walked away leaving her hurt. She’d just given herself for the first time – something she wouldn’t have done lightly – and he’d walked out as if it meant nothing. He prayed he wouldn’t find his brave, stubborn girl in tears. He’d much rather she threw something at his head. At least he’d be able to deal with that.
Inevitably, being Lydia, she did neither. She sat like an icy, disdainful statue and didn’t even look at him. Eden didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.
Setting the glasses down and filling them, he said neutrally, ‘I’m afraid your gown isn’t dry yet. Alice says she’ll have it ready for you in the morning – or she can send the girl to your house for fresh clothes.’
She didn’t reply. Indeed, she gave absolutely no sign of having heard him. Eden offered her a glass and then, when she ignored that as well, he placed it nearby and sat down facing her.
‘I apologise for the way I left you earlier. I’m aware of how it must have looked. But I just … I needed a moment.’
The blue eyes, drained of all expression in a way he’d never previously seen, drifted over and past him. She said, ‘I see. And now?’
‘And now we should talk.’
‘So you said. About what?’
He sighed. Plainly, she wasn’t inclined to make this any less difficult than it already was. He supposed he couldn’t really blame her.
‘I think you know the answer to that.’
She raised one inimically enquiring brow but said nothing.
Eden kept his tone gentle and persevered.
‘Why did you not tell me that you were a virgin?’
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t not tell you. I just didn’t tell you.’
‘Isn’t that splitting hairs?’
‘I don’t think so. And anyway … it seems to me that why isn’t the right question. However, if it helps, I’ve never told anyone else either. I’m sure you can work out why that was necessary.’
He could. An unconsummated marriage could be overset. So if Neville’s son or the daughter-in-law from hell had found out, the consequences for Lydia didn’t bear thinking about. What puzzled him, however, was why the marriage had remained incomplete … but he knew he’d better not ask. Or, at least, not just yet.
‘Yes. I can see that. So what is the question you believe I ought to be asking?’
‘When,’ she said succinctly. ‘Just when do you imagine I was supposed to tell you? Over the supper table? In the middle of one of our many discussions about my various troubles?’
‘No. But --’
&nb
sp; ‘No. The words ‘Oh – by the way I’m a virgin’ don’t exactly trip off the tongue in the midst of ordinary conversation, do they? Especially when, until tonight, there was never any question of you needing to know.’ Lydia paused but this time Eden didn’t speak so she added consideringly, ‘I suppose I might have mentioned it while we were stuck in the cellar. You know. Something along the lines of ‘Just in case, when we get out of here, you were hoping I’d reward your heroic endeavours with my body --’
‘That’s enough!’ snapped Eden. ‘What happened between us earlier had bugger all to do with that – and you damned well know it!’
‘If you say so. Though it’s not what you said before.’
‘That, as you know perfectly well, was a joke.’
She managed to look subtly sceptical and it sent his temper soaring. Controlling his voice with an effort, he said, ‘I have never expected – or wanted – payment from you of any kind. And I don’t bed women just because they happen to be grateful.’
She knew he didn’t just as she knew he’d been joking; but because some perverse piece of logic was prompting her to ensure he was as miserably off-balance as she was herself, she chose not to admit it. Instead, as if the matter were of little of no consequence, she said, ‘I never said you did.’
‘You implied it.’ She’d implied it and the implication made him utterly furious. How dared she? Was she goading him on purpose?
His brain froze for a second and then became suddenly very clear indeed.
Yes. Of course she bloody is. Well, two can play at that game, darling.
He folded his arms and looked her over with seemingly lazy curiosity. ‘Ah. Is that why you decided to sacrifice your long-guarded virtue? I must admit that the possibility hadn’t occurred to me – though I’m sure you’re going to tell me it should have done. I thought, you see, that we came together out of mutual desire. If that wasn’t so … well, let’s just say it must be galling for you to realise your sacrifice wasn’t necessary.’
