Beauty and the Brain

by Duncan, Alice

  “Right.” Colin nodded at the nurse and gazed blankly at Brenda.

  Fortunately, she was endowed with social graces sufficient for the both of them. “What a good idea. I don’t know how you do it, Nurse Cleary. Even being minimally involved in George’s injury has given me such a turn, I believe I do need a rest.”

  The nurse smiled with enormous benevolence upon Brenda, to whom, evidently, she had taken quite a shine.

  Everyone did; charm was one of Brenda’s major claims to fame, which meant she’d never want Colin in her life permanently.

  Colin told himself to cease with that line of thinking instantly.

  The nurse went on, “Of course it gave you a turn, lovey. But it’s different when it’s one of your own, don’t you know. It’s one thing to care for a stranger. It’s quite another when you see a friend or loved one in danger and hurt.”

  “Yes, it is.” Colin shivered in the warm room.

  The nurse gave him a squint-eyed once-over. “Oh, aye. You’re the lad’s brother, aren’t you?”

  He nodded and had to suppress a very embarrassing and childish urge to cry. To counteract it, he squared his shoulders and said, “Well.” Then he couldn’t think of a single thing to say after the one word. Dash it, he was useless.

  Again Brenda saved him “Let’s leave George and his nurse alone now, Colin. I’m sure Nurse Cleary will be happy to let us in again later, to check on his progress.”

  “Surely, surely.” Nurse Cleary folded her hands over her huge aproned stomach and offered them a bountiful smile, like a saint blessing a couple of sinners. “The lad mostly needs to sleep now. He’ll be under the influence of laudanum, too, so your chances of finding him awake will be better eight or nine hours from now.”

  Eight or nine hours. That would leave Brenda and him free to do—anything. He swallowed again, hard.

  “Of course,” said Brenda.

  Colin could only nod, his vocabulary having fled long since and apparently determined to maintain its absence. He managed to recollect some of the manners his mother had taught him scarcely in time to rush across the room and open the door for Brenda. When he shot one last glance back at George’s nurse, he discerned her shaking her head and watching him sadly, clearly believing George’s brother to be in perhaps greater need of nursing care than George himself.

  Maybe he was. He certainly was nothing like his usually self-assured self when he found himself in the hallway alone with Brenda. He gazed down at her, wondering what to say now.

  She peered up at him, her expression more sober than made Colin feel comfortable. “Well?” she said after several tense moments.

  Well? Well? What did she mean, well? Well what? Well why? Well where? Well, hell. God, he was losing his mind. No. He’d already lost his mind.

  She lowered her gaze and commenced gently rubbing her arms. “I guess I’ll go upstairs and rest. I think I do need a nap. Or something.”

  He still didn’t have a clue what he should say.

  Brenda waited a scant few seconds longer, then heaved a king-sized sigh and turned away from him.

  Panic welled in his chest. She was leaving him! He reached out and grabbed hold of her skirt, which was the only thing he could reach. “Wait!”

  She turned and stared at him as if he were a maniac—which he might well be, given the overall state of his emotions at, the moment. “I beg your pardon?” She gazed from his face to his hand, which still held a chunk of her skirt in a death grip.

  He released the fabric in a hurry. “I’m sorry. But, please, Brenda, don’t go. Please. I—I—I—” He what? Blessed if he knew.

  Fortunately, as ever, Brenda grasped the situation instantly. In a voice as sweetly flowing as honey, she said, “Why don’t you come upstairs with me, Colin?”

  He stared at her for only a moment before he grasped the import of her invitation. He gulped audibly, nodded, and started up the stairs right behind her. She led him to the door of her room, turned to give him one last quizzical gaze, and then, with the air of someone who’d just made a monumental decision that she feared she might regret—and soon—she opened the door and entered before him.

  Chapter Twenty

  This isn’t right, Brenda Fitzpatrick, Brenda’s conscience scolded her.

  Her woman’s intuition shot back, What do you know, you old hag? I may never have another opportunity to experience Colin’s love.

  It isn’t love and you know it, you naughty, passion-blinded goose. It’s lust.

  Lust and love aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.

  You’re quibbling.

  Brenda told them both to shut up and leave her alone. She was already as nervous as a cat on a hot stove. She had to lick her lips before she could get them apart far enough to speak. Her throat was dry as a mummy’s wrappings. “Would you like a drink of something first, Colin?” First? Good God, the man would think her the sleaziest of sleazy creatures m nature if she kept this up.

  “Um, sure. What do you have?”

  She wished she could have a shot of rye, actually, but she only had the mildest of sherry wines in her hotel room. Brenda didn’t drink much, and she only kept the wine on hand for the few times meetings had to be conducted in her room. “Ah, I have a little bit of sherry.”

  “Thank you. I’d like some wine.”

  Was he as nervous as she? He sounded like it. Taking some courage from this evidence of his vulnerability, Brenda went to the dresser where the sherry and a couple of glasses stood. Her hand trembled as she poured some out for Colin. Then, deciding she needed something, even if she didn’t drink, she poured one out for herself. After handing Colin his glass, which he drained instantly, she sipped at her own and shuddered. It would take her a long time to figure out why people liked to drink. The stuff was icky.

  “Thank you.” Colin stood there, looking uncomfortable and rather helpless, holding his empty wineglass.

  “Would you like some more?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “No? Well, then.”

  This was crazy. Brenda, who’d sworn to herself at least a decade earlier that she couldn’t afford to be romantical about life and, therefore, wouldn’t be, decided now that this particular decision had been a wise one. She wished she hadn’t forgotten it with Colin.

  However, she had invited Colin into her room for a purpose. Ergo, they’d best get at it before someone decided to interrupt them. First taking a deep breath and silently calling on God to give her strength—although what God had to do with this situation, she had no idea—she reached for the buttons on her bodice.

  Colin blinked and looked frightened.

  Oh, this was too ridiculous. Why should he be scared? She was the one who was the uninitiated virgin here. It occurred to her suddenly that perhaps Colin didn’t know that. Or perhaps he didn’t believe it, the cad. Perhaps he believed her to be a woman of loose morals after all. Maybe he’d fallen for the pervasive opinion of actresses and had tarred her with the same brush, no matter how well he’d come to know her.

  But she couldn’t allow herself to get distracted. She wanted to experience this more than she’d ever wanted anything, barring security for herself and her family. Telling herself to get a grip on her nerves, she said softly, “Would you like to help me?” Then she felt as if someone had set a torch to her, she was embarrassed.

  Fortunately—or unfortunately; she guessed she’d have to decide that later—Colin started slightly and stepped forward. “Yes. Thank you.”

  She let her arms fall to her sides. So gently she could scarcely feel them, Colin put his hands to her bosom. Her eyes closed of their own accord. This was it. This was the beginning of her fall.

  No, no, no. That was the wrong way to think about it. This was the beginning of a whole new world. Yes. That was much better.

  “Your—” The word ended in a croak, and Colin cleared his throat. Brenda opened her eyes again and looked up at him “Your dress got all smudged when you were helping George.�
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  She nodded, then forced herself to speak. “Yes. It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

  “You were wonderful today, Brenda.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Lord, I’m nervous.”

  “So am I.”

  At least they seemed to be on an equal footing, although Brenda assumed Colin had at least some prior experience in lovemaking. If they were both as unskilled as she, they might be in for a bumpy ride.

  She’d expected him to continue unbuttoning the front of her frock, but all at once he slipped his hands from her buttons and around her torso until he held her tightly in his arms. Ah. This was much more comfortable. Perhaps they would go through a few preliminaries before they tackled the main course. Brenda wished she’d thought of this instead of acting like a hussy.

  “I’ve dreamed about this,” Colin whispered.

  “So have I.”

  The kiss they shared was so tender, Brenda might have wept, except she feared she’d terrify Colin out of his intentions. As she felt his sex engorge and enlarge, though, she deemed such a thing unlikely. Gaining a modicum of courage and boldness from knowing he desired her, Brenda rubbed herself gently against him. He let out a hiss of pleasure.

  Ah. This was better. If one of them stopped being scared, they’d probably have a greater chance of success. Whatever success in these circumstances turned out to be.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He nuzzled her throat, and she sighed delicately with the pleasure of the sensation. She almost wished he hadn’t said that. She’d prefer that he desire her for herself alone and not merely for her beauty, which had been a gift from nature. She was sick of men only caring about her beauty.

  Silly Brenda. Her beauty was what had taken her this far in life. She’d be a fool to discount it new. She was getting what she’d wanted ever since she’d set eyes on Colin. And if it was on account of her beauty, and if this was all she ever got from him, if he refused to give her the benefit of his love or even of his knowledge and learning, at least she’d always know she’d had this much.

  He’d started feathering light kisses over her cheeks and forehead, and his hands had begun roaming delicately over her back and down to her hips. She had far too many clothes on for her to gain full value of his caresses.

  She lifted her lips to his and kissed him gently, wondering if he could feel the love in her heart. His own lips were soft and full and warm and brushed hers with exquisite tenderness. They were the most wonderful lips Brenda had ever seen. His tongue pressed against her mouth softly, and she parted her lips.

  Oh, my, that felt good. His tongue was velvety and gentle as it probed hers. She’d never done this before, although she’d heard about it plenty of times. Theatrical folks weren’t noted for their discretion. Snippets of giggled conversations tiptoed through her mind as she melted into the sensations Colin was drawing out in her.

  Her body tingled all over. She felt as if the blood had started dancing in her veins. Her nipples puckered and began to ache. She felt a quiver in her lower belly and a pressure between her thighs. When Colin’s hand pressed against her hips, she responded instantly, fairly grinding herself against his groin. Lord, she wanted whatever it was Colin had. She needed it. Desperately.

  “Brenda,” he gasped, and said no more.

  She understood, having been fairly deprived of speech herself. Knowing she was passing some sort of boundary and she’d never be able to return, she deliberately fumbled with the buttons on Colin’s jacket.

  “Wait,” he croaked.

  To her dismay, he let go of her and backed away a step. She was about to protest when she realized he was merely shedding outer garb. His jacket flew across the room and landed with a soft plop. As if in a trance, she watched his collar studs hit the floor. Seconds later his stiff celluloid collar joined them. Then he started on his shirt buttons.

  With a start, she realized he was getting ahead of her, so she began unbuttoning, too. Her nerves jangled and her fingers fumbled over their job, but at last the bodice of her frock opened. She glanced at Colin’s eyes. They’d been watching her hungrily. When she pushed her dress down and it puddled at her feet, she saw him swallow.

  His own shirt dropped from his fingers as if they’d lost all muscular control. He ripped his undershirt off quickly, as if he wanted to get the thing over his head before it had a chance to hide her from his vision a single second longer than it had to.

  Brenda felt her mouth drop open. His chest was a work of art. She, who had seen chests galore in her day, due to the fact that most actors harbored a strange combination of egomania and insecurity in their complicated bosoms and liked to parade their wares for admiring audiences, was gratified. Colin was perfect in her eyes. Not bulky, his musculature was well-defined and beautiful. His chest was just hairy enough Not enough to make him look like an ape, but interesting. Very interesting. “Oh, Colin.”

  He appeared worried for an instant, until he understood her comment had been one of approval and not censure. “I’ve, ah, done quite a bit of physical labor during my scholastic career. Anthropology and archeology aren’t indoor pursuits.”

  “No.” She gulped. “I mean, yes, I can see that.” She paused for another second or two, taking in the glory of Colin’s torso. He was tanned, too, as if he’d done a lot of outdoor work without his shirt on. She wished she could have been there to watch him. Better yet, she’d have liked to help. “I’m glad.”

  His slow grin seemed to heat the air between them. It took a minute for her to overcome her nervousness enough to grin back, but she did it. “Well,” she said after a pause, “I like your chest. I hope you like mine.”

  She heard him suck in a quick breath as she reached for her corset hooks. The garment dropped onto the gown mounded at her feet. Very slowly, she reached for the straps of her fine lawn chemise. It was her favorite, a delicate, feminine garment, and Brenda was grateful she’d chosen to wear it today. She loved its broiderie anglaise and satin ribbon trim and always felt especially and mysteriously womanly when she wore it. It was an odd thing, but it gave her courage, probably because it was both ladylike and tantalizing

  At least she hoped it was. From the look on Colin’s face, it was plenty tantalizing. Slowly and carefully, she slipped the straps down her shoulders. Colin’s breathing became heavier. Encouraging, that. When the chemise snagged briefly on her breasts, Brenda saw him swallow again. And then the chemise, too, fell to her feet to rest there along with her corset and frock, and she stood before the love of her life in nothing but her pantaloons.

  “My God,” Colin breathed.

  Brenda took that as encouragement. Feeling both shy and bold, she asked in a voice breathy with fear and excitement, “Well? Do you approve?”

  “Approve? Approve? My God, Brenda, you’re—you’re like a goddess. One of the vestal virgins or something.”

  Vestal virgins? What in the name of heaven were they? For a moment, she wondered if contemplating virgins might put a damper on this pleasant interlude. But no. A glance at the front of Colin’s trousers reassured her. “Is that a good thing?”

  He nodded slowly before he cleared his throat and whispered, “Oh, yes. It’s a very good thing.”

  “I’m glad.”

  As if a mesmerist had snapped his fingers and brought Colin out of the spell he’d been under, he shook himself quickly and tackled his trouser buttons. Brenda watched, fascinated. She’d never seen this before. As much as actors liked to make exhibitions of themselves, no man had yet had the courage to display himself in front of her naked from the waist down. She’d had glimpses of what might await her, but she’d never seen it in the flesh—so to speak before today.

  Colin pushed his underwear down along with his trousers, and Brenda gaped at the result. He popped, heavily and fully aroused, from the fabric. His—thing—was very big. Gigantic, actually.

  Brenda’s eagerness suffered a slight setback. Was this right? Was it even possible? Was this the way it was
supposed to work? It didn’t look like it to her, although it must be. It was her turn to gulp

  “Don’t be afraid, Brenda,” Colin pleaded, as if it might kill him if she got scared and backed out now “I’ll be gentle.”

  She glanced at his face and discerned the worry there. Poor Colin. “Don’t worry, Colin, I won’t back out now.” That would not only be unsportsmanlike—and Brenda prided herself on being a good sport—but it would be a terrible letdown. No playwright worth his salt would allow such a thing to happen in fiction. Brenda wasn’t going to disappoint in fact.

  After staring for fully long enough to worry that Colin might become embarrassed, Brenda dragged her gaze away from his masculine member and allowed it to travel down his legs.

  Mercy sakes. Imagine an academician having legs like that. Long, lean, heavily muscled, and spattered with black hair, they looked as if they ought to belong on a cowboy. Better yet, a gladiator. Or a pirate. Somebody who did lots of athletic stuff, anyway. The phrase columns of Hercules drifted through Brenda’s brain as she admired them. Then she took herself in hand and decided to move things along.

  With trembling fingers, she untied the drawstring to her drawers and let them drop to the floor.

  They stood there for several seconds, looking into each other’s eyes. Then, as one, they moved into each other’s arms. “God, Brenda, I’ve dreamed of this ever since I met you.”

  “I have, too.” It was difficult to speak for the sensations rioting in her body. Colin’s hands bad started stroking her bare skin and igniting fires all over her. Heat danced wherever he touched her, and the pressure to achieve release increased along with the heat.

  Suddenly, he stooped a little and picked her up from the floor. She threw her arms around his neck and held on, thrilled that he’d done such an impulsive thing. When he lowered her to the bed, she kept holding on, and they were soon entangled with each other on the soft, pillowy mattress.