Chapter 13

A virgin.”

He winced. It sounded even more ludicrous when she said it. “Yes.”

She settled back to sit on the floor. Rather, it was more of a jarring drop, her bottom hitting the rug with a muffled thud. Regardless of how you framed it, however, she moved beyond his reach. For a horrible moment his hand hung suspended like a leaf caught on the thinnest spiderweb before dropping awkwardly to his lap.

Damn it, he should have kept his mouth shut. He needn’t have told her. Surely he could have faked knowledge enough to make her believe he wasn’t completely without experience. He had seen enough with the engravings in the books his brother had secreted into the house when they’d been young, after all; had heard enough ribald comments from schoolmates and fellow soldiers to be able to be quite creative should the need arise.

But no, he told himself a moment later. He had promised respect and honesty with this woman. He was not going to disregard that vow before they’d even begun.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I see.”

But she made no move to rise. Her gaze went unfocused, flitting about the room, as if it didn’t know where to settle.

Ah, God, this had been a colossal mistake. Gathering his cane with stiff fingers, he braced himself to rise, praying he would be able to maneuver about her without falling flat on his face. Truly, the evening only needed that embarrassment.

“I can see I’ve distressed you,” he mumbled. “I’ll leave you now.”

“No!”

Her answer was swift and unexpected. More unexpected, however, was her body as she lurched toward him. He reared back, losing what little ground he had made in rising. And then she settled between his thighs, her full hips pushing into that sensitive space with aching intimacy. His breath left him on a harsh, ragged exhale.

She planted her hands on his chest, no doubt determined to hold him in place by physical strength if need be.

As if he could leave just then.

“I’m sorry for my reaction,” she said, her voice low. “I was merely surprised. But it makes no difference to me.”

He quirked one eyebrow. “Doesn’t it?”

Her lips kicked up at one corner, a faint humor lighting her eyes. “Well, mayhap a small bit. But not in any negative way.”

And then, because he was a masochist, he asked, “In what way, then?”

Once more, however, Margery surprised him. Her lids went heavy, enhancing the firelight in her eyes until he thought it would scorch him on the spot. Her hands, which had remained planted on his chest, drifted down over his torso to his hips.

His mouth went dry.

“Would you think any less of me if I told you it was…arousing?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that. And neither had his…nether region…if the way it suddenly came back to life was any indication. “God, no. I think you being aroused is…arousing.”

She smiled. But it was no simple smile. No, this one held all the mysteries of the universe in it.

“Margery.”

Her name escaped him on a breath of sound, and he was powerless to rein in the need that laced it. But he needn’t have worried that he was showing his hand to her. Her response to it was more than he could ever have imagined. Her full lips opened in a small gasp, the fire seeming to have jumped from the hearth to her eyes. She leaned into him, her full breasts pressing into his chest, her stomach rubbing against his manhood. And then her mouth was on his.

If he had thought he’d wanted her before, this made it seem laughable by comparison. He was consumed, reduced to smoldering cinders under her. His cane clattered to the floor but he hardly heard it for the roaring in his ears. He cupped her face with both hands, the rich fall of her hair cascading over his fingers as he tilted her head, the better to drink of the aching sweetness that was her mouth. She opened her lips to him readily, her tongue touching his, sweeping into his mouth with a heady boldness.

But the kiss was all too short. He nearly cried out from the loss of her. It was then, however, that he felt the wet heat of her mouth on his neck. He shuddered under her, tilting his head, welcoming the exquisite torture. Her teeth dragged down the cords of his throat, working him like the finest instrument, wringing a low moan from his lips. She worked at the open neckline of his shirt, and soon her mouth trailed lower, across his collarbone, to the place just over his galloping heart.

She made a small noise deep in her throat when she could go no farther. “Well, this certainly needs to go,” she murmured. And then her small hands were on the hem of his shirt.

Instinct kicked in then. Quite without meaning to, he gripped her hands in his, stalling the removal of his shirt. She gasped, her gaze flying to his, and he fought to focus on the dazed desire glowing in her eyes. A desire that was quickly being replaced by confusion, and that would extinguish completely if he didn’t get ahold of himself. This needs to happen, he told himself firmly. Release her, and let her do what she wishes. If he was going to take a wife he needed to grow used to a woman looking at his body, after all.

But no amount of reasoning could lessen the panic in him. Instead it grew until he could no longer ignore it.

“The firelight,” he gasped, shame rearing up that his fear was so beyond his control.

Margery blinked, looking in hazy bewilderment from his still-clothed chest to his hands gently but firmly holding her own, and finally back to his face. She must have seen something in his carefully smoothed expression, however, for her gaze cleared in an instant, a look of understanding taking its place. “If you’re certain.”

He wasn’t; while she would not be able to see him well, it also meant he would be denied the glory of her unclothed. And it would be glorious. He softened—and hardened at the same time. To see Margery in all her splendor, each delectable inch of her bared to his gaze, would bring him untold pleasure.

But he couldn’t chance it. He just couldn’t.

“I’m certain,” he managed.

She nodded, immediately moving away to bank the fire. Regret crashed down on him at the loss of her, further compounded as the light dimmed to such a degree that he could barely make her out. But then she stood, and turned to face him. And the sight of her backlit by the faint orange glow of what was left of the once-roaring blaze effectively doused whatever portions of his brain were still in working order.

He lurched to his feet and strode the few feet to her, not caring if the sudden movement would bring him pain in the morning, knowing only he needed her more than breath in his lungs in that moment. Before she could react he caught her in his arms.

There was no holding back now. Their mouths clashed, teeth scraping, hands fumbling. He should perhaps worry that all intentions he might have had to be smooth and gentle had flown out the proverbial window. But all he could think of in that moment was how wondrous she felt under his hands. Her simple cotton nightgown left nothing to his imagination. And yet it was not enough.

An encroaching thought slunk into his addled mind in that moment that he would never have enough of her. Before it could take hold, however, she yanked her lips free and gasped, “The bed.”

There was much stumbling and lurching as they made their way across the room. But he would be damned if he would fetch his cane in that moment. It was bad enough he couldn’t sweep his arms beneath her and carry her in chivalrous fashion to the bed as he truly wished to. Regardless of how they got there, however, they finally did and collapsed onto the plush mattress in a heap of tangled limbs.

It was even darker here so far from the hearth, only the faintest light reaching them. Even so, pure instinct had him tensing as she once more reached for the hem of his shirt. But he didn’t stop her this time as she lifted it up and over his head. As her slender, quick fingers brushed against his lower belly to find the fall of his breeches, however, he couldn’t ignore the panic building in him. Once more he stayed her hand.

She paused. And then, her lips at his ear, she kissed his temple and whispered, “Trust me, Daniel.”

He shuddered, and not just from the exquisite sensation of her lips, or the sweet sound of her saying his name—something he did not think he could ever get enough of—but also from the truth that shined deep in his chest in that moment: he did trust her. More than he had ever wanted to trust anyone ever again.

He let loose a ragged breath and nodded, loosening her fingers. All too soon she undid the fastenings, releasing his member to the cool night air, and was pushing his breeches down over his hips and off his legs.

He lay there in shock, waiting for the panic to set in. He did not have time, however, for after a faint rustling she was back with him, stretching over him. And his shock was compounded as her silky skin, warm and utterly bare, dragged against his own.

Heaven. Ah, God, it was utter heaven. He groaned at the sensation, and it mingled with her faint gasp until he could not tell where one sound ended and the other began. How was this exquisite torture even possible? How did people ever leave their beds? But he also knew they were far from done. And he was suddenly eager to experience everything.

Just then her hand found his straining member, and he nearly bucked right off the bed. Not that they would have time tonight to experience everything. He would be lucky if he didn’t spend himself in her hand right in that very moment.

“No,” he gasped, pulling her hand from him though all he wanted was to pump himself into her fingers and into oblivion. “Too close.”

She chuckled, a low, throaty sound he felt clear to his toes. After a moment’s shock he found a smile lifting his lips. Was this part of it, then, this wonderful camaraderie that enhanced pure physicality?

Feeling suddenly and inexplicably playful, he nipped her shoulder gently with his teeth. “Minx,” he growled. “You would laugh at my lack of control?”

Which only made her laugh harder. There was something incredibly joyous in the sound, as if she’d been freed from captivity and had seen the sun for the first time.

Which was a feeling he could relate to. What else was she to him but the sun, lighting everything that had, up until then, been dreary and dark and hopeless?

Grinning, he said in as menacing a voice as he was able, “You wound my manhood, madam.”

Once again her hand found him, brushing with the lightest touch against the hard length of him. “I have only the deepest respect for your manhood.”

His breath stalled in his chest as he was caught between delight at her teasing and a raging need for her. But the latter quickly took precedence until it was all he was. Gripping her hips, ignoring the pain in his thigh, he rolled her beneath him.

Her laughter died as quickly as it had started. “Daniel,” she moaned, her fingers diving into his hair. Trembling, he trailed kisses over her cheek, down the long length of her neck, across her chest, just as she had done to him. But there was nothing to hinder his progress. Lower and lower he went, the taste of her skin filling him, the sugared violet scent of her driving him mad with need. When he reached the softness of her breasts he thought he would lose his mind entirely. And then his questing lips found her nipple, and he drew her deep into his mouth.

She cried out, arching up for more. The very idea that he could bring her pleasure sent him completely over the edge. He filled his palms with her breasts, plumping them in his hand even as his mouth devoured her. He could have kissed her there forever, so glorious was the feel of her, soft and supple and gloriously delicious, under his lips.

Until Margery took hold of one of his hands and pulled it away from her breast. He did not have time to worry that she wished him to stop, however, for he quickly realized where she was guiding his hand: down, over the fullness of her stomach, her hips, to the downy mound of hair covering that most sacred place.

He had heard of women becoming wet from loving. But he had never dreamed of the glorious heat and slickness he found at the center of her. He rubbed a finger against her folds, transfixed. To his shock a low cry escaped her. And then she was pressing up into his hand.

“Daniel, now,” she begged, tugging on his shoulders.

He went willingly. With an ancient instinct he settled between her trembling thighs. And then her legs wrapped about his hips and she guided him within her.

“Margery,” he groaned against her shoulder as her heat enveloped him. She was tight, so gloriously tight around him, and he could not imagine there could be anything better than this. He took a long moment just to feel her, to make certain he never forgot this moment and how she felt wrapped around him. Then he began to move.

How wrong he had been.

*  *  *

Fullness, such glorious fullness and stretching, with Daniel deep inside her. Margery’s breath left her on a long exhale. How she had missed this, the connection to another through lovemaking, the physical intimacy of such an act. But as wonderful as it felt, having him inside her, having his strong body pressing into her with a welcome weight, she wanted more. So much more.

But would he know what to do? Did the fact that he was a virgin—or rather, had been, for he certainly wasn’t one now—also mean that he would not know how to proceed? A silly thought, perhaps. There was such a thing as instinct, after all.

The longer he lay still, however, his arms trembling on each side of her as he held himself above her, his breath ragged against her neck, the more doubt crept in. But perhaps it wasn’t his lack of knowledge that had him pausing. Mayhap it was his injury. Was he in pain? Should she say something? Or would it shatter the moment?

Before she could decide how to proceed, however, he began to move. And all coherent thought vanished.

Her low moan as he slowly pulled out, only to push back within her with the same exquisite slowness, was echoed by his own deep groan. “My God.” He repeated the action, his voice hitching on a breath, “Margery. You feel—you’re—”

“Yes,” she whispered against his temple, her hands diving into his hair. She pressed her heels into the soft mattress, angling her hips to take him more deeply within her, and he shuddered.

“Heaven,” he managed, his lips brushing against her shoulder with that one word, his hot breath bathing her skin.

And it was heaven, in every way. His body was pure bliss in her arms, the feel of his member, large and throbbing within her, quickly bringing her aching body to heights that her hands and fingers had only hinted at over the years. His movements became frantic, each pump of his hips bringing them both closer to the precipice. She soared, higher, faster. Until, with all the force of a wave in a storm-raged sea, the pleasure crashed over her head, drowning her in exquisite completion.

With the tremors still wracking her sated body, he groaned and pulled himself free. But, as mindless with pleasure as she was, she could not think of him finding release alone just then. Immediately she was there, pushing him onto his back, replacing his hand with her own. She worked her fingers over his slick member, squeezing the thick shaft, dragging her fingers over the head.

“Margery,” he moaned. And she suddenly wished she could see him finding his release, for it would have been a beautiful sight. Instead she strained to see him in the shadows, watching with hungry eyes as he threw his head back against the pillows, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. Suddenly he covered his mouth with a hand, his muffled shout nevertheless ringing through the dark room as he found completion.

Grabbing a towel, she cleaned them both before curling against his chest. His arms came around her, his grip on her tight.

“Margery,” he managed, his breathing ragged. “My God, Margery—that was—my God—”

She smiled, listening to his heart galloping beneath her ear, a perfect accompaniment to her own. Despite the racing of her heart, a wonderful lethargy had taken over her. Her body felt sated as it had not in too long. “Yes it was,” she murmured with feeling.

“I’ve never—that is, I never imagined—”

Suddenly he stilled, then shifted, pulling back to look down at her. His eyes glittered in the faint orange glow from the banked fire. “Did you—that is, are you—?”

Her smile widened. Of course he was concerned for her own pleasure, being the utterly wonderful man he was. “Oh, yes, Daniel.”

He released a relieved breath, relaxing beneath her. They lay in silence for some time, as their breathing returned to normal, as their hearts slowed. Exhaustion dragged down on Margery then. Her eyes grew heavy, the peace of such a moment, with Daniel’s strong arm secure about her and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her head, lulling her closer to slumber. Just as she was about to drift over the edge, however, his hesitant voice rumbled in her ear.

“I don’t suppose you would wish to repeat that, would you?”

And suddenly she was wide awake, desire—somehow even more potent than before—coursing through her. In answer she rose over him, taking his lips in a kiss. And there was no room for talk, only sensation, and pleasure, long into the night.