The Duke and the Virgin (4 page)

She flew over the edge, her head thrown back in pleasure, mouth open, and the sexiest moan he’d heard passed her lips. Her thighs slammed shut around his arm as the orgasm raked her body. He didn’t ease up until he’d dragged every shudder and moan from her he could. When her legs relaxed, he positioned himself over her, nudging them apart again. As she stared up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded and still cloudy with pleasure, he entered her in one quick thrust and breached her maidenhead easily, but she tensed and her expression changed from pleasure to pain.

A single tear slipped under her mask. He hated himself for causing her discomfort. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped the tear away and, hoping to ease her, whispered, “Relax, my darling. That’s the worst of it.”

She nodded wordlessly. Though impatient, he waited, when the primitive male part of him urged him on. Still, he waited. For the first time in his life he, cared about something other than his own pleasure and he refused to rush.

Locking her eyes with his, she swallowed hard then tilted her hips, as if curious.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, gritting his teeth. And still he waited.

He let her lead the dance. Only when she was ready would he take over. Not knowing a lot about virgins, Llysa being the first he had slept with, he understood she needed time to stretch, to get used to having him inside her. Only then could he take over again.

“You seem in pain,” she managed between breaths.

“Blissfully.”

“I don’t understand. Tell me.”

She wanted him to talk to her? He only wanted to heed the devil within that said to take his pleasure. “Holding back to give you time to…adjust is taking a great deal more self-control than I had anticipated.”

“Does it help if I do this?” Lifting her hips, she forced him deeper.

“Fuck me.” He groaned again and the chit had the audacity to giggle. He was dying and she was laughing. Any woman who’d just had her maidenhead breached and could giggle couldn’t be as fragile as he thought her to be, thank God. “You are a minx.”

Claiming her mouth, he took her laughter into his. Then he gripped her full hips, and drove his cock into her. Her mirth turned to gasps, but she met each thrust. Her small hands inched from his shoulders down to his bare ass, nails scoring the skin in their path, pushing him on until he heard nothing but a roaring thunder in his ears.

As if by instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him deeper access and sending him to heaven’s gate. Holding off, he spurred her on, kissing her damp neck until she shivered. When her thighs clamped around him and the first screams of pleasure left her luscious lips, he fell over the cliff to orgasmic bliss. And for a time thought of nothing except the beautiful woman under him.

After her breathing slowed, she whispered, almost to herself, “Why would anyone think of England at a time like this?”

Propping up on his elbows, he laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, my mother told my sister the night before she wed that she should lie back and think of England on her wedding night.”

“Really? And how, might I ask,” he rolled to his side and slid his fingers across her cooling body, “would you know this?”

She blushed all the way to her beautiful, pert nipples. “I might have been eavesdropping.”

“Of course you were.” He tugged her close, wanted her against him. It occurred to him she might require more care than the ladies who had shared his bed in the past, none of whom he managed to picture in his head. Only this woman mattered. Lifting all the way up, he groaned. “Stay there.”

“Where would I go? My muscles no longer seem to work.”

He grinned.
Not a bad thing
.

A large basin of water sat in the corner with some fresh cloths. Bringing them to her, he washed away the remnants of her virginity from her thighs. “How does a bath sound?”

“Heavenly.”

Wolfe crossed the room, stopping to throw on the robe warming on a chair near the fireplace. Opening the door, he wasn’t surprised to see the butler standing outside.

Before Wolfe could ask, the man said, “A bath has been prepared in the adjoining room, your grace.”

“Thank you.”

With a bow, the elderly servant took a step back against the wall. “My pleasure.”

Walking into the room connected to the bedroom, Wolfe found the steaming bath ready. He returned to their bed and scooped Lyssa into his arms.

“Stop! I am too heavy.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone says I am a stone or two overweight.”

“Everyone is a fool. You are perfect.” He meant every word. This woman might be perfect—for him. Entering the bathroom, he eased her into the water. “How are you feeling?”

She slipped down into the water with a sigh. “Wonderful and sore all at once.”

“Lean forward.” When she did without question, Wolfe smiled and slid down behind her.

“Do you always share a bath after—you know….”

Even with her back to him, he spotted the rosy blush on the tips of her ears. “After making love? No, this is the first time I have shared a bath with anyone.” He took the cloth and soap sitting on the stool next to the tub and rubbed it over her back.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t completely understand either,” he admitted, rinsing the soap from her shoulders.

She played with the suds on the water’s surface. “You aren’t the man the ton thinks you are.”

“No one is really who the ton thinks they are. For example, they think you are just a wallflower, yet you have an inner sensuality that brings me to my knees. And you are so much stronger than I think even you know.”

“I am not strong.” She shook her head and touched her mask as if to ensure it hadn’t shifted.

“Aren’t you? You came here and quickly put me in my place, standing your ground when I was purposefully hurtful, intentionally rude. You met me thrust for thrust in bed, didn’t hesitate—oh, I do love this blush of yours.” He traced the shell of her ear with his finger, avoiding the ties of the mask.

“I hate to contradict you, your grace, but I am a coward. I can’t even bring myself to take off this mask although you have seen every other inch of me.”

He brushed his lips over her shoulder. “I have thoroughly enjoyed every inch I have seen and tasted.”

Several moments passed before she finally spoke again. “I am afraid of almost everything. I am afraid of my father, of growing old and being a burden to my family, and I am sad that I’m so afraid to remove my disguise that you will see me at a ball and not know who I am.”

“Let me see you.”

“I can’t because I am as equally afraid that you will see me at a ball and know who I am.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them. “I know that makes no sense. “

“Lyssa, you don’t need to explain to me.” He stood and snatched a towel off the stool. “Come, the water is cooling. Let’s get you back to bed.”

“You’re coming with me?”

He hated the uncertainty in her voice and common sense advised him to tuck her in and run, hard and fast. But his heart, whose sole purpose up until that night had been merely to pump blood, told him if he only had a few hours, then to take what he could. If he married, and God knew he would have to one day, he wanted this night to remember. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

It did not surprise him to find the bedroom cleaned, linens changed, and bed covers pulled down. Their clothes had been folded neatly on a chair and a tray of food waited for them. The staff was nothing if not efficient and silent in their tasks.

After bringing the tray to the bed, he discovered great joy in feeding her and being fed in return. For a woman who had been a virgin not more than an hour earlier, Llysa seemed very comfortable, by no means a wilting maid. She sat cross-legged on the bed wearing nothing but her mask, and he found her openness refreshing.

Having finished her second glass of wine, she asked, “So are we going to…make love again?”

Shaking his head, he said, “As detectible as your body is, and as you can see I am ready to go again, you need time to heal. I can’t in good faith take you again and look at myself in the mirror in the morning.”

“Some rake you are.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I never really was.”

“And yet you talked tonight about being a member of the Hellfire Club.”

“I lied.” He nearly choked on a piece of cheese at the look of surprise on her face.

“You lied? But you’re a duke.”

“Even dukes lie on occasion. I said it to scare you. I was curious if you would run. You see, I didn’t lie when I said I was bored, and at times I admit to playing games.” Her clear eyes held a mixture of worry and hurt. He cringed knowing his selfish actions caused such pain. “I am not playing with you now.”

She took another bite and nodded, but refused to meet his eyes again. While so strong on the outside, she had a delicate nature that his heart ached for. She had to be strong to live the life she did. People believed she didn’t care what they thought. As an on-the-shelf wallflower, she had learned to portray a façade to the world that she didn’t care if she married or not, and had more important things to do. For the first time, he considered the unfairness of her situation.

Pushing the food out of the way, he inched closer to her and tipped her chin back. “Lyssa, look at me.” He waited for her to meet his gaze. “I will never play with your emotions again. This I promise.”

He captured her mouth, demanding she open and acknowledge his remorse and the truth of his words. She didn’t fight him and when his other hand cupped her bare breast, she sighed and met his kiss with a fevered one of her own.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he murmured against her lips.

“I’m being silly—too sensitive.”

“You make me want things I have never wanted.” Shifting so his back rested against the stack of pillows in front of the headrest, Wolfe drew Lyssa into his arms and, without questioning, she snuggled against his chest. “I want to protect you. I have grown up knowing I should take care of women. Yet I know you can take care of yourself, I want to care for you.”

“I wish life were different,” she said then silence filled the room.

What more could he say? He rubbed her back and ran fingers through her hair, careful not to dislodge the mask, until her breathing slowed and she slept peacefully in his arms.

The few hours left of the evening flew by too quickly and when the scratch on the door came to alert Wolfe that their time together neared an end, he faced it as he did all issues—head on. Carefully easing Llysa to the side, he noticed her mask had slipped. But as much as he wanted to know her face, he wanted her trust more. Without looking at her, he readjusted the lace then slid out of bed.

Once he’d dressed, he laid a kiss on her exposed cheek. “Sweeting, it’s time to leave. Your carriage is waiting.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him before her hands flew up to check her mask. “Thank you for not removing it,” she whispered.

“I thought about it.” He strode over to stoke the fire. “Come, you don’t have a lot of time, you must be home soon. Your servants will be up within the hour.”

After helping her dress, he walked her as far as the bedroom door. This had been their domain and she’d been clear that after tonight she couldn’t have him in her life. But he planned or hoped some distance would change her mind.

He pulled a card from his breeches pocket then reached over to the side table and picked up the cuff links he had set there. “Should you ever need me, show these to my butler, and he will admit you. I will come immediately.”

She shook her head. “I can’t take these.” Were those tears in her eyes? The damnable mask prevented him from being sure.

“Please…I will feel better knowing you have a way to get through my protective staff. My card and these will do it. I took care, but there could still be repercussions of our night.”

“You mean a child?”

“Yes.”

Her hand glided to her stomach and a part of him wished he had not pulled out before his orgasm. But he wouldn’t trap her any more than she would trap him. He folded her fingers around the card and cufflinks in her palm and then bent to brush his lips over hers. “I will always come to your aid.”

“Thank you for a magical evening,” she said.

“It was, as you already know, my pleasure, my lady.”

Walking through the doorway, she turned, curtsied, and lowered her head. “Your grace.” And disappeared down the hall, leaving him hard-pressed not to follow.

Three weeks later

“His grace, your grace,” His mother’s butler announced as Wolfe walked into her morning room, although it happened to be three in the afternoon.

“Mother.” He kissed her proffered cheek.

“What brings my favorite son here on such a miserable day?” She swept a hand toward the rain steadily tapping against the window.

Sitting in the seat across from her, he waited while she ordered some food and tea. “First, I am your only son and, second, do I need a reason to visit my mother?”

“I know you better than that. The House is in its last week in session and you take time to leave your seat to see me. What is it?”

“Really, Mother,” he replied. “You are entirely too skeptical.”

“Like mother, like son.”

He cleared his throat. “I do have a favor to ask.”

Her shrewd eyes met his. “I am all ears, my dear.”

“I need you to host a ball.”

If her eyebrows shot any higher they would have disappeared into her hairline. “A ball, you say? Do you plan to attend?”

“Well, it would be silly to ask you to host it at my request and not show up myself.”

“Who do you want me to invite and when do you want this to happen?”

He grinned. His mother could never resist the opportunity to host a ball. “The ton. And this weekend.”

His mother jumped to her feet. “Everyone? This weekend? As in five days?”

“Meaning every member of the ton, in five days.” His smile widened.

“I suppose you have a theme in mind as well?” She sank onto the cushions again.