Betrayed, her eyes shot daggers at him. She didn’t trust his promises right now.
“Try to relax.”
Was he a bedlamite? Her whole body clenched at his brutal invasion. She pushed against the wide shoulders that she’d admired only minutes ago. But like a wall of stone, he wouldn’t budge.
Their eyes met. If it was any consolation (which it wasn’t), he looked to be in as much pain as she was. He kept himself perfectly still—apparently no small feat if the bulging veins in his neck were any indication—allowing her body to adjust to him. And surprisingly, it did. After a few minutes he asked cautiously, “Better?”
She thought about it, wanting to disagree. Instead she answered honestly. “Yes.” Her body had seemed to soften around him, gently stretching to accommodate his substantial girth. And though unfamiliar, it no longer hurt. The painful throbbing had been replaced by a gentle tingling of awareness—a tingle that extended from low in her belly up to the sensitive tips of her breasts.
With the realization that the pain had dulled, Genie began to grasp the beauty, the wonder of what they were doing. They were truly connected, joined together in a way she never could have imagined. Her heart soared with the knowledge that this was the man who was meant for her. Her one and only true love.
“God you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
He kissed her then with such depth of feeling that Genie ached, no longer from pain, but from the pure tenderness of his caress. He soothed her with his mouth. He worshiped her with his tongue. And Genie couldn’t get enough, returning his kiss with equal fervor. His hands caressed her body, cupping her breasts and gently teasing her nipples, enticing her passion until the heat of desire spread over her body once again. Until she yearned for more. She yearned to feel his mouth on her skin, to shed the clothes that separated them and feel the hot press of his skin on hers. His mouth drove her crazy with need and her body responded, growing damp with desire. The yearning became too much. Writhing with anticipation, she moved her hips against him.
“Now?” he asked, his voice rough with pent up desire. “How do you feel now, my love?”
Genie felt strange, confused by the wave of sensation crashing over her. She was reaching out in the darkness for something, though she didn’t know what it was. No longer did his entry feel like a brutal invasion. Now it felt right. Like he filled her. Completely. And Genie was amazed at how the sensation of his thick, long erection pressed deep inside her, aroused her to the point of frenzy. “I feel… I feel like I want more.”
He groaned deeply, obviously relieved. As if the restraint he’d been demonstrating was more than he could bear. Eyes half-lidded, he threw his head back and thrust. Slowly at first, then increasing in speed and intensity. Instinctively, Genie sought more. She lifted her hips to meet his thrust, matching him stroke for stroke. The enthusiasm of her response seemed to drive him mad. He was perilously close to losing control.
And she loved it.
Her body cried out with pleasure as he pushed deeper inside her and she found the fulfillment that she’d unknowingly craved. Her heart raced as the frantic rhythm of their joining crested to its highest peak. It was quickly spinning out of control, but she didn’t care. She’d lost the ability to think. All she knew was the force of the exquisite pressure building inside of her. She wanted it harder, faster, deeper. She wanted as much as he could give.
A deep guttural sound broke her from her trance. She glanced up just in time to watch the emotion traverse his face, a strange mix of agony and ecstasy. The magnitude of his passion overwhelmed her. And Genie felt something quicken inside her, a tightness that was building in intensity that she did not understand. The tingling was now throbbing, the elusive craving that something magical was just beyond the edge of her consciousness. She wanted to cry out.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “I can’t hold back any longer. Next time, it will be longer.” His strange words made sense moments later when suddenly he jerked, crying out his release as he sank deep inside her. A warm rush surged through her and the sheer intimacy of the moment made her heart catch. Their eyes met and Genie felt as if she was looking into the depths of his soul. She would never be connected to anyone like she was to this man. He possessed her completely.
He reached out to stroke her cheek, seemingly as moved as she. “That was not very well done of me.”
Her brow furrowed, not understanding. “I thought it was wonderful.”
He laughed softly, sending a strange tickle through her body where they were still joined. “Believe me, it gets even better.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “I would show you right now, but this is already too dangerous. Fanny and Lizzie could return at any moment.”
He kissed her again before reluctantly rolling off her, severing the connection. And with the loss Genie knew a pang of disappointment. The departure of his warm body chilled her, making her at once conscious of her exposed legs. Genie knew a long moment of gut-checking panic, as the enormity of her actions struck. As apparently it had him.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
That about summed it up, she thought. She turned her head to look at him. If anything, he appeared equally as astonished by what had just transpired between them.
“That’s never happened to me before,” he said almost to himself, before turning to face her. “I’m sorry, Genie. I never meant for this to happen.”
The blood drained from her face. Did he regret this? Did he not love her?
Sensing her fears, he smiled—that roguish grin that belonged on the face of a far more experienced man. He bent over and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Don’t fret, goose. I meant that I’ve never been so clumsy. You made me lose control like an untried lad before I could bring you pleasure.” His obvious embarrassment charmed her. Inwardly she smiled, realizing that he probably was close to being an untried lad. He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “Everything about you overwhelms me.”
Her heart burst with happiness. Everything would be fine. True, it would be better to be married before making love, but the passion between them could not be denied. She loved him and he loved her. Still, she needed reassurance. “Did you mean what you said before?”
His eyes twinkled with emotion, immediately sensing her need for reassurance. “Of course.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I can’t wait for my parents to meet you.”
Genie sighed with relief. Her dreams were coming true.
Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “I would stay like this forever, but we better get you cleaned up.”
Genie blushed, noticing the dampness tinged with streaks of blood between her thighs. The harsh reminder of what they’d done confronted her again. Ignoring the stab of fear, she moved to lower her skirts, but he stopped her.
“Don’t. You’ll get blood on them.”
Quickly adjusting his own clothing, Hastings picked up a napkin from their picnic and ran to the river. Returning, he knelt down next to her and tenderly washed between her legs with the cool, dampened cloth. Mortified to have his gaze on her in the stark daylight, Genie studied the trees.
When he finished, he pulled her to a stand and helped smooth the wrinkles from her clothing as best he could. Folding up the blanket splotched with blood, he bent down and picked up a pale blue satin ribbon that had fallen loose from her hair.
“Ah. A favor from my lady?” He knelt again and bowed his head like a knight at tournament.
Genie smothered a smile behind her hand. The effortless ability to ease an awkward situation was one of the things she most admired about him. One of the many reasons she loved him. Taking the ribbon from his hand, in mock seriousness she tied it around his shirtsleeve. “And how will you prove your devotion, Sir Knight? There is no battlefield on which to demonstrate your prowess.”
Hastings glanced meaningfully to the grass where the blanket had rested only moments ago, and lifted an arrogant brow. “Is there not?”
Genie giggled; he
was incorrigible.
“What would you have me do then, fair maiden, to win your heart?” he implored dramatically.
“Hmm.” She pretended to consider. “I think slaying a dragon or two will suffice.”
He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. His face turned grave. Instead of the flippant reply she expected, he said, “For you, my love, I would slay a hundred dragons.”
Her heart squeezed. He sounded so sincere, she had to believe him. How could she not with him kneeling before her, an endearing, romantic expression cast across his handsome features, the sun shining on the shimmering strands of gold in his hair. This amazing man could do anything.
She wanted to hold on to this moment forever. The splendor, the vitality, the promise of young love seemed ripe with endless possibility. The magic of what they’d just shared filled her with happiness. At that moment, everything she ever wanted seemed to be at her fingertips.
But a scurrilous thought burrowed into the hidden recesses of her mind, casting a dark shadow across their fun. Were the dragons only in her imagination or did they lurk somewhere beyond the veil of paradise, preying in the darkness ready to pounce on their happiness?
“Oh, Lizzie, he’s perfect,” Genie said dreamily. She yawned, stretched out her arms above her head, and fell backward, sinking into the downy softness of her bed. The Prescotts had just finished receiving their afternoon callers and the two girls had retired to Genie’s room to converse in private. Genie would have liked nothing better than to take a nap, but this was the first opportunity she’d had to talk privately with Lizzie since returning from her momentous fishing escapade this morning.
In fact, this was the first opportunity Genie had to consider what had happened this morning at all. She and Hastings had declared—and then made—love. It seemed impossible that Miss Eugenia Prescott, the proper parson’s daughter, could have done such a scandalous thing. How had it happened? Even now, she couldn’t explain it other than to say that at the precise moment of truth, she wanted to please him. The battle between her conscience versus love and passion had never really been a contest.
The sheer magnitude of her physical response to him had been completely unexpected. Never could she have imagined the passion lying dormant inside her, awaiting only his touch to erupt. She’d never felt like that before, like she’d been swept up in the current of a powerful river of sensation, unable to break free. She’d needed his touch, needed the closeness of his body on hers.
It had been amazing.
But most of all, she’d loved watching the ecstasy transform his face as they made love. She, Genie Prescott, had made him lose control. For the first time, Genie knew the exquisite power of her womanhood.
Nonetheless, she realized that it could not happen again until they were married. It was far too dangerous. If anyone should discover…
The thought was too horrible to contemplate. She’d be shunned by polite society, shaming herself and her family in the process. She’d be ruined.
Genie didn’t want to feel as though she’d made a mistake succumbing to temptation, but there was a tenacious, sensible voice in the back of her head that would not quiet. Hastings was young and inclined to lightheartedness. His joie de vivre was one of the things she loved about him, but it did not inspire constancy. Genie trusted him to do the right thing. A man of his rank and position, a true gentleman, would do so. And he had made his intentions known.
She had to share her exciting news with her sister. But Lizzie, who had still not responded, was looking at her strangely.
Sitting at the foot of the bed, Lizzie gave Genie a soul-searching stare; an unreadable expression on her face. Now that Genie thought about it, Lizzie had been acting odd since their return from the river this morning. Could she have guessed? Genie had been unable to prevent the blush when Lizzie asked her why she walked with such a strange gait on the way home.
“No one is perfect, Genie. Not even the handsome son of a duke,” Lizzie said uneasily.
Lizzie’s sudden reticence shocked her. Was this the same person who eagerly plotted their secret meetings with the adroitness of a born conspirator? It felt like the sisters had switched roles. Lizzie, the voice of caution and Genie the one running headstrong into… disaster? She chilled. Whatever made her think that, she wondered, burying the unwelcome premonition.
Genie had heard the underlying concern in her sister’s voice. “I know that, dearest. I meant that he is perfect for me. Truly, he is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Of course, I am,” Lizzie assured her. She paused, obviously searching for the right words. “I just don’t want you to be too disappointed if—”
Genie cut her off. “I won’t be disappointed.”
“How can you be sure?”
Why had Lizzie’s excitement about Hastings suddenly soured? Had Lizzie seen them on the riverbank? The thought was too mortifying to contemplate. What would Lizzie think of her? She had to explain. Genie lowered her voice and checked the doorway. “You must not say anything yet, but Hastings intends to ask for me.”
Lizzie appeared visibly relieved. “He told you as much?”
Genie thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t actually said those precise words, but he’d inferred by his actions and words that he intended to… hadn’t he? She pushed aside the traitorous uncertainty. Genie trusted him. “He made his intentions known this very morning,” she said confidently.
“Then that explains…” Lizzie’s voice drifted off and she stopped whatever she’d been about to say. But Genie was now certain that Lizzie suspected that something had happened between Genie and Hastings on the riverbank.
Smiling, Lizzie threw her arms around Genie and hugged her enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you.”
Lizzie’s heartfelt embrace covered Genie’s temporary embarrassment and unleashed all the emotions bubbling so close to the surface since Genie and Hastings had unexpectedly made love this afternoon. Genie clasped Lizzie’s hands, happiness bringing tears to her eyes. “I love him desperately and the more amazing thing is that he loves me. I think I’m the happiest, most fortunate girl in all of England.”
Lizzie peppered her with excited questions: How did it happen? Why hadn’t they said anything earlier (after all she and Fanny had done for them!)? When would he send the formal letter to father requesting a betrothal? Would they marry in the spring or the summer? Where would they live?
Genie answered the best that she could, given that she did not have the answers for most. Noticing the returning wariness on her sister’s face, Genie explained, “I’m sure we shall discuss all the details after I am properly introduced to the duke and duchess tomorrow evening. Hastings must secure their approval first before approaching father.”
Now Lizzie looked very worried. “Then the duke and duchess are not yet aware of his intentions toward you?”
“No, not as yet. But there is no reason to suppose that they will object—”
“Genie,” Lizzie interrupted vehemently. “You said yourself before that a duke’s son does not marry the daughter of a rector. It just isn’t done.”
“Hastings is not the heir, only the second son,” Genie reminded her.
“But he will still be expected to make a good match,” Lizzie said doggedly.
“I don’t understand, Lizzie. Where is this coming from? I thought you wanted me to marry Hastings.” Genie felt the happiness seep out of her. She needed Lizzie’s support.
Lizzie chewed on her lip. She seemed reluctant to explain, but Genie knew there was a reason for Lizzie’s sudden reticence, beyond what had occurred today. “What is it Lizzie?” she prodded. “If you know something, you must tell me.”
“It’s just something the viscount said to me yesterday, that’s all.” Lizzie tried to sound dismissive, but Genie experienced a growing sense of alarm.
“What did Loudoun say?” Genie asked cautiously, dreading the answer. Hastings’s brother had made n
o secret of his disapproval.
Lizzie shrugged. “Just that although Hastings might choose to ignore his obligation, the duchess was counting on Hastings to make a good match.”
Lizzie fidgeted with the laces on her boots. She was holding something back.
“What else, Lizzie?”
“That Hastings might seem carefree and irresponsible, but in the end he would do his duty.”
“This is different.”
“Why?”
Genie couldn’t tell her what they’d done. “It just is—that’s why.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “We love each other.” And now he had a duty to her.
Lizzie grabbed her hands, holding her gaze. Genie wanted to look away, she didn’t want to hear what Lizzie had to say, didn’t want to acknowledge her own fears. Acknowledging her uncertainty made her somehow feel disloyal. But what if Lizzie was right? What if the duke and duchess did not approve of a match between them?
“Genie, promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Of course I will, goose,” Genie assured her. But, of course she hadn’t been careful at all. Indeed, the painful raw throbbing between her legs was a constant reminder of her lack of care.
Suddenly angry at herself, Genie vowed to halt the flow of distrustful thoughts. She was wrong to doubt Hastings, to allow Lizzie’s fears to betray their love. They were bound together now; Hastings would do what was necessary to ensure that they would be together “forever” as he had promised.
Genie would find her happily ever after. Hastings would take care of his parents’ objections and if necessary, defy his family. He’d taken her virginity. A mere social impediment would not stand in the way of a match between them now.
But Lizzie was at least partially correct: Genie had to be careful.
Such folly would not, could not, happen again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nothing had happened the way Genie thought it would. How she, the daughter of a rector, came to be in this predicament, she could not explain any better today than she could two months ago. The twinge of trepidation that she’d experienced that afternoon with Lizzie was nothing compared to the horror that she felt today.