She felt his hands touch the tree on either side of her, just above her own hands. He did not touch her, though every inch of her body was aware of the closeness of him. Neither of them moved-or breathed, it seemed-for several seconds, and then she turned, or he turned her, she was never sure which.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and held her face turned up to him. He was looking deeply and questioningly into her eyes. She gazed back, not even trying to hide the longing and the love that she felt. She closed her eyes.

"Nell," he murmured, and he was kissing her throat, her cheeks, her eyes, and finally her mouth.

Her arms went up and around his broad shoulders and she let her body sag against his so that she could feel the strength of his chest, the powerful muscles of his thighs against hers. He was so much taller than she. She felt small and very feminine in his arms. Her mouth opened beneath the pressure of his and his tongue came inside again, but more knowingly this time. He found and teased the soft flesh beneath her tongue, stroked with agonizingly light touch the roof of her mouth. Helen moaned.

He raised his head and moved his mouth to her throat again. She inhaled sharply as his hands came away from her hair and clasped her breasts, massaging them slowly beneath his palms.

"Nell," he said, lifting his head again and resting his forehead against hers. "Stop me. Stop me if you do not want this."

For answer she put her hands over his against her breasts and turned her head so that their mouths met again. She was in a strange world. Much as she was involved in the embrace, she was still quite aware of what was happening, knew with perfect clarity what was about to happen, and could foresee without any doubt how horrified she must feel afterward. She knew that she was about to lose her virginity, that she was about to give away all chance of making a good marriage, unless she were to lie to her prospective husband, that she would be outcast if the truth ever became known. She knew all this, but she did not care. She was powerless to prevent her own ruin because she had no wish at this moment to prevent it.

William Mainwaring shrugged out of his coat while continuing to kiss her. She could feel his movements though she did not open her eyes. She opened them only when he raised his head, took her gently by the shoulders, and lowered her to the grass, the coat that he had dropped beneath her head. He raised her skirt to her waist with gentle hands. She averted her face and closed her eyes as he removed her thin undergarments. She kept them closed as she listened to him shed his own clothing. And she lifted her arms up for him when he came down beside her.

He kissed her again and reached under her dress to touch her unconfined breasts, but he made no further attempt to prepare her. He moved across her and lowered his weight onto her unresisting body. She parted her knees beneath the pressure of his and allowed him to spread her legs wide on the grass. And then she felt him and knew with something almost like triumph that it was too late now to change her mind.

It hurt and hurt. She was unaroused and dry, and his slow entry seemed to tear her apart. She bit her lower lip and felt as if she must cry out in panic until the pain crested and he continued his entry unimpeded. She forced herself to relax when he stopped, forced herself to realize that she was a woman and shaped for such sexual activity, that no damage could be done. She forced her body to push against him. This, then, was how it felt.

She cried out in protest when he began to withdraw. Not yet. It could not be over yet. But he eased his hands beneath her to cushion her against the hard ground and thrust himself in again. And he repeated and repeated the movement, slowly, but with deep, hard thrusts, until she was moist and could delight in the discovery of her own sexuality. She was not fully aroused. She was not herself headed toward any climax. But she clasped her arms around him, twined her legs around his, and watched the treetops above them, waving in the gentle summer breeze, while he repeatedly, and with growing urgency, drove into her body. She smiled and caught her lower lip between her teeth once more.

It seemed to go on for a very long time. But finally his movements slowed and he shuddered deep inside her. Then his full weight relaxed on top of her and he was still.

Helen continued to watch the treetops and she continued to hold her man with arms and legs. She felt very tender toward him. She loved him. She did not want him to move, ever.

Chapter 5

William Mainwaring was walking home through the woods. He did not see his surroundings. He took no conscious direction. Mere instinct took him in the direction of home. He did not know yet if he regretted what had just happened. He suspected that he would bitterly regret it once he had emerged from the state of pure feeling and rational thought took over:. But that moment had not yet come. He knew only that he had a wholly new and exhilarating sense of his own manhood.

He could not feel guilty-not yet, at all events. He had not gone there this afternoon with the sole intention of possessing Nell, though he had been fully aware lie dangers involved in seeing her. And the whole thing had come about so naturally, without any forcing of the moment. She had not been reluctant. Indeed, he had given her ample opportunity to stop what was developing. And there had been nothing the 1st bit sordid about their coupling. Though there had been no love involved, of course, there was a certain degree of tenderness and awareness of the girl as more than just a body.

He found her irresistibly attractive. As soon as he had touched her that afternoon, he knew that he did not want to stop, that he needed to take their embrace to completion. She was so beautiful despite the shabby dress and the wild, loose hair, so soft to the touch. She smelled clean and wholesome, though she wore no detectable perfume.

She had said afterward that he had not hurt her. He did not know. He had been so intent on the sensations of his own body as he entered a woman for the first time that he had not closely observed her reactions. He would not even have known for sure that she had been a virgin had he not seen the streaks of blood on her legs as he lowered her skirt when it was all over.

It had been a beautiful experience. He had never imagined that there would be such warm, moist softness and such exquisite pleasure in releasing all his manhood into a woman's body. He had certainly not dreamed for the last year that any woman could bring him that sense of release and well-being when all his love was focused on someone unattainable. It was an unexpected delight to know that despite his love, he could still live a normal, healthy life. He would always remember his little wood nymph with gratitude.

She had told him, when he asked, that he had given her pleasure. He did not know the truth of that, either. He knew nothing about pleasing a woman sexually. She had lain still for him and had opened herself fully and sweetly to his every demand. She had held him afterward until he had lifted himself away from her and lowered her skirt, and even then she had rolled onto her side and lain against him while he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep for several minutes. He had certainly not displeased her.

He had left her with reluctance a few minutes before. If he had ever imagined that sleeping with her would be like slaking a thirst, he was very mistaken. Having her once had merely awakened an appetite that he knew would continue demanding satisfaction for some time to come. He had arranged to meet her the following afternoon again. Sooner or later his conscience was going to remind him of ail the moral arguments he had used on himself earlier and of all the practical solutions he had decided upon for his own future.

But he would not think of these things before he must. He wanted Nell and she wanted him. He would carry on this affair with her as long as they both wished it. Already he could hardly wait for the next day. He wanted to make love to her more consciously. He wanted to be more aware of her reactions, more aware of her needs.

Mainwaring stopped walking. He was already at the eastern edge of the wood. He put his head back and gazed up at the branches and the sky overhead. He turned around and around until the branches swirled dizzily above his head, and laughed at the picture he must make. It was a good thing that there was no spectator close by to wonder if he was returning to his childhood. And then the toe of one boot caught against the gnarled root of an ancient tree and he fell heavily and awkwardly, his foot twisted beneath him.

He continued laughing in self-conscious embarrassment and rubbed his boot at the ankle ruefully, waiting for the sharp pain to recede. After several minutes it still had not done so, and when he raised himself to a standing position on the good leg and lowered the injured one gingerly to the ground, pain shot up his leg and set him to biting his lower lip. Dammit! It served him right for behaving like such an imbecile. However was he to walk home? There was over a mile of open country between him and the house. He hopped and hobbled for a few yards until he finally had the idea of using a fallen tree branch as a crutch.

It took him well over an hour to reach home, and another half-hour for his valet to remove his boot from a foot that had swelled alarmingly around the ankle. He was forced to agree reluctantly to sending a groom in search of the doctor. The ankle could be broken, and the sooner it was set, the better it would heal.

There was no broken bone, only a bad sprain, but before the evening was half over Mainwaring was forced to realize that he was going to be house-bound for the next few days at least. No ball at Lord Graham's tonight. No ride with Lady Melissa one morning in the near future. And no lovemaking tomorrow with Nell.


***

Helen was dancing with Oswald Pyke. It often struck her as a great blessing that she was not as smitten with him as he was with her. Even if she were head over ears in love with him, she could never bring herself to marry that name. Imagine being Mrs. Oswald Pyke. Helen Pyke. Master Egbert Pyke, Miss Georgiana Pyke. And all the little Pykes. Fortunately, it was no great sacrifice to refuse him just on the grounds of a ridiculous name. She liked the man no better.

It was not just his looks, though she found nothing attractive in his short, rather pudgy figure, his thinning fair hair, and his plump hands that always seemed to be moist. He was a bore. If it were not his hounds he was talking about, it was his crops or his new hunting jacket or some other topic of no possible interest to her. Or else he was proposing marriage to her, one of his favorite hobbies. He was doing that now, despite the fact that it was the opening set of the ball and despite the inconvenience of the fact that it was a country dance and they were frequentlyy separated by the figures of the dance. Every time they came together for a few seconds, he was at it.

"If I have a good crop of turnips this year, I shall be able to afford a new ladies' maid," he said. "She could be assigned wholly to you if you will marry me, Lady Helen."

They were separated by the dance.

"Do give me an answer," he begged the next time they came together. "Do not keep me in suspense like this."

"I have told you at least fifty times, Mr. Pyke," she replied, "-or is it fifty-one?-that I will not marry you. Or anyone else at the moment," she added when she saw his crestfallen face as he turned away to twirl with another lady belonging to their set.

She answered mechanically. One did not even have to listen to Oswald. He rarely had anything new to say. She even danced mechanically, her mind and her eyes on the doorway into the ballroom. Any second now he would appear. Already he was late. Melly was fuming on the sidelines. Anyone who did not know her might not know that she was angry, of course. She smiled with dazzling brightness and her fan was waving at a sprightly pace. One of her feet kept time to the music. But Helen knew that she was furious. She had refused more than one partner on the grounds that the set was already spoken for, and now she was left standing like a wallflower.

But Helen had little sympathy to waste on her sister. Her heart was beating like a sledgehammer on her own account and she was in danger of losing her step every time someone new appeared in the doorway. For how long after his arrival would she be able to escape his notice? On the way here in the carriage she had been cautiously hopeful. Surely if she were careful enough, she could keep the length of a room between them for the whole night. The weather was warm. She could perhaps persuade her partners to take her walking in the garden.