He read slowly and distinctly, savoring every word.' By the time he had finished, Helen had her eyes tightly closed, enthralled as much by his voice as by the sentiment of the poem.
'Do you like it?' he asked.
'Oh, yes.' Her eyes flew open and looked into his. 'It is just exactly as I feel, you see. But people keep telling me that I shall grow up one of these days and that I shall then become interested in the more important things of life. I shall not. I would rather die!'
He smiled gently and his eyes dropped involuntarily to her mouth. 'You need not fear, little wood nymph,' he said. 'You will never change. At least, you will never lose your love for what you have now. It is too deeply a part of your nature, I think.'
She could feel tears welling to her eyes and dropped them hastily to look at the grass between them. No one had ever understood before, and no one had ever spoken with approval of her strange tastes. Was it possible that he felt about her as she felt about him? But, no. He was to dance with Melissa that very evening, and ride with her one morning soon. He would perhaps be betrothed to her before the summer was out. And she herself was a mere village wench, as far as he knew. She jumped to her feet suddenly and moved away from him among the trees.
'What is it, Nell?' he called after her.
She did not answer. But she did not run far away, either. She merely wanted a few moments to collect herself. She did not want their afternoon to end so soon, their last afternoon. Within a few hours he would know who she was, and his approval would turn to amusement at the best, contempt at the worst. It was perhaps acceptable for a serving girl to love the woods and the sky and the stream, but there was something definitely odd about a society girl who preferred those things to. fashion and gossip and visits. She stopped at the big oak that she had climbed the day before and leaned against it, resting one cheek against the rough old bark and wrapping her arms as far around it as she could reach. She closed her eyes.
'What are you doing now?' William Mainwaring asked from behind her. His voice held a mixture of concern and amusement.
'This tree was here for hundreds of years before you and I,' she said, neither moving nor opening her eyes. 'Can you imagine all the life it must have seen and all that it will see long after we are dead and buried? Sturdy as an oak' is such an apt phrase. It lives, you know. If I were led here blindfold and did not know what I clasped, I would know it was a living thing.'
'Would you, Nell?' he asked gently.
'Oh, yes,' she said. 'It is so full of life. If we could only understand a tree! Do touch it. Run your hand over the bark. You will see what I mean.'
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
