She stirred then, turning her head to regard him with a tremulous smile. 'You don't have to,' she whispered, her eyes sparkling with tears. 'It wasn't your fault that you mistook me for Vivien...Everyone did. No one questioned my identity. I can't blame you for accepting what seemed to be the obvious.' She released a shaky sigh. 'And as far asthis is concerned...' She made a quick, embarrassed gesture to the rumpled bedclothes, and her gaze lowered. 'I was more than willing,' she said in a bashful whisper. 'And you couldn't have known I was a virgin.'
'That makes me no less responsible.' Half sitting beside her on the bed, he took a lock of her hair in his hand, rubbing the silken strands between his fingers. 'Vivien--' he said, and stopped as soon as the name left his lips. 'Damn. What should I call you now?'
Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles. 'You may as well continue to call me Vivien. I'm accustomed to it by now, and besides...I don't want to choose yet another wrong name. I just want to find my own.' 'I'm glad you're not really Vivien,' he murmured, still toying with the lock of hair as he stared at her. 'I'm glad that no man has made love to you except me.'
She hesitated before replying, her blue eyes questioning as she gazed up at him. 'So am I.'
They stared at each other for an endless moment, lost in unspoken thoughts of what had just occurred between them, and how it had changed everything.
Reflecting on how he had treated her, Grant was deeply troubled. He was in an impossible position. He, of all men, had managed his own life so efficiently, so carefully. Now he had fallen in love against his will, only to discover that she wasn't the woman he had thought her to be, and then he had unintentionally taken her virginity. He faced a devil of a reckoning on the morrow. His only choice was to tell her the truth and expose his own lies, and hope to hell that she might be able to forgive and trust him again. And even if she did, there was still every chance he would lose her when she regained her memory and returned to her former life.
Grant had never expected to feel such responsibility for a woman, such an emotional and physical connection to her. The act of sex seemed almost new, as if in taking her innocence he had somehow gained back a little of his own. He wanted to make love to her again, teach and explore and share with her. Although he had reluctantly acknowledged his growing love for her before tonight, the feelings were suddenly infused with promise and wonder, and every fragment of bitterness was gone. He felt humbled, almost clumsy, a great moonstruck creature whose every hope of happiness was absurdly precarious.
Impatiently Grant wondered where Kellow was, and why he was taking so long to fulfill a simple request. Opening the door, he stared at the darkened hall. His foot touched the edge of an object on the floor. Glancing down, he saw a tray loaded with hot water, washcloths--and brandy and a glass. Kellow had tactfully left the tray just outside the door.
Grant picked up the tray and closed the door with his foot. Returning to the beside, he set the tray on the night table. 'Here,' he said, handing a linen cloth to Vivien. She wiped her streaming eyes and blew her nose with a childlike vigor that almost made him smile. He filled a creamware bowl with steaming water, and soaked and wrang out another cloth. Self-consciously Vivien averted her pink and puffy face as he began to wipe it. The warm cloth passed over her fragile skin, erasing the salty tear tracks beneath her eyes and on her cheeks.
Quietly he bid her to lie back against the pillows, and she obeyed. He dampened the cloth again and began to wash her as if she were a child. He bathed beneath her arms, over the chest, stomach, legs. His dispassionate demeanor seemed to soothe her, and gradually she relaxed, not resisting even when he washed between her thighs. Using another clean, warm cloth, he bathed away every trace of blood and semen. He was as gentle as possible, but even so, she winced as he performed the intimate service.
When the task was done, he covered her with the bedclothes and undressed and washed himself. He blew out the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness, and got into bed beside her. Exhausted but still awake, Vivien went still as his weight depressed the mattress. 'What are you doing?' she whispered.
'Holding you.' He kissed her temple, the curve of her ear, the side of her neck, taking his time, his mouth moving over her in light, warm brushes. Vivien blinked and gasped, and pushed at his chest. 'Not again,' she said unsteadily. 'I'm very tired.' He sensed rather than saw her blush as she added, 'And sore.' 'I won't hurt you. I promise.' He opened his mouth over the tip of her breast, stroking with his tongue until he felt it gather in a sensitive bud. Cupping both breasts in his hands, he lingered first on one, then the other, until Vivien let out a shivering sigh and put her hands to his head. At first he thought she intended to push him away, but her fingers curved to his scalp and urged him closer. He clasped her hips in his hands and kissed a trail down to her navel. Making his tongue into a point, he jabbed it softly into the small hollow, again and again. As his mouth began a hot downward slide toward the triangle of cinnamon curls between her thighs, she gasped and covered it with a protective hand. 'Wait,' she said, a pleading note entering her voice.
'Take away your hand,' he urged.
'I can't.' She gasped as he kissed around the barrier of her hand, searching between the crevices of her fingers. His mouth settled over the back of her hand, and he drew small wet circles with the point of his tongue, until her entire body tingled with shocked excitement.
'Take away your hand,' he said huskily, pulling gently at her wrist. She continued to cover herself, and he licked each of her taut fingers from base to tip. His tongue was agile, restless, playing over her wrist and hand and fingers until she moaned that she could not bear it any longer.
'Then let me do as I want, dammit,' he whispered tenderly. 'Take away your hand, darling.'
She obeyed, revealing the place she had shielded, and Grant growled in satisfaction. He nuzzled into the soft wealth of red curls, using his fingers to spread her open. One surging lick into the tantalizing salty cove, and he felt her entire body shake. Another lick, and he lingered in hungry exploration, teasing, tasting, his senses spiraling in pleasure.
Grant felt her pushing at his head, but he ignored the feeble gesture and concentrated on the delicate flesh beneath his tongue. Her fingers trembled on his head, and her hips tilted in helpless offering. She was unable to hold back her response now, her body yearning and tensing in an unmistakable rhythm. He knew he could do anything he wanted with her now, and for a moment he was tempted to raise upward and thrust himself inside her throbbing warmth. But equally compelling was the desire to feel her climax against his mouth, and so he stayed where he was, his tongue moving in rapid flicks until she bit back a scream and gave a long, sweet shudder of release.
'Oh...' she whispered between uneven breaths. 'I didn't know...I never thought...' Her body trembled violently as he rose upward and folded her against the shelter of his chest.
Grant crushed his mouth into her hair, kissing her damp scalp. 'That's just the beginning,' he promised. 'That's the very least of what you're going to feel with me.'
She had thrown herself willingly into the fire. She had only herself to blame if she had gotten burned. That was the first thought that entered Vivien's mind as she awakened by herself, her body spread diagonally across the huge bed. A spark of hope flared inside her, that perhaps she had dreamed an unusually vivid dream. But the pillow beneath her head carried a faint masculine scent, and she was naked beneath the sheet and coverlet. Her bleary eyes cracked open. As she pushed aside the covers, she saw the hints of bruises on her pale legs and hips, as if someone had held her too tightly.
She was sore in places she had never been sore before. There was a sting of discomfort right between her thighs, and strained muscles all down the insides of her legs to her knees. Her shoulders and neck also ached. Just as she thought longingly of a hot bath, someone entered the room.
Instantly Vivien jerked the covers under her chin as Grant approached the bed. He had already bathed and dressed. His face was shaven and his hair damp and neatly combed. It seemed he had taken special pains with his appearance this morning, his black silk cravat tied with crisp precision, his shirt starched and snowy in contrast to his immaculate gray coat and charcoal waistcoat. Pearl-colored trousers had been neatly strapped over black boots polished to a blinding gleam.
As she stared into his alert green eyes, Vivien was filled with conflicting feelings. She could not, would not, blame him for taking her virginity. She had offered herself to him willingly. They had shared the most intimate experience a man and woman could have, and part of her actually gloried in the fact. However, she would not admit her love for him aloud. There were even more pressing matters to deal with...as well as a few suspicions that lurked in the back of her mind.
Grant came to her at once, cupping her face in his hands, possessing her mouth with a long, fervent kiss. 'Good morning,' he murmured with a slight smile. The way he looked at her, his gaze warm with intimate knowledge, made her flush.
