Chapter 24
His heart felt as if it had stopped. He knelt over his bride, quickly seeking out her pulse. It was strong and steady. Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave; she had merely fainted.
Devlin gathered her in his arms, glancing up at his family, who surrounded him. “She has fainted. I think this day has been long enough.” He swiftly stood. Virginia felt as light as a feather, and her weight always amazed him.
“She has been under too much duress,” Mary whispered, her face ashen, her eyes filled with guilt. “Oh, dear, I should have never insisted on such a hasty wedding!”
“You are not to blame, dear,” Edward said, putting his arm around her.
Devlin strode from the salon, Virginia limp in his arms. Sean reached his side and Devlin met his brother’s eyes. They were grave and concerned.
“Shall I send up a maid with some salts?”
“She’ll be fine,” he said a bit curtly. He was very aware that his brother’s feelings had not changed, just as he remained aware that Virginia truly should have married someone like Sean.
“Devlin!” His mother slipped salts into the pocket of his jacket. “She hasn’t been eating well. She needs rest and nourishment.”
He nodded and left the room.
And once he was alone with Virginia, bounding up the steps, he gazed at her face and his heart warmed inexplicably. She deserved Sean, or someone like Sean, but she was stuck with him. Suddenly he wanted to make it up to her.
Their suite had been filled with flowers and roses. Devlin laid her on the bed, which was turned down, just as she began to stir. He sat down at her hip and held the salts to her nostrils; she gasped, her eyes flying open.
For one moment, she stared. Then she started to sit up.
He clasped her shoulder and held her down. “Stay still for a moment,” he said gently, an odd affection filling him, soft and tender. He was aware of the fact that the fear remained, but he had somehow managed to shove it aside. “You fainted.”
She smiled a little. “I am so sorry. I don’t faint.”
He found his mouth curving. “All women faint.”
“Not this one…until now.”
He realized he still held her small shoulder, and that her diamond-encrusted hair brushed his fingers.
He meant to remove his hand; somehow, he touched her face.
“It has been a difficult day, I know. Virginia…” He stopped, unsure of what he wanted to say, but the warmth was filling his chest and he wanted to say something to her.
“What?” she whispered.
He hesitated. His mind raced but no coherent thoughts came, there was only the warmth, oddly tender and so surprisingly unfamiliar. “I will try to be a good husband.”
Her eyes widened; she smiled. “I cannot ask for more than that,” she said.
She was so beautiful, so original, so unique—and she was his.
Devlin found himself leaning over her as the room around them blurred and disappeared, as the small noises coming from the guests downstairs and the wind outside faded and vanished.
Time seemed to slow. Virginia did not move.
She held his gaze until their lips brushed.
A harsh sound escaped from him. He caught her face in his hands and opened her lips gently. Slowly, gently, their mouths fused and their tongues tangled. He stroked his hand down her shoulder, her arm. Urgency slammed over him. The need to explode, then and there, caused him to begin to shake.
He exercised an impossible amount of restraint and he drew away from her. “I will let you rest,” he said roughly, about to get up.
She seized his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “No.”
“Virginia,” he began, sitting back down as she sat up. “You just fainted.” He wanted to do the right thing now.
Her cheeks were pink, her pupils dilated. “I am fine,” she insisted.
“We have a lifetime ahead—” he began.
She caught his shoulders, pressing her mouth to his, and there was nothing soft or gentle or controlled about her kiss. Her mouth moved insistently, her small tongue prodding, and when he did not respond, she nipped his lip.
He lost all self-restraint. He seized her, pushing her down, taking back the kiss, opening her and thrusting inside.
He knew what was coming, and something vast, huge and hollow filled him—the sensation almost like standing in the path of a gale, knowing that when it came, he would be blown away.
He held her hard, tightly, kissing her even more deeply, and the gale winds came.
Thought collapsed, and with its destruction, all logic was also gone.
There was only feeling—a huge madness, part desire, part triumph and something else, something different, something never before felt, swelling impossibly, expanding inside, cresting upward, outward, consuming his body and his being.
Virginia was pawing his back frantically, making small, eager cries. He somehow found the tiny buttons on the back of her dress. “Hurry,” she cried.
He simply could not speak. Emotion made it impossible. He could only pant and stare as he tore the dress away, chemise, corset and frilly drawers following. Devlin leapt to his feet.
She sat up, naked except for her garters and stockings and the diamonds in her hair. As he tore off his own clothes, she watched, her small breasts heaving, the tips pink and elongated. When he was naked, she held out her arms.
For one moment, he did not move, triumph washing over him, savage and barbaric and male. This woman belonged to him. But hadn’t he always known that—from the first moment he had ever seen her—when she had thought to assassinate him with a sniper shot? And then he went to her.
He pushed her slowly down, smiling a little, and she smiled a little back. He spread her thighs and moved against her, and she gasped.
“Watch me,” he whispered, a command, and he slowly began to fill her.
She moaned as he entered, and he found that it was him watching her now, as her eyes glazed, as her flush increased, and finally, when he was seated to the hilt, as her eyes widened with real surprise and profound pleasure. More triumph seared him, and with it, more love. Slowly he began to move.
Her eyes closed, she found his rhythm, and as one, they strained.
Devlin held her in his arms, tighter and tighter still, fighting the need to explode, knowing now that this was what he would always need, forever and ever, and he kissed her cheek, her neck, her temple, as she whimpered and begged, clawing him.
Then she gasped, eyes flying wide, and she cried, “I still love you!”
He stiffened, holding her as she began her climax, incredulous and disbelieving, and her words echoed. I still love you. And Devlin could no longer restrain himself, and holding her hard, convulsed into her body, time and again, the frantic chant I still love you a litany in his mind.
Virginia became aware of strong fingers easing along the side of her arm.
For one moment, as sleep slowly lifted, she was disoriented, and then she was awake.
She lay curled against Devlin—her husband—and he was stroking her arm. She tensed, recalling the wedding, the small family gathering afterward and his lovemaking. He had been so gentle.
Her eyes opened and she craned her neck to look up at him. Instantly she saw that he was staring at her, his expression soft and relaxed as she had never before seen it. In fact, the light in his eyes was just as soft, unguarded and warm. Her brows lifted.
He met her gaze and his face tightened and his lashes lowered, as if shielding himself from her scrutiny.
“I fell asleep,” she whispered, shaken. Had she really seen that incredible light of warmth just then? Had he been looking at her that way while she slept? As if he loved her in return?
“Yes, you did,” he said quietly, his hand now still on her arm. He smiled a little at her.
She sighed and lay her cheek on his chest. Oh, but she did like that—she could hear his powerful heart beating, slow and steady. She smiled and the love she felt for him washed over her. Trying not to love this man was simply impossible.
“How are you feeling?” he asked soberly.
“Wonderful.” She looked up and grinned.
He smiled and amusement appeared in his eyes. “That is not what I meant. I was referring to the fact that you fainted.”
“Oh, that!” She was dismissive. “I do feel wonderful.”
“Perhaps you should eat something. I can have a tray sent up.”
She smiled against his chest. Did she dare? Why not! “I am hungry,” she murmured, “very hungry—but not for food.”
He was still.
She glanced up.
“You are a minx,” he said softly, but he was smiling.
“Am I?” she said, pleased by his remark. She kissed the muscle beneath her cheek, then slid her hand down his rib cage and his abdomen. She felt the muscles there tense.
She kissed his skin again and brushed her fingers over his manhood, which lay half-stiff upon his belly. She watched it grow with real interest and teased her fingertips over it again.
“You play with fire, little one,” he murmured.
“Does this always happen so easily?” she had to ask as she began to explore both shape and texture.
There was no response.
Virginia closed her hand around him, and inside, she felt hugely hollow. She glanced slowly up.
He watched her, his face strained, his breathing harsh, uneven. He said, slowly, with effort, “If you do as you are doing, yes.”
She smiled, pleased, and stroked his length. “And if I do this?”
“Then I do this,” he growled, and she found herself lifted up above his body and held over his head, against the headboard. “What?” she began, and then his tongue swept over her.
Virginia held on to the headboard, gasping.
Clasping her buttocks in each hand, his tongue washed over her sex, swift and intent.
Virginia felt faint. “Oh, I can’t manage,” she gasped. “Do not stop now!”
He laughed as he tormented her, more deeply, more explicitly, than before.