“Good,” he said for want of anything better.
His fingers stroked up to find her and he realized at that moment that he would hurt her if he came into her now. Not just because of her virginity. She wasn’t ready for him. She wasn’t fighting him, but her body certainly was. How did one make one’s wife ready? He certainly couldn’t caress her like he did his mistresses; it would embarras
s her horribly and make matters but worse. He shook his head, wishing now that he’d thought to cover his member with cream to ease his way into her.
Still, he touched her lightly, his finger gently seeking her entrance. Her flesh was soft and cold. She jerked away and made a soft, frightened cry.
I can’t do it, not this way, he thought, and retreated. “Lie still, Frances, I’ll be back shortly.”
He quickly pulled on his trousers, then he was gone.
Frances jerked her nightgown down, then lay back again, not moving. Where had he gone? What was he doing? She looked wildly toward the area where the window was and considered jumping. Ninny! She swallowed, her body tense, her mind whirling.
There’s nothing you can do, save bear it. Nothing at all. Don’t carry on like a silly fool. He told you to lie still and that it would be over with quickly.
But where had he gone?
The bedchamber door opened again, then closed.
“Frances?”
“Yes?” she managed on a croak.
“Just stay put.”
What he had expected? That she would be cowering in the corner? That she would have jumped from the window? That she had a pistol and would shoot him? She had a sudden picture of him pulling her out from under the bed.
Hawk rubbed himself with the cream and approached the bed again. Hell, he thought, when he realized that she’d pulled down her nightgown. He worked it up again over her hips to her waist.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said, his hands pulling her legs apart.
He was hard and ready—surprising, considering this was the last woman on earth he wanted to take.
Frances felt him press against her. He was naked. She could feel the hair on his legs against her. She felt his large hands clasping her hips and drawing her up.
“Just hold still,” he said again, almost a litany now.
Hawk had never before made love to a woman in the dark. It was damned difficult. He parted her quickly with his fingers, feeling her flinch, then guided himself forward. He eased inside her and stopped when she cried out. Had he hurt her already?
“It’s all right, Frances,” he said. “I’ll go slowly.” And he did, just a bit at a time. He felt how small she was, how she was stretching to accommodate him. He wanted suddenly to thrust deep, but kept himself in check. Taking a virgin was a heady thing. No, not just a virgin, for God’s sake, he told himself. She was a lady and his wife, and she deserved to be handled as gently as he could manage. He was glad he’d gotten the cream. He’d been thoughtful and spared her unnecessary pain. Why did he want to drive into her, fill her with himself? He bit down on his lower lip. He was doing just as he ought, and he would continue to. Slowly, very slowly, no sudden movements.
Frances felt frozen and tense, her hands fisting the sheet at her sides. She didn’t feel any sharp pain, just a tremendous fullness and stretching. But he’s inside your body. Then she felt a jolt of pain. He butted against her maidenhead.
“Frances,” he said, wishing yet again he could see her to judge if he were hurting her. Hell, she couldn’t wear her spectacles to bed, could she?
“Yes?”
She sounded calm enough, resigned, in fact.
“You’re going to feel a bit of ... discomfort. It’s your maidenhead and I’ve got to get through it. Just relax, all right?”
“No,” she said very clearly. “No, please stop. Please, just go away.”
“I can’t,” he said, and before she could catch her breath, he tore through the small barrier.
She screamed at the sudden tearing pain, her body bucking wildly to be rid of him.
He came down on top of her to hold her still with his weight. “Hush,” he said, his face pressed against hers. “The rest won’t be so bad, I promise.”