Mary Balogh - Secrets of the Heart

"I thought I might meet you," he called cheerfully when still some distance away. "Why did you not ride or bring the gig, Sarah?"

"Because I felt like the exercise. And it would not hurt you to walk sometimes, lazybones," she retorted, swinging her reticule in an attempt to look quite relaxed.

"I shall have to get revenge for that!" he said with a grin. And as he reached the top of the hill, he dismounted and moved up beside her.

"Are you not on your way somewhere, Win?" she asked.

"Certainly," he replied, "and have arrived. I came to meet you."

"Oh," she said, glancing ahead through the trees, but knowing very well that the house was well out of sight.

It was inevitable-she would almost have been surprised if it had not happened-that he would stop when they were among the trees, tether his horse, and suggest that they sit down for a while. It was not even a suggestion, she realized. She had no real choice. He took her by the arm, not ungently, but she knew she would not be able to break his clasp. She sat.

She listened to his chatter as he reclined on one elbow sucking on a blade of grass. But she knew with a hopeless certainty that this was only the preliminary, that soon the touching would start again. She hoped only that he would not go as far as on the last occasion. She would die of mortification if he put his hand beneath her skirt again.

"You are very quiet today, Sarah," he said at last, reaching up and drawing one finger along her jawline.

She smiled. She did not ask to go home. She did not ask him to remove his hand. She sat very still and hoped.

He sat up and drew nearer to her. "You are seventeen, are you not, Sarah?" he said. "A real woman now. And a very pretty one too. I bet all the boys in the village eye you when you walk by, don't they?"

Sarah blushed and looked at her hands, which were clasped around her knees. "I don't know," she said. "I have not looked to see."

He laughed. "Liar!" he teased. "I bet you enjoy the attention, Sarah, even if you pretend not to notice." He reached out his hand and brought it across her breasts, then spread his fingers so that his thumb and one finger pressed inward on her nipples.

She continued to stare at her hands. She did not tell him to stop. "You see?" he said. "You are doing it now. Pretending not to notice. But I can feel your nipples hardening, Sarah. Your body cannot lie, you see."

And it was true, she realized. There was a rush of feeling to her breasts, which seemed to tighten them and which made their tips uncomfortably hard, She continued to stare at her hands.

"Come on, Sarah," lie coaxed, moving again until he sat against her. He put an arm around her shoulders. "Lie down with me, and I will make you feel even better than this."

"I don't want to," she said almost in a whisper.

"Yes, you do," he said, kissing her cheek and hugging her closer. "You are just being a silly goose, pretending that you do not want it. Lie down now,arch."

She lay down without any assistance or coercion from him. And with her arms at her sides, and her legs stretched out before her, she allowed him to kiss her and fondle her. She did not even protest when he tugged at her skirt and began the exploration of her hare legs again, beyond pressing them more tightly together.

He lifted himself half across her, his hand making circular motions on her calf. "Sarah," he said, "so warm. So soft." His voice, quiet and deep, was hardly recognizable. "Just lie still now. I am going to unclothe you here."

Finally she reacted. She shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't want you to do that, Win."

He smiled a gentle, dreamy smile that again she hardly recognized as his hand went up over her abdomen to the fastenings of her undergarments. "Sweet little Sarah," he said, "of course you do. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. You don't think I would hurt you, do you?"

As he spoke, his hand knowingly undid the fastenings at her waist and was dragging the garments free of her body and down her legs.

And belatedly, realizing that this time he had no intention of stopping at merely fondling her, Sarah fought him in a blind panic. Arms and legs, fists, fingernails, teeth: all flailed at him. She cried, shouted, screamed, implored him until his open palm cracked across one cheek and she froze, gazing in horror into his eyes.

He had already dragged her garments free of her legs and pushed her dress up to her waist. "Stop it now, Sarah!" he commanded, though the words were unnecessary now that she lay perfectly still. "Calm down. I am going to take care of you. You aren't afraid that I will take you and abandon you, are you? Or get you with child? Don't worry. I have plenty of knowledge of the ways of the world."

In one mighty effort Sarah brought herself under control. "Let me go, Win," she said in a voice that did not sound quite as cold and steady as she had hoped, "or I shall tell Uncle Randolph and he will turn you off and you will be thrown into prison."

He laughed, a pleasant laugh of genuine amusement. "Dear Sarah," he said, "you look delightful playing the part of the outraged maiden. But you need not be afraid, you know. You are going to enjoy this. Far more than you would enjoy visiting me and Gray in prison. Do you suppose we would be allowed to share a cell? Until Gray's execution, that is."

She had been about to start struggling again. But she lay still then while he laughed and lowered his mouth to hers. She lay still as he brought his full weight down on top of her.

"Just relax now, love," he said, "and it won't hurt. I don't want to hurt you."

She lay still while he dealt with his own clothing. She allowed him to push her legs wide apart with his and to work his hands beneath her. She allowed him to lift her away from the grass. And she lay still, her teeth biting down on both lips, as he pushed very slowly into her.

And he was right. He did not hurt her. She felt as if she was going to be hurt, as if she was being stretched and stretched until she must burst. But then something inside her really did give way and there was no more stretching until he was deeply embedded inside her.

There was no pain. But there was the almost overpowering nausea at being held wide open to his invasion, at knowing that there was nothing left that she held secret from him, at knowing herself violated. During the interminable minutes while he moved in her, rhythmically thrusting and withdrawing, removing from her the last vestiges of personhood, she bit on her lips, concentrating on holding in check the terrible urge to vomit. She feared his hands that could inflict pain, and that part of his body that could impale and degrade without hurting, and she dared not disgrace herself further by being sick.

Finally, when there was nothing of herself left for him to take, he groaned against the side of her face, buried himself deep inside her body, and relaxed. She lay staring at the sky until finally he pulled himself free of her and lifted his body away. He lay on the grass beside her for a while, but finally his hand reached out and took hers.

"You see, Sarah?" he said. "There was nothing to be afraid of, was there?"

She said nothing.

He turned his head to look at her. "Still quiet?" he asked. "Are you sleepy? It is quite natural for you to be so, you know. I am too."

"No," she said tonelessly.

He raised himself on one elbow again and smiled down at her. "You enjoyed it?" he asked.

“No."

"Nonsense!" he said, cupping the side of her face in one hand and turning her to face him. "But of course, it was your first time. You were a little frightened, were you? It will be better next time, Sarah."

And finally she started to cry. "I don't want there to be a next time, Win," she said.

He took her into his arms and cradled her head against his shoulder. "Silly girl," he said tenderly. "I am going to look after you, Sarah. I'll never abandon you. When Papa is gone and I marry, I shall set you up in the dower house and you can always live there, even if you do not remain my mistress for the rest of your life. You don't have to be afraid."