The Perfect Wife and Mother?. Caroline Anderson
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It seemed miles to the car, even further to the barn set high up on the side of a valley with a wood behind it and rolling fields in front.
They went in without a word, and upstairs to the only room that was furnished.
Then he turned to her, his eyes serious. ‘Are you sure?’ he murmured.
She nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure.’
His hands on her body were tender, almost reverent. He untied her blouse, spreading the sides and looking down at the full swell of her breasts under the skimpy T-shirt. ‘So much woman,’ he whispered.
Her breath caught as his hands slid under the hem of the T-shirt and cupped her breasts. They were naked under the soft cotton, ready for his touch, and he lifted the hem and brought his mouth to them in turn. She cried out, clinging to his shoulders, and he dragged her closer—his control ragged now—and buried his face in the side of her neck.
‘This is probably going to be a disaster the first time, Virginia. It’s been so damn long for me, but I’ll make it up to you next time, I promise.’ His lips pressed against the leaping pulse in the hollow of her throat and her head fell back, sensation swamping her.
He lowered her to the bed, bunching her skirt around her waist, his hands finding and stripping away the tiny scrap of lace which was all she wore beneath the skirt.
His face was a mask now, taut with need and desire, and kneeling between her thighs he tore open his trousers with shaking hands and reached for her.
‘Help me,’ he muttered tightly. ‘Virginia, help me—’
Then he was there, sliding home in the sweet nectar that her body wept for him, and tears welled in her eyes. She cradled him in her arms, her body arching to meet his, and he drove deeply into her—again and again and again—until with a harsh cry he shuddered against her and was still.
She was unfulfilled, but it didn’t matter. He needed her, and she needed to be needed. OK, it was only physical and only fleeting, but she took what she could get.
The tears that filled her eyes overflowed and ran down into her hair, but she ignored them. Her attention was all on Ryan—his body slumped in her arms, his precious weight so welcome as he lay against her.
She felt the moment when he started to withdraw back into himself in a slight tension that invaded his shoulders. She let him go. There was no purpose to be served by trapping him against her.
She lay and watched as he swung away from her and fastened his clothes, then ran down the stairs and out into the fresh air.
She let him go. There would be time enough to talk to him. Mechanically she dried her tears and found her underwear, tugging it back on. He hadn’t used a condom—probably hadn’t even thought about it, she realised. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to get pregnant as a result of his carelessness.
She tidied the bed and went downstairs. He was standing on a little terrace outside the French doors, staring out blindly across the valley. She left him to it, busying herself in the kitchen making coffee.
She took him a cup when it was done, putting it in his hand without a word.
He took it, looking surprised, and turned and met her eyes, his own remorseful. ‘Virginia, I’m sorry. I behaved like an animal in there.’
‘No, you didn’t. You behaved like a man.’
‘Was that as bitter as it sounded?’
She laughed without humour. ‘It wasn’t meant to be. Do you want to talk about it?’
He stared down the valley again, then started speaking. ‘Ann died two years ago—nearly two and a half. There hasn’t been anybody since—that was the first time.’
‘And you feel guilty?’
He gave a grunt of laughter. ‘I feel guilty because I didn’t feel guilty—not about Ann, at least. I didn’t give her a moment’s thought. She was worth more than that, Virginia, and so are you.’ He let out his breath on a shaky sigh and stared up at the heavens. ‘I behaved appallingly.’
‘No, you didn’t—’
‘I used you.’
Her heart contracted, and she closed her eyes against the tears and turned away. ‘You had a good reason. Just don’t do it again—not like that. Please?’
His hand on her shoulder was tender as he turned her into his arms, the soft sigh of regret as he saw her tears whispering over her skin like a caress.
‘Forgive me,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’
She looked up and met his eyes. ‘I forgive you. O’Connor?’
‘Yes?’
‘Make love to me.’
There was an endless pause and she held her breath, sure that he would turn and walk away—but he didn’t. Slowly, softly, his mouth came down and covered hers, and he kissed her as he had done in the shelter of the willow tree.
They made love outside this time, under the night sky with the strange cries and rustlings of the night in the wood behind them, and their cries mingled with those of the animals and faded with the whispering breeze.
Then Ryan lifted his head and brushed the damp hair from her brow. ‘OK?’ he murmured.
She smiled, the damn tears threatening again in the safety of the darkness. ‘Wonderful,’ she lied.
Physically, it had been. Emotionally, though, it was a wasteland because she had committed the unpardonable folly of falling in love with him, and nothing would ever be quite the same again…
RYAN was swamped with emotion. Regret, remorse, excitement, passion, anticipation of their next meeting—but above all regret.
It was her tears that had done it. Those soft, cloud-grey eyes shimmering with disappointment—and that remark about him not behaving like an animal but like a man.
Was that what she expected from a lover? Disappointment? Haste? No finesse, no thought, no consideration?
She should be married with children of her own, he thought in confusion, not so desperate for affection that she would allow him access to her body with so little regard for her own physical and emotional wellbeing. His throat closed with a nameless emotion. Oh, Virginia, he thought. So tough, so worldly, so cool on the surface—and yet, deep down, so vulnerable and easily hurt.
Of all the girls to choose, he’d had to choose her. Still, the second time had been better. He’d made sure of that.
And the way she’d come apart in his arms—it was flattering, to say the least, and so easy to give her pleasure. A little more care and control the first time and he could have done it then—except that he couldn’t have done.
He had to be realistic. The first time he had been totally out of control. She was just so lush, so soft, so feminine—all woman. After two and a half years he wasn’t strong enough to hold on in the face of such exquisite temptation.
He lay in his bed alone, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what Ann would have thought of his behaviour. Their courtship had been slow and leisurely and humorous, and their love-making had never had the tempestuous quality he knew he would have with Virginia. Would Ann have understood the overwhelming urges he was feeling now?
Probably not. She had been soft and sweet and open, without a trace of guile. She would have been shocked, both at him and Virginia. Probably especially Virginia.
He was too, but he sensed that there was more to it than he understood. Beneath the bravado and sassy front she put on he felt a deep hurt—something too raw to talk about, too