Page 33 of The Virtuoso
He smiled at her, understanding all too well what she meant. Oh, he wanted to kiss and cuddle and swive her silly, but he wanted to make sense of what had passed between them, as well. Or try to.
“If you insist on driving me away, could you at least help me with my falls first? I’m not as dexterous as I’d like with the buttons.”
“Hold still.” Ellen sat up and gazed down at him. His genitals were exposed to her view, which he’d known damned well when he’d made the request. Her gaze flew to his, and he gave her his best slumberous, heavy-lidded expression.
“How does one…?” She waved a hand at his groin, a blush creeping up her neck.
“You just tuck me up, Ellen. Then do up the buttons.” He waited, realizing however much Ellen Markham had loved her husband, they’d had a very restrained passion between them, at best. Tentatively, her fingers encircled his flaccid length.
“It’s unassumingly soft now,” she murmured. “Wilted.” She stretched him gently and glanced at him for further permission.
“You keep that up,” Val warned her, “and I’ll regain my starch in very short order. Your touch feels lovely.”
That prompted her to shift to a brisk, businesslike organizing of his parts in his smalls, then a deft buttoning of his falls.
“There.” She gave him an incongruously self-satisfied pat on the cock through his breeches, and Val realized just touching his wilted self in the broad light of day had taken all of Ellen’s considerable courage.
Ye bloody blazing gods, he wouldadorebeing her lover.Adoreher.
“And now I will put you to rights,” Val said, sitting up and stealing a kiss before she could protest. “Hold still.”
He took his time, letting the backs of his hands brush against her nipples often and intentionally, until she batted his hands away and finished tying her own bodice laces.
“You are a naughty, ruthless man,” she accused, tossing the pillow back up onto the bench. “Help me shake out this blanket.”
Val rose first and helped her to her feet, resisting the temptation to draw her into his arms. If he yielded to his impulses, he’d hold her until winter descended and drove them inside, then hold her by the blazing hearth. The notion surprised him but wasn’t as alarming as it should have been.
Before she could don her wide-brimmed hat and leave the sanctuary of their willow bower, Val did wrap his arms around her again, this time positioning his body behind hers.
“I will come back after dark,” he whispered, “if you’ll allow it.”
She went still, and he knew a moment’s panic. “Talk to me, Ellen.” He kissed her cheek. “Just be honest.”
“My… tonight might not be a good time.”
“Sweetheart…” Val let her go and turned her to face him. “I will not force myself on you, I just want… I want to see you.”
To make sure she was all right, whatever that meant in the odd, new context in which he was trying to define the term. She must have sensed his bewilderment, because she turned away and spoke to him from over her shoulder.
“My courses are due.”
Val cocked his head. “So you become unfit company? Do you have the megrims and cramps and melancholy? Eat chocolates by the tin? Take to your bed?”
“Sometimes.” Ellen peered at him, her expression guarded.
“Then I will comfort you. I’ll cuddle you up and bring you tisanes and rub your back and your feet. I’ll read to you and beat you at cards and bring you hot-water bottles for your aches.”
Ellen’s brows knit. “I truly am poor company at such times and usually before such times, as well.”
“You are poor company for people who expect you to play on without missing a note, perhaps,” Val replied, holding her gaze. “May we sit a moment?”
She nodded but had gone too shy even to meet his eyes.
“My Uncle Tony’s wife,” Val said, wrapping an arm around Ellen’s shoulders, “is blunt to a fault. She told me relations with Tony were the best way to ease her cramps.”
“Valentine!” Ellen hid her face against his shoulder. “Surely you wouldn’t want to…?”
“What I want makes little difference. Ifyouwanted, though, I’d be pleased to be with you. My point is I enjoy your company, Ellen. You are more than a willing and lovely body to me, and just because I appear on your back porch, that doesn’t mean I expect you to be sexually available to me.”
