He looked up, seeing the panicky flutter in those huge eyes, the quiver of her soft mouth. Slowly he rose to his feet. "You must trust me," he said, and there was quiet, calculated reproof in his voice. "I will bring you only pleasure, I swear it."
She hung her head in sudden embarrassment, but Nick caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eye. "Do you believe that I will not hurt you?" She nodded, knowing it to be the truth. "And do you believe that there is no shame in what is about to happen? None for you and none for me?"
There could be none, Polly thought; not when such wonder filled her at his touch, when she felt such a powerful wanting; not when his eyes held such a tenderness, softening his own wanting-a hungry longing that she could read as clearly as her own.
"No shame," she said, and reached a hand to touch his lips. He lifted her then, carrying her to the bed, holding her strongly against one upraised knee as he pulled back the coverlet before laying her down upon the cambric sheet. He leaned over her, his arms braced on either side of her body, and licked the tip of her nose again so that she wriggled deliriously. The tip of his tongue explored her face, moist-
ening her eyelids, her cheeks, tantalizing, sweetly playful at the corners of her mouth, nuzzling into the deep cleft of her chin. The hard bulge of his awakened manhood pressed against her thigh, and when he drew her hand down, guiding it to feel the power throbbing against the constraint of his breeches, she made no resistance, but her eyes widened at the thought of that power entering the narrow, unviolated portal to her body.
Nick stood up to remove his hose and breeches, and Polly gazed upon the shaft, springing erect from the curly nest at the base of his concave belly. "Stand up," he instructed softly, reaching a hand to help her as she got off the bed. "Hold me. You will not be frightened when you are acquainted with me in this way." Again he guided her hand as she stood in front of him. She enclosed the pulsing root in her hand, feeling it hard yet pliant, the blood throbbing in the ridged veins against her palm. With her other hand, she touched the dark, flat buttons of his nipples, and Nick threw his head back on an exhalation of pleasure; his eyes closed as she continued to stroke him, tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence as she saw his pleasure and learned her own. His hands moved 'round to her buttocks, cradling the firm roundness as he drew her against him, so that his manhood pulsed strongly against her belly. He held her like that, until she leaned into him of her own accord, her legs parting in a natural movement indicative of the readiness of desire.
"Lie on the bed now," he whispered, easing her backward, turning her so that she lay again looking up at him, no awkwardness now, just unvarnished need in her eyes. "If I am not to hurt you," he said, stretching himself beside her, "I must learn something of you." He moved aside a heavy swatch of hair that concealed her breast, taking her nipple between his lips again as he stroked, long and languorously, down her length, feeling her relaxation under the almost hypnotic caress. This time her thighs parted for his probing fingers, which opened her gently, entered her to seek and find what he sought. Her hips arched involuntarily at this invasion. Her body tightened against the alien presence, but
he gentled her with a soft word against her mouth, and proceeded inexorably to bring her to the edge of delight with the skillful play of his fingers.
Polly felt the curling spiral tighten in her belly; her hips lifted and moved, responding to the rhythm of the presence within. Her head moved restlessly on the coverlet; hot blood surged through her veins, and that part of her body she had thought of as peculiarly her own responded to another's possession. With an incoherent cry, she took her release in the only way possible, the muscles of thigh and buttocks tightening around his hand as the juices of arousal flowed sweet and her body opened in joy.
Nick swung himself across her supine body, stopping her mouth with his own as he guided his surging flesh within the still-pulsating gate. He knew now how deeply lodged was her maidenhead, and, with one determined thrust, plunged to her core. Her eyes opened, wide with shock, but in the aftermath of climax her muscles were capable of no resistance and the moment passed, to be remembered only as the briefest spark of an irrelevant pain.
She looked up at him as he hung over her, raking her face for knowledge as he moved himself within, slow and easy now until she picked up the rhythm. She smiled suddenly. It was such a wonderful smile, so expressive of surprise and delight, that he laughed joyously.
"I did not think it possible for you to be more beautiful," he said with soft wonder. "But never have I seen such glorious radiance. I will take you now into a world outside this one, if you will give yourself into my charge."
"Gladly," she returned, her eyes locking with his as he took them both to the outermost edge of bliss, to hover in a timeless, sensate universe until the ultimate could no longer be held at bay, and they slipped over the edge, into the beyond.
Polly came back to a sense of the world around her very slowly. She opened her eyes to find Nick, propped on one elbow, smiling down at her. He brushed a lock of hair from
her forehead and kissed her. "It appears that you are an apt pupil in everything, moppet."
"I do not think," Polly said consideringly, "that I could have done otherwise than I did, sir. Matters seemed to take care of themselves." Her eyes twinkled roguishly. "For which I must thank you, I suspect."
"You may thank me by using my name. I have asked you to do so once already this day." His fingers traced the curve of her mouth.
"I have a lamentable memory, Nicholas." She sucked his finger into her mouth, curling her tongue, tasting the slight saltiness.
"Then you had best set about improving it," he retorted, running his free hand down her body in a leisurely caress, smoothing over the fine turn of a hip, one long damask-toned thigh, cupping the curve of her knee. She had the most beautiful knees; but then, it would be ridiculous for such perfection to be marred, even by something as insignificant as a knee, Nick reflected dreamily. Her body shifted in lazy response to the caress, and a bright smear of blood showed on her inner thigh.
Nick got off the bed, crossing to the tiring table, where ewer and basin stood. The water that he poured into the basin was tepid, but the fact that it had once been warmed bore witness to the care of Goodwife Benson. He dipped a towel in the basin, then came back to the bed, where Polly still lay, watching him. "Let me make you a little more comfortable," he said softly, sitting down beside her. She stretched, catlike, as he drew the damp cloth down her body, freshening the sweat-slick skin, parting her thighs to cleanse her of the bright blood of innocence and the residue of passion.
It was the most sweetly tender intimacy, and Polly quite suddenly felt tears welling behind her eyes. They were not tears of sorrow or of joy, but of amazement at such an unexpected ministration so lovingly offered. She had been touched in many ways in her seventeen years, but rarely with
gentleness, and never before in this cherishing manner, and the tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks.
"Do not weep, flower," Nick said in distress, not understanding why she should produce this reaction when a bare instant before she had been all teasing, sensual mischief.
"I cannot seem to stop," she sobbed.