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 deep to probe and bring out into the cruel light of day.
Maybe one day she’d feel brave enough to tell him about it.
And that really tied in with a no-strings, sex-for-the-sake-of-it affair, O’Connor, he thought drily.
Oh, damn.
He rolled onto his front, smashed the pillow into submission and shut his eyes. He’d deal with it on Monday.
Ginny wasn’t sure how to face Ryan on Monday morning. She was sure that her feelings for him were written all over her face in letters ten feet high, and she had no intention of revealing her stupidity to him. It was hardly his fault, after all, that she had managed to fall in love with the man.
She had a choice, of course. End the affair before she was hurt, or let it run its course. She was there for a year. Ryan had made it clear that he wanted no emotional involvement with her, so the choice was hers, really, so long as she could keep her feelings secret.
So, what was the choice? Hurt now, or have a lot of fun and hurt later? Some choice.
So she dressed for power, in a practical but ultra-feminine dress with a scooped neckline and button-through front, and had to spend the day fighting off all the conscious male patients between fifteen and eighty-five.
And
