Virginia felt as if she were in a trance, a s.e.xual one, and she blinked, not sure if she was horrified or not. She had never worn such a low neckline in her life, much less even lower.

"Here?" Sofie asked, lowering the garment by an inch.

"Very nice," Devlin said thickly. And suddenly he spoke quickly in fluent French.

"D'accord," Sofie said when he was through. She sent Virginia a glance and hurried out, closing the door behind her.

Virginia met Devlin's gaze as he slowly stood and she turned, reaching wildly for the closest fabric in order to cover herself. But she knew.

"Don't," he said, a command.

She froze, a wisp of silk in her hand, her nipples hurting, her s.e.x ripe.

He tugged the silk from her hand.

"What are you doing?" she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, her eyes wide.

"You are so beautiful," he said in return, sliding his hands over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and clasping them firmly.

Virginia wanted to be quiet and she failed-the terrible sensuality that had been building in her erupted and she cried out. Her eyes closed as he rubbed her nipples, making them harder and tauter and tighter than before, until she was trembling helplessly, moaning, her s.e.x engorged and throbbing wildly for relief.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

Somehow her eyes obeyed, opening, and their gazes met. His were silver flames.

He smiled a little and bent and touched one tip with his tongue.

Virginia cried out, clasping his head, wanting to tell him not to do this-in the back of her mind she knew that Madame or Sofie could walk in on them-but she couldn't, and as he licked her nipple she began to thrash, the explosion imminent.

Then she felt his hands slide down to her waist and begin to tug her pantalettes down.

In a haze of l.u.s.t, she managed to worry about what he was doing. As if reading her very thoughts, he murmured against her aching, swollen nipple, "Let me please you, darling."

"N-not here," she managed.

But his face was against her navel now and she felt him smile through the corset she wore. "They won't disturb us." He tugged on her pantalettes and they disappeared, pooling at her ankles.

And finally mindless, Virginia grasped his shoulders, clawing him, pushing him down.

"Patience is a virtue," he reminded her, sliding his face down until he rubbed his cheek over her mons.

"Oh, Devlin," she wept.

He kissed the delta there, not once but twice and then three times.

She fell.

He caught her and laid her down on piles of silk and satin, and as she spread wide for him he separated the heavy folds of her s.e.x and inserted his tongue there.

Virginia arched, sobbing, exploding, shattering and flying high. "Devlin!" she wept.

He sucked it deep then teased it softly as she shattered another time, sobbing and moaning and shaking like a leaf.

When she began to float, her mind came back to life. She gasped, opening her eyes, still on her back on the floor, naked except for her stockings and corset. Devlin crouched between her thighs, which remained spread shamefully for him. She quickly began to close them but he palmed her s.e.x. "Don't."

Desire surged. She lay still, panting. "What if-" she began, barely able to think of an intrusion by the couturier or her niece.

He began toying with the folds, combing through the hair. "They won't interrupt us."

Virginia wanted to refute him but forgot the subject, arching high against his hand. His fingers entered her, and now there was no barrier. The sensation was so powerful, of his being inside her, even if it was just his two fingers, that her stomach seemed to disappear and the room blackened.

"Can you come for me again, little one?" he asked roughly.

She somehow looked at him and was met with a blaze of silver. "Please...put more...there," she whispered.

He shoved harder, fiercely, and she saw sweat rolling down his brow.

But it wasn't enough. And Virginia knew what she wanted. She began to sit, reaching for him, brushing her hand over the stiff, rigid line raised brilliantly against his pale britches-but he pushed her hand away.

Incredulous, she met his gaze.

He moved hard in her.

She gasped, her stomach disappearing again, collapsing back onto a pile of discarded lace and linen. His fingers moved deep and deeper still, large and strong, surge after surge. Virginia was vaguely aware of his gaze upon her, knew she was shameless, and she began to writhe and beg. "Please, Devlin, please, come inside me...please!"

He grunted and leaned over her somehow and she felt his mouth on hers, his tongue thrusting deep, even as his hand continued to rock her, and she knew she needed, wanted, had to have more.

And suddenly his hand was gone. She was in his arms and his phallus rubbed over her s.e.x and she shouted, gripping his shoulders, exploding into a thousand pieces, not once but many times, while he ground himself over her, again and again, panting and murmuring her name.

This time, she lay for an eternity upon the soft piles of silks and satins on the floor, and he lay on top of her, breathing hard, unmoving, still hard and aroused. She began to blush. She began to think. She began to wonder and to worry.

He sat up.

She met his gaze.

His eyes slid over her entire body. A flush mottled his high cheekbones.

Virginia sat, reaching for a fabric and covering herself. She had not expected this. She was stunned but not ashamed, not at all. And she wanted more, so much more.

"It's a little late for that," he remarked, eyeing the wisp of pink silk she held.

She wet her lips. She still ached to have him deep inside her, and not just with his fingers.

"I have longed to do that again," he said quietly, meeting her gaze. "You are incredibly pa.s.sionate, Virginia."

His words went straight through her heart. "What about your pleasure?" she asked as quietly, her trepidation growing. But even a real union of their bodies would not be enough. If only he would reach out now and touch her with real affection.

But he did not. He shrugged, standing. "I'll survive."

She also stood, refusing to be disappointed, and quickly stepped into her drawers and pantalettes. "You appear ready to mount a cannon," she managed, and then she gave up. She was disappointed.

"What?" he choked.

She did not understand him at all. She did not understand why he couldn't become fond of her, why it had to be simply s.e.x, and she would never understand the line he had drawn and what it really meant. "I mean, I am sorry you won't take your pleasure, too."

"I heard you the first time," he said, and he actually smiled at her. "A man loves to have his size appreciated."

"I am sure you have had more than your share of appreciation." She faced him. "Devlin, I'm confused."

His mask reappeared. "Don't be. It was just...a moment. I should have never stayed here for your fitting."

"And what? I am so beautiful that you lost almost all control?"

"Frankly, yes."

She stared, about to berate him for his mockery, when she realized he wasn't mocking at all. "Are you being serious?" she gasped.

"Yes." He pursed his lips in indecision, and then said, "Yes, I am being very serious."

Elation crept over her. She smiled. "But-"

He touched her lips. "Why don't you accept the flattery and enjoy it?"

She grinned. Inwardly, a song was bursting from her heart, the last bar of which was a dance. He thought her beautiful. All disappointment vanished.

"You know, I think that I will."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

REGENT STREET HAD CALMED by the time they left Madame Didier's shop. It was late in the afternoon and only a few vendors remained; some of the shops had closed, signs in the window p.r.o.nouncing this fact. A few pedestrians also remained; however, all were gentlemen, when earlier the reverse had been true.

"Is it later than I think?" Virginia asked quietly. Devlin had absented himself for the remainder of the fitting, but only after explaining exactly how he wished Madame to design and trim her gowns.

"It's four. But the ladies of the ton are preparing for their evening affairs at this hour," he said as quietly.

She was trying to avoid eye contact. It was impossible, just as was avoiding her very distinct recollection of his touch and how it had affected her. Virginia was shaken. What should she do now? How could she proceed with their bargain when it meant so much more to her than a mere game?

She should be thrilled that he found her beautiful enough to almost lose all of his control, and while that had pleased her, despair now outweighed that.

"You will have some beautiful gowns, Virginia. I know you do not really care about fashion, but you may keep them when you leave."

Instantly the anger came and she could not keep it at bay. "I don't want the gowns."

He hesitated, facing her squarely in the middle of the block, his coach, drawn by four handsome grays, parked a short distance ahead. "But I am offering them to you."

"And does it make you feel less guilty, your grand gesture?" she said with open bitterness.

He stared.

She flushed, wishing desperately that she had not spoken, that she could stop revealing her every thought, wish and desire.

"I should feel guilty?" he finally said, slowly, as if choosing his words with care. "For pleasuring you?"

"For everything," she flung with heat.

"Offering you the gowns has nothing to do with guilt," he said. "You seem downcast. I was hoping to raise your spirits."

"You could always pleasure me again," she said tightly, "that would certainly do the trick."

He started.

She strode away, wishing she had not said that, either; besides, the ecstasy he could bring was only the forerunner of pain. If only she were a woman of the world, a woman who could enjoy his favors indifferently without foolishly yearning for his love. If only he felt guilty for using her at all.

"Lady? Pretty puppies fer sale. Real fancy puppies, my lady, come, see!"

Virginia was blinking back tears. She looked up and into the broad face of a fat black puppy with huge floppy ears, big brown eyes and a pink tongue.

"Real fancy, ain't he?" The toothless man smiled.

But Virginia didn't see. The puppy was wriggling madly, an extension of his wagging tail. She smiled and took the pup into her arms, cuddling it to her chest, her cheek against its fur. He was soft and warm, and she hugged him harder, wishing suddenly that she were back at Sweet Briar, where her life had once been so simple and so happy.

The tears ran then, fast and furious, freely.

"And what kind of breed is that?" Devlin's stern tone sounded.

Virginia blinked back the remaining tears and smiled at the puppy, which licked her cheek enthusiastically.

"A rare breed, sir, a very rare breed. From the north, I believe, is where the dogs come from. They make fine house dogs, sir, for they do not grow much at all. Just to the knee, perfect for a lady."

Devlin snorted.

Virginia hugged the pup harder and it licked her face again. She looked up fiercely. "I am taking this dog, Devlin." And she stared, daring him to refuse her now.

"That dog is a Dane, if I do not miss my guess." His gaze held her eyes. Not looking from Virginia, he sighed and said, "How much?"

"A shilling, sir."

Devlin handed him some coins. "Five pence and consider yourself lucky."

"Yes, sir, my lord!" The man beamed and walked back to the other puppies that slept in a crate.