For a moment or two, she was so stunned that all she could do was breathe. Drag in one breath after another and wait for the world to stop spinning.
But then she managed to just about open her eyes.
To see Tom, crouched over her.
Looking at her not the way she thought a lover should look at all. But like a warrior. A warrior who was about to face a mortal foe.
‘Tom,’ she breathed, reaching up to cup his cheek with a tender hand. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
What was wrong? He sucked in a sharp, painful breath. There she was, lying there in the afterglow of the pleasure he’d given her. Still virgin.
He’d thought he could do this for her. Thought he could give her the pleasure she’d asked him for—and leave her intact.
But the thought of some faceless man, a man they’d think worthy of marrying her, seeing her like this, having the right to go where he hadn’t, it made him want to howl. With rage. With pain. The agony of imagining her with any other man was worse than any physical pain he’d ever suffered.
The temptation to ruin that smug, worthy man’s hypothetical wedding night by making sure he wouldn’t be her first was almost overwhelming.
He gritted his teeth. It was wrong. It was wicked.
But, hell, when had he ever been anything but wicked?
And hadn’t she said that he wasn’t any use to her when he tried to be noble? She didn’t want him to do the right thing. She wanted him to do the wrong thing. He tore open the fall of his breeches. Had asked him to do the wrong thing.
She shifted a little. Parted her legs. Caressed his shoulders.
And the last sliver of resolution melted away. Right now, she was his, utterly his. Whatever happened, tomorrow, or the next day, nobody would ever be able to take this from him.
With a shout of defiance, he surged into her. Surged into the only heaven a sinner like him was ever likely to know. The fleeting, carnal paradise of becoming one with the woman he loved.
She rose under him, murmured his name. Shivered with renewed pleasure as he sought his own satisfaction. He slowed down, waiting for her. Wanting to make it last. For as long as he could.
But at length her own rising excitement infected him. When she shuddered round him, gasping out his name, he lost all control. Did the very worst he could have done to her.
Not only did he deflower her, he spent inside her, too.
And he wasn’t sorry.
So why were tears streaming down his cheeks? He buried his face in her neck, in her hair, clinging to her as tightly as he could without hurting her. And she, darling that she was, hugged him back. Rocked him as though he was a lost, lonely child.
‘Tom,’ she murmured. ‘What is it?’
‘I deserve to be shot,’ he growled into her neck. ‘For taking your virginity.’
‘You didn’t take it. I gave it to you.’
‘I should have stayed strong. I should have stopped. I should have—’
‘Shh, shh. You did exactly what I wanted you to do. You made me feel wonderful. And I don’t mean just physically. For the first time in my life, I feel wanted. Really wanted.’
He held her more tightly. If only he could preserve this moment by clinging to it. This moment when everything felt perfect. Just bask in the sensation of her running her hands up and down his back, pressing kisses to his shoulder. His neck. Stroking her foot up and down his calf.
If only he didn’t have to burst this perfect bubble with the ugly lance of truth.
‘You don’t understand,’ he forced himself to say. ‘I didn’t stop when I should have done. I could have dropped a baby inside you. I’ve ruined everything. I’m sorry,’ he said, raising himself up so he could look into her face. ‘We’ll have to get married now.’
For a moment Sarah just froze. But then a stricken look leached her face of colour.
‘No.’ She shoved him hard, but he didn’t move off her. ‘For heaven’s sake, Tom, haven’t you listened to me? I have told you I don’t know how many times that I don’t want to marry. And nor do you, to judge from that horrid expression on your face.’