“My parents were entirely wrapped up in one another, for better or worse. When they were in love, I was in the way. When they were in hate, I suppose that I reminded each of them far too much of the other. I was a handsome well-favored child, however, and they both liked to show me off sometimes. I certainly learned how to play to the gallery.”
“How strange and wrong. Poor little Dorian!”
She touched his shoulder comfortingly but he laughed and drew her into his arms. He had long been a man rather than a boy.
“It was all a long time ago, Rose. Little Dorian is long grown and needs no pity although I always welcome your embrace, especially in so flimsy and open a garment as that shirt…”
“But you would never treat your own child like that would you?” she insisted.
“Never!” Dorian returned almost before Rose had finished speaking, the vehemence of his own response taking him by surprise.
Until Rose, Dorian had never given real thought to children of his own. But he knew he must, given Rose’s wishes and their frequent intercourse. He had not expected to feel so strongly.
He took a deep breath before saying anything further, wanting to restore his normal equilibrium and banish the deeply buried sense of vulnerability that he could normally ignore.
“Perhaps you see why I avoid extremes of emotion. People get hurt when emotions are out of control, often innocents as well as those directly involved. I do not wish to inflict such injury.”
Rose frowned slightly but then, to Dorian’s relief, she apparently decided not to pursue that line of thought further. Instead, she smiled.
“There was another painting that struck me. It seems to be a self-portrait…”
“Ah,” grinned Dorian, imagining that she had discovered his collection of more indecent sketches. “Show me.”
Slipping from his arms, Rose took up a small canvas from the top of a pile and handed it to him. Dorian laughed to see it was not at all what he had expected. This more recent painting was of a large wolf crouching in the darkness on the edge of a wood. Its eyes were almost human and its mouth slightly open but relaxed.
“This wolf seems powerful but playful rather than aggressive. It is like you,” Rose said. “Did you intend that?”
“If everyone sees me as a wolf, I suppose I must be one,” laughed Dorian. “I should only be grateful that you do not fear wolves, at least in human form.”
He was glad to be able to joke with Rose instead of talking more of his wretched childhood right now. It had been far easier than he could have expected to answer her questions honestly but still, there were certain things he was relieved not to have to look at further tonight.
“You did bite my neck that night in the gardens at Ashbourne Castle,” Rose reminded him. “It was the very first time you touched me. Is it any wonder I see you as a wolf?”
“I bit you?” he teased her, pushing the loose shirt from one shoulder and kissing her there with an open mouth, before pressing another kiss on her exposed throat. “It was hardly abite, only a caress with my teeth. Now, what you did to me on our first night together was definitely a bite!”
“Oh Dorian!” Rose protested, still self-conscious at the reminder of her wild response. “I did not mean to…”
“I know. That makes it all the sweeter,” Dorian assured her, biting very gently at Rose’s neck once more as one of his hands began to fondle her breasts. “Maybe I will bite you properly one of these days. Or maybe I will only make you bite me again. Would you like that?”
Enjoying her blushes and wriggles and wanting more of the same, Dorian now deliberately reached for one of the old sketch books.
“When you mentioned a self-portrait, do you know what I thought you’d come across?” he asked, placing the book in Rose’s hands.
When she opened the cover, her gasp of surprise, her curiosity and the quickness of her breathing as she perused the pictures were all Dorian could have wanted.
“But how can you draw and…?” Rose said in wonder, biting her lip as Dorian’s hand climbed her thigh.
“Very, very slowly before a large mirror, or two,” he told her. “There is usually a great deal of stopping and starting and the detail must be filled in later.”
“I could not imagine…” she breathed and Dorian kissed her ear.
“Oh, I’m sure you could,” he suggested. “You have an excellent imagination.”
“Can I ask you something, Dorian?” Rose said and he chuckled, expecting to be asked something more about the pictures or the acts they depicted.
“Ask me anything you want. Your erotic education is my present priority in life.”
“Are you deliberately trying to be outrageous now so that I don’t ask you more questions about your childhood?”
