by Lisa Kleypas
“Is that how long it takes? An hour?”
His reply was rueful. “Sweetheart, at this point it would be a miracle if I lasted one minute.”
She curled her arms around his neck. “You have to make love to me,” she told him. “Because if you don’t, I’ll never stop complaining about it.”
Matthew cradled her body against his, and kissed her forehead, and he was silent for so long that she was afraid he was going to refuse her. But then his warm hand moved slowly down her body, and her heart gave an excited leap. He wrapped the tapes of her drawers around his fingers and pulled to loosen them.
Her tummy rose and fell with her labored breathing, and embarrassment flooded her as his hand slipped beneath the fragile fabric. He was touching the fleece of private hair, the curls flattened against the vulnerable mound. He played with the soft locks, fluffing, stroking. The tip of his ring finger brushed over a place so sensitive that she jerked in surprise. Staring into her flushed face, Matthew gently parted the closed flesh.
“Daisy, love,” he whispered, “You’re so soft…so dainty…where shall I touch you? Here? Or here…”
“There,” she sobbed, as his fingers slid to just the right spot. “Yes…oh, there…”
His mouth moved in hot open kisses over her throat and down to her breast, while at the same time his fingers slipped farther between her legs. As he kneaded her intimately, she became aware of a disconcerting moisture in that secret place. She hadn’t expected that. Which made her wonder if she was quite as well-informed as she had previously thought.
Consternated, she began to say something but was abruptly silenced as she felt his finger nudge inside her. That was not something she had expected, either.
Matthew’s head lifted from her breast, his eyes filled with drowsy heat. He watched her face as he searched inside her body with a lightly massaging rhythm that drove her to an unbearable height of pleasure. She strained upward and moaned anxiously, returning his kisses with uncontrolled fervor.
“Do you like that?” he whispered.
“Yes, I…” She fought to speak between helpless gasps. “I thought…it was going to hurt.”
“Not from this.” A smile touched his mouth. “Later, however, you might have cause for complaint.” A shimmer of sweat gathered on his face as he felt the pulsing of her body around his exploring finger. “I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he said raggedly. “I’ve wanted you for too long.”
“I trust you,” she whispered.
Matthew shook his head, easing his hand away from her. “You have terrible judgment. You’re in bed with the last man in the world you should trust, and you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.”
“Is this your idea of seductive banter?”
“I thought I should give you one last warning. Now you’re doomed.”
“Oh, good.” Daisy moved to help him as he stripped off her drawers and stockings.
Her eyes widened as he began to unbutton his trousers. Curious but shy, she reached down to help him. A shaky endearment left his lips as he felt her small, cool hand slip beneath the unbuttoned placket of his falls. She stroked carefully, learning the length and hardness of him, loving the way his body trembled. “How should I touch you?” she whispered.
Matthew shook his head with an unsteady laugh. “Daisy…I’d rather you didn’t just now.”
“Did I do it wrong?” she asked in worry.
“No, no—” He gathered her against him, kissing her cheek, her ear, her hair. “You do it too well.”
His hands swept over her in sensitive strokes as he urged her back against the pillows. He undressed and levered his body over hers, and she shivered at the delicious textures of him, hairiness and smoothness and heat. Too many things were happening at once—she couldn’t compass all of it—the moist, hot drift of his mouth, the long coaxing fingers, the brush of his hair against her breasts, her stomach…
The silky swirl of his tongue in the hollow of her navel sent fire licking through her veins. Hazily aware of the area his mouth was traversing, she stirred beneath him.
Not seeming to realize just where he was kissing her, Matthew persisted, sliding lower until Daisy let out a muffled yelp and pushed hard at his encroaching head.
“What is it?” he asked, rising to his elbows.
Crimson with mortification, Daisy could hardly bring herself to explain. “You were too close to my…well, you accidentally…”
As her voice faded, understanding dawned in Matthew’s eyes. Quickly he bent his head to hide his expression, and a tremor ran through his shoulders. He replied with great care, still looking away from her. “It wasn’t accidental. I meant to do that.”
Daisy was astonished. “But you were going to kiss me right on my—” She broke off as his gaze met hers, laughter dancing in his blue eyes.
He wasn’t embarrassed at all—he was amused.
“You’re not shocked, are you?” he asked. “I thought you were well read.”
“Well, no one would ever write about something like that.”
He shrugged, his eyes glowing. “You’re the literary authority.”
“You’re making fun of me,” she said.
“Just a little,” he whispered, and kissed her stomach again. Her legs jerked against his restraining hands.
She began to chatter nervously as she felt his mouth wander to her hip. “In s-some of the novels I’ve read, there were certain parts, of course…” She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his teeth gently scoring over her inner thigh. “…but…I suppose they were written so euphemistically that I didn’t qu-quite understand…oh, please, I don’t think you should do that—”
“What about this?”
“Definitely not that.” She twisted to escape him.
But his hands had hooked beneath her knees and he held them apart as he did wicked things with his tongue. She began to shiver as he found the sensitive flesh he had touched before, and his mouth was soft and hot and demanding, suckling until rapture flooded her from that place where his mouth possessed her, and when she begged him to stop he tormented her even more, licking, nuzzling deeper and deeper, and suddenly the pleasure uncoiled and she was crying out in dazzling relief.
After a long time Matthew moved upward to hold her. Fiercely she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He settled between her wide-open thighs, shaking with the effort to be gentle. She was invaded by a sundering thrust, and Matthew murmured love words against her throat, trying to soothe her even as he pushed farther, taking her, holding her.
When they were completely joined he went still, trying not to cause her further pain. He was so hard inside her, and Daisy absorbed the curious feeling of being possessed, of being utterly helpless and at the same time…in this moment he belonged to her utterly. She knew she filled his mind and heart even as he filled her body. Wanting to give him the same pleasure he had given her, she arched her hips.
“Daisy…no, wait…”
She lifted again, and again, straining to be closer to him. He groaned and began to press downward in a subtle rhythm. Crushing his mouth over hers, he shuddered from the intensity of his climax.
They were both silent for minutes afterward, while Matthew held her close and cradled her head against his shoulder. He withdrew from her carefully and hushed her with his lips as she protested.
“Let me take care of you.”
Daisy didn’t understand what he meant, but she was so enervated that she lay with her eyes closed as he left the bed. He returned soon with a damp cloth, neatly wiping her perspiring body and the stinging flesh between her thighs.
When he lowered beside her, she burrowed against him, sighing in pleasure as he drew the covers over them. She moved until her ear rested on the sturdy beat of his heart.
Daisy supposed she ought to feel ashamed, locking herself in his bedroom and demanding to be seduced. Instead she felt triumphant. And strangely precarious, as if she were balanced on the edge of a new kind
of intimacy that went beyond the physical.
She wanted to know everything about him—she had never known such devouring curiosity about another person. But perhaps a little patience was in order until they both had time to adjust to their new circumstances.
As the warmth of their bodies mingled beneath the bedclothes, Daisy was filled with the overwhelming urge to sleep. She had never suspected how nice it would be to lie quietly in a man’s arms, breathing his scent, his strength surrounding her.
“Don’t fall asleep,” she heard him warn. “We have to get you out of here.”
“I’m not sleeping. I’m just…” she paused to yawn hugely. “…resting my eyes.”
“Only for a minute.” His hand passed over her hair and down her back in a long stroke. That was all it took to lull her into sweet, dark oblivion.
Daisy awakened to the patter of rain on the roof, and the waft of a moisture-heavy breeze from the open window. The Hampshire weather had decided to cool the afternoon with a spontaneous shower, the kind that usually lasted no more than a half-hour and left the ground spongy and fragrant.
Blinking, Daisy registered her unfamiliar surroundings, the masculine bedroom…the vivid strangeness of a naked muscular body at her back. And the stirring of someone’s breath in her hair. She tensed in surprise but lay quietly, wondering if Matthew was awake. His breathing didn’t change. But gradually his arm slid across her body, his fingers spreading over her front.
Gently he settled her back against him, and they watched the rain in silence. Daisy tried to remember if there had ever been a time in her life when she had felt so safe and content. No, she decided. Nothing could compare to this.
Feeling her smile against his arm, Matthew murmured, “You like the rain.”
“Yes.” She explored the hairy surface of his leg with her toes, rather amazed at how long his calves were. “Some things are always better when it’s raining. Like reading. Or sleeping. Or this.”
“Lying in bed with me?” He sounded amused.
Daisy nodded. “It feels as if we’re the only two people in the world.”
He traced the line of her collarbone, and the side of her throat. “Did I hurt you, Daisy?” he whispered.
“Well, it was rather uncomfortable when you—” she stopped and blushed. “But I expected that. My friends told me it improves after the first time.”
His fingertips wandered to the outline of her ear, and the blood-heated curve of her cheek. There was a smile in his voice as he said, “I’ll do my best to see that it does.”
“Are you sorry it happened?” Her fingers clenched as she waited tensely for his answer.
“Good Lord, no.” He brought her small fist to his mouth and kissed it open, and flattened her palm against the side of his face. “It’s what I’ve wanted most in my entire life. And the one thing I knew I could never have. I’m surprised. Shocked, even. But never sorry.”
Daisy turned and snuggled against him, sandwiching one of his thighs between her own.
The rain beat out a brisk song against the side of the house, some of it coming through the window. Considering the idea of getting out of bed, Daisy shivered a little, and felt Matthew draw the covers higher over her bare shoulder.
“Daisy,” he asked without heat, “where is the damn key?”
“I put it in your coat pocket,” she said helpfully. “Didn’t you see? No?…well, I suppose you were distracted at the time.” She trailed her hand over his chest, letting her palm graze the point of his nipple. “You’re probably angry with me for locking us in the bedroom.”
“Enraged,” he agreed. “I insist you do it every night after we’re married.”
“Are we going to get married?” Daisy whispered, raising her head.
His eyes were warm, but there was no hint of pleasure in his voice. “Yes, we’re going to marry. Although you’ll probably hate me for it someday.”
“Why in the world would I…oh.” Daisy remembered what he had told her about the likelihood of his past catching up to him someday. “I could never hate you,” she said. “And I’m not afraid of your secrets, Matthew. Whatever comes, I’ll face it with you. Although you should know I find it exasperating when you throw out comments like that and refuse to explain.”
There was a sudden catch of laughter in his chest. “That’s only one of many reasons you find me exasperating.”
“True.” She crawled on top of him and nuzzled his chest like an inquisitive kitten. “But I like exasperating men much more than the nice ones.”
Two notches appeared between his dark brows. “Such as Llandrindon?”
“Yes, he’s much nicer than you.” Experimentally Daisy put her mouth over his nipple and touched it with her tongue. “Does that feel the same to you as it does to me?”
“No. Although the effort is appreciated.” He tilted her face upward. “Did Llandrindon kiss you?”
She nodded slowly in the framework of his hands. “Just once.”
Jealousy entered his voice. “Did you like it?”
“I wanted to. I tried to.” She closed her eyes and turned her cheek into his palm. “But it wasn’t at all like your kisses.”
“Daisy,” he whispered, turning until she was tucked beneath him once more. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” His fingers investigated the fragile angles of her face, the smiling curve of her lips. “But now it seems impossible that I held out as long as I did.”
Her nerves, sated as they were, stirred beneath the caress of his fingertips. “Matthew…what will happen next? Will you speak to my father?”
“Not yet. In the interest of preserving at least a semblance of decorum, I’m going to wait until I return from Bristol. By that time most of the guests will have left, and the family will be able to deal with the situation in relative privacy.”
“My father will be overjoyed. But Mother will have conniptions. And Lillian…”
“Will explode.”
Daisy sighed. “My brothers aren’t too fond of you, either.”
“Really,” he said in mock surprise.
Daisy stared worriedly into his shadowed face. “What if you change your mind about me? What if you come back and tell me that you were wrong, you don’t want to marry me, and—”
“No,” Matthew said, stroking the rampant black waves of her hair. “There’s no turning back. I’ve taken your innocence. I’m not going to avoid my responsibility.”
Disgruntled by the choice of words, Daisy frowned.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“The way you put it…your responsibility…as if you have to atone for some terrible mistake. It’s not the most romantic thing to say, especially in present circumstances.”
“Oh.” Matthew grinned suddenly. “I’m not a romantic man, sweetheart. You knew that already.” He bent his head and kissed the side of her neck, and nipped at her ear. “But I am responsible for you now.” He worked his way down to her shoulder. “For your safety…your welfare…your pleasure…and I take my responsibilities very seriously…”
He kissed her breasts, drawing the taut peaks into the melting heat of his mouth. His hand parted her thighs and played gently between them.
A moan of pleasure slipped from her throat, and he smiled. “You make the sweetest sounds,” he murmured. “When I touch you like this…and this…and the way you cry out when you come for me…”
Her face burned. She tried to be quiet, but in another moment he had coaxed another helpless moan from her.
“Matthew…?” Her toes curled as she felt him slip lower, his tongue tickling the hollow of her navel.
His voice was muffled by the covers that tented over his head. “Yes, chatterbox?”
“Are you going to do—” she paused with a gasp as she felt him push her knees apart, “—what you did before?”
“It would seem so.”
“But we’ve already…” The puzzle of why he would want to make love to her twice in a row was suddenly abandoned.
She felt him investigating the tender juncture of her thigh and groin, the insides of her legs, and she went weak. Soft, artful nibbling…lazy strokes of his tongue…toying with the sore opening of her body…easing upward until he found a place that made her sob and groan, yes, there, yes…
He teased her with maddening delicacy, slowly moving away, then returning with warm, rapid flicks…she groped for his head between her thighs and held him there, arching and shivering and pulsing with pleasure.
He brought her steadily upward to a height of impossible rapture, above the storm, above the sky itself…and when she regained awareness, she was in his arms, her pounding heartbeat soothed by the gentle sound of spring rain.
Chapter 12
Since most of the estate guests were leaving on the morrow, dinner that night was a long and elaborate affair. Two long tables set with crystal and Sèvres china glittered in the light shed by chandeliers and candelabrum. An army of footmen dressed in full livery of blue, mustard and black with gold braiding moved deftly around the guests, refilling water and wine glasses, serving each remove with quiet precision.
It was a magnificent affair. Unfortunately Daisy had never been less interested in eating. It was a pity she couldn’t do justice to the meal, which featured Scottish salmon, steaming roast joints, venison haunch accompanied by sausages and sweet breads, and elaborate vegetable casseroles dressed with cream and butter and truffles. For dessert there were platters of luxury fruits; raspberries, nectarines, cherries, peaches and pineapples, as well as a surfeit of cakes, tarts, and syllabubs.
Daisy forced herself to eat, laugh, and converse in as natural a manner as possible. But it was not easy. Matthew was seated a few places away on the other side of the table, and whenever their gazes caught, she nearly choked on whatever she happened to be chewing.
Conversation flowed around her, and she responded to it vaguely while her mind remained fixed on the memory of what had happened a few hours earlier. Those who knew her well, her sister and friends, seemed to notice that she was not quite herself. Even Westcliff had given her a few speculative glances.
