Still, a clerk could scarcely be married to a princess.
He stroked Tatiana’s hair in an absent manner and contemplated everything she’d said and everything she hadn’t. When all was said and done, it came back to one thing, and one thing only.
Whether she’d give up her life for him wasn’t as important a question as whether or not he’d let her.
Chapter 15
Tatiana sat on her bed, pillows propped behind her head, and stared at her aching feet. She was rather amazed they were not the size of Matthew’s balloon.
Poor Matthew. He had indeed lost everything he had worked for, yet after that one outburst, he had appeared to take it all in stride. As always, she did so wish she could read his mind.
It had taken them the better part of the day to make their way back to Effington Hall. Thankfully, Matthew had an excellent sense of direction and managed to find a road he had seen from the air. Eventually they met a group of riders sent from the hall to find them.
The dowager had been extremely concerned, particularly after the discovery of the disarray in Tatiana’s room, and was most relieved to see them alive, although she was somewhat appalled at their condition. Both Tatiana and Matthew were disreputable in appearance, their clothes torn and ragged, Tatiana’s slippers in tatters. Her Grace was also clearly disappointed by the destruction of Matthew’s balloon, and insisted on sending servants and a wagon with him at once to recover the wreckage.
Tatiana had slept through the remainder of the day, waking long after dark and only because a maid had arrived at her room with a light supper. Too tired to rise, she had had the girl place the tray on a table near the door. But a quarter of an hour had passed and Tatiana now eyed the offering. Were those strawberries? She glanced at her feet and back to the food. She certainly could not lay here forever, as delightful as that sounded. And in truth, she was rather hungry again. And strawberries? She did long for strawberries. Besides, it would be most impolite not to eat what someone had taken the trouble to send up to her.
She stretched her legs, pointed her toes, then flexed her feet back toward her head and winced. Her ankles were unbearably stiff. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly attempted to stand. Her feet felt like stumps, her legs were wooden and she wondered if they would support her at all. Cautiously she took a step and groaned. Every muscle in her body ached. From her shoulders to her toes, there was scarcely an inch that did not scream in protest. Not surprising, really. She and Matthew had fallen from the sky, after all.
She gritted her teeth and hobbled slowly across the room, grabbed the tray and made her way back to the bed. She set the tray on the side table, then collapsed face first onto the deep, cozy mattress. She could well lie like this, unmoving, unthinking, forever. Still, strawberries beckoned.
With a resigned sigh, she rolled over and struggled to sit up. Surely she would feel better tomorrow if she lived that long. Tomorrow was the dowager’s ball, and even while Tatiana was reluctant to meet those Effingtons who had recently visited Avalonia, she was quite looking forward to the ball itself. She was not, however, eager for the discussion she could no longer avoid with Her Grace. Matthew was right. This was an honorable woman who deserved to be treated honorably. She deserved the truth.
Tatiana plucked a strawberry from the bowl heaping with the luscious fruit. She took a bite and savored the delightful flavor, the lovely taste of warm summer days. It was something of a relief to have decided to tell the dowager all.
And a decided relief to have told Matthew everything. Of course, she was fairly certain he did not understand the true status of their marriage, although she could argue that she had indeed told him. Perhaps not in a clear and concise way, but she had said it aloud nonetheless. Of all the things she had kept from him, that was the most difficult to reveal. She picked up another strawberry and sucked on it thoughtfully. She was convinced he did care for her and possibly had never stopped, but there was something in his manner last night that was vaguely unnerving. She could not put her finger on exactly what it was and was sorely tempted to attribute it to her own state of mind.
Still, what did she expect? Indeed, if he was the kind of man willing to do nothing with his life save be the husband of a princess, or even the kind of man willing to take her money, he would be an entirely different man from the one she loved.
Did he mean it when he said a man who loved her would never ask her to give up her crown for him? It scarcely mattered. It was not his choice to make.
A knock sounded at the dressing room door and her heart caught.
“Yes?”
The door opened and Matthew poked his head in. “I was wondering if you were awake or if you were going to sleep through the rest of the night. You were so deeply asleep when I returned, I suspected Avalonian brandy may be involved.”
She laughed. “There was scarcely any need for that. I could well have slept for a full week.” She waved at the tray. “Would you care to join me?”
“Strawberries?”
“I simply snapped my fingers.” She grinned.
He laughed. “As did I.” He vanished for a moment, then pushed the door open, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“Champagne?” She raised a brow. “What if I had been asleep?”
“I would have had to drink it myself. Drown my sorrows, and all that.” His hair was damp, as if he’d just bathed. He wore a long, silk dressing gown and, she suspected, nothing underneath. He sauntered toward the bed, a decidedly wicked gleam in his eye. “You have saved me from a devilish headache in the morning, and for that I am grateful.”
“How grateful?”
“Eternally grateful.” He reached the bed and handed her the glasses. She held them out to him and he opened the bottle.
“Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Don’t be absurd.” He filled the glasses. “The plan was to allow you to seduce me.”
“And are you so confident that I will?” She sipped the wine and studied him.
He thought for a moment. “Yes.”
“I see.” She downed the rest of her champagne, set the glass aside and scrambled to her knees, all painful twinges forgotten. He finished his drink, placed the glass beside hers and stepped closer. She grabbed the tie at his waist. Her gaze met his and she pulled the sash slowly free. The gown loosened and opened. She was right. He had nothing on underneath. Her gaze followed the smattering of dark hair on his chest and the trail it led downward. A slow throb of desire started somewhere low in her midsection.
“My.” Heat rose in her cheeks. “You are confident.”
“Thank you.” He laughed and reached for her.
“Not yet.” She brushed his hand away.
He raised a brow.
She leaned close until her lips were but a breath away from his. “Tonight, Matthew, I am in charge of…” She pushed the dressing gown off his shoulders and it fell softly to his feet. “Sailing the heavens.”
“Are you?” Amusement sounded in his voice.
“You expected seduction, my lord”—she sighed the words against his lips—“and seduction you shall get.”
He drew back in mock horror. “And what of my virtue?”
“I think we settled the question of your virtue long ago.” She rested her fingers lightly on his chest and traced slow, lazy circles. His muscles tightened beneath her touch. “Matthew?”
“Yes?” Her fingers drifted over the flat of his stomach and he sucked in a sharp breath.
At once, she had an amazing sense of power and she bit back a smile. “As we were discussing virtue”—her touch moved lower still—“do you think I am overly eager?”
“Overly eager?” His voice was strained.
“A tart?” Her hand brushed against his erection and he jerked and grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Why, Matthew.” She pulled her hand free. “I am simply trying to prove your confidence in me w
ell placed.” She closed her fingers around him. He was at once steel and velvet, rock-solid and soft as silk. “Now, do cooperate and allow me to seduce you.”
“Very well.” He smiled slowly. “I am at your mercy, Princess.”
“Indeed you are,” she said softly. Her hand tightened around him. He groaned low in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. “So, are you going to answer my question?”
She stroked back and forth along the hard shaft. His jaw clenched and his breath was shallow.
“Question?” he murmured. “What question?”
“Do you think I am a tart?”
“Good God, I hope so.”
She leaned forward and flicked her tongue across the hollow of his throat. “Do you?”
“I quite like tarts, pies, cakes, that sort of thing.”
“Matthew.” She ran her lips lightly across his chest and he grasped her shoulders. “That is not what I meant.”
He grinned, but he did not open his eyes.
“I do not want you to think…” She drew a deep breath and straightened. “It has been a long time, and I did not…”
His brow furrowed and he opened one eye. “You are not finished, are you? I am scarcely seduced yet. Why, I am barely more than compromised.”
“No, no, of course not. I just wanted to say… that is, I need to tell you…”
His other eye opened and suspicion sounded in his voice. “What? Is there something else you haven’t told me?”
“Not really. It is only that I… I have been with no one else since I was last with you.”
“You mean since last night?”
“No, you annoying man.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “I meant since I was last with you in Paris.”
“Oh.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent. Now, then, Your Highness”—he closed his eyes and lifted his chin—“I am once again all yours. Do with me as you will.”
She stared at him for a moment. “You do not seem overly surprised. I was under the distinct impression you thought Dimitri and I were not merely friends.”
He shrugged. “A jealous assumption on my part, nothing more. I soon realized I was mistaken.” He pulled her hand back to his chest. “Now, then…”
“Matthew,” she said slowly.
He sighed and opened his eyes. “You’re not very good at this seduction business. What is it now?”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Been with other women?”
What might have been panic flickered in his eyes. “Well, I did serve on board ship, and sailors in port are notoriously—”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” She could almost see the gears and workings of his mind desperately searching for an acceptable answer, and at once she realized the truth.
He blew a long breath. “Yes.”
Anger and disappointment washed through her, even as she knew her reaction was unreasonable.
“How could you?” She pushed him away, slid off the bed and stalked across the room.
“What do you mean, how could I? What did you expect me to do?” he said indignantly, a rather impressive feat for a naked man. “I was unencumbered, if you recall. Abandoned by a wife who could not wait to rid herself of an unwanted marriage, with no prospect of ever seeing her again. I had no intention of either pining away or of remaining celibate for the rest of my days. Did you expect me to?”
She whirled toward him. “I expected a certain amount of mourning for me!”
“That’s how I mourned!”
“How long did you wait until you took another woman to your bed, Matthew? A day? A week?”
He paused, and indecision flashed across his face.
She gasped. “You did not wait so much as a week?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “In point of fact, Tatiana, I have no idea how long I waited. I spent much of the months after you left in a steady state of inebriation and those days are rather fuzzy in my mind. I cannot honestly tell you how soon or how many women there were after you.”
“That is most comforting,” she snapped.
He strode toward her, the look in his eye distinctly unnerving. “I was the one in need of comforting, if you recall.”
She stepped back. “I have apologized—”
“Not well, and not nearly often enough, but I am willing to concede the point. You are sorry and I accept that, but I am not about to beg forgiveness for anything I might have done after you left me.” He grabbed her and yanked her into his arms. “Do you understand?”
Her eyes widened and she stared up at him. She could not recall anyone ever chastising her in as firm or threatening a manner. She swallowed hard. “I think so.” But was that not one of the very reasons she loved him? To Matthew she was first and foremost a woman, not a princess. Desire, hot and urgent, surged through her. “Shall I continue my seduction, then?”
He picked her up and strode toward the bed. “You don’t seem to understand the basic principles of seduction.”
“No?”
“No,” he said firmly. He stood her on her feet beside the bed and anticipation trickled through her. “The beginning of a good seduction does not lie in confession or recrimination, but in a kiss.”
He suited his actions to his words, pulled her close with one arm and cupped her chin in his hand. He pressed his lips to hers, gently, as if this kiss were their first. She relaxed against him and her mouth opened to his. His tongue traced the rim of her lips, then delved deeper in a leisurely, lazy exploration.
His hand drifted lightly along her jaw and down the column of her throat, his fingers trailing over the sheer fabric of her night rail to the valley between her breasts. He traced circles around her nipple until it puckered and hardened. She strained against his hand, wanting, needing more, but he acknowledged her only with a deepening of his kiss.
His fingers caressed the underside of her breast, then slipped downward in an agonizingly slow manner along her side. She bit her lip, wanting to cry out with the sweet torture. The room around them vanished and she existed only in the reality of his touch.
His fingers whispered over her hips and around to her thighs and over the curls between her legs. She wanted to rip away the delicate fabric of the nightgown, wanted to feel him against her without barrier. His hand slipped between her legs, the sheer material at once abrasive and exciting against her. He fingered the point of her yearning for long moments through the dampened material, and she whimpered with need.
Without warning, he stepped away. She gasped, but before she could say a word, he pulled her night rail over her head and tossed it to one side.
“That was an excellent beginning,” she said in a strangled voice.
“Indeed it was.” His voice was barely steadier than hers.
“Now what?”
He scooped her into his arms, laid her on the bed, then stood beside her and surveyed her as a general might a battlefield. “Now”—he climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs—“close your eyes.”
“Is that a principle of seduction as well?”
He leaned over her, his blue eyes dark as a wild storm, a wicked smile on his lips, and kissed her eyelids closed.
“For tonight, yes.” His voice was a growl in the back of his throat.
His lips whispered kisses over her face, her throat and continued downward. He took one nipple in his mouth and teased and tasted with teeth and tongue until she moaned and grasped his shoulders. He caught her wrists in one hand and held them over her head, thrusting her breasts upward, like an offering to a conquering army.
There was nothing she could do, and she reveled in her helplessness and his power over her. He moved from one breast to the other, and she thought surely she would die with the pleasure of his touch.
His hand danced over her stomach and lower, to the juncture of her legs. He caressed the top of her thighs, but did not approach that part of her that throbbed and ached for his touch. S
he arched upward, desperate for his touch, and dimly, through a haze of arousal, heard him chuckle softly. The blasted man knew exactly what he was doing to her. It was torture.
It was exquisite.
He pulled her wrists down to hold them against her stomach and shifted his position on the bed. His hand slid between her legs, parted her and held her open for him. She felt the warmth of his breath and gasped.
His tongue flicked over her, caressed her, encircled her. The sensation remembered in her dreams. Sailing the heavens. She moaned and struggled against his grip, but he held her wrists tight. Tension tightened within her until she was lost in the throb of her body and the skill of his touch. She cried out his name and abruptly he drew back and released her wrists.
Her eyes snapped open. “Matthew!”
“Tatiana.” His voice was heavy with passion and his lips claimed hers. He supported himself with one hand and guided himself into her with the other. And restraint vanished between them.
She wrapped her arms around him and arched upward to meet his thrusts with the wanton eagerness of the tart she was only with him, always with him. He invaded her, filled her, consumed her. And she consumed him in return. Two bodies, one soul. As they always should have been. As they were meant to be.
They moved together higher and faster, to the edge of madness. Sweet and awful and forever. And she strained against him and he plunged deeper and harder until he groaned and his body shook and her own climaxed in blinding, magnificent release that stole her breath and her senses and her self.
Sailing the heavens.
A glory and a wonder and a joy, to be found with him, and him alone.
For a long time, neither moved. Then he shifted to her side, raised his head and stared at her, a bemused expression on his face.
Her Highness, My Wife Page 20
