Chapter Twenty-Nine
Later that evening, after guest rooms were assigned and all necessary tasks settled, Theodosia stole down the hallway and knocked lightly on Matthew’s door. The panel opened as if he’d waited right on the other side, and the idea pleased her in the nicest way.
“Hello.” She smiled as she stepped over the threshold. How fascinating that she no longer held misgivings about entering his bedchamber after hours. What did that say about her? She shook her head and dismissed the notion. “I’m glad you’re still awake.”
“Of course, I’m awake.” He chuckled. “I was waiting for you.”
“You were?” She bit her lower lip to prevent a smile from escaping despite he had the devil’s own grin upon his face. She paused beside the bureau, her hands laced. “Thank you for earlier. For helping to keep things in perspective and for inviting Amelia and Scarsdale. They’re both delightful company. And too for introducing Grandfather to His Grace. Grandfather was thoroughly impressed.”
“It was my pleasure.” Matthew drew her forward into his arms. “Already I miss having you all to myself though. I’ve always been rubbish about sharing. With Amelia around we’ll have scarce peace and quiet the next few days.”
“You did invite her,” she pointed out. “But I can come here at night.” Her face heated with the bold insinuation, never mind the inadvertent double entendre.
“Indeed.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “I agree wholeheartedly.”
She slipped from his grasp and sat on the edge of the mattress, enjoying their little game. She removed the bandeau that kept her hair bound and loosened the lengths about her shoulders.
“Who is this seductress in my bed?” He advanced, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “The same woman who spouted random science facts when I attempted a kiss all those weeks ago?”
“It’s cruel to tease.” She hardly managed to squelch a giggle.
“Who’s teasing? All that science talk made me randy. A fetching female exposing her intelligence to me in a dark library. Why, that’s a scholar’s naughty boyhood fantasy come to life.”
“Is that so?” She slowly pulled the ribbon that kept her wrapper tied at the neck, her heart in her throat as he stopped one stride from where she sat. “The average person falls asleep in seven minutes.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be up all night.” He widened his stance and pulled his shirt over his head, his chest and arms a feast for her eyes.
“It’s impossible to sink into quicksand if one raises his legs and lies still on his back.” She giggled, the picture in her mind amusing.
“Now there’s an interesting position.” He worked the buttons loose on his falls, exposing himself piece by piece, and her heartbeat applauded as each garment fell to the floorboards.
Anxious to keep her hands moving as her throat went dry, she slid the wrapper from her shoulders and then set to work on the tiny ivory buttons of her night rail. Her fingers trembled, but she managed, aware of his intense focus on every move she made.
Nothing was said for a breathless moment, the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece the loudest sound in the room.
“Theodosia.” His voice held such gravity she sobered immediately. “I’ve been remiss and I wish to remedy that now.” He paused with one knee bent on the bed, his body clothed in only his smalls.
“Yes?” She didn’t know what he meant to say, but she knew it held great importance.
“I love you.” He drew a deep breath, her eyes trained on his muscular chest. “I tried to tell you the depth of my feelings before, and like any experienced scientist, you were quick to refute my claim without evidence, but I find that impossible now.”
He slowly perused her bare body. Her skin flushed under his admiring scrutiny.
“My body calls to yours, but more so my heart.” He paused, a flash of emotion in his eyes. “Do you feel it too, Bookish?”
Her pulse thundered in her veins. Here stood a wonderful man, good-hearted, handsome and intelligent, who proclaimed his love for her. Only a fool would ignore this dream come to life.
“I love you, Matthew. I do.” She smiled, the words alive on her tongue. Then she laughed, the relief and joy of her admittance almost too much to bear.
“Now that’s settled.” He leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep, openmouthed kiss.
Enjoying their playfulness, she wasn’t ready to relinquish control. “The ears of a cricket are located on its front legs right below the knee.”
“Right about here?”
He ran his fingertips along her calf to the soft, sensitive area just above. Her body quivered with anticipation and she promptly forgot all facts or logic, the game abandoned.
“Or here?”
He smoothed both palms to the front of her legs and slowly skimmed them upward, his thumbs tracing the delicate skin of her inner thighs. She didn’t move and closed her eyes with a sigh as she nestled deeper into the bedding. His weight caused the mattress to dip, but still she lay in wait and wonder. He whispered kisses across her breasts, his tongue hot and determined against the tips, the texture of each pass echoed below, where she grew anxious and wet.
When had she become so wanton? So free? This sudden lack of inhibition was wrong, but felt so incredibly right, she couldn’t deny it. It made her feel desired. Cherished. She wanted him to touch her. To make her experience wonder as rare and elusive as a rainbow’s beauty.
His arm brushed across her hip, the hair leaving a trail of heat and expectation until he smoothed his fingers over her abdomen, then lower to her sex, where he parted her folds and rubbed the tight center with insistent strokes. Desire built rapidly, each tender caress of his attention tinder to the heat within. She clenched her eyes in order not to do the same with her legs, the pleasure partly composed of restraint, dependent on total surrender. She allowed him to lead her, begging for release, until nothing mattered aside from sensation, intense and drenching, wholly consuming.
He didn’t let her drift off, drowsy and sated, but instead brought his mouth to hers, his tongue now as insistent as his fingers had been, her body open and ready. He slid between her thighs, her legs anchored on either side of his, and sunk into her deep. She shuddered with pleasure and wrapped her arms around him.
* * *
Matthew growled with satisfaction as he buried himself in Theodosia’s heat. She was wet and tight and he couldn’t feel her enough or have her enough. It wasn’t possession that drove him. It wasn’t misplaced fear or Kirkman’s audacity or any other number of things that caused his fervent desire to bind himself with her.
Weeks before when he’d first met her, something ignited inside him. Something beyond an insatiable curiosity. And the more he came to know her and share her company, the more committed he became. He’d fallen hard before he knew if it was wise, and given his heart before he’d ascertained if she’d ever want his attention. It went against every ounce of logic he possessed, all thoughtful planning abandoned, but it didn’t matter now.
With a murmur of approval, he welcomed her arms around him, urging him down for another openmouthed kiss as his pulse hammered an urgent beat, his body pulsing with need and want. They’d learned each other now, were familiar with each other’s body, and Theodosia no longer worried about the act. Her hips undulated beneath him in invitation, her muscles pliant and giving.
He pressed into her and rocked the slightest, the blood hot in his veins as he struggled for control. Everywhere he looked she was beautiful, her hair spilled over his pillow, her smooth creamy skin and perfectly formed curves. And she was his to claim. His to love. A sense of wild longing seized his chest. He forced a long breath. Then another.
He slowed, wanting their joining to last, needing their bodies to melt together, to become one as closely as possible. When he withdrew he was bereft, eager to return, sheathed tight within her heat, but his cock throbbed, hard and thick, too anxious for release and the sensual pleasure it promised. He’d always pu
lled away from her at the last moment and spilled himself on the sheets, but he couldn’t tonight. Not after the words they’d shared. He could no longer bear that separation either.
He began an instinctive rhythm, their bodies in perfect synchronicity, and measured his strokes though the battle was lost, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead, his muscles flexed against the inevitable. In less than a few heartbeats, her body went rigid beneath his, her breath fast and ragged, a keening cry on her lips, and so he thrust into her again, her body holding his in velvet heat, keeping him as he climaxed with such intensity he nearly collapsed atop her from the force.
* * *
“I suppose I’ve become shameless.” Theodosia smiled broadly with this announcement, her expression in contradiction to the censure of her words.
“Are you proud of that quality?” He couldn’t help but tease her.
“And what if I am?” She turned on her side beneath the covers and propped up on her elbow.
“You won’t hear a complaint out of me.” He chuckled. What time was it anyway? No doubt they would need to play attentive host and hostess tomorrow during breakfast. He really shouldn’t keep her awake any longer. “We should get some rest.”
“We should,” she confirmed, though she placed her hand atop his chest and fanned her fingers through the soft mat of hair. “You’ve changed my life in the best way.”
Her shy admittance touched his heart, and he angled his head on the pillow so he could see her more clearly. “As you did mine.”
“I know I’ve been adamant about where I’d like to live, including thoughts of Grandfather’s well-being, of course, but I’ve also come to realize that as long as we’re together I needn’t fear the future. It’s not a matter of where we choose to live as much as how we lead our lives and the love we share between us.”
She didn’t say anything further, and thinking they would seek sleep, he closed his eyes with her words replaying in his head. She would offer him the world, and the sentiment warmed him from the inside out. And he would do likewise.
Turning to her, he brushed his hand across her cheek. “And I know I’ve tried to convince you London is not so bad, but the truth is I’d relocate to a remote island in the Aegean Sea if it meant we would spend our future together.”
The sheets shifted as she repositioned herself. The room fell quiet.
When she traced a line down his chest and lower to his abdomen, he sucked in a sharp breath, forbidding his brain to go to the place it wanted to go; still, his cock twitched in concurrence of that hope. He didn’t need to wonder long.
She brushed her hand across his hip and settled her palm on his arousal. Blood rushed to fulfill her request, simultaneously vanquishing logic and thought. Still he didn’t open his eyes. It heightened the sensuality of her innocent exploration. He told himself to breathe and willed his pulse to calm as she lowered the sheet from his waist.
She circled her fingers around his erection timidly at first, though after the first stroke she handled him with swift mastery. He still held his eyes closed, though he wondered if she watched him or concentrated on the task. He imagined her silken hair falling forward, her lovely gray eyes intense with desire. He didn’t expect what came next.
The first touch of her mouth on him caused him to jerk in surprise. Clever of her to make him believe in one thing when she’d planned quite another. He doubted he would last more than a few seconds, the soft, smooth caress of her inquisitive tongue an excruciating delight. She took him into her mouth and he groaned with pleasure, his body rock hard while his mind melted to liquid.
She didn’t linger and returned to cuddle at his side a moment later. He forced his eyes open, the blood pounding in his veins.
“Good night then.”
He could hear the smile in her voice, the minx.
“If that’s your idea of a good night kiss, then I suggest you prepare for mine.” The words rasped out, his body caught in a state of agonizing pleasure.
She didn’t move at first, but then when she went to roll away and escape, he caught her around the waist, pulled her under him, and said good night properly.
Chapter Thirty
Theodosia hummed a cheerful tune as she watered the lemon trees in the orangery and cared for her menagerie of pets. Outside, the first rays of dawn stretched toward the sky. She wanted to complete her responsibilities before changing clothes and greeting the duke and duchess at breakfast.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Despite her worry and speculation of disaster, things had proceeded with considerable ease and the house was prepared for a spectacular holiday. Every time she recalled Matthew’s sincere declaration of love, an ethereal tingle reminded her she wasn’t dreaming. And when she dared reflect on their shared intimacy afterward, she knew from her body’s pleasant aches that indeed her happiness was real.
She replaced the watering can and dusted off her hands with a nearby rag. Best she stopped lingering among the plants with her daydreams and focus on entertaining her guests. Grandfather’s attention remained clear and his temperament congenial; still, she wouldn’t risk upsetting him in any manner that could cause a disruption to their holiday.
A shadow passed the front glass, near William and Isaac’s glass bowls, and she turned swiftly to question what caused it. It wasn’t often she had company here, but it could be any number of groundsmen who thought to get an early start on their tasks outside. Seeing no one, she shook her head in dismissal and turned to leave. It was then that Lord Kirkman appeared in the doorway.
“Henry. It’s so early. What are you doing here?” She approached as she questioned him. It was odd for him to have arrived at this hour. “Is everything all right?” His mouth was drawn tight and she recognized an intensity in his eyes.
“I’ve come to talk to you.” He cleared his throat and closed the distance between them. “The matter couldn’t wait.”
“Are you unwell?” Her voice dropped, concern coloring the words.
“No. Not in the sense you might think.” He cleared his throat a second time. “I’ve tried to convince you of how serious my situation. I’ve proposed several times and presented my best arguments.”
He paused and she rushed to curtail what she assumed would come next. “Henry, I thought we’d decided that any notion of our being married is foolish. It isn’t easy for me to see you like this and refuse your repeated requests, but marrying you is not something I can do as a favor or good turn. I don’t love you, nor do you love me in that manner.” Why did he persist? Sadly, their relationship had transformed from comfortable friendship to the worst awkwardness.
“Love doesn’t matter at this point. I’m in a desperate fix with no way to see myself out.”
“But you’ve refused to share your problem with me. How can I possibly empathize with your trouble if you won’t tell me a word? I will help you any way possible if you explain the circumstances fully.” She didn’t wish to be hurtful, but no amount of polite refusal seemed to suffice.
“I can’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair in an act of frustration. “The most I can reveal is that I need to be married as soon as possible. The why of it doesn’t matter. I’ve always held you in high regard. We get along well enough. I may have unwisely narrowed my choices to one, but hindsight can’t solve the issue now.” He came closer and placed his hand on her shoulder, his voice low as his eyes found hers in a penetrating stare. “We need to wed, Theodosia. I don’t mean to frighten you, but I must insist we get married.”
“What?” Her mind spun with confusion. She stared at his hand on her shoulder, his grip having tightened. Now his fingers bit through the fabric of her gown and caused bruising pain.
And then he was removed.
Shoved to the side of the orangery, where he struck a shelf of newly potted nightshade plants in a collision of glass, soil, and greenery. She moved back in shock and Matthew stepped forward, his fist meeting Kirkman’s jaw in a jolting connection of flesh upon flesh.
“Matthew!” She watched as Henry reeled backward, his arms flung out to break his fall, though she feared he might continue straight through the greenhouse window. “What are you doing?”
“Step aside, Theodosia.”
She didn’t move. She had no idea what had happened. “Henry was talking to me.”
“No.” Matthew peered over Kirkman’s collapsed form, his voice low and menacing. “He was touching you.”
“I don’t understand.” She looked at Henry on the floor, his eyes open though he didn’t make a move to rise.
“Kirkman can’t be trusted.” Matthew assessed her person, up and down, as if to confirm she was well before he returned his watch to Henry on the dirt floor.
“That’s absurd.” She tried to comprehend. “I’ve known Henry nearly two decades. He would never do anything to harm me.”
“Convincing your grandfather to sign a betrothal contract and grant your hand in marriage should suffice. I suspect trickery, but you need to ask the fool yourself.” He jerked his head in Kirkman’s direction and released her from the demand in his eyes.
“That’s ridiculous.” She began to move closer, but Matthew stayed her with a raised hand. She shook her head at the inanity but stilled nonetheless. “Henry, tell me this is all a misunderstanding.”
“Everything was proceeding smoothly until you came along, Whittingham. You’ve proven an irritating nuisance.” Henry slowly rose from the ground, his clothing covered with soil and pieces of broken pottery. Thankfully, the greenhouse panes had taken the impact of his weight without complaint. “I would have had Theodosia’s hand one way or the other.”
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