by Wendy Vella
“Dear Lord.”
“I still feel the guilt over that, and shutting Claire out of my life.”
“Why did you shut her out of your life?” Patience remembered that Mathew had always loved his sister very much.
“Because she and Anthony grew close when I became head of the family after Father’s death, and we drifted apart. Then when he died, she turned to Mother and away from me.”
“Oh, Mathew.” Patience looked up at him. “Surely holding that much pain inside you has been difficult.”
“Am I the only one?” He touched her cheek. “Haven’t you locked things away inside you, too?”
“We are not talking of me.” She brushed his words aside.
“But one day soon we will talk about you,” he said, then kissed her cheek before continuing. “I had reached the stage where if anyone mentioned Anthony’s name I would feel a pain in my chest, so I stopped talking about him and so did everyone else.”
“Yet your mother and sister kept this room with all his things, so they obviously spoke of him.”
“Yes, and seeing this, seeing him in this painting, is making the pain in my chest ease.”
She saw that his eyes were red, and the ravages of grief lined his face.
“Oh, Mathew, how could you be anything but hurt? He was your brother and you loved him very much. Were I in your position, my behavior would have been no different.”
“I did love him, Patience.” His eyes moved from the portrait to her. “I loved him, but I could never really show him. Even at the end it was Claire and Mother who comforted him. I tried. I would sit beside his bed and read to him, and when he slept I’d just watch over him, but I never held him like they did.”
“He knew you loved him, Mathew.” Patience cupped his face, then, standing on her toes, she brushed a kiss over his lips. “He once told me that he could not have wished for a better brother than you.”
“He said that?”
She saw hope flair in his eyes.
“Yes, and he said that he thought you were one of the best people he had ever known, and how proud he was to have you as his big brother.” Patience pushed his hair back as it fell over his forehead. “So you see, people express their love differently, but he loved you, and he knew you loved him, Mathew.”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers.
“Since you came back into my life, you’ve made me think of him. The memories that I had locked away have slowly been filtering back into my mind, and at first I fought them, but now…”
“You no longer want to, but opening up to that kind of pain hurts.”
“It does,” he said. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you are right. Anthony’s portrait needs to go back up beside ours in the gallery, and we need to bring him back into our lives.”
Patience leaned up to kiss him again, a soft brush of lips. Touching this man was becoming far too easy.
“Then call your footmen and get them to take his picture to the gallery. Then go and find your family, Mathew.”
“Now?” Surprise widened his eyes.
“Why wait?”
He looked at her, running his gaze over her features before he released her and made for the door.
Patience wandered around the room after he had left and found letters and other things that had belonged to Mathew’s brother.
“The footmen will be here shortly,” Mathew said when he returned.
“All these things are his, aren’t they?”
“Yes. It seems Mother had everything brought here.”
Patience nodded. “Go to your family now.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Should this not be a private moment?”
“No, I want you to come.” He took her hand, then urged her from the room.
“As you have waited years, is there a need to run now?” Patience was breathless as they ran down the stairs.
“You started this.” Mathew jumped the bottom two steps after releasing her hand, then turned to grab her around the waist and lift her down beside him.
“I can manage. You go on, and I shall catch up.”
He stopped then. “Forgive me. I understand that after yesterday, you must be hurting.”
“A bit, but nothing permanent. I just feel a great deal older than I was yesterday.”
“I shall adjust my pace to your elderly status, then.”
His boyish smile had Patience rolling her eyes, yet her heart felt lighter seeing it. It seemed as if suddenly he was younger.
“You feel better already, don’t you, Mathew?”
“Yes.” He led her towards the voices. Soon they would enter the parlor where their families were sitting. “And you do, too.”
“Oh, yes. I can never find a way to repay you for what you have done for Charlie, Lucy and me this day, Mathew.”
“I’ll think of something.” He squeezed her hand, releasing it as they entered the room, but it held only Claire and Simon.
“Where is Mother, Claire?”
“She will return shortly with the others. They are in the library looking at a new book she has just purchased. Why? What is the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter, Sister.” Mathew moved to his sister’s side, holding out one hand which she instantly placed hers into. “I want to talk about our brother, Claire.”
“Anthony? I don’t understand.”
“For so long I have locked him away inside me, but now I need to grieve for him, because the sadness is growing stronger every day that I don’t acknowledge him.”
“Oh, Mathew.” She sniffled and gripped his hand tighter. “I miss him, and I’m glad you want to do that. We can share memories about him now.”
“It is my fondest wish, love.”
Patience dug around in her skirts for the small pocket that she was sure she’d stuffed a handkerchief into, but came up empty-handed, so she just sniffled. She watched as Simon moved to stand behind his wife and placed a hand of support on her shoulder.
“Oh, Mathew! Mother and I have watched you suffer, but I can see by your face that you feel lighter inside already.” Claire burst into noisy sobs.
Patience let the tears fall as she watched Mathew gather his sister close.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mathew could hear Patience sniffing loudly behind him. It gave him comfort and strength to know she was here and that she cared.
“Why now, Mathew? What has brought on this change in you?” Claire asked.
“Today, after I had talked with Simon and he told me to go to Anthony’s room, I felt an uncontrollable need to go there. Patience has also been urging me to grieve openly for Anthony since she came back into our lives, and it was she who started me thinking of him the day she wanted to know why his portrait was not hanging with the others. All of us, you, Mother and I, must do so, Claire. We must let Anthony back into our lives. We must talk of him, and not only for our sakes, but for Louis’ sake as well. He deserves to know about his father.”
Claire’s smile wobbled as she looked down at him. “Patience and Simon have always been a great deal wiser than you or I, Mathew.”
“Can we have that written down somewhere?” Patience asked.
Mathew snorted at her words. “Yes, she certainly is, and she has a smart mouth to match,” he said.
“I just thought that you owed Anthony more than this, not talking of him, not hanging his portrait with the rest of his family,” Patience said.
“I agree with her, Claire, and when I heard Louis question Mother about Anthony, I realized that it was because of me that he did not know enough about his father. For too long he has hung over me, a name not to be mentioned, a brother I shared no memory of.”
“Yes.” Claire nodded. “Let us put him back up with the rest of his family. Mother will be so happy.”
Mathew kissed her cheek, then, after a hug, he stood. “Come, we will do so now.”
Nodding, she stood with her hu
sband’s help.
“Will you collect Mother and Louis, Simon,” Mathew said, “while I take Claire to the gallery? Bring Charlie and Lucy too, if they are there.”
“Of course,” Simon said. He brushed a kiss to his wife’s head, gripped Mathew’s shoulder, then left the room.
Mathew wrapped an arm around his sister, then held out a hand to motion Patience to follow.
“I should wait here. This should be a private moment.”
“For once just do as you are told, woman.”
Much to his surprise she did, following him and Claire from the room.
When they arrived in the gallery, two footmen stood flanking the painting, but Mathew and Claire had eyes only for the smiling face inside the frame.
“That smile,” Claire whispered, as she urged Mathew to lower her to her knees. He followed, and together they took in the sight of Anthony.
“Louis is so much like him, Claire.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Please bring a ladder, Nigel. We wish for my brother’s portrait to be hung beside our father’s,” Mathew said.
He heard his mother’s sob, and after helping Claire back to her feet, he came toward her as she entered the gallery with Louis at her side. He took her into his arms and held her close.
“You are ready for this now, Mathew?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“I never met him.” Simon stood behind Claire to look down at Anthony.
“He is like me, yes?” Louis bent to study the smiling face. “Handsome,” he said.
Mathew smiled, as did everyone else in the room. “I think you could be right, Louis. Let’s hope you don’t get into as much trouble as he did.”
“Will you tell me about him now, Uncle Mathew? I have everyone else’s stories, but not yours.”
“Of course, but first we shall hang your father back where he belongs,” Mathew said. He looked for the Allenders and found them standing at the rear. It had been a day full of emotions for all of them.
Two ladders were brought, and while Mathew held one side of Anthony’s portrait, a footman held the other, and together they placed it back on the wall. He then climbed down and stood looking up at the portrait with his family. The pain in his chest no longer burned; it had dulled to an ember, and he had Patience Allender to thank for that—the prickly, beautiful woman he had kissed on this very spot. When he looked at her he saw the emotion in her eyes, and it was then, surrounded by the people he loved, that he realized that he had been fooling himself in thinking that what he felt for her wasn’t love.
The day passed in a blur of emotions, laughter and tears for Mathew. He did not get time to speak with Patience alone about her cousin or thank her for what she had made him do, so when he knew the household had retired for the evening, he once again made his way to her rooms.
She’d looked happier too today. The strain that had been etched in her pretty face had eased, as had his, and he was glad that he’d been able to take care of her cousin and remove that burden from Patience’s shoulders.
He could no longer deny his feelings for her. He wanted her, and whenever she was close his need to touch her was strong. Everything about her intrigued him; he wanted her fire, and yes, her love. Mathew was sure she felt something for him as well, but what that was, he had no idea.
He knocked on her door, then waited. When she did not answer he opened the door and walked inside. The small lamp showed him her bed was empty. Looking around the room, he found the doors to her balcony open and made his way toward them.
Pushing the curtains aside, he found her leaning over the railing dressed only in a white nightdress with a shawl around he shoulders. Her hair was loose and fluttering in the slight breeze. Mathew did nothing to fight the need that gripped him; instead, he embraced it.
“Are you cold?” He wasn’t sure why that had come out of his mouth.
“It’s probably as improper tonight as it was last night for you to be here, and even more so as I am standing here dressed as I am.” She turned to face him.
Mathew didn’t stop until he was inches from her. “Thank you for giving me back my brother, Patience.”
“You would have done that yourself given time, Mathew.”
“Can you not just accept my gratitude?” Her scent caught in the air and wrapped around him, the soft fragrance of honeysuckle and Patience. Beyond her lay the gardens. She looked beautiful, standing there lit by moonlight.
“Thank you, Lord Belmont.”
He wanted to kiss that smile from her lips. “Such a smart mouth,” he said, looking at her soft pink lips.
“Mathew, I can never thank you enough for what you did for my family today. Charlie already seems happier. He is discussing schools and other things that he has missed out on.”
“So am I forgiven for not taking you with me?” He leaned forward and braced his hands on the railing on either side of her body.
“Mathew, I don’t think we should be—”
“Don’t think, then.” He coaxed her bottom lip from between the teeth that had trapped it and took her mouth in a deep kiss that had them breathless in seconds.
“Th-this is not right.”
“Yes, it is.” Mathew slipped an arm behind her and eased her off the railing and into his embrace. “So stop thinking and feel, Patience.”
He kissed her thoroughly, then moved to her neck, where he nibbled the elegant line down to her chest.
“I should not let you do this.” Her breath hissed as he kissed the swell of her breasts above her nightdress.
“If you want me to stop, you have only to say the words and I will.” Mathew looked up at her once more. Her eyes were heated and her breathing swift. When she said nothing he touched the first button and slid it slowly through the cotton, followed by the next until he had her nightdress undone to the waist. Pushing it aside, he let his gaze slide over her.
“Your skin is like satin.” Mathew ran the backs of his fingers slowly down between her breasts, and she shivered in response. Caressing the pale skin, he teased each slope and curve until she arched towards him. Only then did he brush his fingers over a taut nipple. Her reaction was to inhale a deep, shuddering breath.
Lowering his head, he kissed the top of one breast, then the other, and finally took her nipple into his mouth and sucked gently.
“Ohhhh,” she whispered.
Mathew did not lift his head, just concentrated on pleasuring her. He wanted her to feel what could happen between them. His fingers roamed her spine and moved to cup her buttocks, and watched her pleasure increase. He was hard, his erection pressing against his breeches, but this was for her; he had no intention of taking it further than that, so he would suffer until he could find his rooms and his release.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside, then lowered her to the bed, but she did not lie down. Instead, she knelt before him.
“Let me pleasure you, Patience.”
“And what of your pleasure?”
“Tonight is for you. It will go no further than that.” He knew it would leave him aching, knew that he would be aroused to the point of pain after what they were about to share, but he wanted this, needed her to know what could happen between them.
“Trust me, Patience.”
“I do,” Patience said as her body hummed with sensation, which was the only way she could describe what she was feeling, the steady build of heat inside her that Mathew had created.
Lifting one hand she wrapped it around the back of his neck and urged him closer. He didn’t resist as she kissed him, as passionately as he had her. She was inexperienced but cared not; she wanted to do this, give him what he had given her. She wanted them to share the pleasure.
“Patience.” He breathed her name against her lips, then his arms were around her, and she was lifted and pressed against the wonderful hard planes of his chest. “God, what you do to me, love.”
She pushed his jacket from his shoulders, then moved
to his waistcoat. He let her fingers fumble with each button, and finally when each was undone, he was left in his shirtsleeves.
“No more.” His hands stopped hers as she reached for his shirt.
“I am to be exposed, but not you?”
“I won’t be able to stop if you do that, and I won’t do that to you, not when we are not wed.”
She saw the tension in him then, the way his body strained away from her hands as she lifted one to rest on his chest. “I am old enough to make this decision, Mathew, and I don’t want you to stop.”
His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened the fire in them swept over her. “Be very sure, Patience, because this changes everything between us, and I have only so much control when it comes to you.”
“And what we just did hasn’t already changed everything?”
“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?”
She watched as he reached for his necktie, which he tore open. His shirt was next; he pulled it over his head so that now he stood before her naked from the waist up. Mathew was mouthwatering, his stomach flat and taut, each muscle well defined. Patience traced the line of his neck, then moved lower, caressing the skin she encountered along the way until he let out a long hiss of breath.
“I cannot allow you to lord over me all the time,” she whispered, fascinated by what she saw and felt. Fascinated that her touch seemed to affect him as his had her.
“Your touch is like a brand, Patience.”
She teased his chest, running her fingers in light strokes over his heated skin. He fondled her through her nightdress, his fingers gliding over her ribs and higher until they moved to cup her bare breasts, the heat from his palms sending her senses reeling.
“This needs to go.” He reached for the hem of her nightdress, and Patience lifted her hands as he pulled it over her head. Then he was touching her once again, creating delicious tension inside her that made her sigh and moan.
He took his time kissing her breasts, and then stroked a hand down her stomach to touch her there, between her thighs. His fingers brushed the soft, damp petals, stroking and teasing until Patience wanted more. When she opened her thighs wider, he continued to torment her until the tension that rose with each caress was almost unbearable.
