Patience (8 page)

“Give me your hands,” he ordered gently.

Her eyes widened and her tender clitoris pulsed painfully. Did he mean to tie her? She froze.

A small frown turned his brow. “Give me your hands,” he said again, this time more firmly.

Patience sat up and her heart hammered in her breast. She’d trusted him thus far. Why withdraw her trust now? Slowly, she put her hands together before him.

His frown eased and he pressed a kiss into her palms. “Good girl.”

He quickly tied her hands. She began to tremble as she felt the snugness.

“You’re doing very well,” he murmured.

When he drew her bound hands over her head, she fell back against the pillows and watched him tie her to the bedpost in such a way that left considerable slack.

Patience’s body tensed and her nipples hardened against her corset. God, what was he going to do?

She sucked in her breath and almost screamed as she saw the flicker of the blade. But then she gasped as he imbedded it in the same bedpost she was tied to. Without a word, he moved to her ankles and tied first one and then the other to the opposing bed-posts. Again, he left considerable slack. But as he stood back to look at her, his gaze hot and intent, she squirmed at the helpless desire that suffused her.

He stood there for a moment, observing her distress, before coming to sit with her. He smoothed his hand down her heaving side and over her hip, and then let it rest upon her patch of red curls. “A beautiful angel once told me that nights such as these are made for secrets and magic. Shall I tell you a secret?”

Patience’s breath stilled. “Yes.”

His dark eyes glittered in the dim firelight. “You are a wonder and a beauty, and there is something profound in you that calls to me. I’ve never wanted any woman more than I want you.” A small frown furrowed his brow. “Do you hear me? Never.”

Patience’s heart quickened.

He leaned closer. “Even when I was engaged to another, I wanted you. Even as I tried to stay away from you, I wanted you.” He paused and traced his finger slowly over her eyebrow. “You are the only woman I see. You are the only woman I want.” He leaned low and spoke against her lips. “And your submission is powerful. Don’t fear it.”

With a soft moan, Patience kissed him and thrust her tongue into his warm mouth. His words were like a sensual touch and her body thrilled as both delight and desire tore through her.

She sighed into his mouth and arched against him as his hand began to stroke the moist folds between her legs. The press of his fingers, slick with her wetness, made her throb and quiver.

He broke their kiss but his dark eyes stared into hers as he continued to ply her, faster and faster. “You see, Patience. This is where you belong. Panting and wet in my bed.”

His words spurred her passions. Pulling at her bonds, she lifted her hips as he worked her. She gasped and thrust against his hand. His eyes never left her. Then, just as she felt her cunt begin to pull, he stopped.

Patience watched, speechless, as he stood and crossed to the chamber door. She squirmed as her clitoris and cunt throbbed with aborted need. Then she blanched when he removed his robe and tossed it over a chair. He was fully dressed!

“Where are you going?” she cried.

He looked over at her and adjusted his cuffs. “I’m going downstairs to play cards. You will submit to my leisure and await me.”

Patience gasped as he pulled on his gloves.

“When I return,” he said casually, “I shall expect you to satisfy me in the manner your maid satisfies your butler.”

Before she could respond, he was gone.

The lock clicked behind him.

SONG OF SOLOMON 6:1

 

 

 

 

Matthew managed only a few steps before he had to pause and brace himself against the wall. Christ, his heart was pounding and his whole body was shaking. His breath came as though he’d been running, and he was so hard, he hurt. He winced as his straining prick throbbed.

He wanted to rush back to Patience, tear off his clothes, and throw himself on her. He wanted to breathe the scent of gardenias that clung to her and sink his cock into her warm, wet mouth.

But he couldn’t do that. Not yet. He had to be sure of her. He had to give her the opportunity to reject what he offered—to reject him.

He straightened and shoved his hand through his hair. It might take her some time to realize it, but he had left her the means to leave. If she were gone when he returned, then . . .

His chest tightened uncomfortably.
Then, what?

She would stay. She had to stay.

He straightened his shoulders and started down the hall. Patience needed his strong hand, and he needed her surrender. More than with any woman ever, he needed her surrender. For she was like a crystal prism that broke his desires into separate, distinct, and beautiful delineation. He saw, in a moment, all the ways that he wanted her. And he saw the totality of that want—complete possession.

He allowed a small, confident smile as he pictured her tied to his bed. God, but she was stunning. Her thick red curls felt like silk in his hand and her vivid green eyes—her beautiful, intelligent green eyes—held him captive with their shifting expressions.

She was far more beautiful than he had formed her in his dreams. He turned into the main corridor. More beautiful than . . .
Bloody hell.
He drew up short as he stared into the inquiring gaze of his half brother. “Mark.”

His brother’s eyes tipped briefly to Matthew’s still prominent erection. “Matt.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Mark leaned his shoulder against the wall. “I saw you leave with Patience. Where is she?”

Matt shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall as well. “I took her to bed.”

“To her bed, or yours?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Mark shook his head. “This is unwise, Matt.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Patience isn’t just any woman.”

“I know she isn’t just any woman. That’s why I want her, because she isn’t just any woman.” Matthew felt an indefinable anger rising. “Christ, must I defend myself even to you?”

Mark frowned. “I’m not asking you to defend yourself. I’m merely speaking with you, brother to brother, as we always have.”

Matthew rubbed the furrow from his brow before looking at Mark. “I’ve wanted her since I first laid eyes on her—even before the scandal. I’ve wanted her with an undeniable certainty.”

“Yes.”

“But I couldn’t have her then, could I?” A muscle jumped in his shoulder. His whole body felt tight. “So I stayed away from her, because I feared that if I spoke to her, if I even drew near her, I would do something that would cause me to shame Rosalind.” Hot resentment churned in him. He looked at Mark. “But then Rosalind shamed me.” His hands shook with his pent-up emotions.

“Yet still I stayed away. And you have no idea what it took. On the night of your wedding, I could have had her, but I walked away.”

“Why? Why did you walk away?”

Matthew paused before meeting Mark’s blue gaze. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of wanting her that badly. Because I didn’t want to want any woman that badly.”

Mark nodded slowly. “Yet, here you are—wanting her as badly as ever.”

Matthew’s scowl deepened. “That’s right, because for the past three months, while you have been living in passionate, conjugal bliss with the woman who adores you, I’ve lived like a damned eunuch. I’m done with that. Patience is here, and I am here. And there is no Rosalind to keep me from her. Don’t
you
try to.” He clenched his fists in his pockets. “My life as I knew it may be over, but I’m not dead. A man has needs.
I
have needs.”

Mark raised his brows. “Yes, I know the direction of your needs. Are you sure she suits your needs?”

Matthew pictured Patience’s beautiful, moist eyes—the sweet struggle in her face, and then the lovely bliss of her orgasm. “Oh, she is the personification of my needs.”

“Really?”

Matthew frowned. “Yes, really. And if I’m right about her, she needs me as much as I need her. So you leave us alone.”

“I can’t do that, Matt. She’s Passion’s sister.”

Matthew felt the reins on his anger slip a notch. “Yes, and I thought you were still my brother.”

“I am your brother.”

“Then why don’t you bloody act like it, and show me a little goddamned trust.”

“I would, but you haven’t been acting yourself.”

Matthew’s body tensed with the effort it took not to lash out. “How can I act myself, when no one is treating me like myself—not even
you
,” he sneered.

Mark studied him for a long moment. “All right, Matt. Just remember, Patience is under my roof. That means she’s my responsibility. And despite how well suited to each other you say you are, she is not one of Mr. Stone’s ladies. Nor is she a woman of experience.”

If he weren’t so angry, Matthew might have laughed. “Christ, listen to you. You, who not five months ago, were completely incapable of resisting Passion.”

“I’m still completely incapable of resisting Passion.” Mark paused, and his brows lifted. “But then, I don’t have to resist her anymore, do I?”

Matthew pushed away from the wall. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going downstairs to play cards.”

His brother stepped into his path. “I’m trusting you, Matt. I’m trusting you because, despite everything,
I
know you’re the same man as always.”

No.
He wasn’t the same man, nor would he ever be. He was a bastard, and a social pariah with a quickly dwindling purse. The latter two problems he would fix. But the former was forever. He clenched his jaw. “Just know that my pursuit of Patience will be on my own terms.” He glared at his brother. “So don’t start pushing me.”

Mark stepped out of his way but then shoved his shoulder. “I’m still your older brother. I’ll push you if I want.”

Matthew shoved his brother back, harder, and then strode down the hall.

“By the way,” Mark called after him, “I thought you’d sworn off love.”

Matthew didn’t pause or turn. “I have.”

 

It took a while for Patience to fathom that Matthew had actually left. She kept thinking he was only testing her and would quickly return. But he did not. And as the minutes ticked away on the bedside clock, it seemed more and more likely he had spoken with complete truth—she must submit to his leisure and await him.

But how could she bear it? Her clitoris throbbed with excruciating tenacity. And the more she squirmed the more it tortured her. She wanted him back and she wanted him back now! How dare he leave her like this?

She tossed on the bed and pulled at her bonds. With a growl of frustration, she threw back her head to look again at the knots. They would be impossible. She lifted her gaze to the knife. It was far out of her reach.

She stared at it. Or was it? Did she have enough slack? If she scooted up against the headboard . . .

Shifting her body back as far as possible, she reached for it. She had to stretch completely, her arms and legs pulling hard against the bonds, but her fingers just brushed the handle. She could do it. She need only pull it out and she could be free.

She let her hands drop as she stared at the gleaming blade. But why had he left it? Did he want her to escape? She looked around the room. His black velvet robe lay over the chair. Left there for her to put on?

And what of the lock? She strained her eyes in the dim light and, just when she thought she’d never be able to tell, the fire flared. In the brief illumination, she saw the gleam of an inside latch.

She frowned. Was it so simple? Why had he made it so easy?

A painful disappointment flooded her. He wanted her to leave.

She felt tears well again. What in heaven’s name was the matter with her? She was no stranger to disappointment. And she was perfectly capable of taking care of her own needs. Compelling back her tears, she began to reach for the knife. But as she moved, her swollen clitoris pulsed urgently. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the aching pleasure to pass. God, it was such sweet torment!

Her eyes flew open. Sweet torment—that was what he wanted. He had said he valued most that which was not easily given. To escape was easy. It was staying that would try her. She glanced at the knife and the robe. They weren’t tools for her escape; they were tests of her obedience.

Relief blotted out her disappointment. He wanted her to stay. The question was did
she
want to?

Ah, perhaps that had been the question all along. She looked again at the knife. If she wanted to go, he had left her the way.

She stared at the slim blade. If she cut herself free, she could put on the robe and disappear into her own room, where she could please herself and then go promptly to sleep. All would be well, and life would return to normal.

But if she stayed, nothing was certain—nothing but the promise of Matthew’s thick organ in her mouth. Her cunt clenched with excitement. And who knew what else he might show her? A shiver of anticipation tightened her nipples. Whatever he had in store wouldn’t be easy.

No. If it was easy she wanted, that path was laid from the knife, to the robe, to the door. She need only follow it.