Patience (35 page)

“If you keep smiling at me like that,” he said, “I will soon be robbed of all my wit, and you will have naught in me but a dumb and drooling mute who trails incessantly at your heels in hopes of the smallest favor.”

Patience laughed. “Somehow, I doubt that.” She leaned close and would have kissed his cheek, but he turned to catch it on his mouth instead. Her lips were soft and warm. She lingered a moment before withdrawing with a sigh and a smile. “In fact, if anyone is in danger of such a fate, it is I.”

“Are you?” Matthew swallowed the last of his tea. “Excellent.”

Patience laughed lightly. “Oh, you’d like me witless, would you?”

“No. Witless would be boring. But I wouldn’t discourage you from trailing incessantly at my heels. Of course”—he traced his finger along her collarbone—“you couldn’t do that from London, could you?”

Patience grinned and shook her head. “Were I constantly in your presence, you would become bored with me.”

Matthew felt a surge of hope. She hadn’t voiced a flat refusal. “Patience, I would happily spend my every waking moment with you.”

Her smile faded but her eyes were soft. “Never having spent your every waking moment with me, how can you know that?”

Because I love you. Because we are meant to be together—forever.
“I just know. But why don’t we put it to the test?” Matthew gently fingered the thick curl that had fallen forward from her upswept hair. “Agree to stay with me, and I’ll prove my point.”

Patience regarded him for a long, silent moment. Her beautiful gaze was tender.

Matthew’s heart quickened. Slowly, he closed the small gap between them. “Say yes, Patience,” he murmured against her lips. When she didn’t speak, he took her mouth in what he intended to be a brief kiss. But her lips were so soft, and the smell of her filled his head.

For a moment, he struggled to keep the kiss from becoming demanding. But then his arms swept around her, and he held her tightly as he plunged his tongue into her sweet mouth. His head spun as Patience moaned, and he could feel her embrace, close and clasping. With a gasp, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers as he tried to calm his racing pulse.

Patience’s breath came in short, shallow pants. “Oh, Matthew”—her hand curved against his cheek—“you’re not playing fair.”

Clasping her hand, he laid a kiss in her palm. “I know.” He pressed her hand over his heart as he drew back. “But there is nothing I won’t do to keep you, Patience.” By now, Cavalli had likely received his letter. A shiver of doubt scurried up his back, but he shoved it away. “There is
nothing
I won’t do.”

Her mouth turned up in a soft smile. “Wouldn’t you rather have my answer without coercion?”

Yes.
“Oh, I don’t know. I rather like coercing you.”

Patience’s smile deepened. “And I rather like being coerced by you.” Her smile softened as she regarded him. “But in this case . . .”

“Yes.” He stared into her bright green eyes. “The answer is yes.” He studied her a moment longer before releasing her hand and expelling what he knew was a petulant-sounding sigh. “But I hate waiting.”

Patience grinned. “Why, you only just asked me yesterday.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she tucked her head beneath his chin. “You’ve barely waited at all.”

Matthew’s heart lifted at her spontaneous embrace. He pulled her as close as he could, so that even her legs were resting over his thigh. “Well, it feels like forever,” he murmured.

Patience pressed a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw, but she said nothing. In the silence, the kitchen fire snapped and the rain pattered against the windows. Content, Matthew held her. He breathed the scent of her hair and stroked his hands over the curves of her back and waist. He could feel the occasional flicker of her lashes against his neck.

“Matthew?”

“Yes?”

There was another brief pause, and then, “How many women have you taught what you are teaching me?”

Matthew pressed a kiss to her brow. “None, Patience. You are my first, my one and my only.”

Patience drew back, her expression incredulous. “How can that be? You must have done this before. You know everything about it.”

Matthew paused. It had been inevitable that she would ask the question. He met her gaze. “There are houses, Patience, that specialize in the fulfillment of specific desires. When I came of age, it didn’t take me long to find a place where I might explore my particular interests.”

“These ‘houses’ are houses of prostitution?”

“Yes.”

A small frown turned Patience’s brow. “So I’m
not
your first. I’m just the first you’re not paying for.” The words were spoken calmly, but he heard sadness in them.

“No.” Matthew tipped up her chin and stared into her deep green eyes. “You
are
my first—my
one
and my
only
,” he repeated. “There is a universe of difference, Patience, between what we are building together, and what I paid for at Mr. Stone’s. There, the young women are trained to submit to any customer. Therefore, their submission rarely reaches beyond the physical. They need their regular discipline and fulfillment, and though they have their favorites, generally it matters not who metes it out—or in what way it is meted out—so long as Mr. Stone’s rules are not broken. The submissive gets what she wants, the customer gets what he wants, and the evening is over. It’s all very superficial—and so it must be.”

He stroked his hand down the soft curve of her cheek. “But what you and I have is altogether deeper. What I do for you is only for you. You are my only study, and my only desire. My devotion to you is total. And the surrender I want for you is total. So that whether I am with you, or miles away from you, you will be mine—in all things and in all ways guided, and made happy, by your submission to me.” Her beautiful eyes never left his.
God, I love you. And I am only going to love you more and more.
“I shall master none but you, Patience.” He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “And you will belong to no one but me—ever.”

Patience released her breath on a soft sigh. Her parted lips and the small, almost pained frown that turned her brow sent a strong pulse to his prick. She wanted what he offered. Capitulation was close. He could feel it.

He forced his face into casual lines. “So you see, just as you observed the practice of fellatio by your maid and butler, I observed the training and submission of many a young woman. Just as you practiced upon your garden cucumbers, I practiced upon some of those ladies.” Matthew smoothed the frown from her brow with his finger. “But just as you had never actually fellated a man, I had never chosen a woman to teach and to train as my own.”

Patience regarded him for a long, quiet moment. “Could you have, though?” She tilted her head. “I mean, if you’d wanted to, could you have purchased such an opportunity from this Mr. Stone?”

Matthew paused. Apparently, she needed answers from him. “Yes,” he admitted. “Not because that was on the menu, because it wasn’t. But because Mr. Stone has a philosophical and biblically based belief in feminine submission, and he knew I was dedicated to gaining a deeper understanding of it.”

Patience raised her brows. “A brothel owner with biblically based beliefs?”

Matthew smiled and refrained from commenting on their own break with biblical law. “Yes.”

Her expression settled back into thoughtfulness. “So if Mr. Stone offered you the opportunity, why didn’t you take it?”

Matthew stared into her intense green gaze. “I was waiting for you.”

Her lashes flickered. “You didn’t know me.”

“No.” A stillness floated in the air between them. “But I knew the dream of you. And the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one—the one I’d been waiting for.”

“Waiting, Matthew?” Her voice was soft. “You weren’t waiting; you were engaged.” A small, disbelieving smile turned her mouth. “Do you mean to tell me that you never shared your desires with Rosalind?” She lowered her eyes and began straightening her apron across her lap. “Really, Matthew, everyone knows how completely in love with her you were.”

Matthew frowned. “No one knows anything of the kind.” He lifted her chin and was surprised to find her eyes shiny. His heart tightened. He looked directly into her eyes. “I
never
loved Rosalind.”
I love you.
“What she and I had was just a façade.”

Patience smiled shakily and a flush pinked her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have brought her up. You told me Rosalind is in the past, and I believe you.”

Matthew’s frown deepened as the image of Rosalind pressing herself against him that morning replayed in his mind. He shouldn’t have allowed her to touch him.

Patience’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, Matthew. Please don’t frown so. My doubts stem from . . . from my own uncertainties. You’ve done nothing to deserve them. In fact, you’ve given me so much—and offered me even more.” There was such gentle regret in her eyes. “Forgive me.”

Matthew’s heart lurched. Pulling her to him, he masked his own regret with a kiss that was born of love and desire. If he gave her enough, if he showed her with his heart and with his body what he felt, then nothing else would matter. Nothing.

Breathlessly breaking the kiss, he cupped her exquisite face in his hands. “I’ve never hidden the way I am, Patience—for I’m not ashamed of my proclivities or beliefs. But I’m telling you that Rosalind and I were not even a shadow of what you and I are. All the months I knew her do not compare to the days I have spent with you.” He held her gaze, willing her to see the truth in his eyes. “You, Patience—you’re the dream I thought I would never find. So how, in a thousand seasons of eternity, could Rosalind ever compare to you?”

 

. . . a thousand seasons of eternity . . .

. . . the dream he thought he would never find.

As his hands slipped from her face, Patience let his words soak beneath her skin and into her soul. She didn’t question them. She didn’t minimize them or dismiss them. She accepted them and believed them—and let them make her happy—incredibly, marvelously happy.

She smiled into Matthew’s gaze, even as she silently vowed to never again bring up Rosalind. His dark eyes delved so deeply into hers. God, how was it possible that they were even more beautiful than ever? “Thank you, Matthew.” Leaning forward, she pressed a quick but urgent kiss to his lips. “And thank you for answering my questions honestly. I like knowing the truth, even if it does involve a house of prostitution. It never occurred to me that such places might specialize in particular desires.”

Matthew’s serious expression eased and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Really? The subject never came up over the dinner table in your home?”

Patience’s smile deepened. “No.”

“Imagine that.” Matthew grinned and leaned his cheek on his fist. “Mr. Stone’s is only one house of many that caters to similar desires.”

“One of many? I didn’t know that it was so common.” Patience felt herself blushing as she shifted on her sore bottom. “I thought, perhaps, that I—that we—were strange.”

“Oh, Patience”—Matthew’s smile gentled and he stroked his hand across her cheek—“I assure you, we are not. Desire comes in infinite variety. Besides, what is strange about the feminine desire to submit, and the masculine desire to dominate? Are these not the roles we most often see acted out in nature? Are these not, at the most basic of levels, the natural tendencies of the sexes?”

“Yes.” Patience lifted her brows. “But then I’ve known plenty of men who could have used a sound thrashing. And Mrs. Hawkings, the poulterer’s wife, clouts her husband all the way to market and home again.”

Matthew chuckled. “There are always exceptions, aren’t there? But do exceptions belie general truth? Do exceptions belie us?”

“Well, no. But I can’t help feeling that
we
are the exception.”

“Perhaps we are, in that few actually understand and live this life to its fullest—and more’s the pity. But does that mean we shouldn’t?”

Patience wasn’t certain she actually understood what living “this life to its fullest” meant either, both in the context of submission and in the context of their relationship. But she did know how she felt right now—awakened, fulfilled, happy, and cared-for. What would it be like to feel this way all the time? And what depths of feeling would she discover if she stayed with Matthew?

“I’ll tell you something, Patience.” Matthew’s voice drew her attention back to him. “I think this life—one shared between a man and a woman in true and deep accordance with their natural predispositions—must be very close to the life God meant for us.”

Patience lifted a brow. “Are you bringing God into this conversation in order to sway me?”

Matthew grinned, but then he said, “Not at all. I think there’s merit in the notion.” He traced his finger idly along her collarbone. “Did God not create Eve in answer to Adam’s needs and desires?”

Patience shivered at his touch. “Perhaps. But some scholars believe they were created together.”

Matthew stroked his hand down her arm to her wrist. “Whether they were created individually or together”—lifting her hand, he held it against his own larger one—“did God not create Eve more delicately, more softly, because she was not meant to resist Adam, but rather to submit to him?” He brushed his nose against the skin over her pulse. His eyes closed briefly, then he turned his dark gaze back upon her. Patience felt her heart quickening. “In fact,” he continued, “did He not create her so that in order to be filled with the seed of life, she must submit to Adam’s penetration?” Patience drew in her breath as he pulled her hand down and pressed it to his thick erection. “Men carry the staff of their dominance between their legs, Patience.” He held his hand over hers and thrust against her palm. “What greater proof could there be that feminine submission is God’s will?”