Patience (45 page)

He sponged her blood from her thighs—her sweet, virgin blood, her blood that still stained his prick. And as he did so, he gently gripped the underside of her bottom with his free hand. She was so beautiful, and he loved the intimacy of cleansing her—even her delicate folds.

He squeezed out the sponge into the basin and, picking up a thick towel, patted away every last drop of water as he stroked her bottom. Finally, when he couldn’t draw the moment out any longer, he pulled back. “All done.”

She dropped her leg and, smiling up at him, pressed against his side. “Thank you, my love.”

Then, picking up the sponge, she proceeded to wash his cock—very well—too well. By the time she’d fondled his cods and slipped back his foreskin for the sixth or seventh time, he was more than half-hard. “I hope you’re prepared to spread your legs again, my love. For much more of this and I will be forced to have another go at you.”

Patience smiled and blushed as she wrung out the sponge and reached for the towel. He took it from her and applied it to himself as she watched.

Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. “Can I help it if you’re magnificent?”

Pulling her close, Matthew sucked a moist kiss from her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” With her arms still around him, she glanced at the pinkish water in the basin and then back at him with a proud smile. “Well, I’m now once and forever fucked.”

Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “You’re forever fucked, all right. But I assure you, it won’t be only once.” He trailed his fingers over her hip to the curve of her waist and then the curve of her lovely breast. “In fact, I think you’ll find that I shall be availing myself of your tight cunt on a frequent basis.” He pinched her nipple, eliciting a gasp from her, and then let his fingers slide down over her delicate navel.

As he stared at her taut stomach, it suddenly occurred to him that he may very well have just given her a baby. His heart skipped and he pressed his palm against her smooth belly.

Patience laid her hand over his. “What is it, my love?”

Matthew looked into her verdant eyes. “I was just thinking that you could be with child.”

A flush darkened Patience’s cheeks and she looked down at herself. When she looked back at him, her eyes were shiny. “Before you, I didn’t think I would be a mother. But now I will be, sooner or later, and I find it extraordinary that I ever thought I
wouldn’t
be.”

Matthew smiled. “We need to get married very soon. I suggest December.”

Patience tilted her head. “But Matthew, December is a rather busy time for a wedding.”

“I like December.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Well, aside from the fact that I promised Aunt Matty we’d be married by Christmas; I like Christmas. And since there’s nothing I want more than you, I think Christmas is the perfect time for our wedding.”

Patience looked up at him from beneath her brows. “You promised Aunt Matty.”

“Yes, I promised Aunt Matty.”

Patience looked at him disbelieving. “When?”

“The day after the hunt.”

Patience shook her head. “Lord in Heaven, you two really are birds of a feather.”

“Well, when it comes to our mutual determination that you marry me, yes, we are. Now, what say you to December?”

Patience let her brows lift then fall. “I say that until you ask my father for his permission to marry me, I can’t speak for December.”

Matthew took her hands in his, remembering his visit with the Reverend Dare. It hadn’t been easy facing the tall, stoic man. He had a formidable presence and the same assessing quality in his eyes as Patience. “I already asked your father, my love.”

Patience frowned with shock. “You already—” She cut herself off. “When?”

“When I left Hawkmore House.”

Patience looked nonplused. “What did he say? No, wait, what did
you
say?”

“I told him I’d fallen madly and unequivocally in love with you. I told him I couldn’t live my life without you, and that, even if it took a lifetime, I would court you and no other.” He curved his hand against her soft cheek. “I told him that you give me hope and joy, and that I love just being in your presence. I told him that I admire you for your strength of character, your loyalty and your intellect.” He pressed her hand against his heart. “I told him that you make my heart pound and my breath quicken. And I told him that, whenever I am with you, I feel like I have wings.”

Patience’s eyes glistened. “And what did he say?”

“He said that he didn’t quite know how he would get along without you, but that he would never hold you back from your own happiness. Then he was pensive and quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said he loved you. Then, after another moment, he reached over his desk and shook my hand.”

“So did he give you his blessing?”

“Actually, he told me good luck. When I asked him if that meant I had his approval, he said that
your
approval would be far more difficult to acquire than his. If, however, I earned your approval, then I could count upon his as well.”

Smiling, Patience threw herself into his arms. “Then December it is, my love!”

Matthew held her tightly against him, his heart soaring. “I have something for you,” he murmured by her ear.

“Yes.” She rocked her hips against his. “I can feel it.”

Grinning, Matthew pulled back and drew her into his dressing room. “That isn’t exactly what I was referring to, but I would be happy to give you that later.” He reached into the top drawer of his dresser and withdrew the black velvet box for which he had paid so dearly. Turning, he laid it in her hands. “For you, Mrs. Matthew Morgan Hawkmore.”

Patience’s brow twisted with surprise and uncertainty. “What’s this, Matthew?”

“Open it.”

Brushing her hand over the top of the velvet box, she released the catch and slowly drew open the lid.

Her eyes widened on a gasp. “Oh, Matthew! They’re beautiful!” She laid the box on his dresser and gently brushed her fingers over the sparkling jewels—necklace, earrings, bracelets, ring, belt buckle, and combs. He thought she would try the ring first, but she reached for the combs instead.

Taking them from her hands, he pulled back her heavy curls and placed one comb then the other, before leading her to the long mirror by his armoire. Turning to and fro, she admired them.

He admired
her
. How exceptional she would look at the Millford ball. He couldn’t wait to show her off—and to be in public with her as her chosen one.

The diamonds sparkled in her hair like stars, but their brilliance was nothing to her shining eyes when she looked at him through the mirror. “I’ve never had anything so fine, my love.”

Matthew smiled. “I couldn’t think of what would suit you better than diamonds.”

Patience turned to face him. “I wasn’t referring to the jewels, Matthew. I was referring to
you
.”

Matthew’s heart stopped then started.

“The jewels are magnificent and, as a gift from you, they are all the more valuable to me. Thank you for them. I will wear them with pride.” She wrapped her arms around him. “But you are my greatest gift.” She tipped onto her toes and touched her lips to his. “Thank you for today—for everything—most especially for your love, but for your wisdom and understanding, too.” Her eyes were so soft, so tender. “I love you, Matthew, and I will
never
regret my decision to stay with you. Thank you for giving me the time to make that decision. Thank you for your patience, your trust and your honesty. And thank you for giving me the happiest day of my life.”

Matthew held her in his trembling embrace. “Thank
you
, my love. Thank
you
.”

SONG OF SOLOMON 3:2

 

 

 

 

 

“She seems to be quite popular with your workers,” Fitz Roy commented.

Matthew smiled as he watched Patience talking with yet another miner’s wife. “She is indeed.”

He regarded her proudly. She wore a simple gown of dark gray wool with a black velvet collar and cuffs. A black velvet bonnet covered her bright head. Lined with black lace and tied with a wide scarlet sash beneath her chin, it was a perfect frame for her magnificent face.

“Do you think I will be taking that urchin home with us? She doesn’t seem in the least inclined to release her grip on Miss Dare any time soon,” Fitz Roy said.

Matthew regarded the small child who had silently accompanied them, via a firm grip on Patience’s skirt, through the whole village. The little girl barely took her wide blue eyes from Patience’s face, and, even now, moved with Patience into the house of the woman she’d been talking to.

Matthew sighed. “The little thing has probably never seen the likes of Miss Dare.”

“Bloody hell,” Fitz Roy drawled, “
I’ve
never seen the likes of Miss Dare.”

“No.” Matthew adjusted his topper. “Nor have I.”

They both sat against a large gray boulder.

Though the day was sunless and cold, they had walked the entire village. As word of their presence had spread, people had come from all directions. But it wasn’t for him that they had come—he was already becoming a familiar face. And it wasn’t for Fitz Roy’s dapper presence. They had come for Patience—for the elegant beauty in the scarlet-trimmed bonnet. But while they came to see the vision she presented, they stayed because she was so much more than that. She spoke to the residents of Gwenellyn with genuine interest and respect. She asked them questions and listened carefully to their answers. She accepted their invitations to step into their dilapidated homes, and she didn’t shirk from sitting on the splintered benches or rough chairs that were offered her. She didn’t push away a single child, even though they grasped at her skirts with filthy hands. And she smiled at everyone with genuine pleasure.

“She will be a real asset”—Fitz Roy examined his nails—“but I think she will cost you as well. For if I gauge your fiancée and her questions correctly, she is compiling a long list of improvements for your little hamlet.”

Matthew tensed. He knew Fitz Roy was right. “When one engages oneself to the daughter of an honorable vicar, one must be prepared to become a philanthropist.”

Fitz Roy glanced down the narrow street of ramshackle houses. “No offense, Hawkmore, but it’ll take a prodigious lot of philanthropy to turn this place into anything presentable.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he sent another appraising look in the other direction. Raising his brows, he turned back to Matthew. “Possibly, more philanthropy than one man can afford.”

More philanthropy than
he
could afford. “Possibly,” Matthew said, surveying the street himself. It was unpaved and, despite the cold, raggedly dressed children stirred up the dust as they played amidst the ruts and potholes. A retired pit pony hitched to a rickety cart rested on three legs in front of a decaying stable. The fourth leg he held up daintily as if in abhorrence of the rough ground. The houses, small and close together, were in varying stages of disrepair. Like sad old beggars, they seemed to lean into each other for support—their cracked gray walls and thinning thatch testaments to the hard life of their occupants.

Clearly, Benchley hadn’t spent any of his prodigious profits to maintain the housing that was offered to the miners with families. And yet—Matthew turned his gaze down the other end of the street—despite the poor condition of the houses, women were sweeping their broken stoops and tending meager little gardens. An old man, assisted by a boy, was attempting to rehang a door on leather straps. Two little girls were picking berries from a brambly hedgerow.

Matthew turned to Fitz Roy. “It could be worse.”

Fitz Roy’s brows shot up. “It could?” He glanced doubtfully down the street, then shrugged. “If you say so.”

Both of them stood as Patience exited the house. She exchanged good-byes with the miner’s wife and hurried over, her small appendage still firmly attached. “Oh, Matthew”—she clasped his hand—“thank you for allowing me to come here today. I’m so glad I was able to see this place, and to meet these good people. There is so much that can be done for them, Matthew.” She raised her brows. “So much that
needs
to be done.”

I can’t afford it.
Matthew tucked Patience’s arm in his and the three of them—or rather, the four of them—strolled toward the main street. “Such as?”

“First, they have no church and no vicar. If any religious service is required, including marriages, baptisms, and funerals, they must travel to Gwenderry for it, which is seven miles away. And as for spiritual guidance—well, needless to say, the people here are far more likely to seek counsel at the pub than they are from the vicar in Gwenderry.”

“My love, even if we had a vicar here, the people are more likely to seek counsel at the pub.”

“Perhaps,” Patience admitted. “But if we had a church, we could also have a church school. Oh, Matthew, many of the older children here remember what it was like to work underground before the reforms were passed. For years, they knew nothing but physical labor and darkness. Don’t we owe them some small amount of learning—in recompense, at the very least—for their lost childhoods? And what of the young ones? I began to play the cello when I was five.” She laid her hand on the head of the little girl who walked at her side. “Will she ever even see an instrument, let alone play one?”

Matthew looked into Patience’s earnest gaze. “We don’t even have a church, my love.”

“Mrs. Jones—the woman I was last speaking with—told me that there is an old stone building at the end of the main street leading into town.”