Patience (6 page)

Tonight!
Heat flooded Patience’s womb and her heart thudded in her breast as she tore her eyes from his. Lord, she wanted him—quite desperately. But . . . What if it proved a mistake?

“Patience.”

She looked back into Matthew’s penetrating gaze.

“One day you will relent,” he said softly. “For I will pursue you until you do. So why put off the pleasure that can be yours tonight?” He spoke with such casual reason. “I’m not asking for your love, Patience. Nor your hand.” His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I just want tonight.” He bent close by her ear. “Give me tonight.”

Patience drew a shaky breath. He was right. One day she would relent. Only she wished he didn’t know it.

Matthew twirled her to the edge of the dance floor and then clasped her wrist. “Come.”

She tensed and stalled. “Come where?”

Hidden in the folds of her skirt, his fingers stroked her palm. “Wherever I say.”

Staring into his dark eyes, her breath quickened and a shiver ran down her back. It wasn’t the answer she had expected. She wanted to go with him—yearned to go with him. It was as if there were an invisible string between them, and he was pulling it. But, God help her, where would it lead? She glanced at the couples that milled around them and breathed her last protest. “How can I?”

He bent close and his low voice was firm. “You can because you hunger for something you do not understand—something you’re afraid to even recognize. But I am going to make it clear and simple for you, because what you need cannot be asked for; it can only be taken. And I am the one to do the taking.
I
am the one.” He drew back. “Now, not another word.” Then he pressed his hand against her waist and, pushing her ahead of him, guided her through the crowd with the simple pressure of his palm against the small of her back.

Patience’s blood rushed in her veins. His calm commands were surprising. Yet, her reaction to them was more so. Part of her wanted to turn and refuse him. But the stronger part—or was it the weaker?—felt a hot thrill and an urgency to comply.

Pulling her arm through his, he led her in a leisurely fashion and they nodded to people as they passed. Raised eyebrows and speculative glances followed them. She thought of the horrid gossips and lifted her chin. She was not ashamed to be seen with him. Indeed, there was no man she would rather be with. And why shouldn’t they be seen together? He was her brother-in-law, after all.

But the closer they came to the wide ballroom doors, the faster Patience’s heart beat. Doubt and desire, uncertainty and trust, all struggled for preeminence. The doors loomed before her. Her step faltered.

Matthew glanced down at her and his dark eyes flashed. “Come, Patience.”

No sweet-talking, no cajoling. He tightened his arm on hers and a heavy throb pulsed between her legs. His firm command sublimated her resistance in a way that no amount of coaxing would have. Hot and flustered, she stepped over the threshold.

They crossed the wide hall and climbed the stairs leading to the third floor. Masked guests ascended and descended around them, moving to and from the upper gallery that overlooked the ballroom. As the strains of another waltz floated from the musicians’ gallery, they mounted the landing and moved toward the corridor that led to the family’s wing. There they paused.

Matthew released her arm and, while keeping his expression casual, spoke low. “Just down the hall from your sister’s private parlor is a table with a large urn of flowers on it. Do you know whereof I speak?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Go there and wait for me.” Then he bowed his head as if he were bidding her good night.

Flushing, Patience nodded and turned down the corridor. Sconces lit her way with a flickering light, and the noise of the ball receded. The quieter it grew, the more her nervousness grew. She considered turning back, but it seemed lily- livered to do it now. Besides, her desire for him overrode her nervousness, so she passed the hall that led to her room and continued onward. She had trod the path many a time in order to visit with her sister. But tonight, her final destination was . . . where?

She passed the parlor and no sooner had she reached the table with the urn, than Matthew stepped from a door just behind her. She barely had time to draw a surprised breath before he took her hand and pulled her with him. Her pulse quickened as he turned her down a second corridor leading away from familiar pathways. She had never been in this part of the house. It was empty and quiet. She could hear almost nothing of the ball and her breathing sounded loud.

She glanced at Matthew. One of the longer pieces of his wavy hair had fallen forward. However, his strong profile revealed nothing but a purposeful intent. He said nothing. And then, as they turned another corner, he pulled her in front of him and released her. Patience stared at a large tapestry. Only two doors faced the short hall.

She turned around.

Pulling off his gloves, Matthew looked at her with dark, hooded eyes. His sensual mouth was parted but unsmiling. “Remove your gloves, Patience.”

As she undid the small button on the inside of her wrist, it occurred to her that she hadn’t even stopped to consider whether she would comply—she just had. Gently pulling the white kid leather from her fingers, she eased one arm and then the other from the long gloves. Holding them in one hand, she suddenly felt a little naked with her arms bare. She stood, rooted to the spot, as he regarded her. But her fingers began to tremble as he slowly approached.

She saw that his trousers were tented by a formidable erection. A wash of desire sluiced through her. She swallowed the moisture that pooled in her mouth and tried to calm her nerves as he paused before her. He said nothing, but rather held out his hand, palm up. Uncertain, Patience laid her gloves there. He folded them and put them in his pocket. Then he stepped closer and his hands lifted. She thought he was going to embrace her, but instead he slipped the ribbons of her mask and pulled it away.

Patience drew shallow breaths as his intense gaze shifted slowly over her features. Lord, did he miss any detail of her? The air felt static. Was he going to kiss her, embrace her? She stood, tense.

But when he finally moved, it was only to lean against the doorjamb to her left. Reaching for the handle, he pushed it down and let the door swing open. She looked into his dark eyes and then into the dark room. Some flickering light sent dim shadows dancing upon the wall. But standing in the illuminated corridor, she could see little else.

She remembered his words below.
I shall hide you in my shadow . . . chain you to my side . . . give you everything you desire
. Her clitoris throbbed hungrily.

She looked back down the well-lit hall. This was it—her last chance to change her mind. But to what would she be returning? To endless dances with men who were too busy gawking at her to partner her properly? To ceaseless talk with men who were more interested in telling her their opinions than discovering hers? To trifling associations with men who only wanted to get between her legs?

She glanced up at Matthew. Of course,
he
wanted to get between her legs, too. How could she give him that? She thought of her sister. Dressed as Aphrodite, her sister’s gusseted gown didn’t quite conceal her five-month pregnancy. This ball and hunt would be her last social event before her confinement.

Patience put her hand over her flat stomach. She couldn’t risk a child for one night. She looked back at Matthew. His beautiful eyes seemed to dare her. But she didn’t know if the dare was to flee or to stay. She spoke on a rush of breath. “I’m a virgin. And I intend to stay that way.”

He raised his brows. “Forever?”

“For now.”

He lowered his eyes and seemed to consider for all of two seconds before nodding. “Very well. Until you tell me otherwise, I agree to leave you intact.”

Patience nodded, even as she thought of her other concern. “And if I walk through that door, can you really assure me that whatever happens will be between us? You won’t be thinking of Rosalind?”

Matthew didn’t even blink. “Rosalind who?”

“That’s very amusing, but I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Patience looked into his unwavering gaze, but she saw not the least bit of humor there. She turned her eyes back to the darkened chamber. She had refused so many and trusted so few.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.
God and St. Matthew keep me.
Then, with open-eyed determination, she walked past him and crossed the final threshold.

SONG OF SOLOMON 2:6

 

 

 

 

As the door slammed behind her, darkening the room, Patience turned with a start. Suddenly Matthew emerged, like a dark phantom, from the shadows.

“Welcome to my underworld, Persephone.”

Patience gasped as he pulled her against him, his arm sweeping tightly around her waist and his hand slipping into her hair. She barely drew a breath before his mouth swooped down upon hers. Her eyes closed and her blood rushed as his tongue thrust between her parted lips. His hand, cradling the back of her head, allowed no withdrawal from his demanding kiss.

Retreat was not an option. That moment had passed.

She moaned and held him tighter. His body was hard against hers and his tongue was stroking the roof of her mouth and skimming her teeth. She tasted a hint of brandy, while the smell of vetiver, rich and amber, filled her senses. His arms supported her and his powerful presence seemed to surround her.

Moisture trickled onto her damp thighs, and she could draw only short breaths as his tongue drove more deeply into her open mouth. Like a river, all sensation seemed to course from his mouth into hers, then surge, with unstoppable force, to the pulsing well of her woman’s body.

Wild with desire, she surged against him, giving him kiss for kiss. Nothing mattered but this endless embrace. Not even breath. Her head spun and, despite the drumming that had started in her ears, she heard his groan, low and deep. His hand tightened in her hair and then his other was gripping her chin. He urged her mouth wider as he drove his tongue deeper, seeming to test the depths of her. Blood rushed to her pulsing clitoris and her air grew thin. Patience moaned then gasped as he tore his lips from hers.

Their warm, panting breaths touched as he traced his fingers across her trembling mouth. “I never should have walked away from you before,” he murmured roughly. “Never.” He kissed the curve of her jaw.

Patience’s heart skipped a beat and then raced when he slipped his finger between her parted lips. Instinctively, she curled her tongue and sucked in a sensual exploration.

“Oh, Patience, that’s good,” Matthew whispered, slipping in another finger. “Show me how warm and wet your mouth can be.” His hips tilted against her.

Patience trembled with excitement and her clitoris pulsed while she sucked hungrily upon his long fingers. She remembered the many times she and her sisters had spied upon Wilson, their butler, as he had delivered his daily dose of ejaculate into the mouth of Mary, their upstairs maid. It had fascinated and excited them, but it was she who had been most entranced. It was she who had actually spoken of daring to take the maid’s place. It was she who had started sneaking young cucumbers from the kitchen garden into their room, where they had laughingly practiced the act they so avidly watched.

Now, as Matthew pushed his fingers into the moist recesses of her mouth, she sucked them and her breathless excitement flared into an even more urgent need.

He lifted his long- lashed eyes to hers and they reflected her fierce desire. “You understand what I want, don’t you? In fact, you’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

Yes!
Patience blinked slowly.

His voice was a low, soft contradiction to the hard gaze he bent upon her. “That’s good. But I wonder”—he slipped his fingers deeper—“how a virginal vicar’s daughter knows of such things?” He brought his mouth close to hers. “What have you been up to, my little virgin? Are you more Impatience than Patience?”

She answered him with a slow swath of her tongue along the length of his fingers as he withdrew them. His mouth, so close, covered hers in a deep, breathtaking kiss. The throbbing between her legs increased. Her knees grew weak.

And just when she thought she might collapse at his feet, he broke the kiss, and spoke against her gasping mouth. “You have the sort of beauty that makes men hard, Patience. Tell me, just how many cocks have you tasted?” The fire in his eyes belied the calm of his voice.

Her cunt tightened. With as many enthusiastic suitors as she’d had, the opportunity had arisen many times, but she’d never taken it. She’d never taken it because no one had made her feel like this. “None,” she breathed. “None, ever.”

His features hardened angrily and his hand tightened in her hair. “Don’t lie to me. Whatever occurs between us, never lie to me.”

She met his dark gaze. “I’m not lying.” She felt her cheeks flushing. “But I’ve seen it done, many times. Our butler . . . and the upstairs maid . . .”

Matthew’s expression softened in an instant. “Ah, the servants. They’re invaluable teachers, are they not?” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Tell me, did it excite you to watch them?” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes.” Her hips tilted as he filled her mouth with another probing kiss that was over almost as soon as it began.

“Did you dream of doing it?” he demanded. “Did you think of it while you stroked your sweet cunt? Did you come as you imagined what it might be like to have a nice hard cock between your lips?”