Scandal in Spring
Page 21“You were deliberately trying to make me jealous?” he exploded. “What in God’s name did you think that would accomplish? Or is turning me inside out your latest idea of an entertaining hobby?”
A sudden blush covered her face. “I thought you might feel something for me…and I hoped to make you admit it.”
Matthew’s mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t seem to speak. Daisy wondered uneasily what emotion was working on him. After a few moments he shook his head and leaned against the dresser as if he needed physical support.
“Are you angry?” she asked apprehensively.
His voice sounded odd and ragged. “Ten percent of me is angry.”
“What about the other ninety percent?”
“That part is just a hairsbreadth away from throwing you on that bed and—” Matthew broke off and swallowed hard. “Daisy, you’re too damned innocent to understand the danger you’re in. It’s taking all the self-control I’ve got to keep my hands off you. Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. It’s too easy for you to torture me, and I’m at my limit. To put to rest any doubts you might have…I’m jealous of every man who comes within ten feet of you. I’m jealous of the clothes on your skin and the air you breathe. I’m jealous of every moment you spend out of my sight.”
Stunned, Daisy whispered, “You…you certainly haven’t shown any sign of it.”
“Over the years I’ve collected a thousand memories of you, every glimpse, every word you’ve ever said to me. All those visits to your family’s home, those dinners and holidays—I could hardly wait to walk through the front door and see you.” The corners of his mouth quirked with reminiscent amusement. “You, in the middle of that brash, bull-headed lot…I love watching you deal with your family. You’ve always been everything I thought a woman should be. And I have wanted you every second of my life since we first met.”
Daisy was filled with an agony of regret. “I was never even nice to you,” she said sorrowfully.
“I was damn glad you weren’t. If you had been, I probably would have gone up in flames on the spot.” Matthew stayed her with a gesture as she moved toward him. “No. Don’t. As I told you before, I can’t marry you under any circumstances. That’s not going to change. But it has nothing to do with how much I want you.” His eyes glowed like molten sapphire as he glanced over her slight form. “My God, how I want you,” he whispered.
Daisy ached with the desire to throw herself into his arms. “I want you too. So much that I don’t think I can let you go without knowing why.”
“If it was possible to explain my reasons, believe me, I would have by now.”
Daisy forced herself to ask the question she feared most. “Are you already married?”
Matthew’s gaze shot to hers. “God, no.”
Relief swept over her. “Then anything else can be resolved as long as you’ll tell me—”
“If you were just a bit more worldly,” Matthew said moodily, “you wouldn’t use phrases like ‘anything else can be resolved.’” He made his way to the other side of the dresser, leaving a clear path to the door.
He was silent for a long moment, as if considering some weighty matter.
Daisy was still and silent, holding his gaze. All she could offer him was patience. She waited without a word, without even blinking.
Matthew looked away from her, his expression distant. His eyes turned hard and flat as chips of polished cobalt. “A long time ago,” he eventually said, “I made an enemy, a powerful one, through no fault of my own. Because of his influence I was forced to leave Boston. And I have good reason to believe this man’s grievance will come back to haunt me someday. I’ve lived with that sword hanging over my head for years. I don’t want you anywhere near me when it drops.”
“But there must be something that can be done,” Daisy said eagerly, determined to confront this unknown enemy with every means at her disposal. “If you’ll just explain more, tell me his name and—”
“No.” The word was quiet, but it contained a finality that caused her to fall abruptly silent. “I’ve been as honest with you as I can, Daisy. I hope you won’t betray my confidence.” He gestured to the door. “Now it’s time for you to go.”
“Just like that?” she asked in bewilderment. “After what you just told me, you want me to leave?”
“Yes. Try not to let anyone see you.”
“It’s not fair that you get to speak your piece without letting me—”
Daisy’s thoughts raced as she stared at his hard profile. This wasn’t mere obstinacy on his part. This was conviction. He had left no room for argument, no opening for negotiation.
“Shall I go to Llandrindon, then?” she asked, hoping to provoke him.
“Yes.”
Daisy scowled. “I wish you’d be consistent. A few minutes ago you were ready to make mincemeat of him.”
“If you want him, I have no right to object.”
“If you want me, you have every right to say something!” Daisy strode to the door. “Why does everyone always claim women are illogical when men are a hundred times more so? First they want something, then they don’t, then they make irrational decisions based on secrets they won’t explain and no one is supposed to question them because a man’s word is final.”
As she reached for the doorknob, she saw the key in the lock, and her hand paused in mid-air.
She glanced at Matthew, who was firmly planted on the other side of the dresser to keep a safe distance between them.
Although Daisy was the mildest-tempered of all the Bowmans, she was by no means a coward. And she would not accept defeat without a fight.
“You’re forcing me to take desperate measures,” she said.
His reply was very soft. “There’s nothing you can do.”
He had left her no choice.
Daisy turned the key in the lock and carefully withdrew it.
The decisive click was abnormally loud in the silence of the room.
Calmly Daisy tugged the top edge of her bodice away from her chest. She held the key above the narrow gap.
Matthew’s eyes widened as he understood what she intended. “You wouldn’t.”
As he started around the dresser, Daisy dropped the key into her bodice, making certain it slipped beneath her corset. She sucked in her stomach and midriff until she felt the cold metal slide to her navel.
“Damn it!” Matthew reached her with startling speed. He reached out to touch her, then jerked his hands back as if he had just encountered open flame. “Take it out,” he commanded, his face dark with outrage.
“I can’t.”
“I mean it, Daisy!”
“It’s fallen too far down. I’ll have to take my dress off.”
It was obvious he wanted to kill her. But she could also feel the force of his longing. His lungs were working like bellows, and scorching heat radiated from his body.
His whisper contained the ferocity of a roar. “Don’t do this to me.”
Daisy waited patiently.
He turned his back to her, the seams of his coat straining over bunched muscles. His fists clenched as he struggled to master himself. He took a shuddering breath, and another, and when he spoke his voice sounded thick, as if he had just awakened from a heavy sleep.
“Take off your gown.”
Trying not to antagonize him any more than was necessary, Daisy replied in an apologetic tone. “I can’t do it by myself. It buttons up the back.”
Matthew said something in a muffled voice that sounded very foul. After an eternity of silence he turned to face her. His jaw could have been cast in iron. “I’m not going to fall apart that easily. I can resist you, Daisy. I’ve had years of practice. Turn around.”
Daisy obeyed. As she bent her head forward, she could actually feel his gaze travel over the endless row of pearl buttons.
“How do you ever get undressed?” he muttered. “I’ve never seen so many blasted buttons on one garment.”
“It’s fashionable.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“You can send a letter of protest to Godey’s Lady’s Book,” she suggested.
Giving a scornful snort, Matthew began on the top button. He tried to unfasten it while avoiding contact with her body.
“It helps if you slide your fingers beneath the placket,” Daisy said. “And then you can pop the button through the—”
“Quiet,” he snapped.
She closed her mouth.
Matthew battled with the buttons for another minute. With an exasperated grunt he followed her advice, slipping two fingers between her dress and her skin. As she felt his knuckles brush high on her spine, a shiver of delight ran down her back.
His progress was excruciatingly slow. Daisy could feel him fumbling with the same buttons over and over again.
“May I sit down, please?” she asked mildly. “I’m tired of standing.”
“There’s no place to sit.”
“Yes there is.” Breaking away from him, Daisy went to the four-poster bed and tried to climb onto it. Unfortunately the bed was an antique Sheraton, built high to avoid winter drafts and allow for a trundle below. The top of the mattress was level with her breasts. Hoisting herself upward, she tried to lever her h*ps onto the mattress.
Gravity defeated her.
“Usually,” Daisy said, struggling and squirming with her feet dangling, “there’s a stair-step provided—” She grabbed handfuls of the counterpane. “—for beds this tall.” Straining to hook a knee over the edge of the mattress, she continued, “Good God…if someone fell out of this bed at night…it would be fatal.”
She felt Matthew’s hands clamp around her waist. “The bed’s not that tall,” he said. Picking her up as if she were a child, he deposited her on the mattress. “It’s just that you’re short.”
“I’m not short. I’m…vertically disadvantaged.”
“Fine. Sit up.” His weight depressed the mattress behind her and his hands returned to the back of her dress.
Feeling the slight tremor of his fingers against her skin, Daisy was emboldened to remark, “I’ve never been attracted to tall men before. But you make me feel—”
Daisy felt silent, listening to the rhythm of his breath as it turned deeper, less controlled. By contrast his fingers became more certain in their task, working along the row of pearls until her dress gaped open and the sleeves slipped from her shoulders.
“Where is it?” he asked.
“The key?”
His tone was deadly. “Yes, Daisy. The key.”
“It fell inside my corset. Which means…I’ll have to take that off too.”
There was no reaction to the statement, no sound or movement. Daisy twisted to glance at Matthew.
He seemed dazed. His eyes looked unnaturally blue against the flush on his face. She realized he was occupied with a savage inner battle to keep from touching her.
Feeling hot and prickly with embarrassment, Daisy pulled her arms completely out of her sleeves. She worked the dress over her hips, wriggling out of the filmy white layers, letting them slide to the floor in a heap.
Matthew stared at the discarded dress as if it were some kind of exotic fauna he had never seen before. Slowly his eyes returned to Daisy, and an incoherent protest came from his throat as she began to unhook her corset.
She felt shy and wicked, undressing in front of him. But she was encouraged by the way he seemed unable to tear his gaze from each newly revealed inch of pale skin. When the last metal hook came apart, she tossed the web of lace and stays to the floor. All that remained over her br**sts was a crumpled chemise.
The key had dropped into her lap. Closing her fingers around the metal object, she risked a cautious glance at Matthew.
His eyes were closed, his forehead scored with furrows of pained concentration. “This isn’t going to happen,” he said, more to himself than to her.
Daisy leaned forward to tuck the key into his coat pocket. Gripping the hem of her chemise, she stripped it over her head. A tingling shock chased over her na*ed upper body. She was so nervous that her teeth had begun to chatter. “I just took my chemise off,” she said. “Don’t you want to look?”
“No.”
But his eyes had opened, and his gaze found her small, pink-tipped breasts, and the breath hissed through his clenched teeth. He sat without moving, staring at her as she untied his cravat and unbuttoned the layers of his waistcoat and shirt. She blushed everywhere but continued doggedly, rising to her knees to tug the coat from his shoulders.
He moved like a dreamer, slowly pulling his arms from the coat sleeves and waistcoat.
Daisy pushed his shirt open with awkward determination, her gaze drinking in the sight of his chest and torso. His skin gleamed like heavy satin, stretched taut over broad expanses of muscle. She touched the powerful vault of his ribs, trailing her fingertips to the rippled tautness of his midriff.
Suddenly Matthew caught her hand, seemingly undecided whether to push it away or press it closer.
Her fingers curled over his. She stared into his dilated blue eyes. “Matthew,” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m yours. I want to do everything you’ve ever imagined doing with me.”
He stopped breathing. His will foundered and collapsed, and suddenly nothing mattered except the demands of a desire that had been denied too long. With a rough groan of surrender, he lifted her onto his lap. Heat sank through the layers of their clothes, and Daisy gasped as the soft notch of her body cradled an unfamiliar hardness.
Matthew took her mouth with his, while his hands slid in restless paths over her body. As his fingers cupped the firm undercurve of her breast, her blood coursed frantically and the ache in her flesh became sharp and volatile. She fumbled with his shirt, trying to push her hands beneath it, trying to tear it away from his body.
Easing her down to the bed, Matthew paused to rip the shirt off, baring the magnificent contours of his chest and shoulders. He lowered his body to hers, and she moaned in pleasure at the feel of his na*ed skin. The familiar scent of him was all around her, the luxurious spice of clean male skin. He possessed her mouth with lavishly sensual kisses, his hands coursing tenderly over her half-dressed body. His thumb rubbed a lazy circle over her nipple, making it harder, darker, until she arched in helpless supplication.