Had he just decided, or had he known all along?
He suspected the latter. They were meant for each other. God had made her to fit his hand, and God had made him to take her in hand. And since he had no intention of sharing her, or ever letting her go, then marriage was only logical.
Besides, that morning he’d been reminded of how much he wanted a family. He wanted to father children who would never need question their paternity, with a woman who would never give them cause.
Patience was that woman—whether she knew it or not.
Chapter Eleven
SECOND SUBMISSION
A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
SONG OF SOLOMON 4:12
Matthew stood still and quiet by the hearth as he watched Patience come to him. The lamplight in her room and the dim light from the fire gilded her beautiful nudity with a golden glow. The long muscles in her thighs lifted as she walked. The curls between her legs glinted, and her smooth stomach and dainty navel drew his eye to the curve of her waist, and then to her amazing, perfect breasts—breasts crowned with thick, edible nipples that made his mouth water and his hands twitch.
His cock filled and lifted as she took her last steps and came to a stop before him. He stared into the stunning beauty of her face and brushed his fingers against her soft cheek. “Thank you for defending me to Lady Humphreys.”
A frown puckered her brow. “Who told you?”
“Fitz Roy—just as I was on my way here.” He clenched his jaw against his anger and embarrassment, and kept his eyes on Patience. “On the one hand, I
hate
that my circumstances require defending. But on the other”—he smoothed his hand over her hair—“the thought of you taking my side so openly makes me feel strong and invincible.”
She rested her hand on his chest. “It does?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I would do it again.” She laid her other hand against the tensing muscle in his jaw. “And I wasn’t defending you against your circumstances, Matthew, for there is nothing there to defend. I was defending you against an evil woman’s malice, for which you bear no responsibility.”
Matthew stared into her clear, earnest gaze and his heart ached at her goodness, her honor, and her nobility. How would he ever deserve her—he who was shunned and on the brink of ruin—he who wrote desperate letters to music masters? He who was impure.
“You offer me comfort,” he murmured, “when it is I who should be comforting you.”
Patience’s head tilted. “For what, Matthew?”
He threaded his hands in her hair. “My fight with Danforth had nothing to do with Rosalind.” He frowned as her lashes lowered, hiding her eyes. Damn it, he should have realized how his duel with Danforth would look to some—the ladies especially. He gripped her thick curls. Her eyelids lifted. “Patience, I don’t care who Rosalind marries—Danforth or the fucking King of Siam—I don’t care.
You
are the only woman who matters to me. The only one.” He searched her eyes. “Do you believe me?”
Her green gaze was unwavering. “Yes, Matthew. I believe you.”
He let out his breath and snatched a kiss from her soft mouth. “There’s one more thing,” he said against her lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t join you for dinner. Fitz Roy tells me that Montrose took the seat I left empty at your side.” Montrose, who was popular, rich, and legitimate. Montrose, who would never need defending.
“Yes”—Patience slid her hands over his shoulders—“and his company was a poor substitute for yours.” She paused. “I missed you, Matthew—your presence.”
Her sweet words and the press of her body quashed the bitterness that had reared up in him. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I would rather have been with you, than where I was.”
“You didn’t give it back to him, did you?”
Matthew tensed and drew back. “What?”
“The mine. Lord Montrose said he was certain you would give it over to Lord Benchley. But Lords Rivers and Fitz Roy told me you won that mine in a fair game, so why should you.”
Matthew looked into her beautiful and intelligent face. She would be privy to the same gossip as everyone else. He needed to be sure it was all favorable.
Patience suddenly looked uncertain. “You didn’t give it back, did you? You shouldn’t have to, Matthew.”
God, she made him feel good—and protective. He drew his finger along her jaw. “No, I didn’t.”
And I won’t give you back, either.
A small smile turned her lips. “Good. Fair is fair.”
Matthew’s gut tightened as he swooped down to cover her mouth with his. As he kissed her, he thought of the pained declaration he had forced from her in the library. Whatever had happened to hurt her, he would discover it. He would tear down every barrier she had built, until her heart lay as naked to his view as her body was now.
Breaking the kiss, he stared into her glittering green eyes—eyes so full of urgent expectation. He would keep her and protect her, and shield her from the world’s hurts. He would take care of her and give her the strong hand she craved. Then she would truly be his.
He stroked his thumb across her full lower lip.
And in return . . .
He lowered his head, and her eyes closed.
. . . she just might give me . . .
. . . something.
He stopped just short of her mouth.
Something important.
Her soft exhalation felt warm and shaky against his lips. It took all his will not to kiss her. Rather, he spoke low, his mouth barely touching hers. “Earlier, I assisted you to dress for dinner. Now you will assist me to undress.” He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, and then along her cheek. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the smell of her—gardenia mellowed by the tender scent of her skin. He stroked his lips against her ear and felt her shiver. “And throughout your ministrations to me, you will touch me and demonstrate to me, sweetly and submissively, the extent of your desire for my attentions.” Matthew drew back slowly and stared into Patience’s upturned face. Her lips were parted and her cheeks flushed. His cock throbbed as her beautiful eyes flickered open. “Won’t you?”
A slow blink and a small shudder preceded her answer. “Yes, Matthew.”
With a groan, he swept his arms around her and, lifting her to him, he thrust his tongue possessively into her mouth. The sound of her soft moan reverberated in his ears as he tasted her and ground his cock against her pelvis. With one arm tight around her slim waist, he stroked his other hand over the curve of her hip, squeezing her buttock as he pressed her harder against him.
God, she felt both soft and firm, and he wanted to fuck her so badly. He wanted to kiss her and hold her while he pushed into her tight cunt. He wanted to break the barrier to her womb, bathe his cock in her virgin blood, and then plant his seed deeply inside her. Moaning, he tightened his grip on her firm buttock as he thrust hard against her. She shook and her fingers threaded through his hair.
But he needed to be patient—patient, yet demanding.
Patience undulated in Matthew’s demanding embrace. His kisses stole her breath and the hard press of his thick, engorged penis made her cunt drip with desire. His hand squeezed her bottom, his fingers biting into her flesh. It hurt and felt good at the same time. His grip eased and then tightened again. Moaning into his mouth, she curled her fingers in his thick hair.
Yet, suddenly, she felt his arms relaxing and the pressure of his kiss easing. She gasped and tried to hold him as he pulled his mouth from hers. But he was stronger than she. Gripping her upper arms, he supported her as he held her away from him.
Patience shuddered as she gazed into his dark eyes. They were full of fire, yet his demeanor seemed completely controlled.
“That was lovely,” he said gently. His brow lifted. “But you have not yet earned your pleasure.”
Patience stared at him. His words both rankled and excited her. He had to know she was yearning for release. She had been obedient. Why must he make her wait? Her pulse raced and her clitoris throbbed. And why must her body thrill at the very denial that tormented her?
Her gaze dropped to his lapels. For some inexplicable reason, she found his command for her assistance to undress more difficult to comply with than his command for her sexual submission. She was perfectly willing to take his penis in her mouth, but she didn’t want to take his jacket. She frowned. It made no sense. Especially when such relatively easy obedience would likely get her the orgasm she longed for.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Patience.”
Matthew’s low voice made her shiver. She met his dark eyes. “I don’t know why, but I find your demand for assistance—difficult.”
“You will find punishment far more difficult,” he said calmly.
His words, resolute and remorseless, sent a spark flaring along Patience’s nerves and rushing to the swollen flesh between her legs. It enflamed her and burned away her resistance, replacing it with capitulation. How did he do that? How did he inspire such surrender just with his words and his tone?
Stepping around him, moisture smeared her thighs. She reached over his shoulders and carefully helped him out of his jacket. She brushed the fine fabric with her hand as she laid it on the chair.
“No.” Matthew nodded across the room. “Take it to your dressing table.”
Patience bristled but then forced down the feeling. For goodness’ sake, what was so difficult about that? Crossing to her dressing table, she could feel his eyes pinned to her back, magnifying her nakedness. She felt like hurrying, yet she was forced to walk slowly, for every step she took stimulated her aching sex.
Carefully, she laid his jacket over the stool. His eyes never left her as she returned to him. The aching between her legs grew worse. Did her walk seem unnatural? Did she appear graceless? Blushing fiercely beneath his steady regard, Patience finally stopped before him. Staring at his cravat, she frowned as her emotions veered in a different direction. She hated the idea that she might appear ungainly. She hated the fact that she felt embarrassment over her own nakedness. And she hated the fact that she was finding it difficult to do simple tasks. She was supposed to be striving for perfection.
“Patience.”
She looked up at the warning tone in his voice.
His brow was creased by a frown. “I’m waiting.”
Patience dared a frustrated sigh. She never minded lending aid when it was needed. But this was not a case of need. “Why must you demand something of me that you can so easily do for yourself?”
The expression in his eyes shifted, and his frown eased a bit. “Because it pleases me.”
“Yes, but why?” She shook her head. “I never ask for help—unless I can’t possibly avoid it.”
“Really?” He stared at her intently for a long moment. “Why not?”
Her frown deepened. “Why not?” It seemed a pointless question. “Why would I?”
Matthew’s frown twitched, and Patience shifted uncomfortably as he stared at her. “Tell me, Patience,” he said low. “Did you enjoy your breakfast this morning?”
She flushed with a deepening discomfort, and with embarrassment, too. She’d forgotten to thank him. “Everything was quite delicious.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
Matthew shook his head. “I didn’t ask you if it was delicious. I asked you if you enjoyed it. Did it please you?”
Patience’s discomfort escalated. “Well, if it was delicious, I must have enjoyed it, mustn’t I?” She lifted her shoulder to ease the tension there and glanced at the floor for a moment before returning her gaze to his. “It’s just that normally I practice in the morning and . . .”
His brows lifted. “Oh, you don’t eat breakfast?”
Patience frowned. “Well, of course I eat breakfast.” She could hear the frustration in her voice. Looking away from Matthew’s casually inquiring gaze, she drew a deep breath, and when she looked back at him she managed a small smile. “It’s just that you needn’t have gone to all the trouble.”
“Trouble? What trouble is that, Patience?” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Don’t you see? You’re no trouble to me.” He lifted his gaze back to hers. “And even if you were, I would go to the ends of the earth to be troubled by you.”
Patience drew in a breath, and she must have done it too quickly or too deeply because she felt a sharp pain in her chest. It made her eyes sting. Looking away, she exhaled and blinked back her tears. Drawing shallow breaths, she tried to relieve the ache in her chest, but it wouldn’t ease. She lifted her gaze back to Matthew’s. Did it help to look at him?
Or did it make it worse?
“A m I a trouble to you, Patience?” His eyes were soft as down.
Tears welled again. “No.” She lowered her eyes and stroked her hand down his waistcoat. “Of course not.” Lifting her hands to his cravat, she slipped the loop. As she slowly untied the long piece of silk, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She ignored it, for she had no idea why she was crying.
Matthew watched her as ardently as ever. She could feel his gaze. He seemed to appreciate her displays of emotion, even if she did not. She glanced up at him.
“God, but you’re beautiful,” he whispered. He lowered his head and nuzzled her hair.
Pulling free his cravat, Patience let her moist eyes close as he pressed his lips to her brow.
“Being tended to by you is lovely,” he said between kisses. “I like to see you naked before me. I like to see your hands touching me.” He pulled back to look at her and she saw that desire had infused the softness she’d seen just moments before. “Give me the cravat.”
Would he tie her again? Lord, it would be so much easier—so much easier than having to do all these things—these difficult, intimate things. She draped it across his palm.