Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(56)

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 br**sts. 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—”

“If you don’t keep quiet,” he interrupted curtly, “I’m going to strangle you.”

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**d 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 br**sts, 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.