Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(60)

“My father will be overjoyed. But Mother will have conniptions. And Lillian…”

“Will explode.”

Daisy sighed. “My brothers aren’t too fond of you, either.”

“Really,” he said in mock surprise.

Daisy stared worriedly into his shadowed face. “What if you change your mind about me? What if you come back and tell me that you were wrong, you don’t want to marry me, and—”

“No,” Matthew said, stroking the rampant black waves of her hair. “There’s no turning back. I’ve taken your innocence. I’m not going to avoid my responsibility.”

Disgruntled by the choice of words, Daisy frowned.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“The way you put it…your responsibility…as if you have to atone for some terrible mistake. It’s not the most romantic thing to say, especially in present circumstances.”

“Oh.” Matthew grinned suddenly. “I’m not a romantic man, sweetheart. You knew that already.” He bent his head and kissed the side of her neck, and nipped at her ear. “But I am responsible for you now.” He worked his way down to her shoulder. “For your safety…your welfare…your pleasure…and I take my responsibilities very seriously…”

He kissed her br**sts, drawing the taut peaks into the melting heat of his mouth. His hand parted her thighs and played gently between them.

A moan of pleasure slipped from her throat, and he smiled. “You make the sweetest sounds,” he murmured. “When I touch you like this…and this…and the way you cry out when you come for me…”

Her face burned. She tried to be quiet, but in another moment he had coaxed another helpless moan from her.

“Matthew…?” Her toes curled as she felt him slip lower, his tongue tickling the hollow of her navel.

His voice was muffled by the covers that tented over his head. “Yes, chatterbox?”

“Are you going to do—” she paused with a gasp as she felt him push her knees apart, “—what you did before?”

“It would seem so.”

“But we’ve already…” The puzzle of why he would want to make love to her twice in a row was suddenly abandoned. She felt him investigating the tender juncture of her thigh and groin, the insides of her legs, and she went weak. Soft, artful nibbling…lazy strokes of his tongue…toying with the sore opening of her body…easing upward until he found a place that made her sob and groan, yes, there, yes…

He teased her with maddening delicacy, slowly moving away, then returning with warm, rapid flicks…she groped for his head between her thighs and held him there, arching and shivering and pulsing with pleasure.

He brought her steadily upward to a height of impossible rapture, above the storm, above the sky itself…and when she regained awareness, she was in his arms, her pounding heartbeat soothed by the gentle sound of spring rain.

CHAPTER 12

Since most of the estate guests were leaving on the morrow, dinner that night was a long and elaborate affair. Two long tables set with crystal and Sèvres china glittered in the light shed by chandeliers and candelabrum. An army of footmen dressed in full livery of blue, mustard and black with gold braiding moved deftly around the guests, refilling water and wine glasses, serving each remove with quiet precision.

It was a magnificent affair. Unfortunately Daisy had never been less interested in eating. It was a pity she couldn’t do justice to the meal, which featured Scottish salmon, steaming roast joints, venison haunch accompanied by sausages and sweet breads, and elaborate vegetable casseroles dressed with cream and butter and truffles. For dessert there were platters of luxury fruits; raspberries, nectarines, cherries, peaches and pineapples, as well as a surfeit of cakes, tarts, and syllabubs.

Daisy forced herself to eat, laugh, and converse in as natural a manner as possible. But it was not easy. Matthew was seated a few places away on the other side of the table, and whenever their gazes caught, she nearly choked on whatever she happened to be chewing.

Conversation flowed around her, and she responded to it vaguely while her mind remained fixed on the memory of what had happened a few hours earlier. Those who knew her well, her sister and friends, seemed to notice that she was not quite herself. Even Westcliff had given her a few speculative glances.

Daisy felt overheated in the bright, stuffy room, the blood rushing easily to her cheeks. Her body was oversensitive, her undergarments chafing, her corset unbearable, her garters pinching around her thighs. Every time she moved there were reminders of the afternoon with Matthew; the soreness between her legs, the stings and twitches in unexpected places. And yet her body ached for more…more of Matthew’s hands, his restless mouth, his hardness inside her…

Feeling her face flame once again, Daisy devoted herself to buttering a piece of bread. She glanced at Matthew, who was conversing with a lady to his left.

Sensing Daisy’s furtive regard, Matthew looked in her direction. The depths of blue kindled with heat and his chest moved as he inhaled deeply. He dragged his attention back to his companion, focusing on her with a flattering interest that sent the lady into giggling effusiveness.

Daisy lifted a glass of watered wine to her lips and made herself pay attention to a conversation on her right…something about touring the lake districts and the Scottish Highlands. Soon, however, her mind drifted back to her own situation.