Scandal in Spring (26 page)

"My turn to push," Daisy said.

They continued to walk.

Daisy resumed their reminiscing. "Remember overturning the canoe on the pond?"

"With the governess in it," Lillian added, and they grinned at each other.

* * *

The Bowmans were the first to return on Saturday. As one might have expected, the Shakespeare festival had been unmitigated torture for Thomas.

"Where is Swift?" he demanded the minute he entered the manor. "Where is Westcliff? I want a report on the negotiations."

"They're not back yet," Lillian replied, meeting him in the entrance hall. She sent her father a gently caustic glance. "Aren't you going to ask how I am, Father? Don't you want to know how the baby is faring?"

"I can see with my own eyes that you're well enough," Bowman retorted. "And I assume the baby is well or you would already have informed me otherwise. When are Swift and Westcliff expected to return?"

Lillian rolled her eyes heavenward. "Momentarily."

But it became apparent the travelers had encountered a delay, probably as a result of the difficulties of going anywhere in spring. The weather was unpredictable, the country roads were often in need of repair, carriages were easily damaged, and horses were subject to injuries such as bog spavins or capped hocks.

As evening approached and there was still no sign of Westcliff and Matthew, Lillian declared they might as well go in to dinner or the cook would be cross.

It was a relatively small affair attended by the Bowmans and two local families, including the vicar and his wife. Midway through the meal, the butler entered the dining hall and murmured something to Lillian. She smiled and turned pink, her eyes brightening with excitement as she informed the table that Westcliff had arrived and would be joining them soon.

Daisy kept a calm expression in place as if it were a mask that had been plastered onto her face. Beneath the surface, however, a riot of expectation pumped through her veins. Realizing her dining utensils trembled visibly in her hands, she put them down and rested her hands in her lap. She listened to the conversation with only half a mind, the other half fixed on the doorway.

When the two men finally appeared in the dining hall after having washed and changed from the journey, Daisy's heart pounded too fast to allow for a full breath.

Matthew's glance swept the company at large, and he bowed as Westcliff did. Both of them appeared collected and remarkably fresh. One would think they had been absent for seven minutes instead of seven days.

Before going to his place at the head of the table, Westcliff went to Lillian. Since the earl was never given to public demonstrations, it astonished everyone, including Lillian, when he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. She flushed and said something about the vicar being there, making Westcliff laugh.

Meanwhile, Matthew took the empty place beside Daisy's. "Miss Bowman," he said softly.

Daisy couldn't manage a word. Her gaze lifted to his smiling eyes, and it seemed that emotions sprang from her in a fountain of warmth. She had to look away from him before she did something foolish. But she remained intensely aware of his body next to hers.

Westcliff and Matthew entertained the group with an account of how their carriage had gotten stuck in mire. Luckily they had been helped by a passing farmer with an ox-drawn wagon, but in the process of freeing the vehicle, all participants had been covered with mud from head to toe. And apparently the episode had left the ox in quite an objectionable temper. By the time the story was finished, everyone at the table was chuckling.

The conversation turned to the subject of the Shakespeare festival, and Thomas Bowman launched into an account of the visit to Stratford-on-Avon. Matthew asked a question or two, seeming fully engaged in the conversation.

Suddenly Daisy was startled to feel his hand slide into her lap beneath the table. His fingers closed over hers in a gentle clasp. And all the while he took part in the conversation, talking and smiling easily. Daisy reached for her wine with her free hand and brought it to her lips. She took one sip, and then another, and nearly choked as Matthew played lightly with her fingers beneath the table. Sensations that had lain quiescent for a week kindled into vibrant life.

Still not looking at her, Matthew gently slid something over her ring finger, past the knuckle, until it fit neatly at the base. Her hand was returned to her lap as a footman came to replenish the wine in their glasses.

Daisy looked down at her hand, blinking at the sight of the glittering yellow sapphire surrounded by small round diamonds. It looked like a white-petaled flower. Her fingers closed tightly, and she averted her face to hide a betraying flush of pleasure.

"Does it please you?" Matthew whispered.

"Oh, yes."

That was the extent of their communication at dinner. It was just as well. There was too much to be said, all of it highly private. Daisy steeled herself for the usual long rituals of port and tea after dinner, but she was gratified when it seemed that everyone, even her father, was inclined to retire early. As it appeared the elderly vicar and his wife were ready to return home, the group dispersed without much fanfare.

Walking with Daisy from the dining hall, Matthew murmured, "Will I have to scale the outside wall tonight, or are you going to leave your door unlocked?"

"The door," Daisy replied succinctly.

"Thank God."

Approximately an hour later Matthew carefully tried the handle of Daisy's bedroom door and eased his way in. The small room was lit with the glow of a bedside lamp, its flame dancing in the breeze from the balcony.

Daisy sat in bed reading, her hair plaited in a neat braid that trailed over her shoulder. Dressed in a demure white gown with intricate ruching across the front, she looked so clean and innocent that Matthew felt vaguely guilty coming to her with desire coursing in hot thrills through his body. But as she looked up from her book, her dark eyes lured him irresistibly closer.

She set the book aside, the lamplight slipping over her profile. Her skin looked as cool and perfect as polished ivory. He wanted to warm it with his hands.

The corners of Daisy's mouth curled upward as if she could read his thoughts. As she turned the covers back, the yellow sapphire glittered on her finger. Matthew was momentarily surprised by his own response to the sight, the flash of primal possessiveness. Slowly he obeyed her gesture to come to the bed.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, his nerves sizzling as Daisy gathered up the loose folds of her nightgown. She crawled into his lap with the delicacy of a cat. The scent of sweet female skin filled his nostrils, and her weight settled on his thighs. Linking her slender arms around his neck, she said gravely, "I missed you."

His palms charted the shape of her body; the tender curves, the slender waist, the firm heart-shaped bottom. But as enchanting as he found Daisy's physical charms, they didn't affect him a fraction as intensely as the warm, lively intelligence of her nature.

"I missed you too."

Daisy's fingers played in his hair, the delicate touch sending jolts of pleasure from the base of his skull to his groin. Her voice turned provocative. "Did you meet many women in Bristol? Westcliff mentioned something about a dinner, and a soirée given by your host— "

"I didn't notice any women." Matthew found it hard to think over the exquisite writhing desire. "You're the only one I've ever wanted."

She touched the tip of her nose to his in a playful nudge. "You weren't celibate in the past, however."

"No," Matthew admitted, closing his eyes as he felt the caress of her breath against his skin. "It's a lonely feeling, wishing the woman in your arms was someone else. Not long before I left New York, I realized that every woman I'd been with in the past seven years had resembled you in some way. One would have your eyes, another your hands, or your hair…I thought I would spend the rest of my life searching for little reminders of you. I thought— "

Her mouth pressed against his, absorbing the raw confession. Her lips parted, and he needed no further invitation to kiss her, the gentle ingress of his tongue deepening until he had taken her mouth fully. The soft shapes of her breasts brushed against his chest with every inhalation.

He lowered Daisy to her back, catching the hem of her nightgown and drawing it upward. She helped him to remove the garment, wriggling a little to slide it over her head. The grace of the movement sent his pulse firing through his overheated veins. She lay naked before him, her far-spreading blush overlaid with a spill of candleglow, her limbs drawn modestly tight against her body. He drank in the sight of her while he stripped off his own clothes.

Laying beside her, Matthew devoted himself to teasing away her shyness. He caressed her shoulders, her throat, the vulnerable wing of her collarbone. Gradually the heat of his skin transferred to the coolness of hers, her flesh seeming to ignite beneath his patient touch. Gasping, she twined her supple body around his, and he hushed her with his mouth, whispering that the windows were open and she must be quiet.

His lips seared a leisurely path to her breasts, catching at the soft peaks until they tightened against his mouth. Hearing the constricted sounds she made, he smiled and drew his tongue lightly around her nipple. He played with her until she clenched her hand over her own mouth, panting.

Finally Daisy twisted away and buried a tormented groan in the bedclothes. "I can't," she whispered, shivering. "I can't keep quiet."

Matthew laughed softly and kissed the center of her spine. "But I'm not going to stop," he murmured, flipping her back over. "And think of the trouble it will cause if we're caught."

"Matthew, please— "

"Hush." He let his mouth wander over her body without constraint, kissing, biting tenderly, until she twisted in restless confusion. At times she rolled away, her slender fingers digging into the mattress like cat's claws. He coaxed her onto her back each time, whispering endearments and promises, giving her his mouth to quiet her, his gently playful fingers to fill and soothe her swollen flesh. When she was taut in every limb and her skin gleamed with perspiration, Matthew finally settled between her shaking thighs.

Her body tensed as she felt the hardness of him easing intimately inside her…and then she moaned and flushed as he searched for the right rhythm. He knew he had found it when her knees hitched upward, instinctively clamping his hips.

"Yes, hold me…" Matthew whispered, stroking her over and over again, while her inner muscles began to throb violently. He had never known such ecstasy, thrusting in her exquisite tightness, rooting himself deeper as she jerked helplessly upward into the weight of his body. He followed her every movement, giving her what she needed, both of them intent on her pleasure.

Daisy covered her mouth with her hand once more, her eyes widening. Gripping her wrist, Matthew pulled her hand away and opened her mouth with his own, and plundered her deeply with his tongue. Her violent shudders pulled him into climax, eliciting a low groan from his chest as he came in hard, soul-wrenching quivers.

When the last ripples had eased, Matthew was overcome with a lethargy more consuming than any he had ever known. Only the thought of crushing Daisy was enough to prod him to roll onto his side. She made a disgruntled sound and reached for him, seeking the warmth of his body. He moved to help her, cradling her head in the crook of his arm, and somehow managed to drag the disheveled bedclothes over them both.

The temptation to sleep was overwhelming, but Matthew didn't dare allow himself. He didn't trust himself to awaken before the maid came to light the grate in the morning. He was far too replete, and the feel of Daisy's small form snuggled against his was too tempting to resist.

"I have to leave," he whispered against her hair.

"No, stay." Her face turned, her lips nuzzling the bare skin of his chest. "Stay all night. Stay forever."

He smiled and kissed her temple. "I would. But somehow I think your family would take exception to my debauching you before we were properly betrothed."

"I don't feel debauched."

"I do," Matthew said.

Daisy smiled. "I'd better marry you, then." Her small hand moved over his body in tentative exploration. "Ironically," she commented, "this will be the first time I've ever done anything to please my father."

With a sympathetic murmur, Matthew gathered Daisy close against him. He knew her father as well as anyone, having become well acquainted with the man's tempers, his self-absorption, his impossible standards. And yet he understood what it had required for Bowman to build a great fortune from scratch, the sacrifices he'd had to make. Bowman had discarded everything that would have gotten in the way of achieving his goals. Including closeness with his wife and children.

For the first time it occurred to Matthew that Bowman and his family would benefit from someone acting as a mediator, to ease their communications with each other. If such a thing were in his power, he would find a way to do it.

"You," he whispered in Daisy's hair, "are the best thing he's ever done. Someday he'll realize that."

He felt her smile against his skin. "I doubt it. But it's nice of you to say so. You don't have to be concerned on that account, you know. I reconciled myself to the way he was a long time ago."

Once again Matthew was taken unaware by the extent of the feelings she inspired in him, his own limitless desire to fill her with happiness.

"Whatever you need," he whispered, "Whatever you want, I'll get it for you. Just tell me."

Daisy stretched comfortably, a pleasant shiver running through her limbs. She touched his lips with her fingers, tracing the smoothness. "I want to know what your five-dollar wish was for."

"Is that all?" He smiled beneath her exploring fingertips. "I wished you would find someone who wanted you as much as I did. But I knew it wouldn't come true."

The candlelight slid over Daisy's delicate features as she raised her head to look at him. "Why not?"