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?”
“Because I knew no one could ever want you as much as I do.”
Daisy levered herself farther over him until her hair tumbled in a dark curtain around them both.
“What was your wish?” Matthew asked, combing his fingers through the fall of shimmering hair.
“That I could find the right man to marry.” Her te
nder smile stopped his heart. “And then you appeared.”
Chapter 15
After an unusually long sleep Matthew ventured downstairs. Servants were busy cleaning miles of stone-flagged, carpeted, or parqueted floors, while others trimmed lamps, replaced candlesticks, and polished the brasses.
As soon as Matthew approached the morning room, a maid offered to bring him a breakfast tray out to the back terrace if he so desired. Since it promised to be a beautiful day, Matthew accepted the offer readily.
Sitting at one of the outside tables, he watched the progress of a small brown hare hopping along the carefully tended grounds.
His quiet contemplation was interrupted by the sound of the french doors opening. Glancing up expectantly, Matthew saw that instead of the maid with the breakfast tray, it was the considerably less welcome sight of Lillian Bowman. He groaned inwardly, knowing at once that Westcliff had told her about his betrothal to Daisy.
However, it seemed the earl must have exerted some calming influence on his wife. Not that Lillian looked happy, of course…but Matthew took it as a good sign that she wasn’t approaching him with an ax in hand.
Yet.
Lillian made a motion for him to remain in his chair as she approached. He stood anyway.
Lillian’s face was set and her voice was controlled as she said, “There’s no need to look at me as if I were a descending plague of Egypt. I am capable of rational discourse on occasion. May I have a word with you?”
She sat before he could help her with the chair.
Regarding her warily, Matthew reoccupied his own chair and waited for her to speak. Despite the tension-fraught atmosphere, he almost smiled as he reflected he had often seen the same expression on Thomas Bowman’s face. Lillian was bullishly determined to have her way, yet she was mindful of the fact that a shouting match, no matter how satisfying, would accomplish nothing.
“You and I are both aware,” Lillian said with forced composure, “that even though I can’t stop this blighted marriage from happening, I can make the proceedings quite unpleasant for everyone. Especially you.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Matthew’s response was completely free of sarcasm. Whatever else he thought of Lillian, he knew her love for Daisy was unimpeachable.
“Then I want to dispense with the cat-footing,” Lillian said, “and have a man-to-man conversation.”
Matthew sternly bit back a smile. “Good,” he replied in an equally businesslike manner. “So do I.” He thought he could possibly come to like Lillian. If nothing else, one always knew where one stood with her.
“The only reason I’m willing to tolerate the idea of you as a brother-in-law,” Lillian continued, “is because my husband seems to think well of you. And I’m willing to take his opinion into consideration. Although he is not infallible.”
“That may be the first time I’ve heard anyone make such a remark about the earl.”
“Yes, well…” Lillian surprised him with a faint smile. “It’s why Westcliff married me. My willingness to regard him as a mere mortal is something of a relief after all the incessant worship.” Her dark eyes, rounder and less exotic than Daisy’s, met his in a searching gaze. “Westcliff asked me to try and be impartial. That’s not easy when my sister’s future hangs in the balance.”
“My lady,” Matthew said earnestly, “if I can give you any assurance that might set your mind at ease—”
“No. Wait. Let me set out my opinion of you first.”
Matthew remained politely silent.
“You have always embodied the worst of my father,” Lillian said. “The coldness, the ambition, the self-centeredness. Except you’re worse because you’re able to disguise it far more adeptly than he does. You’re what my father would have been if he’d been blessed with good looks and a little sophistication. I think that in winning you Daisy must somehow feel she has finally succeeded with Father.” Her brows came together as she continued. “My sister has always compelled to love unlovable creatures…the strays, the misfits. Once she loves someone, no matter how many times they betray or disappoint her, she will take them back with open arms. But you won’t appreciate that any more than Father does. You’ll take what you want, and give her very little in return. And when you inevitably hurt her, I will be the first in a line of people waiting to slaughter you. By the time I finish with you, there won’t be enough left for the others to pick over.”
“So much for impartiality,” Matthew said. He respected her brutal honesty even though he was smarting from it. “May I respond with the same frankness you’ve just shown me?”
“I hope you will.”
“My lady, you don’t know me well enough to assess how much like your father I may or may not be. It’s no crime to be ambitious, particularly when you’ve started with nothing. And I’m not cold, I’m from Boston. Which means I’m not prone to displaying my emotions for all and sundry to see. As far as being self-centered, you have no way of knowing how much I’ve done, if anything, for other people. But I’ll be damned if I recite a list of my past good deeds in hopes of winning your approval.” He leveled a cool stare at her. “Regardless of your opinions, the marriage is going to happen, because both Daisy and I want it. So I have no reason to lie to you. I could say I don’t give a damn about Daisy, and I would still get what I want. But the fact is, I’m in love with her. I have been for a long time.”
“You’ve been secretly in love with my sister for years?” Lillian asked with blistering skepticism. “How convenient.”
“I didn’t define it as ‘in love.’ All I knew was that I had a persistent, all-consuming…preference for her.”
“Preference?” Lillian looked momentarily outraged, and then she surprised him by laughing. “My God, you really are from Boston.”
“Believe it or not,” Matthew muttered, “I wouldn’t have chosen to feel this way about Daisy. It would have been far more convenient to find someone else. The devil knows I should be given some credit for being willing to take on the Bowmans as in-laws.”
“Touché.” Lillian continued to smile, leaning her chin on her hand as she stared at him. Suddenly her voice contained a delicately inquiring edge that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “I find it peculiar that a Boston Swift should use the phrase ‘starting with nothing’…Have I been mistaken all these years in believing you came from a well-to-do background?”
Damn it all, she was clever. Realizing he’d made a slip, Matthew replied smoothly. “The main branch of the Swifts is affluent. But I am one of the proverbial poor cousins, which is why I was obliged to take a profession.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “And would the affluent Swifts have allowed their poorer cousins to dwell in abject poverty, as you implied?”
“A slight exaggeration on my part,” Matthew said. “But I’m certain you won’t preoccupy yourself with it to the extent of missing the main point.”
“I believe I’ve managed to grasp your point, Mr. Swift.” Lillian vacated her chair, obliging him to rise to his feet. “One more thing. Do you believe Daisy would be happy if you took her back to live in New York?”
“No,” Matthew said quietly. He saw a flash of surprise in her eyes. “It’s obvious that you—and her friends—are essential to her happiness.”
“Then you…you would be willing to make a permanent home here? Even if my father objected?”
“Yes, if that’s what Daisy wants.” Matthew tried to control a sudden surge of annoyance, with limited results. “I’m not afraid of your father’s temper, my lady, nor am I a puppet on a string. The fact that I work for him doesn’t mean I’ve surrendered free will and the full use of my brain. I can find gainful employment in Britain whether or not I’m employed by Bowman Enterprises.”
“Mr. Swift,” Lillian said sincerely, “you don’t know how tempting it is for me to believe you.”
“And that means…?”
“I suppose it means I’ll try to be nicer to you.”
?
??Starting when?” he shot back.
One corner of her mouth tilted upward. “Next week, maybe.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Matthew muttered, resuming his seat as she left.
As expected, Mercedes Bowman received the news of Daisy’s betrothal to Matthew Swift with poor grace. Having made such a brilliant marriage for her first daughter, she had longed to do the same for her second. It mattered little to Mercedes that Matthew Swift would undoubtedly acquire a fortune developing business interests on two continents. It mattered even less that Daisy had found a man who seemed to understand and even delight in her eccentricities.
“Who cares if he’s good at making money?” Mercedes had grumbled to her daughters as they sat in the Marsden parlor. “Manhattanville was swarming with enterprising men who had large fortunes. Why did we come here if not to find a gentleman who stood for something more? I do wish, Daisy, that you might have been able to attract a man of refinement and breeding.”
Lillian, who was feeding the baby, replied in a sardonic tone. “Mother, if Daisy married the royal prince of Luxembourg it still wouldn’t change the fact that the Bowmans are from common stock, and Grandmother—Lord love her—was a dockside washwoman. This preoccupation with nobility is a bit excessive, isn’t it? Let’s put it to rest and try to be happy for Daisy.”
Indignation caused Mercedes to puff out her cheeks temporarily, causing her narrow face to resemble a set of inflated fireplace bellows. “You don’t like Mr. Swift any more than I do,” she retorted.
“No,” Lillian said frankly. “But much as I hate to admit it, that puts us in a minority. Swift is liked by everyone in the northern hemisphere, including Westcliff and his friends, my friends, the servants, the neighbors—”
“You are exaggerating—”
“—children, animals and the higher order of plants,” Lillian finished sardonically. “If root vegetables could talk, I’ve no doubt they would say they like him, too.”