Matilda's Freedom (9 page)

‘Are you mad?’ Kit wanted to grab hold of her and shake her, and he felt his fists clench tightly at his sides. If she had been a man, he would have flattened her with a single punch.

Matilda laughed up him. ‘She’s perfectly alright, Kit. We were just cooling off and playing in the water. Beth wanted to try and swim.’ The calm amusement on her face did little to improve his anger. He had the distinct impression he was being made the butt of some incomprehensible joke, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

‘Do you really think cavorting around in the water in broad daylight, in front of God only knows who, is the correct way for a young lady—’

She raised one of her arched brows at him, her eyes opened wide. Kit’s words died on his lips as a spasm of arousal coursed through his body.

‘Kit, calm down. She’s perfectly fine. We are all fine. I would have thought that learning to swim and being comfortable in the water would be an important skill, seeing as your home is surrounded by creeks and brooks.’

‘Harrumph!’ Kit’s disgruntled snort took him by surprise. He sounded exactly like his mother.

Heaven forbid.

Throwing Matilda a disparaging look, he waded through the water to the bank, placing each foot carefully to avoid the small rocks that littered the creek bed.

‘Oh, Kit, that was such fun,’ Beth’s excited voice greeted him. ‘Why haven’t we ever been swimming before?’

‘Don’t you dare tell your mother what you’ve been up to this afternoon. She’ll have a fit of apoplexy.’

‘What mother doesn’t know won’t harm her.’

Kit looked across at Hannah, trying his very best to stop his mouth from gaping open. A brilliant smile was lighting her face, and her eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm he hadn’t ever seen before.

What had Matilda done to these two girls? The woman was a witch. She had thrown some sort of spell over them both and had turned the two submissive, mindless china dolls into opinionated women. He stifled a second mother-like noise that threatened to erupt from his lips and settled his hands on his hips.

Kit couldn’t resist turning his gaze to Matilda. Her face was bright with laughter and her blue, blue eyes sparkled. She grinned at him and threw a wink. Then he made his mistake—his eyes began to travel down her bronzed neck to where the copper disc lay nestled between the rising swell of her breasts. Her taut nipples were thrust against the cotton of her shirt, and with surprise, he realised that he was not the only one aroused by their close proximity.

A rosy blush tinted her cheeks. She lifted her chin as if challenging him. ‘Please don’t play games with me,’ she said softly. ‘Your mother thinks little enough of me as it is. I have my position to consider, and I cannot afford to lose this opportunity.’

Her whispered words sank into his consciousness and doused Kit’s passion far more effectively than the cold water ever could. He nodded curtly, dragging his gaze over to his sisters.

Kit cleared his throat. ‘Right, young ladies. Now what are we going to do? The four of us can hardly return to the house looking like a bunch of drowned rats. Matilda, you seem to be the authority on this kind of behaviour. What do you recommend?’

‘Well, if you would like to leave, I think we ladies will remove our clothing. Given an hour in this warm breeze, we will be sufficiently dry and respectable enough to return to the house without causing too much of an uproar.’

Kit forced himself to ignore the prospect of clothing being removed and clung tightly to his annoyance. Matilda lifted her arms and held the dripping blanket of her hair back from her face. His breath caught. A glimpse of the pale, creamy skin behind her ear—where the sun could not reach—was unimaginably enticing. His breath tangled as he envisioned kissing that tender spot and running his tongue around the shell-like whorl of her ear.

‘I think the only person who is going to have a problem with this is you,’ Matilda said. Her eyes ran down his body, taking in his sodden waistcoat, breeches, and saturated leather boots.

Kit closed his eyes in frustration—the wretched woman was right. She and Beth had possessed enough foresight to remove their boots and hats; he would be the one wetly tiptoeing into the house like an errant thief, not them.

Damn her.

Straightening his shoulders, he adopted what he hoped was a supercilious expression. ‘In that case, I will leave you ladies to your
toilette
and see you back at the house.’ Kit strode off, hoping against hope they couldn’t hear the squelching in his boots, but the ripple of feminine giggles that followed showed that his hope had been simply wishful thinking.

Kit couldn’t help but wonder what his mother would have thought of her daughters’ escapades. He could remember a time in his childhood when keeping up appearances had not been as important as displaying affection. Then Barclay had appeared on the scene, and life had changed. He’d always thought that had been for the better, but suddenly he wasn’t quite so sure. Once his mother had married Barclay, Kit’s life had very much become a case of being seen and not heard, and he had been locked away—buried in an avalanche of education. Laughter and simple, good fun had been pushed aside.

Not that he had minded at the time, but from then on, he rarely instigated a conversation with his elders and only answered the occasional question about his day in the most polite and monosyllabic manner he could. It was only when he had expressed an interest in the property and John Portus’ inventions that he and Barclay had struck up their friendship. From that time on, he’d come to see his stepfather in a different light.

Truth be known, that had probably been around the time Beth had been born. Barclay had so wanted a son and heir, and yet that was something his wife had been unable to provide. Kit had unknowingly stepped into the breach.

Today, that mantle of responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders, but living with Matilda made him wonder if responsibility had to be such an onerous task.

Pushing his still damp hair back off his forehead, Kit lowered himself onto the seat outside the kitchen door and pulled one boot slowly off. He upended it, pouring a stream of water onto the herb patch Bonnie so lovingly tended.

He couldn’t help but grin at how frustrated he had been down at the creek. Matilda had made him look like a fool. The mere sight of her had sent all rational thought skidding from his brain. It was enough to drive a man insane.

Kit pulled off his second boot and flung it across the path. What was it about her? He felt as if she had entrapped him in the fine, silken strands of her hair and was winding him in, pulling him closer and closer to her luscious lips. He rubbed his palms together and imagined the feel of his fingers on her skin.

Dropping his head into his hands, he let out a loud and painful groan. What was he going to do?

‘Mr Christopher … can I help you?’ He looked up into Bonnie’s concerned face and blinked.

‘Can you help?’

No, he didn’t think so. No other woman could help him at this precise moment. ‘Bonnie. No I’m—’

‘You’re very wet. Let me get you a towel.’ Wet. Yes, he was. He had forgotten, and now the whole household would know that he had appeared at the back door, dripping wet like some misbehaved puppy. He took the towel Bonnie held out to him and started rubbing himself down.

‘Did you have a fall? Are you hurt?’

Kit had fallen, and fallen badly. He felt the kind of lusty rage he remembered from his younger years—a total incapacity to control his emotions. When had he ever wanted a woman so much? He had hardly abstained while he was in Europe, but somehow this was different. Matilda was different.

She had got under his skin and into his blood, and now his desire smouldered and burned like a brand.

‘No. I haven’t fallen or hurt myself. I, uhh, slipped down the side of the creek bank and ended up in the water.’ Not
exactly
an untruth. Hopefully, Bonnie would leave it there and not ask any more questions.

‘Did you see Matilda and the girls while you were out? Mrs Barclay was looking for them. They said they were going to go down to the creek to see if it was any cooler down there.’

His body glowed like a furnace. Was she
trying
to thoroughly humiliate him?

Kit jumped up. ‘No, Bonnie, I am perfectly alright. And, no, I didn’t see the girls, or Matilda.’

Certainly not as much of Matilda as I would have liked.

‘If you will excuse me, I shall go to my room and change. I don’t wish to delay you. I’ll presume that dinner is at the normal time.’ He spun on his heel, forgetting the fact he had removed his boots and stubbed his toe on the boot scraper. He swore loudly and pushed aside Bonnie’s outstretched hand.

‘Excuse me.’

Women.
They were the bane of his existence.

Kit stomped into the house without a backward glance.

Matilda led the girls back across the paddock. Her hair streamed out behind her, drying in the wind as they cantered through the long grass. She let out a whoop of excitement, and Beth and Hannah followed suit as they chased each other like banshees across the green paddock. She prayed that the last traces of their adventure in the creek would vanish by the time they reached the house, and certainly before they encountered Mrs Barclay.

For the first time since the fire and her father’s death, it felt like a weight had truly lifted from her heart. It had been replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and optimism as she had finally broken down the barriers between her and the girls. Everything, just everything, was falling into place, and she was surprised to realise that she was happy—truly happy.

Pure heaven.

Beth flew past her with a yell, the short legs of her pony hammering the hard ground. ‘I’ve won. I’m back first!’ She reined her pony in and slithered to the ground.

Matilda slowed her buckskin mare to a walk and glanced over her shoulder. Surprisingly, Hannah was only a few yards behind. The cabbage palm hat was pushed hard down on her head, and her face was red with exertion. As her horse ground to a halt, she dismounted with a leap that would have done a stockman proud.

‘That was the best ride! The best afternoon, in fact. Thank you so much, Matilda. I can’t wait to tell Mother what fun …’ Her words petered out as Matilda’s eyes grew wide and her eyebrows rose.

‘As much as I feel I should discourage you two from lying,’ she said, slipping her arm across the younger girl’s shoulder and pulled her close, ‘it would be more appropriate for you to refrain from giving your mother too many details about this afternoon.’

Hannah giggled. ‘Oops. Yes, it wouldn’t be a very good idea, would it? “Mother, we had so much fun down by the creek that we took half our clothes off and went in the water. Then Beth nearly drowned, and Kit fell down the bank trying to rescue her because he was making puppy dog eyes at Matilda.”’

‘Hannah Barclay!’ Matilda tried to ignore the blush covering her face.

‘Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us,’ Hannah said, assuring her with a lewd wink.

‘We think he’s very handsome too, even if he is our brother,’ Beth added, giving her a quick squeeze.

Matilda shook her head slowly. She wasn’t exactly sure what puppy dog eyes were, but she did know that she and Kit had crossed some invisible line this afternoon. Her body glowed at the memory of his searing gaze, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the bubble of happiness lodged below her breast had more to do with him than with the sunshine and freedom of the day. ‘Come on, girls. We need to go and make ourselves presentable before dinner.’

‘I think you better fasten your hair before we go inside, Matilda,’ Hannah said. ‘You look far too alluring like that.’

Alluring? What in heaven’s name had the child been reading?

Matilda held the tartan dress up against her body and then threw it down on the bed. As much as she appreciated the Bainbridge’s gift, she was getting a little tired of wearing it every evening and having to put up with the look of disdain on Mrs Barclay’s face.

What she wouldn’t give for something else, something a little more attractive.

Heavens, not even more attractive—just different.

Kit must also be bored with the sight of her in the same old … What was the matter with her? She pulled herself up and stared into the hand mirror. This was the most beautiful dress she had ever owned, even if it had once belonged to someone else.

Be thankful
.

Matilda knew she should count her blessings. She had somewhere to live, a position she was at last finding pleasure in—and, of course, there was Kit. She felt a warm glow begin to suffuse her skin at the mere thought of him. Pushing her hair back from her face, she peered more closely into the mirror.

Her eyes twinkled.

Yes, from now on she would be thankful.

Stepping into the dress, she fastened her hair and then made her way downstairs. As Matilda reached the dining room, the sound of voices wafted down the passageway, and she realised she must be late for dinner. Everyone would be seated, waiting for her.

Mrs Barclay’s fingernails drummed incessantly on the tablecloth and the girls failed to meet her gaze as she entered.

Kit, however, leapt to his feet and pulled out her chair.

‘Please forgive me for keeping you waiting,’ she said, smiling what she knew was a wasted apology at Mrs Barclay.

Kit seated her and then settled down in the chair between Matilda and his mother. Beth’s mouth tilted into a half-smile, and Matilda prayed she wouldn’t comment about the rearranged placing. Quite who had instigated it she wasn’t sure, but she found sitting next to Kit quite disconcerting. The heat of his body radiated against her skin, and she could smell his subtle scent—bergamot and soap. He had obviously washed away the evidence of his afternoon excursion.

‘We will forgive you
this time
, Matilda,’ Mrs Barclay said, ‘but please refrain from making a habit of being late. It sets a dreadful example for my girls.’ She bestowed a benevolent smile on her two daughters and turned to Kit.