Patience (10 page)

“Does your sister take marmalade or jam on her scones?”

Passion smiled softly. “Marmalade.”

“There you are, Hawkmore.” Lord Rivers approached on his cane and bent to place a kiss over Passion’s hand. “Lady Langley, you are Aphrodite incarnate.”

Passion smiled at the aging lord. “My thanks, Lord Rivers. Are you enjoying yourself? Is there anything I can have brought for you?”

“Not at all, my lady. I merely came to thank Hawkmore, here, for taking care of me in the card room.”

Passion glanced at Matthew. “I believe my brother-in-law may be particularly well suited to taking care of people, Lord Rivers.”

“Well, he did a fine job of it by me. Were it not for you, Hawkmore, I would likely be sprawled in several pieces upon the card room floor.”

“Oh dear, was there a scuffle over cards?”

Lord Rivers put out a reassuring hand. “Only a small one.”

Passion frowned and looked the elderly man over. “Well, gracious, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. I’m quite well. You should have no concerns. Your husband has deftly removed the troublesome influence.”

“Ah”—Passion turned to Matthew—“the vermin?”

Matthew nodded and glanced again at the stairs. “The very vermin.”

Lord Rivers chuckled. “That’s quite funny. The very vermin. He
is
rather verminlike, after all.” He wiggled his arthritic fingers by his cheek to indicate whiskers. “What with that moustache of his.”

Passion’s brow creased curiously as she laughed.

“The Earl of Danforth,” Matthew informed her. “I’m certain your husband will request that you strike him from your guest list.”

“Oh! Well, if you’ll both excuse me, I should go distract our guests from the situation. Good evening.”

As Passion left, Lord Rivers turned to Matthew. “Such a lovely lady. But listen, my boy. That was a fair game, and I want to be sure your winnings are accounted for. There are several lords willing to sign as witnesses to the legitimacy of the game and the bets. Why don’t you come with me and we shall note everything in the book so that nothing is forgotten.”

Matthew looked into the man’s watery blue eyes. If memory served he had been a widower for a very long time. His son had been killed in a riding accident or a carriage accident. Matthew couldn’t remember which.

With a sigh, he took one last look at the stairs. If Patience had gone, it didn’t matter how long he took. If she’d stayed, it also didn’t matter. For she must learn to await him, however long his business pressed him. And he must learn to attend to his business, no matter the temptation she presented.

Matthew turned back to Lord Rivers. “Let’s go, my lord.”

 

Perhaps she should go.

Patience turned onto her side and leaned against the pillows she had managed to push up against the headboard. As she moved, her clitoris quavered softly. Where she had suffered its sharp pulsations earlier and tried to restrain her movements, now she moved and shifted in order that she would feel it. Even dimmed, it was a persuasive reminder of why she should stay.

Besides, the truth was she wanted to stay. So why entertain thoughts of leaving? Simply because she thought she should? Who determined “should,” anyway?

She sighed. The slack in the scarves allowed her to bend her arms and legs. Her arms rested on the pillow before her. She stared at her bound wrists. The white silk was snug, but not uncomfortable. Her hands lay relaxed, one atop the other. She suddenly realized that she found her bonds beautiful, and the longer she stared the more beautiful they appeared to her. But why?

She rocked her hips and closed her eyes as the gentle thrum of her clitoris whispered the answer. Because they contained her. Because they removed all decisions. Because she need do nothing but await the man who had put them there.

Matthew
.

Her heart fluttered as she thought of the way he looked at her. Dark and intense, his eyes seemed to capture her every emotion. He watched her carefully as he issued his demands. He studied her with rapt attention as he touched her body. He made her feel as if each response she experienced were important and essential to him.

Her clitoris throbbed.

It was almost as if . . .

. . . as if he needed her.

She stared at her lovely bonds, and a sensual languor enveloped her.

Where was he? What was he doing? Could he still be at the card tables?

She felt no anxiety for his return, no envy for his freedom. Indeed, as she pictured him moving through the crowded ballroom, she pulled her hands close and snuggled gratefully against the pillow. She need not dance with Lords Farnsby, Asher, and Danforth, and the endless list of other lords and gentlemen that had filled her dance card. She need not answer their questions or respond to their compliments. She need not smile. She need not laugh. She need not address them at all.

She closed her eyes and listened to the quiet stillness of the room.

She need only stay—stay and wait—for the one man who mattered.

SONG OF SOLOMON 2:3

 

 

 

 

Matthew walked purposefully toward the stairs.

Once he’d finished with Rivers, he’d been waylaid by Hillsborough, who had engaged him in an interesting but lengthy conversation about horse breeding. Because the man was a shareholder and a regular parliamentary vote for the railway, Matthew had exercised vigorous control over himself and let the conversation run its course.

Now, he was past his endurance. He wanted to go to Patience.

Had she stayed?

“I say, Hawkmore, good show at the gaming table this evening,” Farnsby called.

Matthew drew up short. He’d almost made it.
Patience.
He must have Patience.

“Blasted Danforth has owed me twenty pounds since June,” Farnsby said as he extended his hand. Matthew paused then extended his own. It was the first handshake he’d been offered since his fall. “I’ll be damned if I can get it out of him, though,” Farns - by continued.

Matthew flexed his sore knuckles. “Then I suppose I can expect trouble collecting the five thousand pounds he lost to me tonight.”

Farnsby raised his brows. “Well, yes. Quite right.”

“I’ll tell you what, Farnsby.” Matthew pulled out his watch. It was almost two in the morning. “When I collect my money, I’ll try to get yours as well.”

“Why, that’s bloody stand-upish of you, Hawkmore. Say, why don’t you join Asher and me for the hunt?”

Matthew paused. Farnsby was a considerable comedown from his old crowd. But it was the first invitation he’d received in a long while. “My thanks, Farnsby, but I’m uncertain if I shall attend.”

“Well, I hope you do. Evening, Hawkmore.”

Matthew nodded. “Good evening.”

He waited only a moment before turning for the stairs. Though his pulse quickened and his cock throbbed, he forced himself not to hurry. The discipline was for him. For mastering Patience would take immeasurable restraint.

So he took one step at a time—slowly and deliberately. And as he ascended, he summoned the feel of Patience’s lush red hair, the sight of her verdant eyes, and the smell of gardenias that clung to her. He thought of her long shapely legs and the feel of her wet, swollen clitoris.

Each new thought urged him to hurry. Each new thought made him harder. But, still, he kept a strict control over his pace, neither quickening nor slowing. The press of his trousers against his erection tortured the sensitive head of his cock, but he suffered it.

He must suffer it—for she would need him to be strong and unassailable.

He followed the path to his room, flexing his sore hand along the way as he thought of all the ways he would bring her into submission.

When he finally approached his door, a rush of unstoppable anxiety surged through him. He squelched it angrily. She would be there, obedient and waiting.
She must be.

Rather than try the handle, he shoved the key in the lock and turned the latch. He didn’t pause to register whether it clicked or not. He simply opened the door.

Leaning on her side against a bolster of pillows, her back was to him—but she was there.

As he took several deep breaths, his anger was replaced with a fierce, yet calm supremacy. He’d been right about her.

Closing the door quietly, he removed his jacket before crossing to put another log carefully upon the grate. Untying his cravat, he approached the bed. Her thick red hair fell down her back in a mass of curls. In the flickering light, it looked like liquid fire, and her skin glowed with pale luminosity.

Slipping off his shoes and shrugging out of his vest, he let his eye follow the line of her body from her smooth shoulder, to her corseted waist and hip, and then down her long bare leg. He paused to appreciate her rounded bottom, and his cock throbbed as he remembered the firm, resilient feel of it. How incredibly beautiful it would look reddened by a hard spanking.

Removing the studs from his shirt, he walked around the bed and lit the bedside lamp. His chest tightened as the soft glow encompassed Patience. A taut little curl fell over her brow and her long lashes fluttered in her sleep. Her cheeks were pale, but her full, lovely lips were pink and parted. And resting before her lay her hands, one upon the other and still bound tightly together.

Matthew shook his head. She was so exquisite that it almost hurt to look at her.

He stroked the tips of his fingers gently against hers. What kind of idiot could ever reject her? And what the hell had happened to make her forego love and marriage altogether? He wanted to know everything. But first he must prove himself worthy of her trust—her complete trust.

Picking up the decanter from the table, he poured a healthy draught of brandy into a snifter. He sipped it as he continued to study her. In repose, there was a tender vulnerability to her beauty that was absent when she was animated. Though, earlier, he’d glimpsed a brief show of it in her tear-filled eyes.

His cock pulsed as he sat carefully beside her. He would unveil that vulnerability, and then he would teach her to embrace it. His heart thumped. Once he accomplished that, he would have her trust—and more.

Bending slowly, he brushed his lips against hers before slipping his tongue into her mouth.

He could tell the moment she awoke. She stiffened briefly and then she relaxed with a gasp. Her mouth opened wider and her body leaned against him. Matthew moaned as he pushed his tongue deeper and drew upon her breath. She tasted so sweet.

He swept his tongue along her lower lip then spoke against her mouth. “Wake, my sleeping beauty. You awaited me, just as I instructed, and I am very pleased with you.” He kissed her again then withdrew to look at her.

Her large green eyes reflected want. That was good.

He offered her a sip of the brandy and watched her throat move as she swallowed. He took a sip himself before slipping his fingers over her mount to rub her. “Was it difficult—waiting?”

She squirmed a little and a flush rose to her cheeks as he explored her soft folds. “Yes,” she breathed. “And no.”

Earlier, he’d noticed that her clitoris had felt slightly larger than those of most of the women he’d “known.” Now it seemed smaller, but as he drew moisture from between her legs and rubbed it, it seemed to grow again. “How yes? And how no?”

Patience gasped and tilted her hips. “Yes, because I couldn’t touch myself. And because, at first, I was angry with you for leaving me.” Her hips rocked.

He rubbed more firmly. “And no?”

She shuddered. “And no, because . . . Because, I wanted to stay—and after a while, I was grateful.”

“Ah.” Her clitoris felt plump and full. Matthew’s cock throbbed. Such a juicy bud would be impossible for her to hide, either from pleasure or punishment. “It’s very good that you felt gratitude. That’s an excellent beginning. Now,” he said, continuing to rub her slowly, “just as earlier, you must always strive to do exactly as I tell you.”

A flicker of pride flashed behind the desire in her eyes. “Why?”

He immediately removed his hand from between her legs. It was a small punishment, and only the beginning. “Because that will please me. And if I am pleased, then you shall be pleased.”

Patience glanced at his hand and her hips lifted toward him.

He moved his hand to his cock and began to stroke himself through his trousers. His blood surged but he kept his voice even. “Does that sound unfair to you?”

She bit her lip and rocked onto her side for a moment as she watched him. A frown creased her brow. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

“I’ll tell you why it isn’t.” He allowed himself a short exhalation of air as he squeezed the tip of his aching prick. Patience pulled at her bonds and lifted her hips, but he ignored her silent plea. “It isn’t unfair because everything I do, including deny you, shall be for your benefit. I
will
exert my authority over you. But that authority exists to serve you, and you must remember that when submitting becomes difficult.” He could see the battle that raged between her pride and her desire. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“When you were gone, it seemed easy. I wanted to submit.” She looked at him so earnestly, so honestly. His heart thumped. “Only now that you’re here and the moment is upon me, I feel uncertain. I feel as if I should resent what you say. But for some reason, I don’t. This troubles me.” Her eyes glistened. “And despite these emotions, I feel like I might die if you don’t touch me. In fact, I’m sure that I would do almost anything to win your touch. Yet, knowing that only tortures me all the more.”