Scandal in Spring (13 page)

"Because I didn't put your name into the hat!"

He made his face unreadable. "Obviously someone did," he said, and jerked his arm from her clutches.

A nervous hush fell over the room as Matthew approached Daisy, and then excited titters scattered through the group. Daisy controlled her expression admirably, but there was a frantic riot of color on her face. Her slender body was as tense as a bowstring. She forced a careless smile on her lips. Matthew could see the violent pulse in her throat. He wanted to put his mouth on that visible throb and stroke it with his tongue.

Stopping in front of her, he held her gaze, trying to read her thoughts.

Just who held the upper hand in this situation?

Ostensibly he did…but Daisy was the one who had called his name.

She had chosen him.
Why?

"I heard you during the game," Daisy said, so softly that no one else could make out the words. "You sounded like a cow with digestive problems."

"Judging from the results, my cow was better than Llandrindon's cricket," Matthew pointed out.

"He didn't sound at all like a cricket. He sounded as if he were clearing phlegm from his throat."

Matthew sternly choked back a sudden laugh. She looked so annoyed and adorable that it was all he could do not to snatch her against him. Instead he said, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

He wished Daisy wouldn't blush so hard. Her fair coloring made it even more apparent, her cheeks like scarlet poppies.

There was a collective intake of breath from the group as Matthew stepped closer until their bodies were nearly touching. Daisy's head fell back, her eyes closing, her lips slightly pursed. Reaching for her hand, Matthew lifted it to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the backs of her fingers.

Daisy's eyes snapped open. She looked stunned.

More laughter from the group, and a few playfully chiding cries.

After trading a few good-natured quips with some of the gentlemen, Matthew turned to Daisy and said in a pleasant but decisive tone, "You had mentioned earlier, Miss Bowman, that you wanted to look in on your sister at this time. May I escort you to her?"

"But you can't leave!" Cassandra Leighton exclaimed from the back of the room. "We've only just begun!"

"No, thank you," Daisy told Matthew. "I'm certain my sister can wait a bit longer while I enjoy myself here."

Matthew gave her a hard, penetrating glance. He saw from the sudden change in her expression that she understood.

He was calling in the favor.

Leave with me now,
his gaze commanded,
and no arguing.

He saw also that Daisy wanted badly to refuse him, but her own sense of honor would not allow that. A debt was a debt.

Daisy swallowed hard. "On the other hand…" She nearly choked on the words. "…I did promise to sit with my sister while she had her tea."

Matthew presented his arm to her. "At your service, Miss Bowman."

There were a few protests, but by the time they had crossed the threshold, the group was busy organizing another game. God knew what minor scandals were brewing in the parlor. As long as neither himself nor Daisy was involved, Matthew didn't give a damn.

Daisy snatched her hand away from his arm as soon as they entered the hallway. They proceeded several yards and came to the open doorway of the library. Seeing that it was empty, Daisy charged into the room without a word.

Matthew went in after her and closed the door for privacy. It wasn't proper, but neither was brawling in the hallway.

"Why did you do that?" Daisy demanded, rounding on him immediately.

"Take you away from the games?" Disconcerted, Matthew adopted a censorious tone. "You shouldn't have been there, and you know it."

Daisy was so furious that her dark eyes seemed to be shooting sparks. "Where should I have been, Mr. Swift? Reading alone in the library?"

"That would have been preferable to causing a scandal."

"No it wouldn't have. I was exactly where I belonged, doing exactly what everyone else was doing, and everything was just fine until you ruined it!"

"I?" Matthew couldn't believe his ears. "
I
ruined the evening for you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

She glared at him accusingly. "You didn't kiss me."

"I…" Caught off-guard, Matthew stared at her in bewilderment. "I did kiss you."

"On the hand," Daisy said scornfully, "which means absolutely nothing."

Matthew wasn't certain how he had been so abruptly derailed from self-righteous superiority to affronted protest. "You should be grateful."

"For what?"

"Isn't it obvious? I saved your reputation."

"If you had kissed me," Daisy retorted, "it could only have improved my reputation. But you rejected me publicly, which means Llandrindon and Mardling and all the rest know there is something wrong with me."

"I didn't reject you."

"It certainly felt like rejection, you cad!"

"I am not a cad. If I had kissed you in public,
then
I would be a cad." Matthew paused before adding in baffled irritation, "And there is nothing wrong with you. Why the devil would you say that?"

"I'm a wallflower. No one ever wants to kiss me."

This was too much. Daisy Bowman was furious because he hadn't done the thing he had craved and dreamed of for years of his life. He had behaved
honorably,
damn it all, and instead of being appreciative she was angry.

"…am I that undesirable?" Daisy was ranting. "Would it have been
so
disagreeable?"

He wanted her for so long. He had reminded himself a thousand times of all the reasons he could never have her. And it had been a hell of a lot easier to bear knowing she detested him and there was no reason to hope. But the possibility that her feelings might have changed, that she might want him in return, filled him with a dizzying thrill.

Another minute of this and he would become unhinged.

"…don't know how to do whatever it is women are supposed to do to attract men," Daisy was saying irately. "And when I finally had a chance to gain a little experience, you— " She broke off and frowned as she saw his face. "Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"As if you're in pain."

Pain. Yes. The kind of pain a man felt when he had lusted after a certain woman for years and found himself alone with this woman and then had to endure her complaints that he hadn't kissed her when all he wanted was to tear her clothes off and have her right there on the floor.

She wanted experience? Matthew was ready to give her the experience of a lifetime. His body had become so unbearably hard that the brush of his trouser fabric was enough to make him wince. Struggling to control himself, he concentrated on breathing. Breathing. But there was only more arousal, until red mist had gathered at the edges of his vision.

He wasn't aware of reaching for her but suddenly his hands were on her, hooked just beneath her arms where the yellow satin was permeated with the warmth of her body. She was light and supple, like a cat…he could lift her so easily, pin her against the wall…

Daisy's dark eyes were wide and startled. "What are you doing?"

"I want the answer to one question," Matthew managed to say. "Why did you call my name in there?"

Emotions crossed her face in rapid succession…surprise, guilt, embarrassment. Every inch of exposed skin turned pink. "I don't know what you mean. Your name was on the paper. I had no choice but to— "

"You're lying," Matthew said tersely. His heart stopped as she refused to reply. She wasn't going to deny it. Her flush deepened to crimson. "My name wasn't on that paper," he continued with great effort. "But you said it anyway.
Why?
"

They both knew there could only be one reason. Matthew closed his eyes briefly. His pulse was so hot and fast that its reckless momentum stung the insides of his veins.

He heard Daisy's hesitant voice. "I just wanted to know what you…how you…I just wanted…"

This was temptation at its most brutal. Matthew tried to make himself let go of her, but his hands would not release the slim curves encased in yellow satin. It felt too good to hold her. He stared at her exquisite mouth, the subtle but delicious indentation in the center of her lower lip.
One kiss,
he thought desperately. Surely he could have at least that. But once he started…he wasn't certain he could stop.

"Daisy…" He tried to find words to defuse the situation, but it was difficult to speak coherently. "I'm going to tell your father…at the first opportunity…I can't marry you under any circumstances."

She still wouldn't look at him. "Why didn't you tell him so right away?"

Because he had wanted to make her notice him.

Because he had wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that the thing he had never dared to dream about was just within reach.

"I wanted to annoy you," he said.

"Well, you did!"

"But I never considered it seriously. I could never marry you."

"Because I'm a wallflower," she said sullenly.

"No. That's not— "

"I'm undesirable."

"Daisy, would you stop— "

"Not even worth a single kiss."

"All right,"
Matthew snapped, finally losing the grip on his sanity. "Damn it, you win. I'll kiss you."

"Why?"

"Because if I don't you'll never stop complaining about it."

"It's too late now! You should have kissed me back there in the parlor but you didn't, and now that you've doomed any chance I'll ever have of being kissed by anyone else, I'm not going to settle for some half-rate consolation prize."

"Half-rate?"

That had been a mistake. Matthew could see that Daisy realized it the instant she had said it.

She had just sealed her fate.

"I-I meant to say half-
hearted,
" she said breathlessly, trying to wriggle away from him. "It's obvious you don't want to kiss me and therefore— "

"You said half-
rate.
" He jerked her hard against him. "Which means now I have something to prove."

"No you don't," she said quickly. "Really. You don't— " She gave a little cry as he clamped one hand behind her neck, and all sound was muffled as he tugged her head to his.

Chapter 7

Matthew knew it was wrong the instant
their lips met. Because nothing would ever equal the perfection of Daisy in his arms. He was ruined for life. God help him, he didn't care.

Her mouth was soft and hot, like sunshine, like the white blaze of a heartwood fire. She gasped as he touched her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Slowly her hands came to his shoulders, and then he felt her fingers at the back of his head, sliding into his hair to keep him from pulling away. There wasn't a chance in hell of that happening. Nothing could have made him stop.

A tremor shook his fingers as he bracketed the exquisite line of her jaw in the open framework of his hand, gently angling her face upward. The flavor of her mouth, sweet and elusive, fueled a hunger that threatened to rage out of control…he searched the damp silk beyond her lips, deeper, harder, until she began to breathe in long sighs, her body molding against his.

He let her feel how much stronger he was, how much heavier, one muscular arm clamped along her back, his feet spread to hold her between the powerful length of his thighs. Her upper half was bound in a laced and padded corset. He was almost overcome by a savage desire to tear away the stays and quilting and find the tender flesh beneath.

Instead he sank his fingers into her pinned-up hair and tugged it backward until the weight of her head was cradled in his hand, and her pale throat was exposed. He searched for the pulse he had seen earlier, his lips dragging softly along the secret pathway of nerves beneath her skin. When he reached a senstive spot, he felt the vibration of her suppressed moan against his mouth.

This was what it would be like to make love to her, he thought dazedly…the sweet shivering of her flesh as he entered her, the delicate chaos of her breath, the helpless sounds that rustled in her throat. Her skin, warm and female, scented like tea and talcum and a trace of salt. He found her mouth again, opened it, delving into wet silk, heat, and an intimate flavor that drove him mad.

She should have struggled, but there was only yielding and more softness, driving him past all limits. He began to ravish her mouth with deep, twisting kisses, bringing her body rhythmically against his. He felt her legs part beneath her gown, his thigh fitting neatly between them. She squirmed with innocent desire, her face blooming with the color of late summer poppies. Had she understood exactly what he wanted from her, she would have done more than blush. She would have fainted on the spot.

Lifting his mouth from hers, Matthew pressed his jaw against the side of her head. "I think," he said raggedly, "this puts to rest any question of whether I find you desirable or not."

Daisy gathered the strength to twist around in his grasp until she faced away from him, staring blindly at the rows of leather-bound books before her. Her small hands braced on the mahogany shelf as she fought to control the turbulent pace of her breathing.

Matthew stood behind her, reaching around to cover her hands with his. The narrow framework of her shoulders went rigid against his chest as he searched for the tender ridge of her ear.

"Don't," she said thickly, straining away from him.

Matthew couldn't stop. Following the movement of her head, he nuzzled the downy curve of her neck. He released one of her hands to settle his palm on the exposed skin over her bodice, just above the rise of her breasts. Daisy's free hand came up to press his fingers harder against her chest, as if their combined efforts were necessary to restrain the pounding of her reckless heart.

Matthew tightened all his muscles against the overpowering urge to snatch her up and carry her to the nearby settee. He wanted to make love to her, to bury himself inside her until bitter memories had dissolved in her sweetness. But that chance had been stolen from him long before they had ever met.