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Ezekiel rose to his feet. “I can’t say anymore. He’ll be furious as it is. But, to answer your question, miss, he’s not a bad man. He just can’t get over the grief of losing her. He won’t let us even say her name.”
“What was her name?”
“Marie.” The answer came not from Ezekiel’s lips, but Matthew’s.
She looked over her shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, the low sunlight behind him, his figure a silhouette. He turned on his heel and walked away. Dara chased after him.
“Please, Matthew, talk to me. I didn’t mean to upset you; I just want to understand you better.”
He strode ahead, his long strides preventing her from catching up with him until he reached the interior of the cottage. His coat was saturated with rain, his hair wet and spiky, the cap gone.
“There’s nothing to understand,” he said gruffly. “I expect Ezekiel has told you all you need to know.”
“Please don’t be cross with him,” she pleaded. “He only told me the bare bones. Will you not tell me yourself?”
“No!”
She had lost him. There was no point in arguing further. “I’ll get my saddlebag—”
“No,” he repeated, but without the hard edge of anger. “Don’t go.”
“I cannot see any reason to stay. I shall go back to Willowby Hall and await my husband’s return.” She spoke without joy at the prospect of living again in the lonely hall with her cold husband.
Matthew sighed. He removed his damp overcoat and hung it back on the hook by the door. She waited, knowing he was collecting his thoughts. He slumped into the rocking chair, his eyelids burdened with a heaviness she had never seen before. She perched on the stool.
“I loved her. Her sweet face. Her merry laughter. I gave her hope again after she’d lost so much faith in the world. I bedded her, married her, and she was as meek as any wife might be. She taught me patience at first, because I wasn’t prepared for the passion, the strength of my urges. Her love of poetry came from her heart, but what she gifted me was her body and all that I desired from it, things that men can only dream about. She’d no qualms about doing things that many maids would find strange and unnatural. We played, many nights up there, at games until we were ready for a child.”
“Ezekiel said she died giving birth.”
“They both died on the same day. The baby came too early.” The colour slipped out of his face. For a while, they were both silent. There was more he could tell her, but now was not the time to ask about money or his education.
Finally, Dara spoke. “Thank you for telling me. I won’t speak of her again, if that is what you wish. But now I know why it is you want nothing from me but my body, not even a child, which I’d be willing give you. Your heart is living with another’s memory.”
He flinched. A slight bodily movement, but she saw it. The poor light barely revealed his face, the fine structure of his cheekbones and the contours of his nose and chin. She was familiar with all those features, and the thought of never looking on them again would bring her hardship. However, that was what she must do when she left his side. She started to rise to her feet.
He shot out his arm and snatched at her wrist. “My heart has changed,” he said simply. “It’s finding a new place to live.”
She felt the flurry of butterflies in her stomach. “I can’t stay here forever; I have to honour my vows,” she reminded him. “It will only break both of our hearts to fall in love.”
“Aye,” he said with emphasis. He squeezed her hand. “Stay for now, not because of our arrangement, but because you wish to. Let’s not ruin what little time we have left with anger and misgivings. I’m not a man who speaks of things of the heart, or the past. I live here and now. That’s the farmer’s way. I live with the seasons.”
Their agreement had lost its original purpose. Returning to her husband, and making use of what Matthew had taught her, was no longer her goal. She would rather Lord Coleman continued to pay her no interest and abstained from his marital duties. Matthew, likewise, would not wish for her to be bedded by him. What little time she had left with Matthew was precious. She trailed her other hand down her front; finding the lace of her dress, slowly she tugged on the loose end.
“Let me be your summer until the autumn comes, and I must away.”
The gown slipped off her shoulders. Matthew rose to his full height and let go of her hand. He stooped, brought his lips to meet her upturned mouth. The kiss was hard, passionate, the kind she hoped a husband might bring to the bedroom. She bent under him and relied on his enveloping arms to keep her from falling. The gown reached her waist, revealing her bodice. With nimble fingers, he plucked at the laces. The undressing continued while they kissed.
He carried her to the bed and lowered her, letting her lie on her back. He undressed, exposing every hardened muscle and the rigid line of his cock. There was little else to see given the poor light. However, she needed no sight to know him. She used her hands and lips to explore his body, and he replied in a similar fashion, grazing his fingers down her waist and between her legs, kissing her throat and breasts. With her legs spread and knees bent, she was aligned to his body and prepared.
Matthew’s thrust was accompanied by a deep groan. He arched his back, driving himself as deep as he could go. She did not mind the pain of his spearing, the friction that greeted his arrival. She longed for that kind of pleasure. He withdrew and rested his cock on her mound.
“Again,” she whispered.
He kissed her first, another lengthy indulgence, then he entered her again with an equal measure of force. She closed her eyes, tipped her chin up, and offered him her surrender. Matthew took it, accepting her unspoken request with an urgency she had come to love. He grasped both of her wrists above her head and pinned her down; his cock was buried to the hilt, his breathing heavy and rapid. She matched him with her own, panting as he exerted himself.
The strokes of his cock were steady and metered like the chimes of a clock. Each one knocked the breath out of her lungs and was designed to remind her that she yielded for his pleasure, and hers was born out of that compliance. She came ferociously, her hips bucking against him, her quim clenching his cock in a vain attempt at trapping him inside of her.
“Yes, my beauty,” he said huskily. “You’ll not be free of me, yet. I’ll claim you like this every day.”
