Page 42 of What a Widow Wants

Fanny stood staring at the telltale foot until the door closed behind the lady. Dear Lord, what must she think of her? Not that she even had to ask in truth.

“Get me out of this bloody place before I freeze my bollocks off and no one will have to worry about marrying me,” came the bellow from under the bed.

Fanny scrambled to help Matthew inch his way out. His hands were cold, his flesh where he’d lain on the floor was cold and clammy. As he got to his feet, he began to shiver.

“D-d-don’t just stand there, woman. I’m f-fr-freezing.”

Throwing her arms around his body, she rubbed up and down his front, pressing her warmth to him. After a minute of vigorous rubbing, at least one part of Matthew was no longer chilly. She peered up into his grinning face.

“Please don’t stop, love. I’m not quite warm enough yet.” He leered at her, then grabbed her behind and squeezed.

“Matthew!” She squealed, then shushed. “Your mother was here.”

“I know. I heard every word.” Pressing her to his swiftly hardening erection, he walked them backward toward the bed.

“She might return.” Fanny wiggled in his grip, but that only made him harder.

“I sincerely doubt it. And in any case, she’s as much as given us her dispensation.” He bumped into the bed and stopped. “Otherwise you’d be packing to leave and I’d be standing before her explaining myself instead of—” He seized her lips and fell back onto the bed, Fanny sprawled on top of him.

“Ummm. How will I ever face your mother again?” Heat enough for two between them now, Fanny pulled her dressing gown over her head.

“With my heir in your arms, she won’t say a word, for there’s only one way to get one.” Matthew lifted her and slowly impaled her on his shaft and groaned. “Many positions, but one way only.”

CHAPTER 17

London, late September

“Beatrice, if you are not here in two minutes, I shall leave without you,” Matthew muttered to himself. He pulled out his pocket watch, wound the stem impatiently, and fumed. He’d already assisted his mother into the carriage five minutes ago, and they should have left for Theale House five minutes before that. Just one more in the host of interminable delays he’d suffered since his house party almost a month ago. Had he known he’d not be meeting Fanny again until today, he would not have cut his shooting trip short after all.

In the aftermath of his mother’s early morning conversation with Fanny, she had insisted he attend Kinellan’s party, despite the fact Matthew had expressly told her his absence there did not matter a jot to him. What mattered was marrying her, by God, and he had meant every word. The woman had, however, got the bit between her teeth and absolutely demanded that he attend the shooting in Scotland.

Never let it be said that a Hunter turned down an opportunity to hunt when so commanded. The first week had been excellent, save his yearning to have Fanny at his side anytime but when he was out in the field. Even there he’d been reminded of her for Kinellan had invited Lady John at the very last minute. Had he known that, he’d have begged an invitation for Fanny as well. Lady John had accompanied them out to the shoot each day, unheard of in Matthew’s book. He’d come to suspect, over the course of that week, that his friend was a touch enamored of the pretty widow. None of his affair, if so, but Kinellan had best see to his nursery with a woman of a better childbearing age.

Matthew shook his head and peered up the staircase. “Upton.” The butler had been hovering this morning. “Send to Lady Beatrice that I will be leaving in one minute by the clock whether she is here or not.”

“I am here, Matthew. Have I set up your bristles?” Bea tripped merrily down the steps, pulling on her gloves, as carefree as a lark.

“You have made us unconscionably late for tea with Lady Stephen.” He grabbed her arm, none too gently, and escorted her to the waiting carriage.

“Would you really have left me if I’d tarried just one more minute?” Eyes tip-tilted up at him, dancing with mischief, made Matthew pity the poor soul his sister finally brought up to scratch.

“I would have left you in the dust without a qualm.” He handed her in and climbed in after, taking the backward-facing seat and rapping on the trap in one hurried movement. “Theale House in Mayfair, Harris.”

“Very good, my lord.” The horses moved off at once and Matthew leaned back in the soft leather seat. Almost there.

“I don’t see why you’re fretting so, brother. In a little while you will be seeing your love every day of the year. I doubt you’ll be so impatient then.” Grinning at him, Beatrice fairly shook with glee at his annoyance.

“That obviously shows you have never been in love, Beatrice.” Their mother spoke up with an indulgent look at her daughter. “If you had been, you would understand how painful it is not to be with that person. Your brother has shown remarkable restraint over the past several weeks.”

“Especially since, had it not been for you, we should have made this journey the moment I returned from Scotland.” He stared determinedly at Bea. She should be made to feel uncomfortable.

“I could not help that Sarah insisted on getting married so quickly. And you know I would never miss being her bridesmaid, no matter what you said, Matthew.” The stubborn set to Beatrice’s jaw had not changed since she announced her friend’s coming marriage and her own role in the ceremony. “It’s your own fault for holding the house party in August. If you hadn’t, Sarah would never have met Lord Malin and fallen in love.”

Lady Skelton had been in alt ever since Malin, a marquess Matthew’d known at university, had asked Skelly for permission to marry his sister. Always an impetuous chap, Malin hadn’t wasted a moment after that first evening. The couple had married immediately and were currently touring France in wedded bliss. In less than three weeks. At the rate Matthew was courting Fanny he might hope to be married within the next three years.

The carriage slowed and Matthew’s heart beat painfully in his chest. If the meeting with Fanny’s daughter went well, could he possibly convince her to marry him by special license tomorrow? He’d be in alt if he could just have everything settled and Fanny as his bride before the month was out.

* * *