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“I’m staying with you tonight, Mattie. I’m not going back down there. I’m finished with the lot of them.”
She set her book aside, her beautiful eyes studying him, as if peering deep into his soul. Her lips formed a tentative smile as she seemed to find the answers she was looking for. Then she held out a hand to him and, with a grateful sigh, he closed the door and came towards her. She was the only thing he needed tonight.
CHAPTER7
Matilda did not come down for dinner or any other meal for the next two days. She took her meals with Florence in either her aunt’s room or her own. She saw little of Arthur each day because he was forced to play host to his guests. He would come to her room each night and gently rouse her from sleep to make love to her before cradling her against him and falling asleep next to her.
When the men rode out on horseback the day before Christmas, Matilda ventured downstairs, hoping to borrow some books from the library. She tiptoed past one of the sitting rooms but halted when someone addressed her.
“Miss Matthews! We’d given you up as a ghost. Do come in and join us.” Della stood in the doorway, staring expectantly at her. She was clearly in charge of the women who had descended on Arthur’s home. The other two ladies always looked to Della to speak first on almost everything and sought her opinions in their conversations.
“Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, Miss Cowper.”
“You simplymustjoin us,” Della repeated. It was clear it was not a request, but a command. Matilda would have defied this woman, but she did not wish to upset Arthur by being rude to his guests. The women were harmless enough, even if Della had been a bit cruel in her words. It was the men she wished to avoid. Even without Arthur’s warning, she sensed these gentlemen were not to be trusted. They were wild and seemed to think all the world was theirs to indulge in as they saw fit.
Matilda reluctantly entered the room. “I suppose I could join you for a short while.” The other two women were playing cards together by the window. Della waved a hand toward a chessboard.
“Shall we?” Della asked as she settled down in a chair on the opposite side of the board from Matilda.
“One game.” Matilda took a seat, but she was not a fool. Della likely had every intention of beating her at the game. Games of skill were not her forte, but she had learned at a young age that being good at games did not always reflect one’s intelligence. There were other ways to prove oneself, but she would play Della’s game to be polite.
As they began to methodically move pieces, Della spoke.
“It’s such a quaint thing to have Arthur let you live here while he repairs that little shack. He’s such a dear, isn’t he? He’ll take in any stray cat off the street, no matter how pathetic it is.”
Matilda bristled more at Meadow Cross being called a shack than she did about Della calling her a stray cat. She might never have been to London, but she was no stranger to mean women. Even in the village, there seemed to be an innate need to be petty to a woman who was seen as competition.
“When I am mistress of Castleton Hall, I shall insist that Arthur tear down that old shack. He should build up something better in its place. Perhaps a romantic folly or a gazebo or—”
“Oh! Has Lord Castleton proposed to you? I send you my heartfelt congratulations if he has,” Matilda said with an open smile. Arthur had laughed last night when Matilda warned him Della had set her cap for him. He’d told Matilda quite clearly there was no woman he would belesslikely to marry than Della. Matilda hadn’t known until then how much she had needed to hear him say that. By the way Della’s pouty mouth pinched, Matilda knew she had successfully called the other woman’s bluff.
Ezra’s sister leaned forward to whisper. “You think you have him, that you’ve won. But you’re just some provincial little tart. A distraction, nothing more. You won’t have him in the end. You’ve already lost the game.” She was in a clear position to checkmate Matilda, but Matilda spoke before the other woman could declare her victory.
“You are mistaken, Miss Cowper. There is only one person at this table who has lost, and it is you, because I am not even playing the game.” Then she stood and exited the room, the king chess piece untouched.
She passed a window by the front of the house and spotted a group of men riding up the drive, Arthur in the lead. She leaned against the window, admiring his approach. His horse left a clear path in the freshly fallen snow. She would never have him, not as a husband. He was too wild to ever settle down.
But for now… for now she had him as a lover. She had his laughs, his smiles, even his frowns and growls. She had all of him as hers for just a little while longer. As much as she hated to admit it, he had been right. She was glad she’d agreed to his bargain. She would have the memories of him for the rest of her life, even if she never married. She knew what it meant to feel his touch, his kiss, to give herself over to him and her own passion.
The men outside dismounted and once they had their horses taken back to the stables, they tramped inside, shaking off the snow. The scent of winter woods and northern breezes blew inside, along with deep laughter as they shared a recent story from London.
“Do you remember his face when you won that hand of Faro, James?” one of the men asked, and the others laughed. “I thought Lord Weatherby woulddieof apoplexy.”
Arthur removed his cloak and caught sight of Matilda hiding in an alcove. He shot her a wink, and told the men to meet him in the billiard room. The others proceeded that way without looking back at him. Arthur glanced about and, when he was certain he was unseen, he joined her in the alcove and captured her in his arms, kissing her soundly. His lips were soft, but his kiss was a little rough with excitement. She felt the same. They’d seen so little of each other in the last few days. She dug her hands into his hair, which was still chilly from the outdoors and dusted with rapidly melting snowflakes. Matilda never wanted to forget this simple stolen kiss and how it made her feel.
“How was your ride?” she asked as she stroked his cheek with her fingertips. He caught her hand, playfully kissing each finger.
“Well enough, but I wish you had been with me.” He tipped her chin up to see her eyes. “Tonight is Christmas Eve. Will you join us for dinner? Please? I will endeavor to keep my friends on their best behavior,” he begged. Then he kissed her deeply, convincing her with his wicked tongue to agree.
She sighed and nuzzled his chest, taking in the scent of the woods he carried with him. “Oh, very well.”
“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “I had better go.” He still didn’t leave, so she gently prodded his side with her fingertip.
“Then go. I’ll see you tonight.”
He dropped his arms and stepped back reluctantly. His lips curved in a lazy smile that made her think of those splendid mornings they’d shared in his bed. Her heart ached as she watched him walk away.
Hold onto this memory, she told herself.Hold on, and it may not fade.
