When she reached the top of the stairs, she bid the other houseguests a cheery good night, her gaze seeking out Matthew but not finding him. He’d led the way up the stairs while she remained near the back of the group. Clearly he’d already turned the corner at the end of the corridor on his way to his bedchamber.
She continued down the hallway toward her bedchamber, forcing her steps to remain slow and measured—an overwhelming challenge given the unread note all but burning a hole in the deep pocket of her gown.
Matthew had surreptitiously pressed the small folded missive into her palm an hour ago in the drawing room. Flustered not only at the gesture but at the fleeting touch, she’d quickly slipped her hand into her pocket and moved close to the fireplace in order to be able to blame the flame’s heat for the rush of color she felt flood her cheeks. For the past hour it had proven nearly impossible to sit still, to converse with the other guests, when every fiber of her being was consumed by the desire to escape and read her note.
The walk down the corridor seemed endless, but she finally reached her room. The instant she closed the door behind her, she pulled the small piece of ivory vellum from her pocket. With trembling fingers she unfolded it and read the missive, which consisted of three words: Enjoy your bath.
Bath? A frown pulled down her brows and she looked up. And saw the copper tub set in front of the fireplace. Entranced, she crossed the room. Curls of fragrant steam rose from the water, beckoning her to slide into the soothing warmth.
He’d apparently ordered this treat for her, to be indulged in before their digging expedition. Although completely unfamiliar with receiving romantic gestures, she decided she like them very much—although her inner voice warned her not to grow accustomed to them.
She quickly shed her clothing and approached the tub. Bending at the waist, she leaned over and swirled her fingers through the water, testing the temperature.
“Now that is the most captivating sight I’ve ever seen,” came a familiar deep voice from directly behind her.
With a startled gasp Sarah straightened and spun around. Matthew stood less than two feet away. He wore a wicked grin, a loosely knotted silk robe, and, as far as she could tell, nothing else.
She pressed a hand over the spot where her heart rapped in her chest, no longer from surprise but simply from his presence. And the smoldering fire burning in his eyes. The sight of him made her want to repeat his most captivating sight I’ve ever seen, but before she could find her voice, he erased the space between them in a single step, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her as if he were starving and she were a banquet feast.
With a moan, she parted her lips, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Beneath the cool silk of his robe she felt the delicious heat of his skin. His hard arousal nestled against her belly and desire gushed through her at the potent reminder of how he’d felt thrusting deep inside her.
After a searing, deep kiss, he lifted his head to run his mouth down her neck.
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that…” he whispered, his breath warming her skin, eliciting a delightful shiver. “All. Day. Long.” Each word was punctuated by a nipping kiss along her collarbone.
“I think I may have some small inkling,” she replied, tilting her neck to give his marauding lips better access. “Oh, my. Is that why you’re here? Because you wanted to kiss me?”
“Among other things. First, I need to tell you that our nighttime digging expeditions must cease.” He went on to reveal his disturbing conversation that afternoon with Paul, concluding with, “I cannot expose you to any danger. Therefore I’ll finish the digging during the day.”
“And I’ll help.” When he looked about to argue, she said, “You’re armed, Danforth will be with us, and it will take half the time if we work together. Perhaps Lord Surbrooke can join us as well for even further protection.”
He frowned. “I’ll think on it. But it also occurred to me there are three more nights before I depart for London—assuming I have to leave at all. It further occurred to me that it would be a terrible pity to let them go to waste.”
“I see. And when did that occur to you?”
“About ten seconds after I left your bed this morning.”
She clung to him and sighed as one of his hands cupped her bottom and the other palmed her breast. “Then clearly you’re slow-witted because those same things occurred to me about three seconds after you’d made love to me. The first time.”
“Ah.” The simultaneous tugging on her nipple and tickling of the fingers of his other hand over the highly sensitive small of her back dragged a long moan from her throat. “I knew you were an apt pupil.”
“Yes. Who is very eager for her next lesson. Although, I’ve already learned something since you’ve arrived—I now know what melted wax feels like.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Hot. And liquidy.” Pressing her hands against his chest, she leaned back and looked at him through her askew glasses. With a tender smile, he slid them from her nose and reached out to set them on the mantel. “How did you manage to get your robe, enter my room, and undress in such a short amount of time?”
“I slipped away for several minutes after dinner and brought my robe here. I hid it in the wardrobe, where Franklin promised to watch it for me. When everyone was preparing to retire, I came here instead of continuing down the corridor to my own chamber.” He hooked his hand beneath the back of her thigh and lifted her leg, settling it high on his hip, opening her for his touch. She gasped as his fingers lightly stroked her feminine folds, which already felt heavy and swollen.
“As for my speed in undressing,” he continued, his devilishly skillful fingers destroying her concentration, “you’d be surprised at how fast a man can remove his clothing when faced with the delightful prospect of making love to a beautiful woman.”
“Beautiful…?” The word came out on a sigh of pleasure. “I cannot fathom a single reason why you would call me that.”
“I know. Which only serves to make you more beautiful. But don’t worry. I can think of enough reasons for both of us.”
He touched a particularly sensitive spot and she squirmed against his hand, eager to feel that delicious jolt again. Slipping her hands inside the V opening in his robe, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest. “I’m enjoying my bath very much.”
His deep laugh vibrated against her lips. “And we haven’t even entered the water yet.”
She lifted her head and eyed him with interest. “We?”
“I thought my very apt pupil’s next lesson should involve the joys of bathing together.” His hands slipped from her body and he took a single step back. A groan of protest rose in her throat, but before she could voice it, he’d shrugged his robe from his shoulders, turning her groan into a sigh of appreciation.
He nodded toward the tub. “Join me?”
“I cannot fathom one reason why I’d say no.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Neither can I.”
He stepped over the edge and settled himself in the water. Sarah planted her hands on her hips and stared down at him with a mock glare. “How can I possibly join you? There’s no room left.”
His eyes glittered up at her and he patted his thighs. “There’s plenty of room.” He held up his hand, and Sarah placed her hand in his. Their palms met and he wrapped long, strong fingers around hers. “Step in so you’re facing me, with your legs outside mine,” he instructed. She gingerly stepped over the edge and did as he bid, her legs forming a bridge around his.
He looked up at her with a wicked grin. “What a delightful view.”
“I was just thinking the same thing, although you are rather blurry.”
“Easily remedied, especially if you kneel.”
Intrigued and aroused by the prospect, she gripped the sides of the tub and slowly lowered herself onto her knees. His fascinating arousal rose between them, and she reached out
with one hand to stroke her fingers over the velvety tip. He sucked in a quick breath and retaliated by cupping her breasts in his warm, wet hands.
“Now what?” she asked.
His gaze skimmed over her with a heated thoroughness that elicited an all over body blush. “It would appear you’re in charge,” he said, one hand slipping between her legs. “What would you like to do?”
“Kiss you,” she whispered. “Make love to you.”
The way his eyes darkened at her answer sizzled awareness to her every nerve ending. “I’m all yours,” he said, his voice a husky growl. “Have at it.”
Oh, my. Leaning forward, she touched her mouth to his, once, twice. Softly, experimentally. He allowed her to take the lead, whispering words of encouragement that stripped away any hesitancy. She ran her hands over his chest, stroked his arousal, teased his lips with her tongue, delighting in his reactions. His moans, the avid way he watched her, his increasingly ragged breaths, all filled her with a sense of feminine satisfaction she’d never suspected existed.
He trickled cupped handfuls of warm water over her shoulders then smoothed his hands down her wet body. While she continued to lightly stroke him, he sat up and, grasping her hips, laved her nipple with his tongue then drew the aching point deep into the heated silk of his mouth. Desperate to have him inside her, Sarah spread her legs as far as the tub allowed and circled her hips over his arousal, brushing the head over her feminine folds where an insistent beat pulsed.
With his gaze steady on hers, he helped her position herself. Settling her hands on his shoulders, she slowly lowered herself, a long moan escaping each of them as he filled her. When he was buried to the hilt, she experimentally rocked her hips, a movement that sent a shudder of delight through her entire body. Closing her eyes, she threw back her head and repeated the motion.
Again he let her take the lead, set the pace, murmuring encouraging words, his hands ceaselessly caressing her breasts, her abdomen, her buttocks. Tension coiled deep within her and she rocked faster while he thrust harder, pushing her closer to the precipice of ultimate pleasure. With a gasp she soared over the edge, her body tightening, throbbing, pulsing around his for an endless moment. No sooner had the tremors subsided than she felt him withdraw. Holding her tightly against him, he buried his face between her breasts and groaned as his release overtook him.
Resting her cheek on his damp hair, Sarah sifted her fingers through the thick silky strands. And knew she would have been content to stay like this forever. Wrapped in his arms. His skin touching hers. In her mind she sketched a mental image of them together, just like this, which she told herself she’d commit to her sketch pad. A charcoal picture she could look at over the years when heated memories of him were all she’d have.
Because unless the miracle she’d been praying for was realized, three days from now that’s all she would have of him.
Chapter 17
Three days later, with the bright afternoon sun gilding the landscape in a manner Matthew prayed was a harbinger of good fortune, he and Sarah stood in the rose garden, shovels in hand, prepared to dig in the two last remaining rows of roses. The bad news was, they’d yet to find anything. The good news was, no one had disturbed them during the afternoon hours, nor had Matthew, or Danforth, or Daniel—who’d joined them when he wasn’t playing stand-in host—sensed any intruders.
Matthew’s gaze met Sarah’s over the hedges and he had to firmly plant his feet and grip the wooden handle of his shovel to keep from going to her. Yanking her into his arms. Burying his face in the warm, fragrant spot where her neck and shoulder met.
The last few days spent in her company were filled with moments he’d never forget. Of hard work and disappointment at their failure to locate the money. Of laughter and smiles and sharing dreams and reminisces. And then the nights…hours spent exploring each other, sharing passion, whispering in the dark, holding her while she slept. Then rising to look out her bedchamber window, his gaze searching the gardens for any sign of intruders—and seeing none.
Neither mentioned the imminent end to their time together or the unlikely odds of finding the money with the ever shrinking area left to search. Yet the knowledge hung heavy between them and weighed on Matthew’s heart. How he was going to find the strength to walk away from her, he didn’t know. For now, he could only offer up one last prayer that they’d be successful.
“Ready?” he asked, his throat tight for reasons that had nothing to do with his reaction to roses.
She nodded, which sent her glasses sliding, which made him grip his shovel handle all the tighter to keep from reaching out to push the spectacles back into place. She smiled, but her expressive eyes reflected the graveness of the moment. “Ready.”
He pulled his handkerchief into place over his nose and mouth. They dug in silence, the only sounds those of the rustling leaves, the warbling birds, and their shovels slicing into the dirt. With each shovelful that yielded no results, Matthew’s spirits sank lower. After he finally shoveled up the last scoop of dirt in his final ditch, the culmination of a nearly a year’s worth of his time and energy, he stared into the empty space with unseeing eyes.
Bloody hell, he felt…gutted. He crouched down, leaned his sweaty forehead against the shovel handle and closed his eyes, overcome by a sense of weariness and defeat he’d never before known. He’d sensed in his gut that it would come to this, yet still, he’d hoped. But now it was done. His fate decided. No more hope. No more Sarah. Tomorrow morning he would leave for London. To embark on the next phase of his life. Without her.
He knew that for the rest of his life he’d be haunted by his memories of her. His love for her. And the question of the money—had it really existed and he’d just failed in his quest to find it, in spite of his best efforts to do so? Was it still buried somewhere, beneath some golden flower he’d failed to see, mocking him? Or had the bastard who’d been digging during the storm found the treasure he’d worked so hard to locate? Unfortunately, he’d never know.
He breathed out a long, weary sigh and was just about to push himself to his feet when Sarah’s excited voice reached him from the other side of the hedge.
“Matthew, I think I’ve found something.”
It took him several seconds to emerge from the fog of defeat surrounding him. When he did, he jumped up and raced around the hedge.
Sarah, her face damp and red from her exertions, was on her knees, frantically pushing aside dirt with her hands. He noted she was nearly at the end of her row, with only a few feet left to dig.
“My shovel hit something hard,” she said, glancing up at him, her eyes filled with excitement and hope.
He knelt next to her and together they pushed aside the dirt. Less than a minute later their hands stilled. And they stared at what they’d uncovered.
“Oh, my,” she whispered.
He swallowed, barely able to do so around the lump in his throat, a lump lodged there at the sight of the brick they’d uncovered. Not the money, just a…brick. The letdown after that spike of last minute hope was nothing short of crushing.
The tears shimmering in Sarah’s eyes told him she felt exactly the same way. Her bottom lip trembled and a single tear trickled down her cheek. And his heart simply broke in two.
“Sarah…” He pulled her into his arms and absorbed her quiet sobs, each one a barbed lash against his heart.
“I th-thought I’d found it,” she whispered against his neck.
“I know, sweetheart. So did I.”
“I can’t believe it wasn’t there. I was so hopeful…so sure…” Another sob racked her, and he pressed his lips against her disarrayed hair. Bloody hell, seeing and hearing her cry was killing him.
She looked up at him and brushed at the wetness on her cheeks with shaking fingers, her tear-soaked eyes filled with determination. “I still have several more feet in which to dig. I want to finish. It could be there.”
He cupped her face in his hands, softly brushing at the remnants
of her tears. There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. Share with her. Tens of thousands of tomorrows he wanted to spend with her. And the pain of knowing it wasn’t going to happen made it nearly impossible to breathe.
“I’ll finish,” he said.
Ten minutes later he had to once again admit defeat.
“Nothing,” he said in a flat voice.
He turned and held out his dirty hand to her. She slipped her equally dirty hand into his, and he led them away. Once they were a safe distance from the rose garden, he pulled the handkerchief from his face and stopped. She turned to him and their gazes met. He felt the need to say something, but God help him, he had no idea what. As it was, he had to clear his throat to find his voice.
“Thank you for your help.”
Her bottom lip quivered and he prayed she wasn’t going to cry again. He felt like a frayed thread about to snap, and seeing her tears again would cut him off at the knees.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “I’m only sorry we failed.”
“As am I.” More than he could ever hope to convey.
“Saying good-bye to you…it’s going to be difficult.”
“Sarah…” No more words came, and with a groan, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face against her hair. Difficult? It was going to prove damn near impossible.
Drawing a shaky breath, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. The most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. “We still have tonight,” he said. “One more night.”
And then he’d leave and do what had to be done, keep the promises he’d made, see to his responsibilities, save the estate his father had run into financial ruin. He’d retain his honor, his family’s honor. But by doing so, he would lose Sarah, the one thing that meant more to him than anything else.
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