“That would be nice,” Peter said, then placed a light kiss on Marcelle’s cheek. “You’ll see . . . ,”
“To his food before I go to bed. Yes, Father,” Marcelle grinned and moved toward the serving table.
Peter nodded and walked to the entrance. “No shenanigans, you two,” he called without turning.
“Father!” Marcelle gasped, dropping a serving spoon full of custard.
“Got you back, didn’t I?” He grinned over his shoulder and then strolled out of the room, the sound of Matthew’s laughter ringing in his ear.
“Oh, that old curmudgeon,” Marcelle griped, grabbing a nearby rag. She knelt on the floor and quickly cleaned up the splattered custard. “I’m going to give him what for in the morning, to be certain. Imagine, saying something like that!”
“Oh, get down off your preaching pedestal, Marcelle,” Matthew laughed. “It’s not as if you don’t say things like that yourself to get a rise out of people. Where do you think you get it from? You’re exactly like the old man.”
Marcelle smiled, replaced the dirty washcloth in the bucket of water near the kitchen door, and then returned to her chair at the dining table. “I know. It’s just that my comments are usually general statements. He aimed his comments direct at both of us, as if something would happen. Didn’t that embarrass you in the least?”
Matthew smiled in a way that made the color rise in her cheeks, “I’d say the man was rather astute.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he may have been trying to embarrass you, but he knows full well that something is going to happen between us tonight,” Matthew said. He rose from his place at the table and moved slowly in her direction, a gleam in his eye.
“Something is?” Marcelle whispered, her eyes widening with each word Matthew spoke.
“Yes, ma’am. You know, I should apologize for kissing you the way I did when I left,” Matthew said, taking a stunned Marcelle’s hand and drawing her up from her chair, “but I haven’t been able to get that kiss off my mind since the day I rode out of here.”
That statement snapped Marcelle out of her bemused trance and she laughed, “And what a sight that was.”
“Oh, you saw me, did you?” Matthew said, drawing her into his embrace. “Well, I warned you that teasing me would make for an uncomfortable ride, and thanks to that kiss, that uncomfortable ride was a good three days long.¨
“Only three days? I couldn’t stop humming the entire week,” Marcelle blurted.
“Really?” Matthew’s brow raised and his grin increased.
Marcelle blushed when she realized how boldly she’d spoken, but she couldn’t seem to help herself with Matthew. He had a way of putting her at ease and all tangled up inside at the same time.
“Then you go and make that absurd comment at dinner about the horses.”
Marcelle giggled, “You should have seen yours and dad’s face! What a sight that was!”
“I’ll just bet it was, you devil,” Matthew said, running his fingers along her jaw line. “Now, I think it’s payback time.”
“What do you mean, payback? What did I do?” Marcelle said, her skin tingling along the path his hand took.
“Well, I did warn you about teasing me, didn’t I?” Matthew said softly, his gaze lowering to her lips.
“You mean I’m not allowed to tease you in the least? I thought you only meant that I couldn’t tease about wanting you to kiss me?”
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Want me to kiss you?”
“Would you think me overly audacious if I said yes, very much?”
“Perhaps, but you know you really don’t have a choice in the matter. I intend to kiss you with or without your consent.”
“Oh, really . . . ,” Marcelle started, but her half-hearted protest was cut short by Matthew’s mouth.
He drew back after a moment, a look of concern on his face, “I’m sorry. You’ve been assaulted enough in the last week, and here I go doing it again.”
“No, Matthew,” Marcelle said, placing a light kiss on his stubbled chin, “what your brother did last night was an assault. This, on the other hand is something altogether different.”
“Mmm, then I take it you approve of my attentions, Miss?”
“You know, that question is ripe for a good teasing, but I think I’ll refrain for once and just answer what’s in my heart. Kiss me again, please.”
Matthew smiled, “It would be my pleasure, but why don’t we go sit in the parlor. I’ll light a fire and I’ll give you all the kisses your heart desires.”
Matthew moved away, but Marcelle stood rooted to where she was. She’d never flirted with a man to this extent before, but something told her that the flirting would stop if she went into that parlor and something altogether different would start.
If she thought she was genuinely ready for that something different, she’d be in that parlor far ahead of Matthew. She did know that she’d never had feelings like this before; ignited places she wasn’t even aware of until his first kiss, but was she ready to give herself to him fully?
She had no difficulty facing the reality that she was likely to be a spinster, was already headed down that road, in point of fact, but did that mean she should debauch herself with a man simply because he made her tingle all over? After all, she was going to be living with that same man for the rest of her life and he’d all but made it clear that he had no desire to marry, her or anyone else. Would she be willing to live as a kept woman in place of matrimony?
“Marcelle, what is it?” Matthew asked, when he noticed that she wasn’t following him.
“Matthew,” Marcelle interrupted softly, “I don’t want you to get the impression that I’m deliberately taunting you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go into the parlor. In fact, I think I should go ahead and retire for the night.”
Matthew’s brow knitted in confusion, “Did I say something to offend you, Marcelle?”
“No,” Marcelle sighed, “it’s just very confusing for me. All of this.”
“What’s confusing? I want to kiss you and you want me to kiss you. Can’t get any less complicated than that.”
“I know I’m only a naive seventeen-year-old woman, but even I know that kissing leads to things that we can’t do, and the way you kiss me, I don’t think I’ll be able to say no if kissing heads in that direction. Would you be able to control yourself and stop?”
“Ah. Honestly, I don’t think so. I readily admit that I want you, so it would be extremely difficult to pull away once I touched you.”
“Same with me. I’ve never had a man touch me the way you do. I like it. I like it a lot, but it wouldn’t be right to keep letting you touch me when we can’t do anything about the feelings the touching ignites in us. Therefore, I guess the best thing to do is admit we had some fun and leave things as they are. As friends.”
“Friends,” Matthew said, his voice soft and monotone. He was having a difficult time with this, especially since the statement about not wanting him to stop made him want to dive across the table and do everything but stop.
“Well, we are good friends, aren’t we? Still, we have to face facts – you have no desire to wed and I have no desire to be an unwed mother; so, that being said, we really should set some ground rules. Behave like mature adults. We will be living together for quite a long time.”
“Ground rules.”
“As my father would say, stop parroting me,” Marcelle chided gently. “I’m just trying to be reasonable.”
“You make me feel anything but reasonable.” Matthew raised a hand to silence her when it looked as if she would interrupt him. “We’ll discuss this when I return, Marcelle. Just go to bed,” he said, then groaned as the thought of her in his bed ran through his mind. He rubbed a hand across his face. “And if you are still standing here gaping at me when I remove my hand from my face, then my actions are going to be far from sensible.”
>
When he looked up, Marcelle had fled.
“Damn!” He muttered. He’d hoped that she’d still be there and he would be able to carry through with his threat, but he knew that hope was preposterous. She was right. He was ready to take what he had no right to take and that made him no better than his brother was. It was a good thing he was leaving on the morrow. He had some serious thinking to do and if he stayed here in this house to do it, his other head was going to keep interfering with his thinking abilities.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A noise woke her.
Marcelle moaned angrily and cracked her tired lids to peer around the room, trying to pierce the blackness. She lifted her head and listened, but heard nothing further. She sighed and lowered her head wearily back to her pillow and rolled onto her side. She really needed to get some sleep, she told herself. The sound of chirping crickets returned and she willed them to lull her to sleep, as they had every night since she was born, but even that grated on her nerves. She flapped her pillow over her ears and tried counting sheep, but visions of Matthew’s angry visage kept playing repeatedly in her mind, followed by his tender kisses. She groaned again and rolled to her other side.
“Aarrgghh,” she snapped, tossing her pillow away and slinging her quilt back. She slid off the bed and moved over to the window determined to shut out all sounds, none of which were soothing her tightly wound nerves as they normally would. Her toe struck the bedpost and let out an uncharacteristic string of unladylike words. She lifted her foot and rubbed the sore appendage, hopping along toward her goal. Leaning over the sill, she started to pull the shutters closed when the sound of a horse’s whinny reached her ears. Her brow furrowed in confusion. It sounded as if the whinny had come from right beneath her window, but how had the horse managed to get out of its stall unless someone . . . Matthew!
As quickly as she could maneuver through the darkness, Marcelle returned to her bedside and groped around for the matches to light her candle. Her hand shook nervously, as she struck the ruby-tipped stick against the side of the box. Matthew was leaving too early. Why? She wondered.
The room erupted into light. Marcelle turned and snatched up her robe, pulling it on frantically. She had to hurry.
She lifted the candle and left the room, moving as quickly as the flickering light on the wick would allow. When she reached the bottom landing, she looked around and saw a dim light filtering from beneath the dining room door. Not too late. She breathed a sigh of relief.
She hurried over. Matthew pushed through from the other side, nearly knocking Marcelle over. The wind from the door blew out Marcelle’s candle, throwing the room into semi-darkness.
“What the . . . ?” Matthew started, instinctively reaching for the gun holstered on his hip. His vigil relaxed when he saw Marcelle, then he tensed as tight as a bow string when he realized that she was standing in front of him in next to nothing.
Damn! He thought. Didn’t the woman have a shred of common sense?
“Go back to bed, Marcelle,” he growled. He reached into his pocket for a match. Striking it along the wood frame of the kitchen door, he relit her candle, then wished he hadn’t. He could see her much better now and she looked far too sexy in her current state of dishevelment.
“But you’re leaving!” Marcelle said, following along behind him when he shoved past her to lay his supplies beside his gear near the front door.
“I have a train to catch, or have you forgotten that?”
“I didn’t know trains pulled out this early in the morning,” she persisted, still reeling over the fact that he intended to leave without saying goodbye.
“They don’t,” Matthew admitted. “I thought I could ride in and get something to eat from the restaurant in town while I wait.”
“If you need to eat, I can always go to the cookhouse and whip something up,” Marcelle offered.
“Damnit, woman! Go back to bed!” Matthew snapped, turning his gaze, blazing, to hers. “Or so help me I’ll be taking your virginity with me to New York.”
“You don’t have to be so crude, Matthew,” Marcelle said softly, raising her chin indignantly, “I merely wanted . . . .”
“What? A goodbye kiss?” Matthew snapped, his gaze moving along her scantily clad body. “Didn’t you take the time to think about your mode of dress before barreling down the stairs to see me off?” He asked and then smiled grimly as her face tinted pink next to the flickering candlelight. “No, you didn’t. I can see from your expression that you didn’t. Well, I’m trying to be a gentleman and give you fair warning that you need to take your half-naked body back up those stairs or a goodbye kiss is the least of what you’ll get from me. Do you understand me, Marcelle?”
Marcelle nodded, but didn’t move.
Matthew closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He hadn’t been able to douse the fire she’d sparked last night with her affection and now, here she was innocently flaming those embers just by her presence. Just what kind of saint did she think he was? Maybe accepting her father’s agreement hadn’t been such a great idea. There was no way he could spend the rest of his days under the same roof with this woman and not touch her. Even now, his fingers tingled with the thought of running along her creamy flesh. His temper flared again along with his arousal. He peered beneath his lashes, hoping beyond hope that she was gone. She wasn’t.
“You are not going, Marcelle.”
“I don’t want you to leave angry with me, Matthew,” Marcelle whispered. Matthew’s eyes shot open at the tone he heard in her voice. He groaned when he noticed the tears glistening in her eyes by the light of the candle she held in her now shaky hands.
“I’m sorry, love,” Matthew said, his anger deflating like a balloon. Unfortunately, his arousal didn’t leave with it. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but you make it very difficult for me to behave as a gentleman ought to behave.”
“I don’t mean to provoke you,” Marcelle sniffed. She hadn’t lost control of her emotions since her mother’s funeral. Had never had reason, and couldn’t see a reason that she should be on the verge of blubbering like a baby even now. Perhaps her lack of sleep was affecting her senses.
“Oh, Lord, Marcelle. Please don’t cry,” Matthew said.
“I’m not crying,” Marcelle sniffed again, but knew that if Matthew didn’t put her mind at ease with his next words that she would end up making a horrible spectacle of herself.
Matthew drew in a deep breath, “It’s okay, Marcelle. I’m not angry with you. Now would you please go to bed?” He prayed silently that that would suffice and she would turn and leave before he did something completely foolish. He wanted her too much for her to be unwittingly flaunting herself in front of him. When she didn’t leave, he smiled grimly.
She wasn’t fleeing his threats or suggestions as she did last night, he noticed and so did his arousal. Damn, she was beautiful! Damn, he wanted her! In all fairness, he told himself, I gave her plenty of warning and plenty of opportunity to mount those stairs, so if she doesn’t leave in the next second, then all bets are off.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to . . . ,” Marcelle started, then let out a yelp when Matthew reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms, yanking her flush up against his rock solid physique.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave?” He whispered, his face mere inches from her shocked countenance. She nodded stiffly. “So you agree that I gave you fair warning, yes?” She nodded again, and her tongue flicked out to lick her suddenly dry lips. Matthew’s eyes noticed, and he smiled thinly. “You should have left when I told you to, but you had to stay; had to use the word ‘want’. Well, hell yes, I want, and since you didn’t heed me, I’m going to show you just how much I want,” Matthew said fiercely and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.
He’d given her fair warning, he reasoned, sliding his hand up her arms, caressing her neck as he moved around to the back of her head. His other hand followed suit up the opposite side and he released a groan of male
satisfaction when he felt her quiver beneath his touch.
His fingers deftly worked at her braid, releasing it in waves over his hands. He groaned again and gripped a fistful of the chestnut tresses, pulling her head back to allow his mouth access to the path that his hands had only just moments ago caressed.
He heard a sigh escape her softly parted lips and grinned, returning to claim her mouth in a thorough kiss.
Marcelle gripped tight to the sides of Matthew’s shirt, afraid that if she let go she would fall in a heap at his feet.
Matthew released his hold on Marcelle’s hair and brought his hands around front, careful not to break the kiss. He pulled at the ties of her robe and then slid the silky material off her shoulders, imagining the sight of it falling in a shimmering pool at her feet. He placed his hands on her lower back and pulled her closer, causing her back to arch ever so slightly. Lifting his head, he peered down between their bodies at the heaving breasts clearly visible through the sheer fabric of her nightgown and groaned.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured and heard her sigh. Fighting against all common sense, he lowered his head and took one of the rosy peaks in his mouth. Marcelle gasped, gripping Matthew’s shoulders as her legs collapsed. Matthew raised his head and smiled as he looked into her dazed expression. Wordlessly, he lowered her to the cool wood floor of the foyer. Stretching out beside her, he played with her mouth, reining kisses along the sides then sucking gently on the fullness of the lower lip, while his hands expertly worked the buckle on his gun belt. When the belt was free, he laid it aside then he leaned down to capture her mouth in a thorough kiss, capturing a moan that escaped when his hand slid across her breast and down to the concave of her belly. His mouth moved from hers, reining kisses along her cheek.
“It’s not the softest bed in the world,” he whispered next to her ear, “but I’m not willing to wait until I can carry you upstairs to a soft mattress. Unless you object,” he murmured, pulling back to look into her eyes. What he saw, momentarily stopped his heart – they held a smile and passion.
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