he lascivious nature of his thoughts was evident in his tone. “From the moment we are discovered that is how we will play this game.” A frisson of excitement raced through him. He needed something to distract from the trauma of the night’s events, something sweet and untainted to cleanse his mind. “You have my word, as a gentleman, I will ask for your hand. But for now, I intend to kiss you with such ardent vigour I believe we will struggle to stand.”
Miss Smythe pursed her trembling lips. “You … you should know I have never kissed a gentleman.”
For some obscure reason he found her comment pleasing. “Then you must forgive my abrupt approach. I am afraid there is no time for gentle tutoring. Do I have your permission to continue?”
Good Lord!
Never in his life had he asked such a question.
The lady nodded, raised her chin and closed her eyes. She looked serene, angelic, and he feared he was about to sample a little piece of heaven.
Matthew took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lowered his head until their lips touched. The sweet scent of roses filled his nostrils, the smell pure, clean, surprisingly arousing. Her lips were warm, full and soft, but he did not have time to appreciate them further.
“The fountain must be through here.” A lofty feminine voice permeated the air. “Lady Morford assured me it was a sight not to be missed.”
His hands followed the shape of Miss Smythe’s hips, settled on her buttocks and pulled her against the evidence of his mild arousal. A tiny gasp left her lips, giving him the opportunity to delve deeper, to explore the unfathomable depths of innocence.
Matthew expected to encounter resistance, for her fear to taint the experience. He was not expecting her tongue to brush seductively against his. Nor was he expecting her to throw her arms around his neck, to press her breasts against his chest and moan into his mouth.
God help him.
All he wanted was to lower her to the ground and pleasure her until dawn. Many times, he had felt the powerful grip of desire commanding the most important part of his anatomy. Yet now, an undeniable need coursed through every part of his body.
Miss Smythe’s inexperienced fingers found their way into his hair, twirling, tickling, tugging at the roots. He broke for breath, his gaze falling to the swell of creamy flesh rising to greet him. A mumbled curse of appreciation left his lips and he captured her mouth with shocking desperation.
Engrossed in plundering the mouth of his maiden, he failed to respond to the series of high-pitched feminine shrieks and wails.
“Good heavens!”
“Oh, cover my eyes, Felicity. I cannot look.”
“What is the meaning of this, sir?”
Despite the matrons’ comments, Matthew was not ready to let his delicate flower go. He held her close, his tongue engaged in an erotic dance that promised a wealth of pleasure.
“Put the lady down this instant, sir.”
Miss Smythe attempted to pull away. The action left him frustrated, ready to turn on the blood-thirsty pack of matrons and send them to the devil.
He dragged his mouth from hers though continued to rain kisses along the line of her jaw.
“Tell me you love me,” he whispered in her ear. Sensing her hesitation, he added, “This is supposed to be a love match, remember.”
Miss Smythe tilted her head, granting him easier access to the elegant column of her throat. “Oh, I love you.” The words breezed from her lips. “I love you so much it is killing me.”
Damn, she was good.
“Promise me you’ll marry me,” he said, calling on his rampant desire to infuse feeling into his words. “Promise me you’ll be mine.”
“I cannot live without you,” she muttered so sweetly he almost believed it was true. “I want to spend my life making you happy.”
Matthew fought the need to capture her mouth again.
A lady cleared her throat. “Will you let go of her and address us, sir!”
“I have no choice but to acknowledge them,” he whispered against Miss Smythe’s ear. “Do not say a word.”
He looked up at the three horrified faces, their hollow cheeks and pursed lips evidence of their disdain. It took a tremendous effort not to smirk at the ridiculous array of garish gowns. With plumes of feathers, jewels, and strange bows in their hair, they appeared more like the exotic birds in Lady Holbrook’s aviary.