Chapter Twenty-Eight

M atthew had never wanted any woman more than he wanted Purity at that moment. He'd been determined not to pounce like a wolf and overwhelm her, but the slow approach had become intolerable.

Holding out his hand, he was gratified when she came willingly toward him, and he could pull her against his body. At last! Spreading his legs, he nestled her close to his hips, caging her with his thighs.

It seemed a lifetime that he'd waited for her, and in truth, it had been. A lifetime of meaningless encounters.

Unfastening the tiny buttons of her chemise, he loosened the neckline enough to draw it down one of her exquisite shoulders and then the other before she shimmied out of it.

He wanted to give her all the pleasure he possibly could and not disappoint her in the least. At the same time, she was the most precious creature he had ever met, and he intended to be gentle.

"I confess, to me, you are like a fragile crystal figurine or a porcelain doll."

At once, she wrapped his fingers around her bare left breast, warm and soft, and held it there.

"I am flesh and blood."

"And the prettiest breast I have ever seen."

"How fortunate," she said, taking his other hand. "I have another just like it."

She surprised him with her boldness, and he could barely breathe for wanting her.

Cupping her breasts, he brushed his thumbs over her dusky nipples, making her gasp before he lowered his head to suck each one softly.

"Please," she said, sliding her hands up his bare chest.

With that small utterance, he put his hands to her waist and turned, so they'd exchanged places, then he lifted her and set her upon the bed. As quickly as he could, he shed his trousers and stockings, while she watched.

Matthew didn't think he had ever been scrutinized quite so closely. He was beginning to experience a flutter of nerves, the likes of which he hadn't felt since he was a green cub, an inexperienced, unsure looby. In truth, he thought his own cheeks might be reddening.

With a shake of his head at his own foolishness, he stood at the foot of the bed and slid each of her stockings down, enjoying the exploration of his wife's slender legs and noticing how she trembled under his touch.

And then he did what he had dreamt of doing for weeks. He kissed the fine bones on the inside of her right ankle before trailing gossamer kisses up her slender calf. All the while, she leaned upon her elbows, watching him with her intense blue eyes and with her lips slightly parted in anticipation of his next move.

When he reached Purity's thighs, he took off the last impediment, although it was easy enough to swive with her drawers still on as they had the usefully wicked opening at a lady's core. He had used and appreciated such convenience many times over the years, but he intended for his wife to be entirely bare.

First the ribbon at her waist, a quick tug, and then he drew the soft two-pieced drawers down her legs before settling between them.

"What are you doing?" she asked, the first words she'd spoken in many minutes.

He grinned and dropped a kiss just above her woman's mound, and then another on her upper thigh, and then the other.

"Oh!" she said on a long breath. And her hips lifted slightly.

With that invitation, Matthew put the tip of his tongue to her core to taste the very essence of Purity.

"Oh!" she exclaimed again, slipping her fingers into his hair. And then she fell silent as he slid his hands under her arse to position her, before rolling his tongue across her once again.

Over and over, he swirled and teased her bud until she began to thrash beneath him. As she'd done when he'd brought her to release in her drawing room, she came quickly. Her body stiffened while he continued to feast on her pink pearl, then her hands fell away from him to the bed as she moaned her release.

When he knew she had finished and was floating in that languid place after reaching the pinnacle of pleasure, he kissed his way up her smooth stomach. Resting on his forearms, he looked down at her beautiful face when her eyes fluttered open.

Her beaming smile made his heart ache with love. She was his, and for the first time in his life, he knew what it meant to belong completely to someone else. Every new moment was a revelation of how much he adored her.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he claimed her smile. When she sank her fingers into his hair again and held his head, he realized she was kissing him, and not the other way around. And while she tilted her head and sucked his tongue into her mouth, he felt her hips lifting against him.

Matthew was throbbing, his arousal as hard as he could ever recall it. With her body's invitation, he readily fit the head of his sex to her slick sheath. He wanted to bury his length deep inside her with a single satisfying stroke, but he eased in, an inch at a time.

Lifting his head to judge her acceptance, he smiled at the woman he loved beyond words. She appeared pensive, waiting, experiencing, allowing him the honor of taking her innocence.

When he hit the petal-thin barrier, he thrust forward watching her countenance.

She winced, and he stilled.

"Go on," she said. "There is no point in halting now. Would you silence the musicians when the guests are already in the midst of a dance?"

He tried not to laugh. He failed, glad when she smiled again.

"I would never be so rude," he said and thrust forward.

"Ah," she breathed out.

Again, he stopped, desperate to move but wanting to know whether she was fine.

"Are you waiting for something?" she asked. "Or am I to do the next thing on the list?"

Purity Norland, Lady Foxford was a saucy wench, jesting with him while he was deflowering her.

Slowly, he drew out before rocking forward again, filling her. After he set a rhythm, she arched back and closed her eyes once more. He closed his, too, becoming pure sensation until he was about to explode with unadulterated pleasure.

Sliding his hand between their bodies, he caressed the center of her desire. Within moments, she tensed, close to her second release. He couldn't halt the racing tide of passion that flooded his veins and erupted from him, only hoping she would join him as he spent.

Feeling her nails rake his back, he was assured she had.

In the aftermath, they lay quietly atop the rumpled sheet. Drawing up the coverings, Matthew was content to bask in satisfied fulfillment.

Then Purity's sleepy voice reached his ears.

"How long before we can swive again?"

As it turned out, they both fell asleep, and it was dawn before they awakened to start the dance of desire once more.

With his lady wife riding rantipole at the time of their release, she now looked down at him with a thoughtful expression.

"The crimp on your earlobe," she said while he played with her nipples. "Why did the woman bite you, pray tell?"

His eyes widened, then he burst out laughing, making her jiggle up and down atop him.

"I don't see why my question is funny. The notion of some female mindlessly sinking her teeth into your earlobe isn't amusing at all."

At that moment, Matthew had the seed of hope that she loved him, for if he wasn't mistaken, she was jealous — even though she was now the Baroness Foxford, a title no one in England could have ever expected Purity Diamond to have.

"There was no woman," he said at last.

"But you said a lady's teeth were involved."

"I never did." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to splay across his satiated body. "You imagined that all by yourself. It was a female, but a dog. My nursemaid left me sitting on the ground while she dashed back indoors for my coat. I wasn't a baby, mind you. I was almost three years old. Nearby was one of Father's hunting dogs. When it came over to play with me, I stood up and grabbed its tail. The nipper took a bite of my ear."

Purity gasped. "How terrible!" She grasped the tender lobe between her fingers.

"I don't remember it," he said, "but as my mother tells it, she discovered me after I yelled, saw the blood, and fainted beside me on the grass."

"That wasn't very helpful of her," Purity said. "I can imagine the scene though."

"The nursemaid was sacked, I'm sorry to say, but the dog was still treated like a prince. And my father joked his beloved hunter mistook me for a young fox."

Purity knew everything was going as well as could be expected in a household of the newly married. She and Diana got along like two peas in a pod. It was a delight to take her on outings, and Bri and Ray were very good with her too, as if she were a younger sister.

The Foxford staff adjusted to their new mistress of the house. Purity easily slid into the role of baroness as if she'd been born and raised for it, which naturally, she had. After all, one of the first books she'd ever memorized was Domestic Management , which offered her much useful information on improving her staff's manners.

They had remembered everyone they held dear in their stacks of "at home" cards, invitations sent out by her sisters as one of their duties as bridesmaids. Consequently, beloved visitors came in twos and threes to call upon Lord and Lady Foxford in their new domestic arrangement.

And at night, she and Matthew lost themselves in one another. She had no complaints in that regard, nor in most others. Purity had his admiration and his professed devotion. She shared his name, his carriage, his house, and his bed.

So why did she worry that something was missing?

The nagging in the back of Purity's mind was starting to distract her. And any small thing that went amiss vexed her like a massive disaster. At that moment, she was trying to arrange flowers that Matthew had brought her when he'd come home for their evening meal.

After dinner, she'd spread them out on a piece of linen in her salon on the second floor and knelt beside them. Next to her was a household book open to the chapter on flower arranging. Yet still two vases stood empty, awaiting to be filled in an artful manner.

After a few minutes of cutting the stems too short and pricking herself on the roses, Purity sat back on her heels. She ought to have chosen something that held her attention better, such as playing the piano or reading.

Instead, her mind wandered like one of the kittens trying to make its way across the polished front hall. A funny sight to see, but her own helpless mental meandering wasn't the least amusing.

Her thoughts leapt from the flowers before her to the sensual pleasure they shared, which was beyond what she'd imagined. Her husband's kisses were as toe-tingling as before they'd married. However, they'd managed to get this far without once expressing that deepest of emotions. At least, not to one another.

Purity knew the longer time went on without either of them saying it, the more awkward it would become. Yet how could she be the first to blurt it, and when?

"Please pass the salt cellar and by the way, I love you."

Was Matthew madly in love with her?

Snapping the stem of the daisy still in her hands, Purity tossed it down. She wasn't na?ve enough to mistake their nightly passion for anything but lust. He had been participating in precisely the same for his entire adult life and had told her with frankness that he had never loved any one of the women he'd bedded.

Sadly, he hadn't said he was making an exception for her.

Any day, she might discover she was carrying his child, yet instead of that making her joyful, it caused her to worry. Once he had the necessary heir to the barony, then what?

What if Matthew's infatuation with her cooled? If he was withholding his heart, then heartbreak would surely follow. She feared Lord and Lady Fenwick had something they did not. For that ancient couple could hardly be expected to tup every night, yet their love shone whenever they were near one another.

Moreover, they'd put off their wedding trip to Scotland because of a spate of exceedingly rainy weather followed by Diana being indisposed.

"She has merely caught a mild cold, my lady," said Mrs. Caldwell when Purity grew alarmed. "Don't fret."

Now their little girl was well, yet neither of them had mentioned the long trek to Edinburgh. Didn't Matthew want to introduce her to his mother?

Thus, when the demon of her agitated thoughts poked his head around the open doorway, dressed to go out, her stomach clenched.

After seeing what she was doing, he merely nodded and winked. "I shall be back anon."

"Where are you going?" Purity bit her tongue as soon as the words were out. She sounded possessive and jealous, especially when her voice caught in her throat.

"To my club. Quinn said he hasn't seen me in a donkey's age. I won't stay long."

"That's all right," she said, rising to her feet. "Stay out as long as you like. I plan to read a story to Diana and then take a bath."

At her tone, he cocked his head, frowning a little, then he entered the room.

"Careful," she warned. "Don't step on them."

He surveyed the flowers. "It appears you've already waltzed atop them and done enough damage without my help."

He was teasing but having him point out her failure nearly made her cry. She stared at the floor, unable to meet his gaze because of the foolish tears stinging her eyes.

"Kitten," he said, "look at me."

She shrugged and glanced at his waistcoat.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Everything! she thought. "No, nothing. What could be wrong?"

His gloved finger under her chin made her look at him.

"Kitten," he repeated when he looked into her eyes. "Tell me."

"Nothing, I assure you. Just ... just ... Clarity would have these flowers looking gorgeous by now. She has a talent for it."

"Don't worry about that." He drew her into his arms, which only served to make a tear spill out and down her cheek. "I'll buy you more, I promise. You can practice, just like you did when you were a youngster learning the piano. You'll soon surpass any other lady in London with your floral designs."

She shrugged again.

"I won't go out if you wish for me to stay home," he vowed. "I'll gladly listen to you read and be even happier to watch you bathe."

A small laugh escaped her lips. Everything was fine. He was attentive and caring. He wasn't going out to meet a woman. If he was, he wouldn't have offered to stay. He ought to go spend time with his friend. After all, he had no family. While she spent many a morning with her mother or one or more of her sisters, he had no one but her and Diana.

It was merely the stress of settling into her new life, that was all. She didn't want her husband to think her needy.

"Of course not. I am being silly. Go to your club and enjoy yourself. I insist. I shall be awake when you return."

He took her face between his palms. "I am looking forward to it." Then he claimed her mouth in a way she imagined only a lover could do — if only she didn't already know he'd done the same with many others.

She sighed. He probably thought it was due to the satisfying kiss that sent tremors of awareness throughout her body. Later, when she relaxed in their copper soaking tub, she would think of him touching her and remind herself what a lucky woman she was to have such a passionate husband. And then they would pleasure one another as soon as he came home.

"Please give Lord Quinn my regards. We should invite him to bring a lady friend to dinner some evening soon."

"Perhaps," he agreed, releasing her. "But Quinn has had many chances and can never seem to choose only one."

He was chuckling to himself when he left, while a stone settled in her stomach.

Could any man who had been used to variety settle for only one?