What You Promised (Anything for Love 4)

Matthew cleared his throat. “I’d suggest ordering new soft furnishings, but until I’ve repaid the vowel, it is best to be prudent.”

“These will be perfectly fine. Where do you sleep?”

“The master suite is next door. You can access my chamber via the connecting door in the dressing room though I took the liberty of locking it. The key is on the night table next to your bed. That way there is no fear of waking at night to find a stranger lurking in the shadows.”

Priscilla arched a brow. “You’re my husband, Matthew, not a stranger.” She wandered over to the window. “Do the guests realise you can see behind the topiary hedge from up here?”

“When in the throes of passion, I doubt they give the matter much thought. Why? Do you intend to snoop on their amorous activities?” The notion of her experiencing pleasure at the sinful sight aroused him further.

“A lady must do what she can to further her knowledge.”

The minx was teasing him. “Have no fear. I shall give you all the tutoring you need. Trust me you’ll never have cause to look elsewhere.”

Averting her gaze, she touched the burgundy drapes, unhooked the sash and drew the curtains.

Once plunged into semi-darkness, all thoughts turned to seduction. After all, she was his wife. Duty demanded he bed her. Indeed, his cock ached to burst free, to push inside and experience the true depth of innocence.

“And what are your plans for the evening?” Confidence infused her tone which was surprising when one considered the intense pulse of desire radiating through the room. “Am I to come to your chamber?”

“No. I will come to you.” It was easier that way. He could leave, sneak out as soon as she fell asleep. It would save any awkward conversations.

“Then you do intend to lie with me tonight?”

“Of course.” He sounded far too eager. “Our alliance must be legally binding.”

“I see.” With deft fingers, she pulled the pins from her hair. Golden curls fell free to drape over her shoulders and slide seductively down her back.

“What are you doing?” Good Lord. For the first time in his life, his heart fluttered in his chest.

“I see little point in waiting,” she said, placing the pins on the dressing table. “If it is to be an exercise simply to satisfy legalities then I would rather get it over with.”

Bloody hell. He scratched his head. “Priscilla—”

“Help me out of this gown.”

Matthew stood dumbstruck while Priscilla fiddled with the tiny pearl buttons.

Things were not going to plan.

To begin with, he wanted to bed his wife. Not for the pathetic reason he’d given but because he found her attractive. The lady was a constant source of amazement. At their first meeting in the Holbrooks’ garden, he’d believed her to be timid, shy, easily persuaded.

How wrong could a man be?

Priscilla stepped out of her slippers and placed her foot on the stool. With delicate fingers she rolled her silk stocking down slowly over her knee, over a slim calf and trim ankle. From the sensual curve of her mouth, she must have gleaned some pleasure from the feel of the fabric gliding over her skin. Liquid fire pumped through his veins.

Heaven help him, he’d married a temptress.

“Allow me,” he said hoarsely when she raised her leg to remove the other stocking.

Priscilla caught his gaze, stopped her ministrations by way of silent permission. “Then lock the door.”

Matthew did not need to be told twice.

After granting her wish, he closed the gap between them with some haste. He knelt down, placed her foot on his knee and slid his hand under her gown, up to her thigh.

The nerves in the tips of his fingers tingled as he tugged the delicate ribbon garter holding the stocking in place. The temptation to touch her more intimately took hold. With the pad of his thumb, he brushed the smooth skin above the top of her hosiery.

Priscilla gasped but did not pull away.