Matthew scanned the array of delectable dishes: fish, asparagus tart, a terrine of some sort, the quantity far too much for two people. “We’re just missing the bowl of strawberries.”
“That might prove to be a problem,” Hopkins said with a hint of remorse. “Cook had not factored strawberries into the week's menu.”
Matthew’s shoulders sagged. “Can you not find some from somewhere?”
Hopkins grimaced. “What with the hour being late…”
“Never mind,” she said. Matthew’s eagerness to please touched her. The thoughtful gesture was enough. “We’ll save the strawberries for another time.”
Hopkins inclined his head. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, we shall serve ourselves. I’ll inform you once we’ve finished.” Matthew stepped outside with Hopkins, returned a moment later and closed the door. “Your picnic, my lady.” With an air of smug satisfaction, he gestured to the table.
“Are we to sit on the floor?” Excitement bubbled in her belly at the thought of such unconventional behaviour.
“Is that not what people do on picnics?”
Priscilla stepped onto the Persian rug, but Matthew came forward and caught her wrist.
“There is just one more thing to do before we eat,” he said threading his fingers into her hair. His head was so close his warm breath breezed across her cheek. With nimble fingers, he removed the pins slowly. One at a time. Golden locks tumbled around her shoulders, and he teased them loose, brushed a few tendrils from her face. “I can’t promise you’ll feel the wind blowing your hair, but hopefully you’ll feel a similar sense of freedom.”
A strange ache filled her chest: a yearning she had never experienced before. It took all the effort she possessed not to throw her arms around his neck and plunder his mouth.
“Are you attempting to seduce me?”
He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Only if it’s working.”
It was working.
“Do you think it is?”
A sinful smile touched his lips. “Well, I hear the hitch in your breath. I see the glazed look of desire swimming in your eyes. You’ve moistened your lips too many times to count.” He trailed his fingers from her shoulder down the front of her dress. “I could offer a host of other observations, but I fear my licentious banter will ruin the moment.”
Priscilla swallowed in an attempt to gather her wits. Everything he said was true. But she would not surrender without gaining something in return.
“You enjoy a wager,” she said, for it would not do to appear too eager. “Do you feel confident enough to gamble?”
Matthew drew his head back, wide eyes conveying his surprise at the challenge. “What did you have in mind?”
“While we eat, we will play a game. We will draw cards. The winner of each hand can demand something from the other.” She would use the opportunity to find out more about him. Where did he go on those nightly outings? Why did he distance himself from his family? Had Lucinda Pearce approached him again? “And the loser must comply.”
A snigger burst from his lips. “If I win, you do know what I’ll want as my prize.”
“Of course. You will want to pleasure me until I beg to be … now, what was that delightful word you used?”
“I shall refrain from using the obscenity in your presence again.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You won’t beat me. I may have been duped by sharps, but I have some skill for cards.”
Priscilla shrugged. “It will be a game of chance. No one can predict the outcome.”
“Trust me, love. I’m not leaving this room until I’ve claimed your body.”
In that regard, she had nothing to lose, everything to gain. Of course, it helped that she had an excellent memory and could recall every card previously played.
“Then pray Fate is on your side.” Fate owed her something for her plight.
Perhaps her luck was about to change.
Chapter 12