The mounting tension blew his mind. He wanted to grab her hair, thrust up into her wicked mouth but feared doing anything to ruin what was the most gratifying moment of his life. Instead, he clutched the seat, closed his eyes and let his wife do what she wanted.
Matthew was almost at the point of release when he realised Priscilla wouldn’t know what to expect.
“That’s enough, love,” he panted. Dragging a handkerchief from his pocket, he finished the job with his hand. The pure power accompanying his climax robbed him of breath though he was aware of the satisfied grin filling his face.
He looked up, his eyes locking with Priscilla’s. The peachy-glow touching her cheeks, the full, swollen lips still parted as her own breath came quickly, was an entrancing sight to behold.
Something had happened to him in that lust-fuelled moment. A connection formed, one deeper than anything he’d ever known. Not because she had performed such a scandalous act in a carriage. But due to her utter lack of knowledge, it must have taken an immense amount of courage to give him what he wanted. It was a selfless act. An act to strengthen the bond between them. An act of trust.
“You did not have to do that,” he panted still trying to catch his breath.
“I know. Regardless of the fact you’re my husband, everything I do is because I want to. Duty plays no part.”
“I’ve heard many men say their wives find such an intimate act abhorrent. Did you find it so?”
She pondered the comment. “While it doesn’t feel completely natural, there is something empowering about having you at my mercy, controlling your pleasure and rendering you helpless.”
The vision of her tying him to the bed whilst she rode him to completion popped into his head. Damn. Could he think of nothing else but bedding his wife? “Does that mean you might enjoy seducing me again?”
A coy smile touched her lips. “I might.”
The carriage jerked and rumbled to a halt. Matthew leant forward and raised the blind. “We’re home.” Now he could indulge his desires and do what he’d spent the last few nights avoiding.
Priscilla touched his arm. “Wait. Can we remain in the carriage for a moment?”
“Why? Do you have more delights in store for me? I should warn you, a stationary carriage rocking and swaying in the street will give the gossips plenty to talk about.”
“Don’t excite yourself. I wanted to ask you something that’s all.”
The euphoria that accompanied his release still thrummed through his veins which was why he dismissed the footman waiting outside the door and readied himself for what he suspected would be a probing question. After all, he could hardly refuse such a simple request.
“What would you like to know, Priscilla?”
She swallowed visibly — the vision rousing an image of their passionate encounter mere moments before — and then straightened.
“Well, I suppose it’s a question of two halves as I suspect there is a connection. Tell me, what did Tristan do for you that would see you marry a woman you cared nothing for?”
The question rebounded back and forth in his mind. It wasn’t the question that rattled him, more the realisation that his feelings for Priscilla had changed since that first meeting.
“Before I answer, perhaps you might reveal the other half of your question.”
She nodded. “Does the debt you owe to Tristan have something to do with the reason you’re estranged from your family?” She paused while she scanned his face. “I deserve to know the truth, Matthew. I understand why you’re so guarded, but tell me this, and I promise to ask nothing more from you.”
A gaping hole opened in his belly. What if there came a time when she didn’t need him? What if she no longer came to him with her questions and curiosities?
“To understand the situation, I must answer the second question first.” To reveal the truth would mean revisiting the scene in the woods, acknowledging that money meant more to his family than honour and loyalty. “You want my trust, Priscilla. Then understand that, other than to Tristan, I have not spoken of this to anyone. As such, I am placing my faith in you. Listen but do not offer words of comfort, pity or wisdom. After this moment, I want to leave the past behind and never speak of it again.”
“I understand.”
She put her hand on his thigh. This time the gesture was meant to reassure him.
“Please.” He took hold of her hand and placed it in her lap. “Do not get upset, but I would rather you sat in the seat opposite.” Just being near her stirred emotions he did not understand. To be blinded by sentiment might make him look at his situation from a different perspective. It had taken years to come to terms with what had happened. He had neither the time nor the inclination to begin again.
“Of course.” The croak in her voice belied her confident smile.
Damn. Later, when they were alone in bed, he would lavish her with attention. He would take his pleasure, too, hoping to eradicate the sombre mood that gripped him whenever he thought of his past.
He opened his mouth to speak but paused. Did he really want to relive those dark moments? Did she really need to know? But then he supposed he owed her an explanation.