Chapter 11
Excitement danced in Jane’s stomach as Matthew took her elbow and led her up the steps of the theater. Her smile spread as she stared around the theater lobby that she hadn’t seen for far too long. Once upon a time the Theater Royal had practically been Monica’s home, and the thought of her sister heading the program brought tears of pride to Jane’s eyes.
The carpet was a deep ruby red and the chandeliers were of the most exquisite crystal. Prisms of light reflected from the lanterns lining the walls and cascaded from the jewels on the necks and ears of the upper class ladies standing around sipping champagne and laughing carelessly. To think that less than two years had passed since this had been Monica’s life while Jane had been living in a prison called home . . . the matron and master their now-deceased parents.
“Jane? Is everything all right?”
Matthew’s concern broke through her contemplation and she turned. The power of his dark blue eyes and tall, broad stature vanquished the memories of her past and brought Jane hurtling into the present. She smiled. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is wonderful.”
He drew his gaze over her face in a soft caress. “I’m glad to hear it. I want you to enjoy this evening.” He looked toward the staircase ahead of them. “Shall we find the box Adam promised?”
She nodded, trepidation speeding her heart . . . she still had no idea how she’d come to be here, with Matthew, like this.
With his hand cupped firmly at her elbow once more, he escorted her through the waiting ladies and gentlemen toward the upper floor. His touch burned through her sleeve to her skin, her traitorous body bearing no mind to her determination that nothing untoward occur between her and Matthew.
She lifted her chin against her physical reactions as they walked along a maze of corridors until Matthew stopped at a closed door. He glanced at the ticket in his hand. “Here we are.” He faced her and smiled. “Ready?”
Jane laughed, her stomach tightening with heightened attraction that was as dangerous as it was exquisite. “Yes.”
He pulled open the door and guided her up the steps into the box. Jane stood at the front and stared down at the auditorium. People milled around everywhere, ample money interspersed with little—clothes, hats, and jewels serving as status symbols among the influx of theatergoers.
She shook her head. “It is truly wonderful that Monica has performed here.”
“Your sister is very talented.”
Jane blushed, feeling foolish that she had spoken her awed words aloud rather than keeping them inside. It was entirely possible Matthew had been here a hundred or more times with Elizabeth, and now Jane stood at the box’s edge, side by side with him where anyone could look up, see them, and think their presence together enough to warrant an afternoon’s gossip.
Katy and Mrs. Wrexford swept into Jane’s mind, and she swallowed.
She had to maintain a sense of authority, a sense of nonchalance, rather than languish in the feeling of true joy washing through her veins that she was here—with Matthew.
When she turned, he held out a seat for her. She sat and he reached toward the small table to his side. “Champagne?”
“Lovely, thank you.” He was certain to notice the stiffness in her tone, but she had to enforce some formality or lose her head completely.
He stilled for a moment, glanced at her with a question in his eyes before turning back to the champagne and filling two crystal flutes. He held one out to her with a soft smile, despite the lingering shadow of concern in his eyes.
Avoiding his gaze, Jane took the glass. “Thank you.”
He lifted his. “A toast. To new beginnings.”
She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “To new beginnings.”
They touched glasses and drank. Jane’s gaze briefly locked with his above the rim before Matthew turned to the stage. Taking advantage of the angle of their seats, Jane shamelessly studied him. She admired every strand of his rich, dark brown hair, and strong jaw. His shoulders, shown to perfection in a black suit, were wide and his thighs thick and strong.
Desire rose, causing heat to pinch hot at her cheeks and other less acceptable places. His head moved and she quickly snatched her gaze to the audience, lest he catch her staring.
As the lights lowered, she exhaled a light sigh of relief and placed her glass on the small table beside her. In the dark, her blushes would be saved, even if the semi-light did little to lessen her new and frightening desire. She had no experience with these feelings. She was a virgin, a maiden. How could God grant her such indecent thoughts when no one, especially Matthew, looked to court her?
The band struck up a harrowing concerto and the audience below hurried to their seats, the chatter diminishing to a low hum of voices. With the crash of the cymbals and the call of the trumpets, very soon only music filled the auditorium. Jane stared toward the stage, her body tense with excitement and a glorious feeling of liberty.
She turned to find Matthew watching her. His eyes were dark with intensity and a heated sensation rippled over Jane’s skin, making her all too aware of their proximity. Empty words battled on her tongue as they stared at one another.
The lights brightened and they turned to the stage as the heavy curtain rose and the play began. Jane battled to keep her attention on the players, fighting not to stray her focus to where it longed to be. The actors’ words filled the air, but Jane could barely hear them over the thud of her heart.
When Matthew’s fingers covered her clasped hands on her lap, she stiffened before throwing her fear aside and curling her fingers around his. Gaze averted, Jane stared ahead and relished the warmth and security of his palm against hers. She enjoyed, rather than rejected, the intimacy and strength of his unwavering gaze at her temple.
Just for now she would pretend she was his.
The play continued and soon clasping Matthew’s hand no longer felt forbidden, but necessary, as the treachery and malice of the villain’s actions onstage scored and tore at her nerves. The orchestra’s music rose and fell as the play dictated. The crashes and bangs, screams and shouts of the actors, poured into Jane’s soul until she entirely forgot they were playing characters but instead thought of them as living, breathing human beings.
More than once, she and Matthew exchanged a smile when she flinched or accidentally cried out. When a gunshot reverberated through the theater to its very rafters, and the heroine dropped to the floorboards, seemingly murdered, Jane almost toppled from her seat.
She held her breath as the hero bounded onstage, lifted his sweetheart into his arms, and ran through London’s dark and eerie streets, carrying her to the sanctuary of the physician’s needle and thread.
The curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause.
Jane pulled her hand from Matthew’s to applaud, but when she turned to face him, her smile dissolved and her hands stilled. His dark, fiery gaze locked on hers and the air shifted into an aura equally as dangerous as anything that could be created by gun or knife. Her heart beat fast as the unmistakable desire in his eyes seeped into her body, making her want to fight the injustice of their impossible union.
Slowly, he moved toward her . . .
Warning screamed in her head to stop him, to move back, to stand, anything . . . yet instead, she moved toward him.
The darkness enveloped them in a secret and safe cocoon.
She hesitated, he hesitated, and then his lips covered hers and they kissed. Jane closed her eyes, her suppressed love for him exploding through her body on a pulsing wave of heat that curled her toes and ignited her entire body.
The new sensation aroused her, tormenting her into thinking she was capable of climbing the tallest mountain, sailing the widest ocean . . .
The lights came on and Matthew drew abruptly back in his seat whereas she remained frozen, her lips swollen and hot.
She opened her eyes and her heart fell to see such a stony expression upon his face, such a look of open annoyance as he glared out toward the auditorium. Was the kiss by her instigation? Had she reached for him, rather than he for her? Her mind whirled with confusion. Her heart—at his rejection—simply broke in two.
What in God’s name have I done?
Matthew squeezed his eyes shut in order to regain his composure. Jane had tasted like the sweetest chocolate, her lips softer than any he’d ever sampled. They were soft, yet hot, as though a fire smoldered just beneath the surface of her skin. God, and now he longed to stoke the flames and experience them coming alive.
His cock twitched, and he cursed his absurdity.
Forcing his eyes open, he turned. Jane stared ahead, her spine rigid and her face a mask to whatever thoughts circled within her mind. Swallowing the shame balled in his throat, Matthew reached out to touch her before dropping his hand onto his thigh. To touch her when he was in such want of her could only be detrimental to them both. “Jane, I’m sorry.”
She snapped her head around, her chin high and her hazel eyes burning with indignation. “Why?” Her voice was a harsh whisper. “Because you regret acting on a much-felt desire? Or that my naïve kissing was not up to your experienced standard?”
“What? Of course not.” He reached for her hand.
She trembled.
“I had no right to kiss you. You have asked for my help, my support, and I did something like that. I’m sorry.”
She eased her hand from his, her eyes blazing with anger. “Why are you never truthful? Are you attracted to me, Matthew? Because if you are, own it as I have had to.”
He stared, as disbelief and an innate burst of pleasure soared through him. He smiled. “You’re attracted to me? How long—”
“Don’t you dare.”
He fought his smile, but it was impossible to erase. “Jane, I had no idea. I thought you only saw me as your friend, your squire. If for one moment, I had—”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear futile declarations from you now.” Her cheeks were dark with color. “Not when you are married. Anyone might have seen us kiss. Might presume you an adulterer and I your mistress.”
He looked about the auditorium as the audience filed toward the exits. “Why should anyone have cause to look at us?”
But hadn’t he acted as she said?
He faced her and drew his gaze over her beautiful face, unable to speak because he hadn’t pulled away from her for any of the reasons she named, but for another reason entirely. He had to cease the kiss or God only knew what would happen the next time they were alone if he were to act on the lust pumping through his veins.
He looked toward the auditorium once more. “I couldn’t care less what these people think of me. It’s your reputation I am concerned for, not mine. If it was all about me, then—”
“You would ravish me right here and now? Take me in your arms and make love to me?” She glared, her shoulders trembling.
Desire whirled like an eddy in his stomach. “What do you want me to say? I shouldn’t have kissed you? I shouldn’t want you? God in heaven, Jane. If I could change my circumstances, don’t you think I would?”
She tilted her chin. “But why now? Why do you have these feelings for me now? All this time . . .” She closed her eyes and pursed her lips as though trapping further words inside. Opening her eyes, she abruptly stood and hastily smoothed her skirts, her gaze averted to the task. “I’d like to go home now.”
Matthew stood and stared at her bowed head as passion and frustration burned. The woman was a fireball under an exterior of duck down. The combination was irresistible. She was sorely mistaken if she thought their evening would end with the carriage ride back to her house. She was attracted to him, and he to her. They would talk, maybe even make plans for what happened next between them if she would allow it. Now that he knew she had feelings for him too, his mission to court her held more merit than ever.
Picking up his hat, he offered her his arm. Her chin high, she slid her hand onto his elbow and they exited the box. Tension thickened with their every step, sexual awareness slipping through Matthew’s blood like he’d never felt before. She was a woman of means, a woman capable of caring for an ailing parent or a crying babe. She was strong and forthright, aware and informed. He curled his hand into a fist. He wanted her for his own. To possess her, protect her.
God almighty, he wanted to cause her to cry out in satisfaction in his bed. Laugh as he joked and teased her. Make her smile and feel happy and safe in whatever it was she wanted to do.
He clenched his jaw. Where had this ardent urgency to make love to her come from? Was it the look of defiance in her eyes that stirred his desire? The heat beneath her kiss? Or the fact that now she was here, in the city, where any man might claim her, making him want to see love, for him and only him, in her eyes?
Self-hatred coiled like an old rope inside him as they stepped from the theater and into the night’s semidarkness. Matthew donned his hat. “We will have to wait here for a hackney. One should be along short—”
“Then we’ll walk. I have no wish to stay with you a moment longer than necessary.”
A smile threatened, cooling a little of the dangerous heat that swirled in his blood. He pursed his lips, knowing if she were to witness his amusement, the height of her temper might result in him enduring a slapped cheek. “As you wish.”
Side by side, their arms entwined, they walked. Words bit at Matthew’s tongue, but he held them back, wanting Jane to break the silence. He waited. Then waited some more, until his nerves were stretched to breaking—still he didn’t speak. The longer the silence, the more his lust abated, but maybe more perilously, the more amorous the words he wanted to say.
He trod upon very dangerous ground.
Once they entered the Circus, she increased her pace as if she wanted to run for her house situated at the end of the terrace. The notion that she was so desperate to be away from him snapped Matthew’s restraint in two. He refused to have her dislike him now. Not when he would do all in his power to orchestrate a future in which he could freely love her.
He frowned. “I’ve apologized for kissing you. There is no need to treat me as though I am diseased.”
She shook her head and tutted, continuing forward, only to draw to a halt outside the pathway of her house. She tipped her head back and met his gaze. “For your information, I have no regrets about our kiss. I only regret that I wasted my energy by matching your fervor during that brief moment of madness. You are clearly confused, and suffering, after Elizabeth’s infidelity. I think it best you return to Biddestone in the morning.” She looked to her purse and removed her key. “I will do well enough alone at the Board tomorrow. I thank you for your offer to accompany—”
“I am coming with you whether you want me there or not.” His amusement at her frayed temper vanished the instant she mentioned Elizabeth. Rather than cooling his desire for her, the reference echoing Adam’s that Matthew suffered from some kind of heartbreak that caused an inability to think straight was about as much as he would stand for.
She glared. “I said I wish to go alone.”
“I don’t care.”
“Why, you—”
“Walk with me.” He grasped her elbow and stepped away from the house.
She yanked away from him and he released her.
Their gazes locked.
Her bright hazel eyes shone with anger, her body rigid, but for the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Turning around, he stepped along the path, relief speeding his heart when he heard her exasperated sigh followed by her hurried footsteps behind him. He slowed until she was at his side.
She stared. “I demand to know where you are taking me.”
“I am taking you nowhere, you are walking of your own free will.”
She emitted a cry of frustration and hot satisfaction roared through his blood. The passion unfurling inside him was a new and exciting sensation. Through all the years of trying to ignite any sort of flame in his relationship with Elizabeth, nothing like this barely controlled heat had swept over him before.
For the first time in two long years, life and energy stirred in his blood—and it was Jane who had caused it. With sudden clarity, Matthew sensed he would succeed at whatever he put his mind to, without fear of condescension and ridicule, with Jane by his side. Whenever he was with her, he did not fight the urge to escape, desperate for distance from her, as he had with Elizabeth. Instead, he wanted to be close . . . preposterously close.
Her words and subsequent dismissal of him had stirred awake animalistic feelings that had no place around a lady, yet Jane was a woman like no other. There was no doubt in his mind, she would match his passions and he intended to test the theory right there and then.
“Matthew, if you continue on this magical mystery tour, I will have no choice but to assume you are leading me somewhere I have no desire to go. You are no gentleman. You are—”
“In here.” He led her into an alley. “I want to try something.”
“You want to . . .” Her eyes widened as her gaze darted around the darkened space. “What on earth has gotten into you? Are you mad?”
He eased her against the wall and she stared at him, her eyes wide with confusion, yet absent of fear. An assured sign she trusted him—even if she did not particularly like him at that moment. He stepped closer and put his palms on the wall on either side of her face. Arousal, need, and want pulsed through him on a hot, undulating wave.
“Why would you say I am still suffering from Elizabeth’s infidelity? I no longer care what she has done.”
“You’re lying. Again.” She glared. “The least you can do is lend me your honesty. I might have been a fool to let you kiss me, but I will not stand by and let you disregard my intelligence in much the same way you have our kiss.”
Irritation flared and he dropped his chin, grappling to maintain control and not show her with a second kiss how little he cared for Elizabeth. Jane’s harried breaths whispered across the fallen hair on his forehead.
He lifted his chin and met her widened gaze. “I care about the failure to deliver on a dying promise to my father, that is all that concerns me. My anger and frustration, my misery, have nothing to do with something as ridiculous as lost love.”
She flinched as though he’d struck her. “You think people who mourn over a lost love are ridiculous?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
She stared at him, her chest rising and falling. “I want to leave. Move out of the way.”
Matthew frowned. Were those tears in her eyes? “Do you not understand what I am saying?”
She faced the entranceway of the alley and huffed out a laugh. “I understand you perfectly.”
The derision in her tone was like a flint to a flame. Frustration sped his heart as he touched her chin and turned her face to his. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes burned with anger. “I mean, you are not who I thought you were. It means you are cold and unfeeling. A man who has no time for love. I mean, the farther I am away from you, the happier I will be.”
His heart beat fast with unexpected hurt and unwanted panic. He had finally seen the light of who this wonderful woman was, and instead of them embracing, his words and actions had extinguished the light from deep inside her.
Taking a step back, Matthew swiped a hand over his face. “I will walk you home.”
“Thank you.”
She stepped forward and he halted her with a hand on her arm, his gaze searching hers as determination that she not despise or forget him rushed through his body. “This is my truth, Jane. My father’s wishes have haunted the entirety of my adult life.”
She stilled.
He clenched his jaw. “But of all the questions you have asked me, there is one you were absolutely right to ask.”
She frowned. “Which was?”
“Am I mad.”
A flash of concern passed through her gaze before she straightened her spine. “Why was I right to ask you that? Because you are displaying your insanity by bringing me into this dark, dank alley where one scream from me and the police might come running?”
“Not at all. I believe I am quite mad and growing madder every day. You . . .” He shook his head, roaming his gaze over her face to rest on her beautiful, soft mouth. “I have never seen this passion, this unshakeable confidence in you when we were in Biddestone. In just a few days, the city has brought you alive. It is that which might just send me quite insane if I am forever barred from witnessing it over and over again. You’re . . .” Impatience to taste her again tore through him. To halt it would be fruitless. “Damnation.”
Matthew cupped his hands to her jaw and claimed her mouth.
She stiffened before mewing softly into his mouth and gripping his shoulders. She pulled him forward and increased the intensity of her kiss, sending every ounce of adrenaline to his cock. For the love of God. He moaned and stepped closer to grasp her waist, bringing her flat against his chest. Her breasts pressed against him, sending his arousal higher. He put his tongue to hers, and she returned his claim by meeting him with equal intensity.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she murmured and trembled against him. He held her tighter and kissed her deeper until he pulled back, fearing he might devour her whole if he continued.
Their gazes locked, and their harried breaths fell into sync. Her eyes were heavy with lust and his groin ached with need. With her hair mildly disheveled, her eyes wide and wild, she had never looked more beautiful or more perilous to his heart and mind.
He released her and stepped back.