Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
M atilda followed Lord Charteris out of the stables, her horse trotting alongside his as they made their way around the lake. The sunlight glinted off calm water, and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze carried a faint, earthy scent of summer. The grand estate loomed in the distance, a stately backdrop to their casual ride along the water’s edge.
“So, you think I’m handsome?” His lordship glanced at her, that wicked, teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Matilda shook her head, struggling to keep her composure as laughter bubbled just beneath the surface. Of all the things for him to recall! “There are many gentlemen I think handsome, my lord. You are merely one of them.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and turned his gaze ahead. The breeze lifted his hair, softening his otherwise godlike features. She bit back a smile, knowing all too well how frightfully attractive he was—and how aware of it he seemed to be.
“Well,” he began, “you’ll be pleased to know I’ve invited some friends from London to the assembly rooms ball this Saturday. Perhaps one of those London beaus will capture the elusive Lady Matilda’s heart.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Unlikely, my lord. None of them managed to tempt me during the last Season in London. I doubt one evening at a country dance will make much difference.”
“My friends might.” His gaze dipped to her lips for a fleeting moment, and her stomach fluttered in response. “Several of my friends prefer the quieter delights of Whites or Brooks over the chaos of balls and parties. Some did not even attend the Season, choosing instead the peace of the country estates. They may surprise you.”
She supposed they could. The thought of meeting unfamiliar gentlemen held a certain appeal, especially those not already dismissed from her consideration during the Season.
“I will admit,” she said with a sigh, “that I’m rather picky these days. After seeing my friends marry for true, enduring love, I find my expectations have risen. I won’t surrender my independence for anything less.”
“A true, honorable gentleman should not ask a woman to lose her independence simply because he wished to marry her,” he replied, his voice firm.
“Careful, Lord Charteris,” she teased, “or you’ll become dangerously enticing when you speak like that.”
His laugh rumbled deep in his chest, a sound that sent a delightful prickle through her. She scolded herself.
Do not fall for his charms, Matilda. He’s only a friend and nothing more.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lady,” he replied, his tone abruptly serious, “but I cannot offer my husbandly services, much as I enjoy your company.” His gaze swept over the lands surrounding them, his expression shifting to one of quiet contemplation.
He looked every inch the nobleman, regal and composed. Matilda studied him, wondering what weighed so heavily on his mind. Why was he so resolute in his decision not to marry?
“I won’t press you further.” As much as she wished she could, she knew it was not right. “But I may sneak another kiss or two, if you allow. I did enjoy your tutelage the other day.” His head snapped toward her, surprise flickering in his eyes. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m forward, my lord, but it’s the truth. Did you not enjoy kissing me?”
He shifted in his saddle, clearing his throat. “Of course I did. What man wouldn’t? But we should not do so again. Recklessness rarely ends well, and I fear I lose my senses when I’m near you.”
His admission pleased her more than it should have, but she schooled her expression into one of innocence. Nudging her horse closer, she leaned toward him. “We’re alone now. There’s no one to see us. Would you like to kiss me again here?”
“No. Definitely I do not.” He looked away, though he made no effort to increase the distance between them.
“Come now, Christopher,” she said, using his given name. “We’ve agreed you wish to remain a bachelor, and I wish to marry for love. Since our goals do not align, there’s no harm in sharing another kiss. I am dreadfully bored, after all. Your sister is always occupied, and I find myself quite alone these days. Be my diversion until I leave, won’t you?” She was being a terrible minx, but she could not help herself. There was something about Lord Charteris that made her throw caution to the wind.
“No,” he said firmly, though his tone lacked conviction.
She frowned and reached out, clasping his reins and halting his horse. “I say yes.”
He attempted to move forward again, but she stopped him. “Are you always this demanding? I’m not some libertine, Matilda.”
She laughed, enjoying their banter. “Of course, you are not. It’s just a kiss—not a scandal.” She paused, studying him as a niggling suspicion would not dissipate. “Is it Lady Delphine who keeps you from kissing me?” she asked finally. “Your sister hinted your families have hopes of a match between you.”
“No,” he stated, his answer sharp, before he urged his mount forward. “We’re friends, just as you and I are. I wouldn’t raise her hopes for a match any more than I would you.”
“But you’re not raising my hopes,” she countered, catching up and halting his horse again. “We’re friends who sometimes kiss. There’s no harm in that.”
“I cannot kiss you again.”
“Christopher.” Her words were soft yet insistent. “I promise not to fall in love with you. Will that soothe your worries? I only want to kiss you again because…because you do it so well.”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. She felt her heart race, her stomach clench with expectation. “Kiss me, Christopher,” she urged, barely above a whisper.
“Get off the horse,” he ordered.
She dismounted quickly, her heart pounding as he did the same. Their horses flanked them, the towering animals shielding them from view. Christopher stepped closer, his hand slipping to the nape of her neck. "God damn you, Matilda. You make denying you impossible," he growled, as his lips brushed hers lightly at first, then pressed harder, capturing her in a kiss that stole her breath.
All rational thought fled as his arm circled her waist, pulling her flush against him. The firm planes of his chest pressed against her, and her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him closer. His tongue teased, sending shivers wracking her every sense.
This—was what she craved. To feel alive, desired, and cherished, even for a fleeting moment. His kiss deepened, and she knew she would never forget how he made her feel.
And she never wanted to.