Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
C hristopher wasn’t certain what had come over him. Perhaps it was the spell of the moonlit night, the gentle lapping of water against the dock, or the way Lady Matilda’s presence seemed to consume the very air around him. Her delicate features, illuminated by the silvery light, were captivating. She looked at him now with an unspoken longing, her lips parted, her eyes shimmering with expectation. He could scarcely bear the thought of disappointing her.
From the moment he had met Lady Matilda, Christopher had been drawn to her in a way that both thrilled and unnerved him. She awakened a yearning he knew was perilous—a flame that, if left unchecked, might consume them both. He told himself he could not act on such desires, not until he was certain of his feelings, or had resolved the misunderstanding that plagued his every waking hour, a shadow from his past that loomed large over his present even now.
He could not drag Matilda into his life, make her believe that he could offer any form of future when he did not know himself what that future entailed. She was innocent of his past troubles, and he would be loath to drag her into his muddy here and now.
Yet, as Matilda leaned forward, her lashes fluttering shut, the space between them seemed to disappear. The way her soft breaths mingled with the crisp night air was intoxicating, her beauty almost unbearable. His restraint wavered, but his sense of duty—fragile as it was—still held. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until the chains of his past were broken.
But then her hands, warm and trembling, cupped his face, and the world fell away. At that moment, all rational thought vanished.
Christopher closed the space between them without hesitation, brushing his lips against hers in a tentative kiss. Relief surged through him, followed by a profound sense of rightness. He slid a hand to the nape of her neck, tipping her chin upward to deepen the kiss. Her lips, soft and inviting, met his eagerly, her inexperience evident but endearing. When his tongue skimmed hers, he felt her surprise—her hesitation—but soon, with her characteristic quickness, she mimicked his movements, matching him in an unspoken rhythm.
Desire roared through him like a tempest. His carefully constructed walls crumbled, and he allowed himself to act on raw instinct for the first time in years. Their kiss was no mere meeting of lips; it was a collision of longing and passion, a searing exchange that left him both elated and undone. He pulled her closer, her slender frame fitting faultlessly against his. The thin fabric of her nightdress offered little barrier, her softness pressing against the hard planes of his chest, teased and tormented him.
His body reacted instinctively, his arousal impossible to ignore, but even as the fire within him burned hotter, he clung to his last shred of control. To go further would be unthinkable—a betrayal of everything he held sacred. He allowed himself the pleasure of her fingers tangling in his hair, the slight sting sending a heady mix of pain and pleasure through his veins. Still, it was enough to remind him of the line he could not—must not—cross.
With an effort that felt Herculean, Christopher broke the kiss, his breath ragged, his heart pounding against his ribs. The sight of Matilda’s flushed face, her lips swollen from their embrace, nearly undid him again. But he pulled back, creating a necessary distance between them, though every fiber of his being screamed to close it.
“We must stop,” he rasped. “This… This isn’t right.” Even as the words left his lips, he leaned forward, stealing one last, lingering kiss. “No, truly, Matilda, we cannot do this.”
She tilted her head, a teasing smile curving her lips. “It’s only a kiss, my lord. I’m not expecting you to offer marriage.”
Her casual response stunned him, and he wrenched farther away, needing the cool night air to clear his thoughts. “Have you ever been kissed before, my lady? Are you telling me you’ve done this with other men?”
The thought of another man tasting her lips, touching her as he had, sent an unwelcome surge of jealousy coursing through him.
“No, of course not,” she replied with a hint of amusement. “You’re the first. And I must say, I enjoyed it quite a lot. Perhaps you could bestow more kisses upon me—it would certainly make my stay here more…diverting.”
Christopher stared, dumbfounded. “Are you saying kissing me is merely a pastime for you? I’m not sport, my lady.” He stood, placing his hands on his hips.
She laughed in muted tones. Rising from the dock, she stepped close, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Of course not, my lord. But I’m also not asking for your hand in marriage. A kiss is simply a kiss. I’m perfectly content with leaving it at that.”
Her honesty disarmed him, but it did little to calm the unease gnawing at his conscience. He should be relieved, yet the thought of her exploring such intimacy with another man filled him with a possessiveness he couldn’t quite name.
“If you must kiss anyone, Lady Matilda, let it be me,” he said. “For your reputation’s sake, of course.”
“For my reputation,” she echoed, grinning as she linked her arm through his. “But you are a very good kisser, my lord. Perhaps I could learn more from you—purely for educational purposes.”
He chuckled despite himself, allowing her to guide him back toward the house. “For your future husband, I presume?”
“Precisely,” she said, playfully, yet the idea of her kissing anyone made him uneasy. They stopped beneath the shadow of an ancient elm, and she tipped onto her toes and brushed her lips against his. The fleeting kiss left him breathless all over again.
“Goodnight, Lord Charteris,” she whispered in a sultry note that lingered in the air long after she had disappeared into the house.
Christopher stood rooted to the spot, watching her retreat across the moonlit lawn. Even as he returned to his chamber, he was certain his wits were still scattered. Matilda had undone him, and he resolved to harden himself against her charms—for both their sakes.
Yet deep down, he already knew it was a battle he had little chance of winning.