Chapter Eleven
“Don’t get too close to those casks with that candle!” Jasmine warned. “This entire place could go up in flames.”
Matthew placed the candle back on the table and set to thinking. There had to be a spare key in the cellar somewhere. It was a private place. Romantic. He grimaced at the image of Lord and Lady Dorchester having a secret rendezvous of their own in here.
Shuddering and pushing down nausea, he said, “Your mother would not have a door that locks on both sides without having a key hidden inside.”
“There used to be one,” she mused. “It went missing a long time ago.”
Being an accomplished hand at fine metalwork, he could pick the lock if he had his tools. He examined the door again. How was it possible that it locked behind him? Even an aged lock shouldn’t have just slid into place.
Matthew ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Does it matter?” She gave a resigned sigh.
Sitting at the table—on a chair this time—she hadn’t donned her gloves and stockings. Her dress and the table hid her legs, but her wrists were on display for his greedy eyes. He wanted them tied to a bedpost.
As she took another sip of wine from the bottle, her throat moved with her swallow.
Hyper-aware of her movements, he was aflame for her.
Like a beast, he had been ready to strip her bare and take her on a table.
With the way she moved under him and how she responded to his touch, she would have let him.
Curling his hands into fists, he suppressed the impulse to finish what he started.
Giving in to his desire for her had gotten him into this predicament.
But having her under him—wanting him—was enough to wake him up.
His selfishness didn’t warrant trapping her.
All it took was one beautiful, breathless moan for him to realize how badly he needed her to choose him.
Too late.
Blast it all.
“How long do you think we have before someone notices we’re missing?” she asked.
“Everyone knows you’re missing,” he said. “Seth and Zeke won’t bother looking for me. My guess is when they run out of wine, they’ll send a servant down here. How long does that normally take? A few hours?”
She blanched. “Sometimes that takes days.”
“Days?!”
On second thought, being locked in a wine cellar was not so great a thing. There had to be a way out.
She sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to marry now.”
“That all depends on who finds us.” He gave her an apologetic shrug. “I have a reputation. No one will believe I didn’t compromise you.”
“You did compromise me.”
“See? Unless I find a way out of here, it’ll be up to fate.”
She took another drink of wine, finishing the bottle. Then she murmured, “Or we could get married anyway.”
“I beg your pardon?” He gaped at her. “Could you repeat that?”
She hid her head in her hands. “You know what, nevermind—”
He recovered and grinned. “Now, now, let’s not dismiss it outright.” He swiveled a chair to face her and sat down. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he asked, “Why do you want to marry me?”
Jasmine lowered her hands and met his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, and I think you’re right.”
“Those are wonderful words,” Matthew teased. “What am I right about? The list might be long, but do take your time and go in depth. We’ll be here a while.”
She rolled her eyes but offered a relaxed smile. She turned in her chair until her knees rested against his. As she leaned in dangerously close, the scent of lilies filled his nose. Drawn in, he almost closed the gap between her mouth and his. Instead, he tried to focus on her words.
“About the benefits of being married. Women are provided security from a marriage, and a man, heirs. And seeing as you’re looking for someone attractive, and you’re less than objectionable yourself—”
Matthew held up a finger.
“The next time you propose to a man, make sure not to call him ‘less than objectionable.’ It chafes.”
“Hear me out.” She huffed. “I was thinking of every man that’s ever called upon me, and none were like you. You would care for me, and protect me.”
“Of course I would,” he assured her. “Nothing would harm you.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave him a soft smile. “You wouldn’t try to cage me. You wouldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want.”
Matthew pushed down the pang of guilt that tore through him. “As my wife, you’ll have the freedom to do as you wish.”
“And, it’s not only beneficial to me,” she continued, as if negotiating a contract. “I already get along with your family. I’m sure I could provide you with at least one heir.”
At least.
“You’d be damning yourself to my life,” he mumbled.
“I want your life,” Jasmine said. His heart soared, and he reached for her hands. She gave a sheepish smile. “It could be a marriage of convenience, if you’d like?”
“You want… a marriage of convenience?” His voice came out hollow. He dropped her hands and faced the table. “You’re not in love with me.”
“But I still care for you.” Words meant to soothe him stabbed his heart. “And I know you care for me.”
“It’s not the same,” he said. “You should romantically love the person you marry.”
Jasmine spoke to her lap. “I don’t think I’m capable of romantic love. I would have found it by now, surely.”
“You don’t find love in supervised sitting rooms.” He sighed and sat back in his chair.
“Do you find it in brothels?” she challenged. He shot her a fiery glare. She quieted her voice and said sheepishly, “Or wherever you’ve been looking?”
“I’ve never looked in a brothel,” he told her. “And no, I haven’t found it where I’ve been searching.” He squeezed his eyes closed and took a shuddering breath. “One time, I found love during a waltz.”
“What happened?” she whispered.
He stared down at his hands. “I lost it,” he choked. “Slipped right from my fingers.”
Her fingertips grazed his chin, and she lifted his face to hers. Her voice was as soft as a caress. “If neither of us can find love, and we both need to marry, why not give this a shot? Maybe we can find love with each other.”
With an earnestness in her eyes, she innocently offered him his dreams. But he hesitated.
Was this truly what he wanted? A marriage of convenience with Jasmine?
He glanced down at her kiss-swollen lips.
Her honeyed voice had whispered, ‘don’t stop.
’ Even if she didn’t love him, she was open to the idea.
It would be easier to woo her when he had constant access to her.
He would be a gentleman. Take it slow. Let her set the pace.
And really, that was the plan all along, wasn’t it? The corners of his lips lifted. And if she thought it was her idea, who was he to turn her down?
“Let’s play this out. Hypothetically, of course.
” Matthew controlled his smile, trying not to appear too eager.
As if only now coming up with the timeline, he said, “The wedding will take some planning. Your mother planned Cassandra’s in nine days, so we can expect a similar timeline.
If I grease the Archbishop’s palm, I could get a special license.
That would rush things along.” He offered, “If everything goes smoothly, we’ll be wed in… a week and a half?”
Jasmine eyed him suspiciously. “You came to that conclusion fast.”
“I’m a quick thinker, Lady Jasmine.” He grinned. “Something you’ll learn to appreciate in a husband.”
“You’ll do it then?” Jasmine’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “You’ll marry me?”
“Yes, Jasmine Sinclair.” Matthew beamed back at her. “I will marry you.”
As he was about to pull her in for a kiss, footsteps echoed down the hall, coming closer to the door. Matthew listened intently. Not only footsteps but also a jangling of keys! They were saved!
Jasmine’s eyes shifted to the door, then back to him. She stood and pushed his shoulders back into his chair.
“Sit back.”
Jasmine lifted her skirts, flashing tanned thighs and—Oh, God—he yelped as she straddled him. Matthew’s jaw slackened. Heart in his throat, he swallowed hard.
“Kiss me again,” she urged.
“Why?!” he squeaked.
“It’ll make it convincing!”
He gestured to her on his lap. “This is quite convincing!”
A key slid into the lock from the other side.
The handle turned.
“Matthew.” Eyes pleading with him, Jasmine whispered, “Do you want this, or not?”
He had half a second to decide.
He didn’t need it.
“Yes, Jasmine. I want you.”
Holding the back of her neck, he guided her mouth to his.
As his lips pressed to hers, his other hand wrapped around her waist. He teased the buttons along the back of her dress, pulling her closer.
And he kissed her—soft and slow. When she tried to hasten their kiss, he took his time gliding his tongue over hers.
Even as the door opened behind him, he lingered on her lips. Everything that came after this moment would be fast and ugly. This kiss needed to hold them over until their wedding day. He wanted her to remember it this time.
A cough sounded from behind him, and he pretended not to hear it. Holding Jasmine to him, he gently savored her. She tasted so sweet. A low sound came from the back of her throat, and she held him tighter, rocking forward in his lap, grinding right over him—
Another firm cough came from directly behind him, and Matthew recognized that sound immediately. Ice flowed into his marrow. After separating from his lips, Jasmine stared behind him, eyes wide with terror.
Her screech confirmed his worst fears.
“Papa?!”
Jasmine tumbled off Matthew’s lap, twisting up and landing on the floor. Pulse pounding, Matthew stood so quickly his head hit the domed ceiling. Blood drained from his face, and he turned to his future father-in-law.