What You Promised (Anything for Love, Book 4) Read online

  Boden examined his fingernails with an air of indifference. “A rematch. Double or quits. You win, I wipe your debt. You lose, you owe me twenty thousand.”

  “And why would I do that?” Matthew countered. “I have the funds to pay.”

  “Because you know I’m on a losing streak and you’re a gentleman who scoffs at the idea of defeat. Tell me honestly, do you not find the thought of wiping the smug grin off my face appealing?”

  “Punching the smug grin from your face would be my preference.”

  It would take more than a threat to weaken the lord’s self-assured stance. “Unless you wish to stand back-to-back at dawn, I’m afraid cards must be the combat of choice.”

  Matthew pursed his lips to give the impression he was deep in thought, but Priscilla knew he was merely stringing the lord along. “Will we have random partners?”

  Boden’s mouth curled up into a conceited smirk. “I will choose my own partner. I'll not play with a dimwit.”

  “Then name your man?”

  “Parker-Brown will partner me. We work well together. There is no one I trust more.”

  The revelation was far from shocking.

  “Then it is only fair I name my partner,” Matthew said.

  “Of course.” Boden gave an indolent wave. “Name your man.”

  “Man?” A chuckle burst from Matthew’s lips. “I name Mrs Chandler as my partner. We work well together. There is no one I trust more.”

  For the first time since setting eyes on the pompous lord, his passive expression appeared ruffled. “Choose someone else. I’ll not take money from a woman.”

  “When you take money from my husband are you not also taking it from me.” As a woman’s possessions became the property of her husband upon marriage, Boden could offer no argument. “Whether I play or not, for me the outcome is the same. You can have no other objection. Unless you find my presence intimidating.”

  Boden stroked his chin as he considered her. “Men play ruthlessly, Mrs Chandler. I’ll not hold my tongue or bide my manners under any circumstances. Feminine gasps and sighs put me off my game.”

  “You need not concern yourself with me, my lord.” A few weeks ago she might have faltered under the lord’s merciless stare. “One needs a strong constitution when one’s home is a venue for scandalous parties. I have seen and heard enough to eradicate all delicate sensibilities.”

  “You’ll find my wife is a true original,” Matthew added. “There is not much that phases her. But if you refuse to accept her as my partner, I’ll not play.”

  Matthew stepped forward and placed his hand on Priscilla’s lower back. “Come. Let us be on our way.”

  “Do not be so hasty, Mr Chandler. Will you not give a fellow a chance to reply?” There was a faint hint of desperation in Boden’s voice which he tried to mask. “I have made my decision and agree to your terms. Mrs Chandler may partner you in the game. After all, what gentleman would reject an opportunity to sit next to such a fascinating creature.”

  Creature? Was she supposed to find the comment flattering? The odious lord thought himself far superior.

  “Then might I suggest you come to Grosvenor Street on Friday evening. I’m hosting a party, and our wager will provide amusement for my guests.”

  “Are you sure you want an audience when I take you for twenty thousand pounds?”

  Matthew opened his mouth but snapped it shut. He offered the lord a bow though the gesture failed to convey respect. “Only a fool would attempt to predict the hand of Fate.”

  With a firm hand, Matthew guided Priscilla away.

  “Chandler,” Boden called out after him. “May I commend you on making at least one wise decision.”

  “What?” Matthew glanced back over his shoulder. “You think a man is wise to risk a fortune?”

  Priscilla felt Boden’s penetrating gaze like an icy chill breezing across her skin.

  “I was not referring to the game, Chandler, but to your wife. It appears there are some treasures money cannot buy.”

  Chapter 15

  As any gentleman with a hardened heart knew, jealousy was a foreign emotion. Mental unease served no purpose. To experience the debilitating condition, one must fear their rival, lack faith in their own abilities, or care so deeply for something all rational thought was lost to them.

  Matthew ushered Priscilla into their carriage, pretending that the twisting knots in his belly stemmed from his anger towards Lord Boden and his cheating accomplices. The tight pain in his chest he attributed to inhaling the smoky air at The Diamond Club.

  “You should have a care around the likes of Boden,” he said as they settled into opposite seats. There was a hard edge to his tone that he couldn’t suppress. His sour mood was reflected in the way he yanked down the blinds. “The man covets anything unusual and rare. From the look he gave you, I expect he will look for an opportunity to further your acquaintance.”

  “But he knows we’re married.” A frown marred her brow. No doubt her pure heart struggled to accept Boden’s assumption that she would be unfaithful. “Why would he waste his time?”

  “Based on my reputation, he will presume we share a relaxed attitude to matrimony.” Damn. In taking her to a gaming hell, coupled with her comments about the scandalous antics at his parties, Boden would think Priscilla game for more than amorous flirtation. “He will attempt to seduce you.”

  A snigger burst from her lips. “You make me sound like the catch of the Season. Or a famed actress with the ability to rouse a man to sin with nothing more than a pout.”

  It was no laughing matter. Some men did not seek permission but merely took what they wanted. “Don’t underestimate the lure of a woman with a strong will. Men like Boden thrive on power.”

  “Oh, so you mean it is not my beguiling eyes or curvaceous figure that has him captivated?” Despite her apparent amusement, there was a thread of disappointment in her tone.

  Matthew noted the same flash of inadequacy in her eyes that he’d witnessed that night in Lord Holbrook’s garden. “I didn’t say that. My excessive salivating is surely a testament to your physical attributes. But every man is searching for the one unique quality that speaks to his soul. Boden’s happens to be competence.”

  She raised a curious brow, and he knew what question would follow. “And what of you, Matthew? What quality speaks to your soul?”

  “I sold my soul to the Devil the moment I entertained his flock for money.”

  “You didn’t sell it. You merely placed it elsewhere, locked away in an iron chest for safe keeping. But from what little I know of you I suspect honesty is the unique quality you seek.”

  “You’re right.” He knew what it felt like to be betrayed by those one loved the most, to be sacrificed for a lie. “The moment I doubt a person’s motive, is the moment I cast them out of my life.”

  Priscilla straightened and shuffled to the edge of the seat. “Do you trust me, Matthew? Do you believe all that I tell you?”

  He wanted to say that he would never trust another soul ever again. But he trusted Tristan. He was still learning to trust Uncle Herbert, hoped one day to feel the same way about Priscilla.

  “I imagine trust takes many years to build.” The lie left a bitter taste in his mouth which forced him to add, “Then again, it is often those you’ve known the longest that prove to be a disappointment.”

  She stared at him. A few drawn-out seconds passed before she spoke. “Then believe me when I tell you that whatever happens between us tonight, happens because I want it to. Not because I feel it is my duty as your wife, or because of some silly wager we made earlier. The desire to be close to you is overwhelming.”

  “Well, you promised to show me your gratitude for taking you to the gaming hell.” He sounded like a cad, a man detached from reality who made light of any emotion as a way of avoiding the truth.

  Without warning, she crossed the carriage and fell into the seat next to him. “Tonight I will give you all I have. I w
ill give you myself wholeheartedly. Completely.” A dainty hand came to rest on his thigh. “I will hold nothing back. You will feel the truth in my touch, taste it on my lips.” Her fingers crept higher. “I am yours to take in any way you desire. But first, you must agree to give me something in return.”

  “Oh, I intend to give you everything I have and more.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  She stroked the evidence of his growing arousal. Remarkably, all other thoughts dissipated leaving nothing but the urge to bed her. With nimble fingers she unbuttoned the placket of his breeches, her warm hand slid down and curled around his cock. The slight tremble in her fingers enhanced his pleasure.

  Bloody hell!

  His minx of a wife massaged his manhood, her inexperience heightening his excitement. The realisation that she had never touched another man like this before made his heart swell just as much as his cock.

  “I want to try something I witnessed in the garden,” she said still pumping his erection. “I want to show you that your happiness is important. But it demands that I trust you to be mindful of my lack of skill.”

  Lack of skill? The lady was doing remarkably well. Amidst the hazy fog of desire disturbing his mind and vision, he struggled to put a picture to her words.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else all evening,” she purred, “and in return, I want your trust.”

  The word caught him off guard, dampened his ardour, only somewhat. He blinked, attempted to form a question, but events took a sudden unexpected turn that left him speechless.

  Priscilla pushed him back against the squab, held his cock in her hand and lowered her head. Past experience did little to prepare him, for his wife liked to tease, liked to rain kisses on the head, down the shaft, lick the tip to determine if she liked the taste. Soft lips settled over him, and he entered her moist mouth … Holy hell! The rush of pleasure forced his head back. He had married the goddess Venus in the guise of a vestal virgin.

  Inexperience proved enticing. Perhaps fearing taking him fully into her mouth, she practised bobbing up and down, stopping a short way past the head. Seven shallow sucks were followed by a long deeper one. Then six shallow, two long. A pleasurable hum resonated in her throat, the sound sending vibrations through his cock. At five shallow sucks, he knew she’d found a rhythm.

  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.

  “Have you ever had a premonition? Have you ever woke with the thought that the day held some significance though you knew not what?”

  “No.” Her word was as quiet as a whisper.

  “I knew the moment I opened my eyes that I should hurry to the window. It was early. A blanket of mist clung to the ground. I watched my father stride across the lawn, heading towards the woods bordering our estate.” To speak quickly prevented the images lingering in his mind. “The morning was col
d, damp, and I noted he had no coat.”

  “You were at Moorlands, I assume.”

  He nodded.

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  “Just a boy, then.”

  He nodded again. “I don’t know why but I had an urge to follow him. With no time to dress, I took a blanket off the bed and ran along the path. I found my father sitting on a log in a clearing. I froze, worried he might be angry that I’d left the house in my nightclothes.” Matthew paused. To his own ears, his voice sounded childlike. His heart was racing. He could smell the earthy scent in the air, could feel the same paralysing sense of doubt, of fear. “I hesitated a moment too long. The gunshot rang through the air seconds before his body slumped forward and hit the ground.”

  Priscilla gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. There was a pained silence. “Oh, Matthew. How awful. The trauma of witnessing such a thing must never leave you.”

  “It doesn’t. But that was only the beginning of a period of psychological torment.”

  Priscilla dabbed the corner of her eye with her finger. “What did you do?”

  “I raced to the house to alert my mother. She sent me to my room and then, with the help of my brother who was fifteen at the time, set about creating the deception.”

  “Deception?”

  “We were to tell the coroner it was an accident. That we were out hunting with Lord Watts from the neighbouring estate. My brother, Simon, said he’d witnessed Lord Watts shoot at a deer, that my father had strayed from his line. Simon was adept at telling tales, but I was not. Despite my mother’s distress, I couldn’t do it. Perhaps my reluctance stemmed from anger, disappointment in my father. Pain. Confusion. I don’t know. Why would he do such a cowardly thing? Why would he bring shame on his family?” Matthew shrugged. There was no point trying to analyse the thoughts of a desperate man.

  “And so what happened?”

  “Due to the nature of his close friendship with my mother, Lord Watts lied to the coroner.” He chose not to add that the lord spent many nights thereafter in his mother’s bed or that they were lovers for years until the fellow married a debutante twenty years his junior. “Simon lied too, as did my mother’s uncle. Several men came to inspect the body. They all supported the cause of death as accidental. After all, why would a man whose bloodline brimmed with honourable men take his own life? Why would a peer shoot his friend in front of witnesses?”