Page 30 of Lyon on the Lam (The Lyon’s Den)

“One for every day you’ve been away,” he whispered as he came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I would have taken them from the garden, but we didn’t have that many—and it wouldn’t have left you any later.”

“Yellow?” Yellow was for friendship, not for love.

“You were wearing a yellow dress when I fell in love with you.” Matthew flattened his palm against her stomach and pulled her closer, shaping her body to his. “And they mean happiness. Marry me, Tavie. Please.”

She looked over her shoulder and met his earnest, hopeful gaze. “Of course I will.”

She wasn’t sure who turned first and who began the kiss, but she kept doing it until she was dizzy. All it did was leave her hungry for more.

“The house is empty because I sent the staff away,” he said. “Because I plan to ravish you until you beg for mercy.” He traced the shell of her ear with her tongue. “Repeatedly.”

His breath, his words, made her melt. Every part of her wanted to touch him. She unbuttoned his braces by feel and smiled against his lips as he squirmed away.

“Tickling isn’t fair.” The last word was a groan as Tavie freed his shirt and ran her hands beneath the material, beginning at his waist, up his taut stomach, and around to his back.

His neck tasted of salt and almonds, and his stubbly beard scratched her tongue. His woodsy, clean scent surrounded her. She had tried to conjure their reunion every night before she slept, but nothing compared to having him in her arms.

Large hands and insistent fingers explored her back. “How do I get you out of this blasted thing?”

Tavie turned so he could see the buttons.

“Ye gods, these are small.” He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades as he worked. “Undo your hair, love.”

It seemed like a waste of time. “Can’t we just—”

“I have dreamt of seeing you naked since I realized what it meant.” He pushed the dress from her shoulders.

“Indulge me on this, please.” The pins ticked on the floor as Tavie loosened her braid.

All the while, Matthew struggled with the laces on her corset.

“And I thought the buttons were a nightmare.”

Every tug stole her breath and tormented her nipples, and each swish of her shift tortured her oversensitive skin. She ripped her fingers through her braid. “Cut them.”

He stilled. “What?”

“I have two more, and if you’re not touching me in seconds I’ll go mad. Cut the blasted things.”

Matthew’s feet thudded against the floor. He was back in seconds, muttering about the blessings of a fussy valet.

The corset eased and then fell, and Tavie turned to face him. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

Muscles rippled under his tanned skin. Dark brown hair covered his broad chest and narrowed to a line that was bisected by his trousers, which were tented in a tantalizing way. Tavie pushed her flimsy shift from her shoulders, and it whispered to the floor around her feet.

Matthew’s features went slack, and his heated stare settled on her breasts. “Christ almighty,” he breathed.

Between his stare and the chilly room, her nipples hardened until they ached. But he was frozen. Everything but his tongue, which swept against his bottom lip, leaving it wet and tempting.

She took one shaky step toward him, then another, and he closed the distance. Their lips met, their breaths mingled, and their tongues tangled together in a mating dance that set her heart pounding.

“You’re a goddess,” Matthew murmured a moment before he dropped to his knees in front of her. His fingers teased her skin as he untied her garters. “And I will worship you for the rest of my days.”

Tavie focused on his handsome face and hungry stare as his warm, gentle hands curved around her calves and slid over her knees and up her thighs.

One long finger slid inside her and curled, stoking the fire between them until she was shaking. Matthew grinned a wicked grin as a second finger joined the first.

Tavie tossed her head backward and got a glimpse of the patterned ceiling before her eyes slammed closed. “Matthew.” The name was recognizable; the deep, low moan was not.

He slid his hands to her hips. “Hold on to me.” The warm whisper on her wet flesh was her only warning before his mouth closed over her and his tongue slid where his fingers had been.

“Oh God,” Tavie wailed as she grabbed his shoulders to keep from collapsing on top of him. Her hair teased her bare skin as she came apart in waves while he devoured her.

And it still wasn’t enough. “Matthew, please.” She fought to pull him up, moving from his shoulders to his neck and then his hair. She needed all of him. “Please.”

She envied his grace as he stood and smiled down at her, his chin and nose still wet.

“Don’t gloat,” she teased in a rusty whisper.

“Darling, I’ve not yet begun to gloat.” He guided her backward to the bed.

Tavie sat and watched as Matthew undid his trousers and let them drop to the floor. He was a beautiful man. Strong in a way that only came from work, and fine in a way that only came from success. A jaw set with determination and eyes that were soft with love.

She reached for him, closing her hand around his hot, heavy shaft.

The bed was cool against her back, and he was warm against her front as he lifted her ankle to his shoulder and slid so deeply inside her that her body spasmed and began to quake.

“Finally,” Matthew groaned. He withdrew and returned with a deliberate pace, letting her feel how well they fit together.

He kissed her then, his hot, slick tongue coaxing hers to play as her leg slid to his waist. Tavie crooked her knee and put her heel in the small of his back to urge him forward.

He left her mouth for her jaw, then her ear. From there he tasted her neck and the hollow in her collarbone, humming in pleasure as though each inch of her tasted better than the last.

His lips claimed one nipple while his thumb tormented the other. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders to keep from flying apart.

“You’re bleeding.” She stared at the crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders.

“Worth it,” he muttered as he switched his attention to her other breast.

He kept his slow, gentle pace while his mouth drove her mad. Soon she was arching from the mattress while every muscle in her body fought to keep him inside her. She was going to shatter, and she didn’t want to do it alone again. “I need you, sweetheart. I need…”

Tavie lost the words on a cry as his thrusts shortened. Her world narrowed to where their bodies joined, to the muscles beneath her hands, and the chest hair teasing her nipples. A fire built under her skin, fed by his hot breath and hungry gasps.

And this time, when she fell apart, he fell with her, pouring himself inside her with a shout as he held on to her like she was the center of his world.

And she knew she was home.

Matthew woke slowly, afraid to move and find that it was only a dream. His toes brushed a leg, and his hand a waist. His nose found her hair.

“Dear God, man. Don’t you ever sleep?” Tavie giggled.

He had slept for far too long. “We need to have a conversation.”

She turned in his arms, her long, thick hair spreading like sunshine across the pillow. Her eyes were the color of the moss that grew on the rocks beside his favorite stream. “Now?”

“You stole my miller.” He propped himself on one elbow and trailed his fingers down her arm. “After convincing me to keep her, you’ve turned her head with a bakery.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Meg loves to bake, and she’s good at it. Her uncle was going to sell her goods in his shop, but it’s better if she has her own.”

“Better for her, yes. But now I’m short a miller.”

Her wide smile sparkled, and the sheet slid just enough that he could see her cleavage. “But you won’t. We’re going to add the bakery onto the mill. She can do both and stay at home to help Eloise for as long as they like.”

“If we’re both going to do business, we can’t be going after the same assets. We need to have some rules,” Matthew said. Right now he couldn’t think of anything past the joyful ache of his overused muscles and the softness of her skin beneath his hands.

“Are you afraid I’ll best you?” Beneath the sheets, she swept her toes from his ankle to his knee and back again. “Because it might be fun to try.”

He kissed her nose and let her push him to the mattress. “It might just be, at that.”

A knock at the door stopped her.

“Go away, Martin,” Matthew shouted.

“I do hate to interrupt, believe me,” the butler said—he might have been laughing. “But there is a young maid downstairs who is worried over her employer. The woman left two days ago, taking her jewels to sell, and she’s not returned. The maid is…”

“Distraught, I would imagine,” Matthew whispered as he curved his hand to the shape of Tavie’s hip. “Martin cannot resist a distraught maid.”

“Sir?” Martin said.

Tavie slapped her hand over her mouth to hide her giggles.

Matthew might never leave the bed again. “Tell her—”

“Tell her Mr. Foster will be down in a moment,” Tavie interjected, her cheeks bright pink.

“As you wish.” Martin was laughing. “Thank you, madam.”

Matthew blinked at her. “You’re kicking me out of my own bed?”

“Of course not,” she said as she pushed back the covers and shoved him toward the edge of the mattress. “I’m making certain you don’t forget what makes you happy.”

She made him happy. Nevertheless, he swung his feet to the floor and reached for his trousers. “I won’t be long.”

“I don’t suppose I can go down with you.”

He looked down at her, a wild girl tangled in his sheets. They would be married tomorrow, but her staying the night still bordered on scandal. “You should rest.”

“I’d like to help if I can,” Tavie said as she reached for his dressing gown. “And don’t say you’ll tell me everything later, because you rarely know what the good parts are.”

Matthew knew this was the beginning of the best part of his life.

“There’s a closet between the drawing room and the library. You can hear everything without being seen.” He pointed at her nose. “But no interrupting me. You are a silent partner.”

She linked her fingers with his. “For now.”

“Yes, for now.” He kissed her hard and quick. “You’ve never been quiet for long. Now, get dressed.” If he knew she was a door latch away, half naked, he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else.

She left the room, and Matthew stood watching her go, holding his shirt, his toes curling in the thick rug. For the past five years he’d gone into the night to search for other people’s lost hopes because he couldn’t find his own.

Bessie Dove-Lyon and the reckless woman in the room next door had returned it to him, but it was better this time. Now he appreciated its value. It warmed him better than any fire.

Tavie returned, twisting her hair into a knot. Her simple dress reminded him of the yellow one she’d worn as she spun in the field all those years ago. Her feet were bare.

“I love you,” he said. He put up his hand to stop her reply.

He didn’t have enough composure to say this twice.

“The boy in me loved you for the girl you were, but now…the man I am…” He coughed to clear the tickle in his throat.

“I love your strength and your humor, your mind. I love watching you build your life. I love that I waded in to fight your dragons but you did it without me.”

She twined her fingers with his, her eyes glassy with tears. “I adore you, Matthew, but we did it together. Just like we’ll do everything from now on.”

He turned toward the door. “Just so.”

She refused to move. “Darling?”

“Hmmm?”

“Put on your shirt.”