Daisy looked down at her hand, blinking at the sight of the glittering yellow sapphire surrounded by small round diamonds. It looked like a white-petaled flower. Her fingers closed tightly, and she averted her face to hide a betraying flush of pleasure.

“Does it please you?” Matthew whispered.

“Oh, yes.”

That was the extent of their communication at dinner. It was just as well. There was too much to be said, all of it highly private. Daisy steeled herself for the usual long rituals of port and tea after dinner, but she was gratified when it seemed that everyone, even her father, was inclined to retire early. As it appeared the elderly vicar and his wife were ready to return home, the group dispersed without much fanfare.

Walking with Daisy from the dining hall, Matthew murmured, “Will I have to scale the outside wall tonight, or are you going to leave your door unlocked?”

“The door,” Daisy replied succinctly.

“Thank God.”

Approximately an hour later Matthew carefully tried the handle of Daisy’s bedroom door and eased his way in. The small room was lit with the glow of a bedside lamp, its flame dancing in the breeze from the balcony.

Daisy sat in bed reading, her hair plaited in a neat braid that trailed over her shoulder. Dressed in a demure white gown with intricate ruching across the front, she looked so clean and innocent that Matthew felt vaguely guilty coming to her with desire coursing in hot thrills through his body. But as she looked up from her book, her dark eyes lured him irresistibly closer.

She set the book aside, the lamplight slipping over her profile. Her skin looked as cool and perfect as polished ivory. He wanted to warm it with his hands.

The corners of Daisy’s mouth curled upward as if she could read his thoughts. As she turned the covers back, the yellow sapphire glittered on her finger. Matthew was momentarily surprised by his own response to the sight, the flash of primal possessiveness. Slowly he obeyed her gesture to come to the bed.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, his nerves sizzling as Daisy gathered up the loose folds of her nightgown. She crawled into his lap with the delicacy of a cat. The scent of sweet female skin filled his nostrils, and her weight settled on his thighs. Linking her slender arms around his neck, she said gravely, “I missed you.”

His palms charted the shape of her body; the tender curves, the slender waist, the firm heart-shaped bottom. But as enchanting as he found Daisy’s physical charms, they didn’t affect him a fraction as intensely as the warm, lively intelligence of her nature.

“I missed you too.”

Daisy’s fingers played in his hair, the delicate touch sending jolts of pleasure from the base of his skull to his groin. Her voice turned provocative. “Did you meet many women in Bristol? Westcliff mentioned something about a dinner, and a soiree given by your host—”

“I didn’t notice any women.” Matthew found it hard to think over the exquisite writhing desire. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

She touched the tip of her nose to his in a playful nudge. “You weren’t celibate in the past, however.”

“No,” Matthew admitted, closing his eyes as he felt the caress of her breath against his skin. “It’s a lonely feeling, wishing the woman in your arms was someone else. Not long before I left New York, I realized that every woman I’d been with in the past seven years had resembled you in some way. One would have your eyes, another your hands, or your hair…I thought I would spend the rest of my life searching for little reminders of you. I thought—”

Her mouth pressed against his, absorbing the raw confession. Her lips parted, and he needed no further invitation to kiss her, the gentle ingress of his tongue deepening until he had taken her mouth fully. The soft shapes of her br**sts brushed against his chest with every inhalation.

He lowered Daisy to her back, catching the hem of her nightgown and drawing it upward. She helped him to remove the garment, wriggling a little to slide it over her head. The grace of the movement sent his pulse firing through his overheated veins. She lay na**d before him, her far-spreading blush overlaid with a spill of candleglow, her limbs drawn modestly tight against her body. He drank in the sight of her while he stripped off his own clothes.

Laying beside her, Matthew devoted himself to teasing away her shyness. He caressed her shoulders, her throat, the vulnerable wing of her collarbone. Gradually the heat of his skin transferred to the coolness of hers, her flesh seeming to ignite beneath his patient touch. Gasping, she twined her supple body around his, and he hushed her with his mouth, whispering that the windows were open and she must be quiet.

His lips seared a leisurely path to her br**sts, catching at the soft peaks until they tightened against his mouth. Hearing the constricted sounds she made, he smiled and drew his tongue lightly around her nipple. He played with her until she clenched her hand over her own mouth, panting.

Finally Daisy twisted away and buried a tormented groan in the bedclothes. “I can’t,” she whispered, shivering. “I can’t keep quiet.”

Matthew laughed softly and kissed the center of her spine. “But I’m not going to stop,” he murmured, flipping her back over. “And think of the trouble it will cause if we’re caught.”

“Matthew, please—”

“Hush.” He let his mouth wander over her body without constraint, kissing, biting tenderly, until she twisted in restless confusion. At times she rolled away, her slender fingers digging into the mattress like cat’s claws. He coaxed her onto her back each time, whispering endearments and promises, giving her his mouth to quiet her, his gently playful fingers to fill and soothe her swollen flesh. When she was taut in every limb and her skin gleamed with perspiration, Matthew finally settled between her shaking thighs.