A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness [184]
This morning, instead of quietly watching me eat, Matthew complained that he was bored. He did it with a wicked gleam in his eyes, his fingers restless on his thighs.
“We’ll go riding after breakfast,” I promised, forking some eggs into my mouth and taking a scalding sip of tea. “My work can wait until later.”
“Riding won’t fix it,” Matthew purred.
Kissing worked to drive away his ennui. My lips felt bruised, and I had a much finer understanding of the interconnectedness of my own nervous system when Matthew finally conceded it was time to go riding.
He went downstairs to change while I showered. Marthe came upstairs to retrieve the tray, and I told her my plans while braiding my hair into a thick rope. Her eyes widened at the important part, but she agreed to send a small pack of sandwiches and a bottle of water out to Georges for Rakasa’s saddlebag.
After that, there was nothing left but to inform Matthew.
He was humming and sitting at his desk, clattering on his computer and occasionally reaching over to thumb through messages on his phone. He looked up and grinned.
“There you are,” he said. “I thought I was going to have to fish you out of the water.”
Desire shot through me, and my knees went weak. The feelings were exacerbated by the knowledge that what I was about to say would wipe the smile clean off his face.
Please let this be right, I whispered to myself, resting my hands on his shoulders. Matthew tilted his head back against my chest and smiled up at me.
“Kiss me,” he commanded.
I complied without a second thought, amazed at the comfort between us. This was so different from books and movies, where love was made into something tense and difficult. Loving Matthew was much more like coming into port than heading out into a storm.
“How do you manage it?” I asked him, holding his face in my hands. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
Matthew smiled happily and returned his attention to his computer, shutting down his various programs. While he did, I drank in his spicy scent and smoothed his hair along the curve of his skull.
“That feels wonderful,” he said, leaning back into my hand.
It was time to ruin his day. Crouching down, I rested my chin on his shoulder.
“Take me hunting.”
Every muscle in his body stiffened.
“That’s not funny, Diana,” he said icily.
“I’m not trying to be.” My chin and hands remained where they were. He tried to shrug me off, but I wouldn’t let him. Though I didn’t have the courage to face him, he wasn’t going to escape. “You need to do this, Matthew. You need to know that you can trust me.”
He stood up explosively, leaving me no choice but to step back and let him go. Matthew strode away, and one hand strayed to the spot where his Bethany ampulla used to rest. Not a good sign.
“Vampires don’t take warmbloods hunting, Diana.”
This was not a good sign either. He was lying to me.
“Yes they do,” I said softly. “You hunt with Hamish.”
“That’s different. I’ve known him for years, and I don’t share a bed with him.” Matthew’s voice was rough, and he was staring fixedly at his bookshelves.
I started toward him, slowly. “If Hamish can hunt with you, so can I.”
“No.” The muscles in his shoulders stood out in sharp relief, their outlines visible under his sweater.
“Ysabeau took me with her.”
The silence in the room was absolute. Matthew drew in a single, ragged breath, and the muscles in his shoulder twitched. I took another step.
“Don’t,” he said harshly. “I don’t want you near me when I’m angry.”
Reminding myself that he wasn’t in charge today, I took my next steps at a much faster pace and stood directly behind him. That way he couldn’t avoid my scent or the sound of my heartbeat, which was measured and steady.
“I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
“I’m not angry with you.” He sounded bitter. “My mother, however, has a lot to answer for. She’s done a great deal to try my patience over the centuries, but taking you hunting is unforgivable.”
“Ysabeau asked me if I needed to come back to the château.”
“You shouldn’t have been given the choice,” he barked, whirling