The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle (23 page)

Belinda gulped and giggled. He loved the way her smile reached her eyes and made them almost glow. Behind her Clarissa blinked, but didn't, he noticed, blush. Ben just folded his arms and smirked. A man after Phillip's own heart.

‘In church? We'd be excommunicated or whatever,' Belinda said. ‘Maybe I'd best sew a few more stiches along a certain seam, just to be on the safe side and save you from temptation and the inclination to help the seam part company from the silk.'

‘Spoilsport.' Phillip stretched out and stroked her cheek. ‘As if I would?' He rolled his eyes. ‘Well not in church. The vicar seems pleasant, a good theologian and Christian, but a timid soul. It took the combined weight of both Ben and my aristocratic forcefulness to accept the licence could and should be used so soon. Thus that is another reason why I said tomorrow and not today, which was my first preference. He might not see it as a clandestine affair. Plus it at least means hopefully you can dress in something you'd wear if we had the time to arrange our nuptials in a different manner.'

‘Oh, Lud, I'm a cat,' Belinda said in a remorseful voice. ‘I'm sorry. You did this lovely thing, you're changing your life and all I can do is mope and moan. I am grateful, truly, but I am also somewhat overwhelmed.'

‘I don't want your thankfulness, I…' He broke off suddenly and frowned at Ben who winked, coughed and tugged Clarissa out of the room with him.

‘We'll hunt out threads and…things…' Clarissa said as they disappeared. There was a yelp, a snigger, and the sound of retreating footsteps and then silence.

‘Where? What? Oh.' Belinda blushed. ‘Things is such an embracing word.'

Embracing?
Phillip's mind jumped from the other couple to the connotations he put on the word ‘embracing'.

Dare I tell her I want her love? Will she believe me, or think it is just words once more?
Phillip decided to save his protestations for a more appropriate time.

‘They know we need a little time together. To talk,' he said hastily as Belinda smirked. ‘I thought perhaps I should explain a little more about why tomorrow.' He took her hand and pulled her close for a hug. As his arms went around her, Belinda's breasts pressed against his chest and his ever-eager staff demanded in on the action.

Damn it, why not?
Phillip let himself rub against her quim for a brief moment. His pego hardened to the point of pain and he thought of the icehouse, the river, the rain…anything to dampen his ardour and soften his staff. It didn't work. He gave in and pressed against her a little more. Just long enough for Belinda's pupils to dilate and her breath to hitch before it came out in tiny huffs, interspersed with erotic mewls and sighs. He inscribed ever-decreasing circles over the beautifully rounded globes of her rear and pressed her bottom closer to him. His fingers itched to lift the material that blocked his access to her soft skin, and stroke.

Oh Lord.
Phillip gave into temptation and carefully began to bunch the material up in his hands and lift the skirts higher.

‘Phill…ip.' After sagging against him and clinging on to him as if her life depended on it, Belinda stiffened and drew herself away as far as she was able whilst still within the circle of his arms. ‘We're in my bedroom.'

‘Best place.'

‘Clarissa could come back any moment.'

‘Not if Ben has any say in the matter. I judge we have at least an hour.'

‘I have a dress to finish.'

‘I have an urge to fill you.'

‘My lord.' Belinda leaned back and looked up at him. ‘Before we wed?'

‘This minute.' Ben pulled her unresisting body closer once more and kissed her. He was inordinately pleased when her breast swelled against his chest, and even through her gown and his shirt her nipples pressed into him. The temptation to carry on, to take her and give them both relief was enormous, but Ben fought with himself until sanity returned. ‘Nevertheless, as I think we need a lot longer to sate ourselves fully, I thought maybe a few caresses would take the edge off our hunger. Like this perhaps?' He swept the material he had carefully lifted up to her waist into one hand and used the other to knead the skin of her rear.

Belinda moaned deep in her throat, closed her eyes and grasped his shoulders.

‘More…' Not to push him away as he initially thought but to hold him tightly to her. Phillip bent his head to hers once more and teased her to open her lips and let his tongue slip between them. As she obliged, Phillip moved his hand once more. He inched it between her legs until he found the tiny nub he sought, and stroked it. His hand was dampened by her arousal and his finger teased the soft wet hairs that covered her quim.

She exploded under his hand. Shook and sobbed into his mouth as he drank her cries and moans. The satisfaction of knowing his suspicions were correct and, for all her boldness, Belinda was untouched was inordinate. He increased the pressure, just a little, and she sagged as she screamed into him. Her hands on his shoulders tightened to the point of pain, and Phillip was sure only that and his hands kept her upright. His pego pressed so hard against his pantaloons he was in no way certain he wouldn't have a damp spot on them, and knit markings all over the length of his staff.

Damn I want more. Down, boy. Time enough to savour and enjoy, not rush and regret all you miss
. Phillip broke the kiss, tucked her head under his, and noticed his breathing was as erratic as hers.

‘You are unfortunately correct. This is not the time to go further,' Phillip said huskily and heard the regret and the arousal in his voice. He had to hope Belinda heard it and understood it as well. ‘We need to be sensible. Apart from anything else, if you've waited until now to be deflowered, another day won't matter.' He lifted his fingers from her nub, patted her bottom and removed his hand from under her skirts, before he smoothed them down over her body once more.

Belinda sighed. ‘Your nobility is damned annoying at times.'

Phillip smiled. ‘Don't I know it. However, I agree it's likely we'll be interrupted at some point, and when we make love I want several hours without interruption.'

‘Several?' Belinda tilted her head to one side. ‘Oh my.'

‘Several,' Phillip confirmed. ‘As in four at least. I want to sate us both.'

‘Fo… It will take that long?' Belinda slid out of his loosened grasp and sat down on the edge of her bed with a thump that bounded the mattress, and her, and caused the hem of her gown to lift and show her shapely ankles. Phillip mentally groaned and turned away for a brief moment to control his libido, which threatened, along with his pego, to spill over. He adjusted himself, checked that thankfully there was no stain on his pantaloons, although that was in his mind a miracle, and turned back to Belinda.

‘And more I hope. Ma belle, this is the start of a journey of discovery you know, for both of us.'

‘Both?' Belinda sounded startled. ‘How both? You're not…not without knowledge and skill, or…' She sniggered, and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘So I've been led to believe.'

‘Minx. I may not be innocent in all things but in some I am, vis-à-vis I've never yet initiated a virgin.'

‘You've never?'

‘Well,' Phillip said and temporised a little. ‘Not to my knowledge, anyway.'

‘That's better. Though I wonder, can you tell?'

He grinned. ‘I'll answer that tomorrow night. Now, is there anything I can do to help you?'

Belinda raised her eyebrows, looked at her body and then his and chuckled. ‘Is that not my question to you?'

‘As I said earlier, you, ma belle, are a minx. That aside, do you need help with your gown or, well anything?'

She shook her head. ‘Space to concentrate.'

‘Then I'll pick the hymns, ruminate on my speech, and nag the housekeeper for a corsage and a bouquet.' He kissed her cheek. ‘And give thanks for the fact I'm getting my wish.' He walked to the door and turned, with one hand upon the smooth wood. ‘If I see Clarissa and she's in any fit state, shall I ask her to join you?'

‘Please.' He shut the door, just in time to hear Belinda shout after him.

‘What wish?'

Phillip chuckled and walked away, whistling cheerfully as he did so.

* * *

‘Bloody man. Always has to have the last word,' Belinda muttered. She glared at the closed door and scowled at the cheerful whistle in the distance. ‘All I wanted was to… Ohhh…' Belinda wriggled out of her day gown and slipped her arms into the gown sewn by Tippen. She let the material drape around her and stood stock-still. ‘Oh my, yes.' She turned this way and that in front of the mirror and marvelled at what Tippen had achieved in such a short time and without her to try it on. Instead of creating a gown that needed to be fitted perfectly, she'd fashioned a bodice that tied with ribbons, resulting in a criss-cross over her bosom. The belt below it also enabled the material to overlap so the gown could be worn without fitting flush to her body.

‘She's a genius.'

‘Who is?' Clarissa entered waving a hessian bag. ‘Phillip said to give you this.' She stopped and admiration showed on her face. ‘Oh yes. Perfect.'

‘It truly is. All I need is to fashion some roses and add them around the hem and at the end of the ribbons. Simplicity is this gown's key.'

‘Then you fashion away and I'll do the wine pouring, needle threading and general dogsbody work.'

‘Just pour the wine, and make sure if Phillip picks flowers he picks ones to suit me, you, this dress and the men. Now go away for a while.' Belinda waved her hands towards the door. ‘I'll thread my own needles.' She took the gown off and draped it over the end of the bed so she could see it for inspiration, oblivious once more to anything other than what she intended to do.

Clarissa laughed. ‘I've gone.'

‘Hmm…oh good.' Belinda looked up at her friend who was smiling at Belinda in affection. ‘Clarissa, I do love you. But I really would love your absence more, for at least an hour. Then…why then I'll need you.' She had an idea and didn't want Clarissa to be privy to it. Not yet. She bent to her task and waited until the door closed and she was alone. Now for the tricky bit. It all depended on whether Clarissa had gone downstairs or not. With more stealth than was probably warranted, Belinda left her room and walked slowly and silently along the corridor to the last bedroom on the left. Clarissa had thoughtfully, and in one way far-sightedly, put them as far away from each other as possible. Had she known they would be followed by their men, or just hoped? Whichever—although it would work during the times they were in their rooms with their men, now it was an infernal nuisance.

However, Belinda made her way inside without being seen or challenged, and found what she was looking for. A gown that she'd made for Clarissa before she was married and was now too large for her. One in a deep rose, which would be the perfect foil for Belinda's soft ivory dress.

She was back in her own room and making the necessary alterations within minutes.

Exactly on the hour, Clarissa tapped on the door and entered slowly. Partly, Belinda decided, due to the two full goblets of wine she carried and partly in case Belinda rebuffed her.

Belinda looked up from her own ivory gown—the deep rose silk was hidden in the wardrobe—and smiled. ‘Perfect, just what I need. That is the last rose sewn.' She put the gown out of reach of accidental spillages. ‘How are our men passing their time?'

Clarissa handed one glass over. ‘Your heath and longevity. The men have gone duck shooting. I've been told to tell you not to venture out. Unless you sing loudly. What is that all about?'

Belinda rolled her eyes and sniggered. ‘Phillip thinking he's being funny. It's nothing. He just once heard me quack like a duck—no I lie, twice. Now have you decided what to wear tomorrow as you support me?'

Clarissa's expression was one to behold and Belinda had to bite her lips to keep a look of polite enquiry on her face.

‘A duck?'

‘A duck and no, do not ask, because I'm not saying. Now, your gown?'

Clarissa shook her head and Belinda schooled her features into impassiveness.

‘I have no idea. My blue maybe?'

‘Oh no. Too cold a hue for this time of the year. It's summer. Well…' Belinda looked out of the window at the gathering clouds ‘…allegedly.'

‘Then, I have no idea. Like you I didn't come equipped with anything over fancy. I packed things that didn't fit, and forgot things that do. Maybe I'll wrap up in a pelisse and hope the vicar ignores the everyday gown underneath.'

‘Well, you could. Or maybe you could wear your rose gown?'

Clarissa shook her head. ‘Don't you remember? I tried it on and you made me take it off because it's a bad advertisement for your skills now I've lost weight. Your words were: we would both fit into it and that would definitely give the tabbies something to gossip and scandalize about. Somewhat of an exaggeration, the two of us remark. Not the tabbies bit—they could create a scandal over a hair out of place and frequently do.'

‘Well that was then.' Belinda opened her wardrobe door and took out the altered rose silk gown. ‘This is now, and unless I've lost my eye and my skill, it should give the tabbies nothing to raise their eyebrows about, unless how beautiful you look in it counts.'

‘What? Oh my…that is my dress. Or is it?' The once plain gown had several tiny ivory lace rosebuds on the waist to tie the colour in with Belinda's gown.

‘Yours,' Belinda confirmed. ‘So if you try it on and it fits we can go down to the sitting room and wait for two very wet men to reappear.'

It did and they did. Clarissa lit the fire, and they sat either side as the rain hammered onto the window and an odd rumble of thunder was heard in the distance. Belinda hoped it wasn't a bad omen of some sort.