The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle (8 page)

‘You could marry me and there would be no bridge.' Where on earth had that come from?

Belle seemed as surprised at his words as he did. Her whisky glass slipped from her hands and rolled across the carpet, spilling liquid as it went. It was her turn to choke.

Phillip put his arms around her and patted her shoulders and back. Her perfume surrounded him, and as she gasped for breath her body sagged against him and his pego pressed into the soft globes of her rear. How sad was he to respond to her presence so definitely at a time like that?

However, perhaps it was that unintentional declaration of intent—something he realised with a shock he definitely meant wholeheartedly—which helped her to recover. With one last cough, she shook her head and took in a great shuddering breath.

‘Water please.' Belle croaked the words. ‘Any water.'

Phillip looked around and saw a carafe on a side table, near enough for him to reach and not loosen his hold on Belle.

He didn't bother with a glass, but put the jug to her lips with one hand and kept his arm around her waist. It was agony not to let his fingers drift upward to stroke the underside of her breast. Even through her gown, he was certain it would feel like perfection. The nape of her neck with those entrancing curls surrounding it called out to be kissed and nipped, and the tiny row of buttons that danced over her spine were a siren call demanding attention.

Belle took a deep long swallow of water and coughed once more. ‘Much better. Thank you.'

She twisted in his hold and Phillip put the carafe down carefully as she looked up at him. With the vessel safety out of harm's way, he held her within the circle of his arms. Belle tried to move back and away, and he shook his head and tightened his grip.

‘No, stay there and answer me.' Why was he so persistent? A flash of insight showed him that perhaps a complaisant wife wouldn't be too bad an idea. That the said wife was in trade bothered him not a jot. Her warmth—and yes, that intriguing scent—was all around him, and Phillip savoured it.

‘My lord, whatever you do, for the love of God do not come out with such absurdities when I'm drinking. I nigh on choked. In fact, don't come out with them at all. Of course I'm not going to marry you.'

‘Why not?'

Belle made a noise like a pot about to boil over. ‘You know why not.'

‘No I don't. Pray tell me.' He wondered again at his own persistence. He knew this was one woman he wouldn't coerce or bend to his will. He wanted her agreement given freely without pressure. Well, he amended, not
overt
pressure.

‘It is cruel to tease.' She ground the words out and frowned at him. ‘I thought you weren't a cruel man, my lord.'

Phillip hid his grin with difficulty. How pathetic was it to enjoy bandying words with her? But she truly was a perfect adversary. ‘If I was, it would be. However, I am not. I, my dear, mean it. Go on, you were about to explain why we can't marry, as I don't know the answer.'

‘Well you should.' He expected her to stamp her feet. However, she shut her eyes instead. Before she did he started. Was it hurt he saw there?

‘It is absurd,' Belle muttered.

‘Only in your mind, ma belle.'

‘What did you call me?' Belle shook her head. ‘No matter. It would be social suicide for you. You must think of your position. The ton would blackball you.'

‘That is one way of making sure I persist with my quest. Now do you want to stay in London and continue with “Dressed by Belle” or will you hand it over to someone, say Tippen, when we marry?'

‘Argh.' Belle punched him lightly in the stomach, just hard enough to make him start, and loosen his hold. She ducked out of his arms, and took a step away from him. ‘You couldn't stay faithful, and I don't believe in a marriage without trust and fidelity. You are crazy.'

Phillip gave into temptation, grabbed her hands, and pulled her back so swiftly her breasts bumped into his chest, and her quim pressed against his body. ‘Not at all.' He put her hands around his waist, and after three long seconds she gripped his coat. It was a start, although he wished he'd thought to remove the garment earlier, so she would perforce have to grasp his fine lawn shirt, or even his skin. That idea encouraged his pego to press hard against his once immaculate pantaloons. Now he was sure they would be creased.

‘I come from a line of faithful husbands. I will be the next. Now, you want crazy? This is crazy.' Phillip kissed her. ‘Needed, perfect, but undoubtedly crazy.'

‘Whtft…'

He kissed her into silence, and let his hands roam over the soft mound of her bottom. His fingers ached to touch in a more intimate manner, to stroke the skin as he listened to the soft mewls and sounds of arousal he was convinced Belle was almost ready to make.

Slowly.

Not an easy thing to do when his body ached for release. Phillip counted to ten and thought of ice-cold water as he willed himself to retreat a little.

To his delight, after one moment when Belle stiffened and struggled, she sighed and leaned onto him.

‘Open your mouth,' he said softly, but with a hint of command in his tone. ‘Let me in.'

Damn, slowly, I need this.

Belle's mouth dropped open in a gasp.

Phillip was certain it wasn't to let his tongue enter, but he wasn't going to pay any attention to
that.
He slid his tongue between her lips and let it swirl and tangle with hers.

She groaned, and Phillip felt her fingers touch his back over his jacket and make hesitant circles there.

Hell, he wanted them on his flesh, to be able to feel the softness of her digits as they stroked him. To whisper words of encouragement to her and teach her how to please him. He wanted
his
hands on
her
skin. In her, to show her… Phillip caught his breath as his fingers tightened convulsively on her bottom.

Belle gasped.

A shocked, wondering noise, which luckily—or not—brought him to his senses.

Every response she'd made showed her as an innocent. Here in her sitting room was not the place to change her status. That deserved seduction and time. Lots of time. He was certain once they came together, it would be no short-lived coupling.

However, for now?

Phillip reined in his ardour, gentled the kiss and released his death hold on her arse. Careful not to let her think he did it from disdain or disgust, he lifted his mouth from hers and kissed the top of her head. He noticed they were both breathing heavily.

‘You, ma belle, are enough to make any gentleman forget his manners, let alone a rake like me.' Phillip waited for a second. ‘I overstepped the mark. I'm sorry if I frightened you, but not sorry I tasted your sweetness.'

Belle looked up at him, dazedly. ‘If I wanted to I would have stopped you. I…' She ran her tongue around her lips, and he forced himself not to say to hang with overstepping the mark and show her the next step instead.

‘You?' Phillip prompted.

‘I wanted to know what it was like. To be kissed by, well…'

‘A rake?'

She seemed to grab at his description as she nodded eagerly. ‘Exactly.'

Now why, Phillip wondered, did he not think that was what she meant?

‘If you marry me you'll know all about it and more.'

‘I can't.'

‘You can and I won't take that as your final answer.'

Chapter Four

Damn the man. Belinda gathered her scattered thoughts together, and forced herself not to look at the creases in his once-immaculate jacket.
Oh my, I did that.
‘It is unfair to tease me.'

‘Ma belle, you'll know when I tease. This is not one of those occasions, although I admit I hadn't intended to declare my intentions so soon. Do I therefore take it you are declining my proposal?'

‘Of course.' Those two words hurt, much more than she thought possible. ‘I wouldn't saddle you with me.'

Did he look wounded? If so the emotion must have dissipated fast. He grinned. ‘Oh believe me I'd ride you with or without a saddle.'

Thank the Lord she wasn't drinking or eating because that outrageous statement would have done it for her. As it was she gulped, swallowed several times and resisted putting her hands to her heated cheeks. Instead she bent to pick up her now empty glass.

‘A waste of good whisky,' she said as she straightened. ‘I must remember to clean the carpet as soon as possible, or it will stain.'

‘If that is my notification to leave, I will do,' Phillip said as he tossed off the rest of his drink. ‘Once you answer me.' He put his glass down on the sideboard next to the decanter and turned towards her. ‘Your answer?'

Oh, how she wished she could reply in the affirmative. ‘I must decline your oh so kind offer, my lord,' she said rapidly and turned away so he wouldn't see the regret and the moisture in her eyes. ‘One moment and I'll see you out.'

‘Ma belle.' He took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘Do not cry. Is it so horrific to know how much I want you?' He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘So much, I would wed you and not just bed you?'

If only she thought he really meant his assurance. Her insides quivered at the idea. Even so, it wasn't possible. He might say hang the ton, but it would be he who was hanged. Belinda shook her head. ‘It's not that. Oh, Phillip, I can't let you do such a thing.'

‘At least you call me by my name,' he said and she mentally groaned. In her agitation, Belinda had forgotten all formality.

‘I'm sorry.'

‘I'm not,' he said. ‘In fact I insist you stick to it.'

Belinda shook her head. ‘It would not be seemly.'

‘Seemly be damned, I ask it. Is that not enough?'

She wished it were so, but life wasn't that kindly. ‘My lord, I…I wish it was.'

Phillip ran his hand through his hair and reduced the immaculate curls to a dishevelled mess, and took a step back. ‘Ah well, we will see.' He kissed her palm, and looked up at her over his lashes. ‘To remind you of me.' Then he bit the flashy part of her thumb, just over the tiny scar, turned and left the room. The sound of his footsteps faded as he went down the stairs and a minute later a door slammed in the distance. Belinda sniffed, flopped into the chair he'd vacated and looked at her hand as if she'd never seen it before. The place he'd left his mark was red and tingled. Slowly she put her lips over the exact spot. Then she gave in to tears.

Clarissa found her like that a while later.

‘I was on my way here when I saw Tippen running towards my house. She told me she was on her way to get me, and good Lord now I see why,' Clarissa said as she walked into the room without knocking. ‘What on earth has my idiot brother done now to upset you? Reconciled with Rotten Rosemary and insisted you dress her? Persuaded Poisonous Penelope to take her place? Oh no I forgot Penelope was before Rosemary, and she has moved on to Roland Henderson.' She thrust a handkerchief into Belinda's hands. Belinda stared at it as if she had never seen such a square of embroidered linen before.

‘Wipe and blow.' Clarissa waited until Belinda wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘So what then?'

Belinda sniffed, and held the handkerchief to her face. ‘He proposed.' She sniffed again and blew her nose once more. ‘I feel I'm coming down with a dose of the cold.'

‘Stop changing the subject,' Clarissa said firmly. ‘You're just coming down with a dose of self-pity, and it has to stop. If anyone should have that it's me, and oh thunderheads, what were you saying? Proposed? Proposed what?' Clarissa said in a puzzled voice. ‘P…as in…?' She sat down heavily in the other chair. ‘Who, Phillip?'

Belinda nodded and burst into tears again.

‘Indecently?' Clarissa looked ready to commit murder or at the very least make her brother a eunuch.

Belinda shook her head, trying to assimilate what Clarissa had said. Something about she, Clarissa, needing to have self-pity? She'd quiz her later. Now that lady looked as irate as their late schoolmarm when no one was prepared to sit and attend her diktats. ‘Indecently? Only for him, if I had said yes.'

‘I don't understand. Oh grief, you mean marriage?'

Belinda nodded. Clarissa stared at her as if she had three heads like the so-called lady in the travelling circus they'd sneaked out to attend in their youth.

‘And you refused him?' Clarissa shook her head. ‘Am I hearing aright? The man you have lusted over for years offers for you and you turned him down?' She put her hand over Belinda's forehead. ‘You don't feel feverish or deranged, but seriously, you must be.'

‘I'm as sane as you are.'

Clarissa laughed mirthlessly. ‘I rest my case. Out of your mind.'

Definitely something was wrong in her friend's world.

Later.

‘Of course I refused him. What would you have me do? Marry him and let him be cold-shouldered by his peers? Tell him who I am and have him renege? After all who would wish to be associated with my family? It would do him no favours to be saddled with my parent and siblings. They would see him as a cash cow to be milked.'

‘He wouldn't let them,' Clarissa said definitely. ‘You know him better than to think that.'

‘But they'd still ask, and he'd still be associated with them by marriage. I could see my papa telling him that it was his duty to help my family. I will not do that to him. Besides…' She stopped talking and stood up to measure whisky and water into the two glasses. More to torment herself than anything else she handed the one she had used to Clarissa and took the one that Phillip had drunk out of for herself. Clarissa wouldn't mind. They'd gone through more ups and downs than most people to be worried about sharing a drinking vessel. Belinda wanted to put her lips where Phillip's had been. Even that tiny connection was better than nothing