A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) (38 page)

Belle pushed back from him and began unbuttoning his waistcoat. She hurriedly parted the fabric and ran her hands underneath it exploring the hard muscled wall of his chest. “Your coat,” she whispered. Michael, apparently past articulate thought, gave a low growl of impatience. He hastily pulled off the offending garments while Belle dispensed with her corset cover. Michael’s hands quickly returned to untie her laces. For the first time in years Belle wished she had pretty undergarments made of silk and lace instead of the sturdy, serviceable ones she wore. She said so to Michael.

“Perhaps another time,” he said shortly, “because frankly, I wouldn’t notice them today. I just want you naked and in my arms.” He untied the strings of her drawers. “Women wear too many damned clothes,” he said. “You especially.”

Belle laughed lightly as she stepped out of her drawers, then pulled her chemise over her head. She was past shyness now and hoped that he would not mistake her boldness for experience. Then she heard Michael’s in-drawn breath, sharp and filled with, dare she think it, wonder. She looked down at her own nakedness, and then smiled up at him. “Your turn.”

***

He knew without a doubt that he’d never seen anything, nor anyone, not in the finest museums nor the most celebrated bedchambers the world had to offer, that could compare to the woman who stood before him in only her stockings and half boots. He reached out and slowly pulled the pins from her hair, taking his time to uncoil her chignon. Her hair fell down her back, a cloak of midnight against her pearly skin.

Belle’s stockings were made of cotton, plain and sensible like her undergarments, but to Michael they were most erotic articles of clothing he’d ever seen on a woman. Her long legs would soon wrap around him, cradling him, drawing him closer to Heaven with each stroke he took inside her. He held her hands in his own and lifted her arms slightly away from her body. She blushed prettily, suffusing the alabaster of her skin with a delicate, rosy tint, but made no protest as he surveyed her from her full breasts, to the flair of her hips. He turned her so he could admire the curve of her bottom as it met the tops of her thighs. She was every bit as beautiful as he’d dreamed and now, after all this time, she would be his.

“Excuse me, my lord,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. “I believe it’s time that you to remove your clothes as well.” She gently pulled her hands from his and began tugging his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. Michael smiled as he removed his collar and cravat, tossing them to join the ever growing mountain of clothing beside the bed. Belle drew his shirt up and over his head with the same efficiency of movement as she did everything else. However, once she’d accomplished her task she was content to slowly glide her hands across the muscles of his chest and shoulders, exploring the territory of his skin. Her lips parted and her breathing grew shallow as her eyelids drooped under the haze of arousal. Michael swallowed with some difficulty and his cock thrust against the fall of his trousers, urging him to toss her onto the bed and mount her. No. He’d fight his natural drive, his need to claim her. The waiting was sweet agony and he wanted them both fevered and aching before he took her. He stilled her hands and pulled her into his arms, bending to gently take the one of the dark pink tip of her breasts into his mouth. He suckled her gently and whorled his tongue around the hard peak of her nipple. Belle moaned and arched against him, her hands clutching in his hair to hold him in place. He scraped his teeth lightly against her and he felt her clench her thighs before she pushed her pelvis more firmly against him. Belle mewed in protest as he released her breast.

“Bed.” It was the only word his lust-soaked brain could form.  He scrambled to pull off the rest of his clothing and when he looked at her again, Belle sat pertly in the middle of his bed, her long legs, minus shoes and stockings, curved under her as she waited for him to join her. Go slowly, he reminded himself, she’s a virgin. Don’t frighten her. His body and his instincts had other, decidedly less noble ideas and he fought an age old battle with himself. Then she gave him a mysterious little smile and held out her hand to him. Michael launched himself at her. There was no other word for it and instead of being alarmed, Belle laughed joyously, seductively. His arms wrapped around her and she settled into them bringing her hands up to push a lock of his hair from his forehead.

She caressed his face, as she studied him intently. “There you are,” she whispered, her whiskey-colored eyes glowing with passion and something more, something much deeper. That look should have made him pull back to shield himself from its intensity, but he couldn’t — didn’t want to. “You came back to me, my rogue” she said softly. “You had just this light in your eyes the first time you swept me into your arms to claim me for a dance and again when you kissed me at Delafield Hall. My pirate has come back for me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, kissing him with ardent passion.

Michael knew in that instant she’d been right about everything she’d said earlier in his study. He’d been a fool to think he could nobly set her aside in silent martyrdom. Hell no. She was right. He was a bounder and rogue by nature and no title would change that. Belle was his prize and like any proper scoundrel he intended to claim her and give her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined could exist between a man and a woman. She was his woman and neither distance nor time could ever change that simple fact. He released her mouth and blazed an erotic trail of kisses to her breasts, pausing to capture her nipples — first one and then the other before continuing towards her navel. Belle arched against him and he seized her hips in his hands to still her movements. He would not rush her introduction to lovemaking.

His left hand grazed across a raised ridge of flesh near her hipbone and he stilled for a moment as Drew’s words came back to him. She’d been shot. Michael turned her hips slowly until he saw the thin, faint line of a scar from the bullet that had creased her skin. He looked into her eyes, his heart feeling strangely hollow as he contemplated what might have happened to her that day.

Belle’s mouth curved into a smile and she gave a little shrug. “I didn’t move fast enough,” she said. “It was probably the skirts.” She must have sensed his moment of distress because she reached out her hand and stroked his hair. “It’s all right, Michael. It was my choice, remember?”

He bent his head and kissed the mark reverently. He continued administering kisses, crossing from one hip to another and coming back to the center of her stomach. Her muscles flexed reacting to his sensual touch and his cock quivered in response, causing him to fight for control. Soon, he promised himself, very soon she’d be ready for him. He gently parted her legs as he continued his kisses downward. Michael breathed in the warm, spicy scent of her and his hips surged forward to eagerness.

“Michael?” Belle asked. A note of uncertainty threaded her voice. “What are....”

He gave her a devilish grin and was rewarded with her sharp intake of breath and her face  suffusing with a rosy blush. Her eyes sparkled and her lips parted. “Like any good pirate,” he said, “I’ve found my treasure.” He lowered his mouth to give her the most intimate of kisses.

***

Belle gasped as Michael’s tongue found the heat of her core. He stroked her gently before turning his attention to the small nub at the hilt of her sex. Belle’s hips jerked at the sensation and lifted from the bed. The pleasure spiraling through her was too much and she instinctively tried to pull away. Michael kept her hips firmly in place as he continued working her with his mouth. Her body began to tighten and burn as she began her journey towards release. The tip of his tongue flicked over the button of flesh and Belle bit her hand to keep from crying out. Once, twice, three times his tongue whorled against her and she arched as the wings of her release lifted her up and out of herself. It had been so long since he’d first taught her what her body could do — too long. Belle fell back against the pillows with a low moan. When she opened her eyes she met Michael’s heated gaze. He grinned at her.

“How do you feel now, me beauty?” he asked using a feigned buccaneer brogue.

She stretched like a cat and smiled her self-satisfaction as though she’d just devoured a saucer of cream. “Plundered,” she whispered, “completely plundered.”

He laughed as he leaned over her. “Oh, no, my lady, slightly pillaged perhaps, but completely plundered? Not by half.” His hand moved between her thighs and he began stroking her with those wicked fingers of his. She gave a soft, languorous laugh, widening her legs to give him more room to work his wicked magic. He eased his forefinger inside her while he circled her sensitive hilt with his thumb. Belle moaned and he slipped a second finger inside, stretching her.  He captured her mouth in a passionate kiss and she could taste herself. Her hips began to follow his in and out motions and she whimpered as the heat began to build in her again. Michael matched the sound with a low growl of his own. When she looked into his face all traces of the playful lover had disappeared. His eyes burned and the muscles in his jaw and neck were clenched as if he were holding himself back. Belle knew it was time for her to claim him, the man she still loved past all hope and reason, to join with him as she’d never wanted to join with any other man.

“Now, Michael,” she whispered, “take me now.”

He needed no further urging and he shifted between her thighs, carefully positioning himself at her entrance. He looked wild and fierce in his need for her. Michael paused for a moment as if asking a silent question. Belle moved her hips restlessly in answer and he began to ease himself inside her. Just as she was about to surge up to meet him, he withdrew and began his slow, teasing entry again. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat. His chest and neck were corded tight as he controlled his movements and Belle thought she would go mad if he didn’t fill her soon. Suddenly, he pushed forward, seating himself fully inside her. There was a slight burn, a pinch, but Belle’s own need far outweighed the temporary discomfort. She raised her hips meeting him stroke for stroke. Michael varied his rhythm as he moved inside her, sometimes teasingly slow, sometimes powerful and quick. They moved rhythmically towards completion. Nothing had ever felt so glorious to her, so right. She was sunlight, pure fiery heat and he was part of her soul. Michael’s hips thrust faster and faster a they both neared the edge of the world. Belle cried out as she tumbled into the void pulling Michael with her.

Afterward they collapsed, breathless and replete. Michael eased himself from her body and rolled on to his back trying to catch his breath. “And here I thought I was the plunderer,” he rasped as he reached out to pull her into his arms.

Belle shook her head weakly. “Mutual plundering, my lord.” He chuckled as he nuzzled her neck and she cuddled against him. “Is it always so...so...miraculous?”

Michael suddenly went still and Belle feared she’d broken some sort of carnal etiquette with her question. She held her breath as he lifted his head and looked steadily into her eyes. His face was solemn, his gaze, searching. “No, it isn’t.” There was tenderness in his face and he spoke more gently than she’d ever heard him speak before. “What we shared today is very rare, Belle
.
Yo
u
are very rare.” His lips quirked up at one corner and he gave her a self-deprecating smile. “You’ll have me babbling bad poetry in another minute.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said softly. He kissed her deeply instead.

“I think my time could be put to better use, madam. I can deliver an infinitely more pleasurable experience than my bad verse.” He laid back down, pulling her with him. “Give me a moment to recover,” he said with a decidedly wicked grin, “and then I’ll teach you how a lady rides to the hunt.

Chapter Twenty-five

“This way, my lord,” Paddy said, ushering Michael through the door into Drew’s parlor. Belle sat in a chair beside Drew’s bath chair, eyes alive with anticipation. Even Paddy smiled broadly as he took up his position on the other side of Drew. Michael noted, though that his brother appeared nervous. After making certain the chair’s brake was locked in place Paddy handed a set of crutches to Drew. Michael watched as his brother, struggling a little at first with the awkward angle, positioned the crutches solidly enough to bear his weight. Once he had them set he pulled himself upright and stood in front of his bath chair. He flashed Michael a quick grin before returning his concentration to his task.

Michael’s throat tightened as he watched his brother move one of the crutches forward and then inch his foot along the floor to follow it. He repeated the process on the other side, then started again until he managed four, small steps. Paddy moved up beside him, standing ready to give aid, but didn’t touch him. Belle sat in her chair, her hands moving back and forth between her lap and her mouth in anxiety as she watched Drew take another step. Sweat ran down his face from his efforts and Michael took a couple of steps towards him.

Drew took another set of steps, then looked to his brother. “I think that’s about it for this round,” he said, his triumphant grin a little strained by his exhaustion. Michael rushed forward as Paddy brought the bath chair up behind him. He grabbed his brother in a fierce hug, the tears that had threatened to spill since he’d first seen his brother stand running down his cheeks.

“I think we’ll be wandering the estate together in no time, brother,” Drew joked as Michael eased him into his chair. “You’d best get your fishing gear ready because when I can walk the length of this room four times I demand an adventure.”

“You shall have it, sir knight,” Michael returned hoarsely. “Dragons beware.” He looked at Paddy and then Belle, both of them fighting to keep their professional demeanor. “Thank you,” he offered humbly, “thank you both so very much.” He turned to dash the tears from his face, tears that came not only from seeing Drew stand and eek out some of his first steps, but at his brother’s reminder of all they had once shared. His heart was full, too full to allow him to say or do anything else. “I must go,” said, knowing he sounded abrupt, distant. He risked a glance at Drew to see if his manner had hurt him. Drew sat in his chair still grinning at him and nodded. Michael seized the opportunity and fled the room. He’d had only gotten a few feet down the corridor when he heard Belle call his name softly. She was just behind him, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. She didn’t touch him, didn’t come any closer. Instead, she offered him three simple words. “Welcome home, Michael,” and in those words, she gave him the world.

***

His groom caught Orion’s reins with nod and a flashing grin. Word of Drew’s progress had reached every corner of his estate as well as the village creating an air of buoyant optimism. Michael whistled a merry tune quickening his pace as he neared the house. Perhaps he could lure Belle away to the folly today. During the past few weeks they’d indulged their passion for each other whenever the opportunity presented itself — usually late at night when the rest of the household had settled in for slumber. Belle stayed with him until just before dawn to avoid the embarrassment of running into the maids in the corridors.

Last night they’d made love, talked, slept a little and then made love again. It had become the blissful pattern for their summer. Theirs. Michael had never shared more than a few weeks with any woman, but now he willing claimed an entire season with Belle. What would autumn bring? Winter? He paused to look out across the park vibrant with the colors of summer and suddenly felt a note of dread mix with his anticipation.

Once Belle knew Drew no longer needed her she would return to London and that spelled the end of their affair. There would be no discreet little bower on the outside of Mayfair where he would call on her. She’d hand him his bollocks for even suggesting such a thing. He remembered the pain and fury in her face the day he’d tried to settle the funds and property on her. He’d never hurt her like that again. The money and house would remain in her name, but he’d have his solicitor handle everything at some point in the distant future.

Michael’s eventual marriage would have ended their relationship anyway. Belle would never give herself to a married man, yet, the idea of wedding a young woman fresh from her first season was more repellant to him now than it had been five years ago. No, there was only one woman he’d consider marrying and it could easily spell disaster for both of them. Eventually, he’d get bored with fidelity. He’d never remained faithful to any woman
.
Except Bell
e
, the voice inside him said. Also, he wanted a future as a policy maker for Britain and his wife would have to be a social asset, not a liability. If he wanted to see half the reforms he had in mind accomplished he needed the support of the lords and just as importantly, the support of their wives. The voice spoke again
,
There are other ways to fight for reform
.
Michael slowed his pace. He began to consider harsher realities than whether or not he had enough cachet to sway votes.

How will you feel when she’s gone? How will you feel when another man falls in love with her, or when she falls in love with him
?
Devastated. There was no other word for the mere thought of Belle spending her life with another man. He loved her. Dear God, how he loved her. No other woman but Belle understood him so completely, his moods, his passions. He thought about the way she’d come after him in the hall the other day. She’d known not only what seeing Drew walk those few step meant to him, but also the way his brother had hugged him back. Yes, Michael was home and Belle, bless her, understood exactly how he felt.

Could he be faithful to her? He given up his mistress with scarcely a thought. It had felt like the right thing, the only thing to do. He hadn’t so much as kissed another woman since Belle’s arrival at the Abbey. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to kiss or make love to anyone else but her. He came to a halt on the steps to the house as an epiphany clouted him in the head. He’d been happier in the last few weeks with Belle than in the ten years previous and if he let her go because of ridiculous conventions he deserved to be a miserable arse for the rest of his life. 

Only one thing had kept him from asking Belle to be his wife and it wasn’t the difference in their social standings, nor concerns about parliamentary power. He’d never given a set of rats knackers about either of those things in his life. His fear held him in check. He feared her refusal of his suit, of him and his heart. He’d feared that Belle, like his mother, or Revati would use his love against him, turning it into a warped and twisted thing. He shook his head. Annabelle Winslow was not that kind of woman. Hell, neither was Lady Arabella Winston, for that matter. In spite of her missteps and her vixenish behavior she had loved him five years ago with every ounce of her heart. That love might not have stood a chance then because of the people they had been, but now it was theirs by right. It was their destiny.

Convincing Belle to become his countess would not be an easy task. If he asked her now she would flatly tell him, no. Belle had her own devils driving her. She still believed similar versions of the same falsehoods he’d used on himself, but the truth was that like him, she was simply frightened of letting herself love again. He knew what some of her fears were and could guess at most of the others, but he vowed to help her lay as many of them to rest as possible.

No, today was not the day to ask her to marry him — probably not tomorrow or the next day either, but he could wait. He’d let her pick the moment and when he asked her, he’d only ask her once. His mouth curved slowly into a smile and anyone who’d ever done business with him, legal or otherwise, knew exactly what that smile meant and to a man, they would have told Belle Winslow that her fate was already sealed.

***

London

Duncan Gillian had only a moment to consider the chaos in his study before a blow struck him forcefully on the back of his head. He collapsed amid the piles of papers and books strewn across the floor of the ransacked room.  His assailant stood triumphantly over him, a strange and twisted smile upon his face.

“Not so clever now, are you?” Seaton rasped. “Not clever enough to keep her hidden from me.” Elkhorn had done him a good turn when he’d rattled on about some doctor being Araby’s lover, though in actuality it had been that bastard Kingsford who’d led Seaton here. He’d been following him for days, waiting for a chance to attack him when the whore’s son led him right to a clinic by the docks and to the man who now lay sprawled at his feet. Gillian had stolen his glorious girl away and turned her into a servant, into a whore.  

It took Seaton another few minutes to locate the doctor’s cash box. He pulled the bank notes out and stuffed them into his pocket along with the true treasure he’d discovered this evening. He’d found her letter shortly after beginning his search. Its contents made him furious and that’s why he’d continued to tear the room apart. She’d gone to Stowebridge and his weakling brother. She hadn’t learnt her lesson at all. He wanted to howl with rage as he thought of her betrayal, but he settled for delivering a series of savage kicks to the doctor’s ribs instead. Gillian groaned a little but didn’t stir. Seaton reached for the bronze paperweight on the desk. He’d bash the Gillian’s brains out – show her the true cost of her defection.

Before he could strike though, he heard footsteps in the hall and a woman’s voice. “Doctor? Are you home then?” She knocked on the door and opened the door.  Her screams brought the sound of more feet – running this time. Seaton rushed to the window where he’d entered, clambered out of it and ran towards the mews. He hadn’t finished off the doctor as he’d have liked and that was something she would pay for too. He had just one more acquaintanceship to renew and then he would be ready to finish them all.

***

Surry

She was turning into a giggler. In her day she’d smirked, chuckled coyly, even given an arch laugh or two, but giggle? No. Heaven forfend she should awaken one morning and discover herself doing an all out simper. Belle hummed a little music hall ditty she’d learned from Nettie.

                          
 
“In the moonlight they went walking,

                            and set the neighbors all to talking

                            He took more than just her fanc
y

                            there amid the....”

“I don’t think I know that one,” Michael drawled behind her, “but it certainly sounds promising.” Belle whirled around to find him grinning at her. “You’ll have to teach it to me. Better yet, show me.”

“There is a lot lacking in my interpretation, I’m afraid,” Belle answered pertly. “My friend Nettie is a much better singer and dancer than I am.”

“Nettie? As in Nettie Pomeroy?” Belle nodded enjoying the surprise on Michael’s face. “My dear Miss Winslow, you do have the most remarkable set of acquaintances.”

“Originally, Nettie was more Katherine’s friend than mine, but when Katherine first disappeared...well, was sent into exile, Nettie contacted me to help find her.” Fate hadn’t been much kinder to Katherine than to Belle, herself. No, not fate she amended, Lord Ambrose. Thinking about Katherine’s plight drove some of the color out of the day.

“Do you want me to help you search for her?” Michael asked, his face filled with concern. “I would be happy to make inquiries on your behalf.”

“Thank you, but we’ve found her. Katherine’s husband sent her north. As long as Nettie and I don’t try to help her run away we are allowed to write to her and she, to us. Still, I’m most concerned for her safety.”

Michael took ahold of her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know something of Rutledge. I’ve done business with him before and seen him socially on occasion. He’s a hard man, a little coarse around the edges perhaps, but while I know he’s not a man you’d want to cross, I can’t see him actually harming Lady Katherine. He isn’t the type.”

“Not like my stepfather?” Michael frowned at her reminder that no one had ever suspected what a monster the baron could be behind the politely closed doors of their home.

“I will make those inquiries,” he assured her, “discreetly, of course. If he turns out to be anything remotely like Seaton I will do whatever I can to help your friend.”

“Thank you, Michael,” Belle said with feeling. “The man may not be a monster, but he’s definitely cruel. He imprisoned Katherine for failing to provide his family with the social position he sought when he married her. Lady Bellwood virtually sold Katherine to him and now that wretched woman has turned her back on her only child.”

“More of Ambrose’s work,” Michael murmured. Belle nodded.

“She has no one to turn to and the law, of course, is completely on her husband’s side. If I were a man I’d call Rutledge out myself,” she affirmed sharply.

“First, duels are illegal and second, if you were a man none of our passionate encounters would ever have happened.” He leaned over and placed a kiss just above the collar of her gown. “Now that would be a pity.”