Chapter 25 #2
“That’s a relief.” Maybe in the end she and Bellamy had been able to do some good after all, which would make all the trouble they were in worth it.
“I also came to tell you Seamus and Moya are doing well.”
“I’ve missed them.” And she’d been wondering how they were faring.
“Gavin crafted a special stool for Moya to stand on in the kitchen because she wants to be with Jenny and help her all the time.”
Zaira couldn’t contain a smile. “I’m glad they’re getting on so well.”
“Oh aye. Right well.” His eyes were alight with a merriness she adored, one she couldn’t resist, one she didn’t want to go away. “I also came to find out if you liked my gifts.”
“The gifts are very nice, Bellamy.” She tried to keep her voice bland, nonchalant. “But if you thought they would win me over, then you’re wrong.”
“Is that a fact?” Bellamy pushed away from his post and swaggered a step toward her, his gaze homing in on her mouth.
Her whole body reacted with a shudder of pure delight.
When he took another step toward her, closing the distance so he was only inches away, she caught the scent of turpentine and paint. Had he been painting recently? Or was the scent left from the previous night?
“I need to return the jewelry to you.”
“I’ll not be taking any of it back.”
“Aye, you must.”
“Not yet.”
“When?”
He shrugged. “Since the gifts didn’t win you over, I know what will.” His voice contained a cockiness she loved too.
Oh aye, he probably did know what would win her over, and easily. A kiss. She loved kissing him, and he’d figured that out.
“No, you may not kiss me, Bellamy.” She held up a finger between them, as if that could stop him from bending in and stealing a kiss. Not that she would try to stop him if he tried.
Bellamy’s grin kicked up one side of his mouth. “I see how it is. You’ve got kissing on your mind, so you do.”
“No.” She made a scoffing sound. “Of course I’m not thinking of kissing you.”
“Good, then.” He dropped his gaze to her mouth again, and his lashes fell halfway. “Because I wasn’t planning on kissing you right now.”
He was toying with her. That was becoming obvious.
It was time for her to toy with him in return.
She pressed her pointer finger into his sternum, then slowly walked her fingers up his chest over his shirt until she reached his collar.
He wasn’t wearing a cravat, and the top two buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned.
“Good, then,” she imitated but lowered her voice into a whisper as she let the tip of her finger graze the narrow span of his chest showing there.
His nostrils flared just slightly, but that was his only reaction.
“I think it’s for the best”—she drew a line from his chest to the base of his throat—“if you refrain from kissing me both now and anytime in the future.”
His half-lidded gaze fell again to her mouth. He leaned closer, inching in, as though he had no intention of following her instructions.
Truthfully, she wanted him to toss aside all her objections, wrap his arms around her, and mesh his mouth to hers. She started to lean in, her whole body suddenly keening for his, needing to feel the long length of him, needing to have his hands on her, needing to have his mouth commanding hers.
With his lips only an inch away, her breath caught.
“Zaira?” His whisper was full of something equally raw and charged.
She started to curl her hand into his shirt to pull him in all the way. She was shameless. She wanted him more than keeping up appearances, more than her reservations, more than sticking to the boundaries she’d set.
But before she could kiss him, he took a step away, breaking her hold and breaking the moment. He began digging in the pocket of his vest. “It’s here somewhere.”
What was he doing? She couldn’t think past the pounding of her pulse.
He dug deeper, tossing her another smirk.
He was still teasing her. And she’d played right into his ploy so that now he knew how she really felt about him—that she couldn’t resist him, that she would be all too easy to convince to do his bidding.
“Ach, here it is.” He tugged out a folded-up piece of paper.
“What is it?”
“Like I said. It’s not a kiss.” His smirk widened into a grin.
She released a huff while trying not to smile.
Bellamy McKenna was impossibly wily. Any woman would be lucky to get to spend the rest of her life with him because things would never be dull.
That was for certain. She just couldn’t be that woman, although at the moment she couldn’t exactly remember why.
He unfolded the paper and handed it to her. “I’d be honored if you would be one of my guests tomorrow evening.”
As she took the wrinkled sheet, his eyes held a hesitancy, even a shyness, she’d never seen there before. What was this about?
She read the bold black print at the center. “‘Please join Templeton & Evans Art Gallery in presenting the talented W. B. M. as he introduces himself and his newest landscape paintings.’”
She met Bellamy’s gaze. “You’re having a show?”
“Aye, so.” He nodded as though he still needed to convince himself.
This was a huge step for him. No huge wasn’t the right word.
It was gargantuan, immense, colossal. Aye, colossal was a descriptive, solid word to describe this move Bellamy was taking.
After he did so, he would no longer be able to keep his painting a secret from St. Louis.
Everyone would know that Bellamy the matchmaker was also W. B. M. the painter.
“I hope you’ll come,” he said again, this time straightening his vest and backing up.
“Of course I’ll come.” She wanted to squeeze his arm in reassurance. But he’d moved to the top of the steps now.
“Then I’ll be seeing you there. Come at eight.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Bring your parents, if you’d like. And wear the jewelry.”
She knew she needed to protest, but she couldn’t find it within herself to do so. Instead, she nodded.
His grin this time was happy, even excited.
As he bounded down the steps and toward his horse, she was happy and excited for him.
Even though revealing her secret writing life had been difficult and she was still uncertain about how to proceed, a weight she hadn’t known she was carrying had been lifted and she felt free now.
Free from the lies. Free from the pretending.
Free from having to live for her parents’ approval.
Free to live her own life as God had intended for her.
She could only hope Bellamy would find that same freedom.