Chapter Nine #3
Lisbeth’s eyes closed involuntarily as she let the pressure, the heat of his lips, consume her.
There was a strange light that lit behind her eyelids, and she felt like sighing.
She wished she didn’t like his kisses so much.
She wished he wouldn’t keep doing this to her—it was hard enough to keep him under control, keep him at arm’s length, keep him from getting too close to her and her teetering heart.
Oh, but the kiss was so soft, so sweet. Why was it he could make her forget everything but his lips on hers, the taste of him in her mouth where his tongue explored with searching, searing strokes?
She sighed, despite herself, and put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.
And, oh, how she wanted to forget, just for a little while.
This was so unfair. They had been tangling words and wills for so long it seemed, and now he knew she was nothing but a swooning female. Now, in his arms for the second time tonight and with him kissing her so pleasantly, she hardly knew what to do.
All she really knew was when he kissed her she felt free, free of everything she’d been before.
Free of the Black Raven and its clutching claws.
He made her… feel. Like a woman who was desirable and deserving of passion.
She had been deliberately cruel to him and yet he would not let her deter him.
Instead, he just kept chipping away at her.
If he knew how close she was to shattering into a million deadly shards he would possibly reconsider his determined efforts and move far away—Scotland perhaps, or the North Pole.
“Stop thinking,” he rumbled near her ear as he kissed her neck.
“Oh.” All thought deserted her. How obedient her mind had become to his demands. If only it would listen to hers the same way.
His mouth was caressing her jaw and neck. His kisses burning their way towards her collar bone.
It was so nice to be held… but no, she must concentrate and make him understand he could not do this to her. He could not sweep her away completely. Her heart couldn’t take it.
But he was so very good at distracting her, the cad. So she did the only thing which was sure to make him see it was foolish to keep trying to seduce her.
When her hand connected with his cheek he was quick to take it prisoner. He smiled. “If you are going to slap a man for doing what he has just been dared to do, then you should really put a little more power into it—make the effort worthwhile.”
She raised her other hand but saw the look of challenge in his eyes and let it fall to her side.
“Giving up so easily, Countess? Tsk, tsk, I would have expected more of a fight than that.”
Fighting against his superior strength? She already knew how fruitless an effort it would be.
Her past was full of unsuccessful attempts to fight off a stronger opponent.
But Nathaniel was dead now and could no longer physically hurt her.
Still, wrestling with Bellamy in the carriage had also proved he was far stronger than she.
“Go home, Bellamy.”
He smiled again and leaned closer. “I know you are all bluff, Countess,” he whispered, and then kissed her on the nose.
Stunned, Lisbeth gaped at him. Then he chuckled, damn the man.
She was about to speak when Mrs. Rolland’s wide form arrived with the warm milk.
“Would you like some, my lord?”
He gave her grin. “No, thank you, Mrs. Rollands. I think I will leave Lady Blackhurst in your capable hands. She has had a… trying night.” He stood, turning towards Lisbeth who was still watching him warily.
“I look forward to seeing you again soon, Lady Blackhurst.” He gave her a bow and kissed the hand that had slapped him. He straightened to his full height again and turned towards the parlor door leaving her aching in his wake.
Lisbeth fell back against the sofa.
Mrs. Rollands handed her a cup and smiled. “Lord Bellamy is very handsome, if I may be so bold as to say.”
“Yes, he is,” she replied, tired, confused and defeated.
“He seems very attentive. He looked so worried when he brought you in.”
Lisbeth glanced up at her housekeeper. “Did he?”
“He made a great fuss of making sure you were comfortable. I was watching him from the doorway.”
“Oh,” Lisbeth said. She was surprised he hadn’t just tossed her on the sofa like a discarded coat. Especially after the way she had acted tonight.
“Just to make sure he wasn’t taking advantage, if you get my meaning.”
Lisbeth did know what she meant. And he had taken advantage. She could still feel his lips on hers. Warm, soft, confident. Where had Mrs. Rollands been then?
If only Bellamy knew about her past, about what had happened between her and Blackhurst, surely he would want nothing to do with her. He would know her deep shame and be disgusted, just as she was of herself.
“He was very attentive. Such a gentleman.” Mrs. Rollands sighed, wistfully. “I’ll let young Millicent know you are home. Would you like a bath?”
She nodded. The housekeeper smiled, picked up the tray, her many keys jingling as she moved. Lisbeth had always found it a comforting sound.
So, he had charmed Mrs. Rollands? Typical. Even her butler seemed to have thawed towards him. Her own emotions were in turmoil when it came to Bellamy, and she didn’t know what to think.
Lisbeth sipped her warm milk.
Oliver, he’d said his name was Oliver.
Why had he told her his name? He seemed to know hers and use it. She had not given him permission to, but neither had she objected at the time.
“I know you are all bluff,” he’d said, and he was right.
She also knew she had just lost any advantage she might have had over him.
Did he feel something for her? To use her name as he had, call her perfect and lovely and kiss her like he actually wanted to.
More than once at that. Not an act then, not just playing the part of the lover for the spectators of the ton?
What did it all mean? What did he want from her?
And, could she give him what he wanted without losing herself completely?