Chapter Three #2
Beatrice felt strangely giddy, as if she were filled with bubbles, like a glass of champagne. “See you? You jest, sir. I cannot see you at all.”
Although that wasn’t quite true. The clouds had parted, revealing a full moon which rendered John’s disguise significantly less effective, at least, at close range. She could make out a neck corded with muscles. Dark stubble on his chin, suggesting that his hair must be dark as well.
A particularly full lower lip…
He stepped closer, bringing his hips flush against hers. Beatrice was forced to pause her perusal of John’s features as her thoughts scattered, but she made no move to step away.
“An excellent point.” He brought a single finger to her face, tracing the outline of her cheekbone. “Hmm, if you didn’t want to see me, what did you want? Perhaps…another kiss?”
Summoning all of her courage, Beatrice placed her hands on the flat planes of his chest. “What if I did?”
His voice was the deep purr of a panther. “Far be it for me to disappoint a lady.”
He leaned down and the world went dark around her as the cowl enveloped her face. Her last rational thought before his lips found hers was that she was almost certain that his eyes were brown…
Their first kiss had been tentative, at least on Beatrice’s part.
Not this time. This time, Beatrice knew what she wanted. She had, in fact, arranged this rendezvous for the specific purpose of facilitating this moment.
She therefore clutched fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him close. She opened her mouth beneath his.
If he disapproved of this brazen behavior, he gave no sign of it. With a growl, he wrapped his arms around her, tipping her back and devouring her mouth.
Beatrice clung to him as her heart raced and the world spun.
This was what she wanted, why she had come here tonight.
She was still a novice when it came to kissing, but she tried her best to kiss him back, to give as good as she got.
In her trembling eagerness, she accidentally nipped his bottom lip.
Instead of minding, her clumsy mishap seemed to be a spur to his desire.
He kissed her with an intensity that made the world tilt off its axis.
He pressed her against his full length, lifting her off the ground in his eagerness.
She could feel his arousal, hard and hot against the softness of her stomach.
Somehow, his hard thigh wound up between her legs. And oh! Beatrice liked that. She liked that a little too much! She squirmed against him, wanting—no, needing—some friction at a curious spot at the juncture of her legs that had started to pulse like a heartbeat.
With a groan, John set her down and stepped back. Beatrice staggered forward, desperate to press herself against him again. But strong arms held her back.
“John,” she gasped. “I want… I need…” She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, as she honestly did not know what her body craved.
His breathing was ragged. “You really are a menace, you know.”
Beatrice struggled fruitlessly against his hold. “Why won’t you kiss me again?”
“Because I don’t want to kiss you.”
She gasped at his harsh words and stumbled backward.
He followed her, bringing one hand up to frame her face. “That came out wrong. I do want to kiss you. But what I really want is something I can’t have.”
Beatrice leaned into his warm hand. Her brain didn’t seem to be working properly, and she struggled to make sense of his words. “What do you really want?”
His voice was dark as midnight. “I want you in my bed, Beatrice. And I mean to have you. But not tonight. Not like this.”
That stunned her into silence. No man had shown her the slightest interest before. She understood why. She was the local hellion, and the closest things she had to attributes were a flat chest and a difficult father.
She should be insulted. She should be horrified. She should slap him across the face she couldn’t properly see.
And yet, if she was being honest, the feeling that washed through her could best be described as…interested.
After all, she was wildly attracted to John, even if she’d only seen bits and pieces of his face.
And when would she ever get another chance to make love to a man? She was an irredeemable hellion, after all. No man would ever want her for his bride.
“When?” she asked. “Where? How can we arrange it?” She clasped his wrist and squeezed as something occurred to her. “I can’t risk falling pregnant. Is there a way to prevent conception?”
His laughter echoed off the stone walls of the ruined abbey. Instead of answering her questions, he uttered a single word. “Menace.”
She bristled. “I’m trying to figure out how we can make this work. Do you want me in your bed, or not?”
He looped his arm through hers and started walking toward his cart. “Oh, I do.”
She had no choice but to follow him. “Well, then? What are these conditions of yours?”
He turned his head toward her. In the moonlight, she caught sight of his lips.
They were set into a smirk.
“You’ll see.”
“You’ll see,” she grumbled as he lifted her onto the seat of the cart. “I wish you would be more specific.”
He climbed up beside her, then pressed a kiss into her palm. “I know you do.”
He made cheerful conversation as he drove her home. She responded with grunts and hmpfs. Rather than take offense, he seemed amused by her ill temper.
The cottage came into view. Beatrice was still staying there. As much as she hated to intrude upon the newlyweds, her sister and the baby needed help in these early days. “Should I bother contacting you again?” Beatrice grumbled.
John reined in the horse. “If you have need of me, then of course you should.” He climbed down, came around the cart, and lifted her to the ground.
She felt tears pricking behind her eyes. “Is this it, then? Will I never see you again?”
He stroked a thumb across her cheek. “My dear, dear Beatrice, what a question. Of course you’ll see me again.” He pressed another kiss into the palm of her hand, then stepped back. “I’ll be in touch.”
She started to step forward, to trail after him, but some sliver of pride stayed her. “When? How?”
He was already back atop his cart. “You’ll see.”
You’ll see. She doubted that she would. As she stood outside the cottage, watching his cart retreat down the lane, Beatrice couldn’t decide if she was more angry or disappointed.