Annabelle's Courtship (12 page)

He stood up. “Finchley, please make my excuses to Miss Caruthers.” Ian turned to Belle’s aunt. “Lady Beauford, your niece is a trifle overset. I will see her home.” He extended his hand to Belle. “Come.”

She glared at him for a full minute before giving a miniscule shrug and standing.

“The evening is ruined already. I may as well go home, but I would rather Ceddy escorted me.”

“Finchley has other business to attend to.”

When she looked like she would argue, he grasped her hand and turned to leave the theater.

Belle did not say another word until he had placed her in his carriage. “I hope you are satisfied with this night’s work, my lord. Dragging me from my aunt’s box is bound to make us the latest
on-dit
for many a day.” The carriage lamps illuminated her mutinous expression.

“I didna drag you and my name is Ian.” Her eyes widened at his enraged tone. Good.

“Say it.”

“There is no reason to shout.”

“Say it.”

She winced. “Ian.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “I’ve said it. Now you can stop shouting.”

He nodded and spoke in a more reasonable tone. “Explain to me again why you think I lied.”

“Do not order me about.”

“’Twas a reasonable request.”

“It was not a request.”

She was going to make him daft before he finished courting her. He asked with overstressed courtesy, “Would you please explain to me why you think I have lied?”

“You said that you didn’t want to marry a beautiful woman.” That was all? “I didna lie, Belle. How was I to ken ye’d change from one meeting to the next?”

“What are you talking about?”

This conversation was getting more bizarre by the minute. “I swear, Belle, I dinna understand the way your mind works.”

“You said you would not marry a beautiful woman and you have given up courting me to pursue Miss Caruthers. Either you lied or changed your mind. Neither speaks well of your honor.”

Pain lanced through him at her accusation. Just as his family had done, Belle assumed that the only excuse for his actions precluded integrity. His parents had believed that he had acted dishonorably when he cried off from his engagement to Jenna. He had

not told them about the incident in the garden, but it should not have mattered. His stepfather and his mother should have believed in him.

As should Belle. “Ye believe I am without honor?” Belle’s expression changed. He watched as first confusion, then uncertainty clouded her eyes. She sighed heavily. “No.”

A band that had been constricting Ian’s heart loosened.

“The only woman of beauty I would willingly marry is you.” Her eyes widened. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Aye, Belle.”

Her expression said that she did not believe him. He waited for her to call him a liar again. When she did not, he began to relax.

She uncrossed her arms and stared at the reticule in her lap, playing with its strings.

“I was not talking about me.”

“But you are the lady I want to marry.”

“Then why did you escort Miss Caruthers to the theater and refuse Robert’s invitation?” When he did not answer fast enough, she gasped. “I will not believe it.” Now what had her fertile imagination conjured up? “I probably willna either.” She ignored him. “You will not marry me and take another lady as your paramour.” His temper exploded. “Ye will no question my honor in this way.” She huffed in outrage when he pulled her into his arms. “I dinna want a paramour. I want a wife.” He ground the words out past the anger in his chest, his lips almost touching hers.

She trembled at the intimate touch. She twisted her body in his lap. “Let me go.” Her squirming rapidly turned his fury to another, stronger, emotion. Passion. He tightened his hold on her, reveling in the torture of having her body so close. “Nay, Belle.

I’ll no let you go.”

Her struggles ceased the moment his lips covered hers. It was as if she was too shocked to move. Ian took advantage of her confusion and deepened the kiss. He let go of her waist and buried his hands in her hair, untying the ribbon that held the silken mass atop her head. It tumbled over his hands. He felt all control desert him. He barely had enough sanity to reach out and close the curtains on the carriage windows. This is what he had wanted since the night of the Markham ball.

She renewed her struggles to get free. She pulled her mouth from his and he concentrated on kissing her shell-pink ear. She shivered. “Ian, you must stop.”

“Nay.”

“We were having an important discussion.”

He kissed her throat and she groaned. His lips moved back to cover hers. “We will finish our argument later.”

She sighed against his lips. “Very well, but it was not an argument.” He would have disagreed with her. ’Twas definitely an argument, but she tugged his mouth close for a deeper kiss. He obliged her willingly, sliding his tongue into her mouth and exploring its warmth.

She moved restlessly in his lap and he grew hard in response. It felt so good. She was like sunshine on the heather strewn hills of home. His hand dipped to caress her soft flesh through her bodice. She whimpered.

Her head tilted back. The look of utter abandon on her face pushed him over the edge. He was desperate to see her. Slipping the tiny cap sleeves of her gown down her arm, he freed her breasts. Pulling back, he took a moment just to feast on the sight of her bare skin. The flawless shape of each creamy white mound peaked in a pink succulent nipple.

“Perfect.”

She expelled the breath she had been holding. He cupped one breast, tenderly playing with the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She acted as if she had been jolted with an electricity machine.

“
Ian
.”

“Hush, Belle, ’tis all right, lass.” He continued his ministrations as she moaned with increasing passion. She mindlessly rubbed her backside against him. Thoughts of embedding himself in her body filled his mind. Breaking his lips away from her mouth, he trailed hot kisses down her neck and to her breast. When he took her already taut nipple in his mouth, she screamed.

He sucked rhythmically, thinking of all that he wanted to do to her sweet body. She was coming apart in his arms and he loved it. He moved his hand under her skirt. Feeling her silk pantalets, he groaned. When his fingers encountered the slit in the fabric between her legs, he growled in satisfaction. She tried to press her legs together and squirm off his lap.

Her movements nearly pushed him past control. He spoke soft words of reassurance in her ear and moved his hand over her breasts. He prayed she would not make him stop.

He wanted to give her pleasure. He needed to give her pleasure.

She began to writhe. “
Ian, do something
.” He smiled at her demand. “I am, Belle, trust me.” He slipped one finger into her tight heat and kissed her, using his tongue to imitate the movement of his finger. She writhed more frantically against him. He placed his thumb on the sweet button above where his finger did its gentle dance.

She tore her mouth from his. “No. Stop. I can’t…” He fondled her breast with his other hand. “Trust me.” He kissed her again. Soft tender kisses that turned passionate as she moved against his hand.

“
Ian
.”

“Aye, Belle. That’s it, lass.”

She went completely rigid and then convulsed around his hand. She cried out and collapsed against him. He kissed her once more. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to get his raging passion under control. He had never wanted another woman like he wanted Belle. He wasn’t going to take her for the first time in a carriage in the London fog though.

She hid her face against his chest. “That was amazing.” He smiled at the awe in her voice. “Aye, it was.”

Chapter Eight

Annabelle’s heart had begun to slow, but she doubted she would ever be the same again. No wonder Diana liked being married so much. She nestled closer to Ian, his distinctly masculine scent surrounding her. The rapid tattoo of his heart against her ear gave her pleasure. He had been as affected as she even though he hadn’t…her thoughts trailed off.

“You didn’t…” She couldn’t go on.

Lifting her chin, he met her eyes. “Not this time.” The tenderness she saw in his gaze washed over her wounded heart. “You wanted to.”

“Yes.”

She sighed and snuggled against his chest. “Thank you.” He righted her clothes and continued to hold her. “You’re welcome.” She played with the button on his waistcoat and enjoyed the feel of his arms around her. “Ian, it seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time to get home. Had you noticed?”

“I told my coachman to drive around until I signaled otherwise.” Her head flew up. “Did you know we were going to…to do this?” The thought that he could be that certain of her when she had been so angry left her insides churning.

He shook his head, “Nay, Belle. I wanted to talk without interruption.” She giggled. “I’d say we were interrupted.”

“Aye.” She heard the satisfaction in his voice.

“Ian?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did you go to the theater with Miss Caruthers?”

“Hamilton told me that you were upset when our names were linked in the gossip column.” He wrapped her hair around his hand and rubbed the strands with his thumb.

She leaned back to look in his eyes. “You were trying to protect me from gossip?” He nodded.

“I don’t understand.”

“I didna mark you for attention and spent time with Miss Caruthers so that it would not be so clear I was courting you.”

She stared at him without speaking and then she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that tears trailed down her cheeks. He commanded her to stop. When she didn’t, he shook her lightly. “Stop that, Belle. What is so funny?” She gasped for air. “Ian, you do not understand the ways of the
ton
very well.” He wasn’t happy to hear that if his suddenly rigid body and angry eyes were any indication. She wanted to laugh some more, but controlled herself. “There will still be gossip.”

“Why?”

She shook her head at his ignorance. “Our names have already been linked. Those who have noted your lack of interest and your escort of Miss Caruthers will assume you have given up courting me in favor of her.”

Like Annabelle had.

“What would I want with her?” Ian asked.

“Do not be dense, my lord. Miss Caruthers is beautiful and most gentlemen would be pleased to gain her interest.”

“I am no most gentlemen.”

She smiled against his chest. He seemed to be waiting for her agreement. “No, you are not.”

Ian’s tense muscles relaxed. “You must call me Ian now. A wife should not call her husband my lord.”

She sat up straight to look in his eyes. “We have had this discussion many times.”

“Aye.”

“I do call you Ian sometimes.”

“As my wife, you will always use my name.”

“But I’m not your wife.”

Comprehension emerged at the look of complacency on his face. “Ian, you cannot believe that I am now going to marry you because of what just happened.”

“I bloody well do.”

“Do not swear at me.”

“You are going to marry me, Belle.”

She scooted off of his lap to the opposite seat in the carriage. “I am not going to marry you, Ian.”

She was thankful for the dim light in the carriage. Ian’s glare was intimidating enough and she could barely see him.

“After what happened, do you deny that you love me?”

“Should I now believe that you love me?”

“Men are different.”

She did not know if she wanted to cry or box his ears. She ended up shouting instead.

“
So, you are saying that any woman could have been in your arms just now
?”

“Dinna be foolish.”

“Do not call me a fool.”

“I didna call you a fool.”

The urge to cry grew stronger.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her back into his lap. He pressed her backside against him. She felt his hardness. “Do you feel that, Belle?” She squirmed in anger and embarrassment. “Don’t.” Her voice cracked.

“Do you feel it?” His words were no longer angry, but had grown gentle.

She nodded, refusing to answer.

“Belle, no other woman has ever affected me like you do.” Her eyes flew to his. “No one?”

“No one.”

“Not even your ex-fiancée?”

“No.”

“But it doesn’t mean you love me.”

“It means I want you to marry me.”

“Ian, passion is not love and I cannot marry you if you do not love me.” She wanted to bury her head against his waistcoat and bawl like a baby.

He pressed her face against his chest and soothed her. “We will not discuss this anymore right now.”

They would discuss it again soon, though. She was sure of it. The thought left her both dreading the next time and relieved that Ian had not given her up for Miss Caruthers.

* * *

Annabelle walked into her aunt’s garden unnoticed by Diana and Robert. The smell of freshly tilled earth attested to Aunt Griselda’s recent efforts in the flowerbeds.

Daffodils fluttered in the soft spring breeze and their bright yellow reflected the warm rays of the midmorning sun.

Her brother was gone on his favorite subject, farming. “Diana, this is really something to take note of. Aunt Griselda has certainly made extensive research into the proper planting patterns for her herbs.”

He pointed at a clump of purple and green leaves surrounded by tall stalks of green shoots. “Look at this basil near the garlic. I’m told planted that close together the one picks up the flavor of the other.”

“Robert, I’m sure that is all that is interesting, but can we not just enjoy the flowers without discussing the merits of planting one closer to the other?”

“I’m discussing herbs, dear, not flowers. Look at this-” Annabelle interrupted her brother’s discourse. “Robert, I think Diana is trying to tell you that she does not share your interest in horticulture.” Robert and Diana both swung around to face her. “Alas, no, but then I cannot expect my wife to enjoy everything I do.” His indulgent tone of voice made Annabelle smile.