At the base of the steps, he released her, and Belle tried not to think about how eager he was to be free of her. Of course, there was another set of stairs to the kitchens. At the top, he reached for her again, but she sidestepped. “I think you’re fine on your own.”
“Do you really think we should risk it?”
Belle stared at him. She had to be imagining that he wanted to touch her. She had the urge to go on ahead and force him to make his way to the kitchens alone, but if he did fall, she would never forgive herself.
“You’re right. You might faint at any moment.”
He put his arm around her waist and squeezed her, making her yelp when he touched a ticklish spot. “I told you,” he said near her ear. “I don’t faint.”
Belle shivered at the feel of his breath on the sensitive skin of her neck. She struggled to control her breathing, struggled more to keep from turning in his arms, pushing him against the wall, and kissing him. What was the matter with her?
“Let’s go,” she said, her voice sounding far harsher than she’d intended.
He drew back, grasping the plain wooden railing and moving down the stairs with her. At the bottom, they stepped into the kitchen. She set the lamp on the large preparation table in the center and looked about at the hanging copper pots and tidy counters.
“Here’s the larder,” Arundel said, trying a large door. He stepped inside and reappeared with a plate covered with a cloth. “What have we here?” His eyebrows went up and down comically, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
He set the plate on the table near the lamp and withdrew the napkin with a flourish. Belle peered down at the plate. “Scones,” she said. “Probably intended for the staff.”
He lifted one and bit into it. “Sorry staff,” he said, mouth full. He took another bite, and she looked about, wondering where the tea stores might be. She’d had enough for tonight, but she was curious to see which teas the baroness kept on hand. But instead of finding the tea, she caught her reflection in the window glass. A window above the sink looked out upon the yard, and as it was night, her lamp turned the window into something of a mirror. She could see Arundel starting on yet another scone and herself, small and looking stiff and proper beside him. Normally, she didn’t like looking into mirrors, but the lovely thing about a reflection in a window was that it was poor quality and didn’t show her pockmarked skin.
She looked almost pretty in the window reflection.
“This one is lemon,” Arundel said, holding half a scone out. She turned to look at him. “Best one yet. Have a bite.”
Belle was about to say she wasn’t hungry, but her stomach chose that moment to growl. His brows rose. “Don’t say you don’t want it. You’re as hungry as I am.”
“I doubt that,” she said, eyeing the all but empty plate.
“Taste this,” he said, holding it out to her. She tried to take it, but he pulled it back. “If I give it to you, I’ll not get it back.”
“I’ll not be fed like a child.”
“Fine.” He broke off a piece of the pastry and she took it, popping it in her mouth. It was very good, the lemon tart and pairing nicely with the mild sweetness of the bread. She didn’t often put lemon in her tea. She couldn’t afford to buy fresh lemons and she was too much of a purist to adulterate her tea with additions, but she could see how someone might find a slice of lemon in a Darjeeling refreshing.
“You have a crumb just here.” Arundel gestured to her mouth, and Belle put her tongue out to catch the crumb.
“That’s not it. Here.” His hand caught her chin and swiped at a spot just below her lip. She felt the crumb fall away, but he didn’t move his hand. Instead, one finger slid upward to trail over her bottom lip, tracing the shape of it.
Belle couldn’t move. His touch seemed to hold her captive. She looked up and into his face and inhaled at what she saw in his blue velvet eyes. He was staring at her like he’d looked at the plate of scones a moment before.
“If I kiss you,” he said, “will you break this plate over my head?”
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. She couldn’t think. She was sinking into his eyes, floating on the soft caress of his finger on her lips.
“I’ll take my chances,” he said. “You’re worth the risk.” And leaning forward, he brushed his lips gently over hers.
Chapter Thirteen
Hew felt the change in Belle immediately. She seemed to melt into him as soon as he brushed his lips over hers. He reached out, put an arm about her, and pulled her close, pressing her body against his chest. She felt boneless, offering no resistance.
His mouth moved on hers gently, learning its curves and dips. He’d been wanting to do this ever since he’d first opened his eyes, looked into her face, and she’d told him she was nursing him. He’d been delirious and drugged with laudanum, but he’d wished he could kiss her. Now he was kissing her, and to his surprise, she was kissing him back.
Hew knew she wanted him. He’d been married and knew a little—a very little—about women. He didn’t believe the current mythology that women didn’t have the same lusts men had. His wife had enjoyed their bedsport as much as he. Hew knew what desire and arousal and appreciation looked like. Even if Belle Howard hadn’t wanted to feel any of those things toward him, he’d seen them in her face.
She wanted him, and now she was showing him how much. She made a sound of frustrated need, and Hew deepened the kiss. She opened to him, tasting him as he tasted her. He caught the flavors of the tea she’d been drinking, light and sweet. Her arms went around him, her fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. So perhaps she was not so sweet. Hew turned and pushed her against the preparation table. She broke the kiss, levered herself onto the table, then pulled his mouth back down to hers. When her legs wrapped about his waist, he felt his own desire heighten.
He'd intended to satisfy his curiosity with a long kiss, but now he found himself even more curious. A kiss would not satisfy—either of them, it seemed.
Hew allowed her to take the lead, her kisses fumbling but passionate. He tilted her head back, loosed her hair, and let the soft tresses fall over his hand. His other hand was at the small of her back, and he was conscious of the need to cup the swell of her hip or the curve of her buttocks, but he held that hand firmly in place. As much as he wanted to toss her skirts up and take her on the kitchen table, he was still a gentleman. Belle was more than a vessel to satisfy his lust. She’d saved his life, and he wouldn’t repay her by rogering her on a hard wooden table.
Her legs tightened on his waist, drawing him closer to the heat at the center of her. His hand on her back tightened as he attempted to control his baser urges. She was making that more and more difficult by the minute as her sweet tongue slid into his mouth and tangled with his. Erotic thoughts flitted through his mind, acts Hew was pretty certain he wasn’t yet strong enough to attempt. But, oh, how she made him want to try all of them and more, even if it killed him.
He was pretty sure her kisses were further weakening his resolve, and he pulled back, trailing his mouth over her right cheek, along her jaw, and then underneath to place delicate kisses on the soft skin of her neck. She inhaled sharply and made a sound that sent heat right into the pit of his belly. He continued the trail of kisses, tasting his way to the small lobe of her ear and kissing her just behind it.