He groaned, the sound one of primal pleasure. It gave her confidence to deepen the kiss. His arms went about her waist, pulling her against his warm, solid body. Quite suddenly, she wanted to touch his body. Not as a nurse might touch his chest, but as a lover. She reached for the shirt he wore untucked and slid her hands underneath. She felt the waistband of his trousers and then the heated flesh of his belly. It wasn’t the heat of fever. It was the comforting heat of life.
And yet touching him was anything but comforting. Her heart had begun to pound, and her throat went dry. The heat radiating through her body began to burn as she slid her hands upward, careful to avoid the area of his wound. She wanted to touch all of him like this. To see if the flesh of his legs was as firm and muscled as that of his abdomen.
Arundel’s hands flexed on her waist, and then he gently broke the kiss and pushed her back. “It’s probably best if you go to your chamber now.”
Belle stared at him, uncomprehending, then felt a lump rise in her throat. She’d gone too far. She’d misunderstood his reactions. “I’m sorry,” she said, stepping away and groping blindly for her wrap. “Of course, I’ll go.”
Arundel caught her arm, pulling her close again. “Don’t look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve done something wrong. I’m sending you away because I want you, and because if this goes much further, we may both do things we regret in the morning.”
Belle hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought of anything except the feel of his skin under her fingertips. But there was one thing she thought she knew perfectly well by now. “I wouldn’t regret anything with you.”
He closed his eyes as though in pain. “You don’t know how much I want you.”
Belle thought that if it was half as much as she wanted him, she did know.
“If I wasn’t injured, I would have taken this too far already.”
Belle would have liked to ask what too far meant. What exactly would he have done? Would he have touched her as she’d been touching him a few minutes before? “I think I want you to take it too far,” she admitted, then felt her cheeks heat again. But she didn’t duck her head, and she didn’t look away. She was a woman of almost six and twenty, old enough to know what she wanted.
He shook his head. “No, you don’t. Too much further, and I’ll feel obligated to marry you. That isn’t possible.”
The part of her that had been unlocked retreated again, and the lump was back in her throat. This time the heat in her cheeks was not from desire or embarrassment but from indignation. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m aware a gentleman like you would never marry a woman of my position, but I’m not one of your ladies of the ton. If we were discovered together, no one would expect you to marry me.”
“And am I some sort of rake who jumps into bed with unmarried young women? I’d feel obligated to marry you.”
“Because I’m a virgin?”
His mouth dropped open. She’d spoken too plainly, that much was clear. But she couldn’t take it back now. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it does rather make my point. I’m not in the habit of deflowering young ladies.”
“I’m not young, and at this point, I hardly need save myself for marriage. I’m a spinster. Everyone will be calling me a thornback when I do turn six and twenty.”
“Arbitrary terms that mean nothing. You’re a young woman, and I won’t take advantage of you.” He didn’t say you’re a young woman of a lower social class, but he didn’t have to. She knew he felt the power differential between them even if it meant little or nothing to her. She was no fair lady who needed saving. She took a step closer to him, and he gave her a wary look but resisted taking a cautious step back.
“Do you really think I’d allow you to take advantage of me?”
He lifted his brows. “Do you really think you could stop me if that’s what I wanted?”
She moved her gaze deliberately to the area of his side that was wounded. “Yes.”
“Let’s not test it, shall we?”
“Let’s not,” she said, her tone mocking his upper-class accent. “I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to marry a peasant like me, much less one who’s so disfigured she’s destined to be an old maid.” She whirled on her heel and marched for the door, realizing too late she’d forgotten the lamp. She’d rather dump all the tea in her shop into the Thames—like those colonists in the Americas had done to their harbor—than go back for the lamp. Anything but having to spend another moment in Arundel’s presence.
This settled it. Tomorrow she would return to Fenchurch Street, Arundel and the thugs who were after him be damned.
Chapter Fourteen
Hew was aware of the knocking. He’d decided it was part of a dream and ignored it. What he couldn’t ignore was being shaken like a rag doll. He opened his eyes and stared blearily at the figure looming above him. His heart leaped into his throat, and he would have moved into a defensive posture except he realized, belatedly, that assassins didn’t wake one before murdering them.
The figure set down a lamp, and in the lamplight Hew saw her. “Belle?”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He pushed up on his elbows. “What time is it?” He might have asked what day it was, but he was reasonably sure he’d only slept for a few hours.
“Very early morning. I’m sorry.”
Hew narrowed his eyes. Belle was not one to apologize—especially not after the way she’d left last night. He felt he owed her an apology. Except he was damned if he would apologize for not bedding her. He was protecting her virtue, damn it. “Why are you apologizing? I’d like to think it is for the slander you lobbed at me when we parted last night, but for some reason I doubt that.”
The pleading in her eyes darkened, and she scowled. “I am not apologizing for that. I’m apologizing because I left Lady Keating’s home and returned to Fenchurch Street.”
“You what?” Hew sat up straight, wincing at the slight twinge in his side. Only a slight twinge, though. He was healing.
“You are on the mend.” Her gaze dropped to his chest and then hastily rose again. “I felt it was time I returned home. I have no idea how the shop has fared after that fire, and some of us must work for our bread.”
“I told you to stay away. You’re in danger. Returning there put your father in danger.”
“Too late for that.”
Hew cut short his tirade. The tone of her voice alarmed him. “What’s happened?”
“My father—”
To Hew’s shock, she crumpled on the bed beside him and began to weep. He hadn’t imagined she might weep at this. She always seemed so strong. He dropped his legs off the side of the bed to give her room, belatedly realizing he’d stripped before returning to bed last night. The only thing he wore was the linen bandage over his wound. He pulled the bedclothes up on his hips, but Belle’s limp figure had trapped them.
Hew put a hand on her back, attempting to comfort her. “What’s happened to your father?” he asked.