Page 28 of Saved By the Belle

When she opened her eyes, she saw the window to her bedroom. The rain had stopped, and the sky was streaked gray with dusk. She wasn’t certain what had made her start awake. Perhaps it was a cramp in her leg, which was trapped beneath Arundel’s leg. Or the heat of his chest pressed against her back.

Belle started, realizing she had fallen asleep in Arundel’s arms. Literally. She was using one of his arms as a pillow, and he’d draped the other over her waist. He must have felt her start, even in his sleep, and that arm tightened on her. She tried to sit and made no progress. “Let me up,” she said, pushing against his arm. It didn’t move.

Belle wiggled, turning her body until she faced Arundel and her back was to the window. This had the effect of ruching up her skirts and twisting her bodice uncomfortably, but now she was facing him. His eyes were closed, dark lashes stark against his pale skin. She took a moment to appreciate that his skin wasn’t flushed with fever, though he still felt warm.

“Mr. Arundel.”

His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.

Belle poked him in the chest, well above the injury on the side not stuck to her. “Mr. Arundel.”

He opened his eyes, velvet blue in the dim room, and blinked at her. Their faces were inches apart, and Belle hadn’t realized what it would feel like to be pressed intimately against a man and then to have him looking down at her, sleepily. It seemed he drew her closer, tightening his leg over hers and gathering her to his chest with his arm. He closed his eyes again then nuzzled into her neck.

Belle’s heart thudded then rammed against her ribs. Were those his lips on her neck? His breath was warm on her skin as he inhaled then released. “You smell”—he inhaled again—“like cinnamon.”

He still smelled of bergamot and she realized now the other scent she hadn’t been able to place before was probably just him, the smell of a man. Her body was reacting to his, even as her mind struggled to catch up. His lips brushed her neck again, and she inhaled sharply at the pang of pleasure that shot through her. She wanted to run her hands over him, to kiss him back.

She shouldn’t be allowing this, and yet, what could it hurt if she allowed one more brush of his lips?

But his head jerked up, and when she looked at him, his gaze was intent and focused on something else. “Someone is here,” he said. “In the building.”

“No—” But then she heard it too. The sound of feet on the stairs and the rattle of the door to the flat. “My father!” she said. That must have been what had woken her. She’d heard the door to the shop open and close. Joy rose in her and then horror as she realized where she was and what she was doing. Arundel must have realized it too because he removed his arm, lifted his leg, and drew away from her as though she were a viper.

Belle jumped up, smoothed her skirts, and would have raced to the door, but Arundel grabbed her hand. He was slower to rise, obviously feeling pain when he moved. “Wait. Belle!” He hissed her name as she tried to free herself. “It might not be him. I’ll go.”

This was the second or third time he’d tried to protect her. She wasn’t used to it or the way it made her feel.

“Of course it’s him,” she said. “No one else has a key.”

Arundel’s grip on her wrist tightened, and she thought she might have to wrest free.

“Belle?” That was her father’s voice. She would have done anything to be free at that moment, but Arundel released her. She ran to the bed chamber door, threw it wide, and raced into the parlor. Her father was just closing the door behind him. He turned from the lock in time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms. “What’s this?” he said with a laugh.

Belle could imagine he was surprised as she rarely showed any affection and probably hadn’t hugged him like this since she’d been a small child. “Where were you?” She pulled away. “What took you so long?”

“I’ll tell you everything,” he said, cupping her cheek. She felt his gaze travel over her and wondered if she looked as disheveled as she felt, but he didn’t say anything. “First, tell me about Mr. Arundel. How is he?”

“Still alive,” came a voice from the bed chamber door. Arundel stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against the wooden frame. He looked as rumpled as she. Belle tried to control her gaze, but it traveled from the arms that had held her to the lips that had kissed her neck. He’d pulled a blanket over his shoulders so at least she couldn’t gawk at him.

Her father set Belle aside and went straight to Arundel. “You look as though you’re about to fall over.”

“I’ll manage. What happened?”

Her father glanced over his shoulder, and Belle shook her head. “You cannot think to keep this from me. What happened, Father?”

Her father looked back at Arundel. “I believe I met some of your friends.”

“NO FRIENDS OF MINE,” Hew said, meeting George Howard’s angry gaze. Hew didn’t blame the man for being angry. He hadn’t asked to be dragged into this. Moreover, he certainly didn’t want his daughter placed in danger.

Hew didn’t want that either, but it was too late now. The Howards had been pulled into this nightmare the moment Randall had sent for them. All Hew could do now was protect them as best he could. But to do that, he needed information.

“Do you mind if I take a seat?” He gestured to the small table and chairs. Mr. Howard pulled one of the chairs out and indicated his daughter should take the other. Then he disappeared into her bed chamber and returned with a third chair. Hew sat gratefully, but Miss Howard stood behind her chair, her hands on the crest rail. She was watching her father, a mix of relief and concern in her gaze.

“I would stand,” Hew said, realizing he was violating good manners by sitting while she stood, “but I’d probably fall over.”

Miss Howard blinked at him then nodded in understanding. “Both of you sit. I’ll make tea.”

“Hibiscus, I think,” her father said. “We’ve all had something of a scare.”

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