Page 47 of Saved By the Belle

“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.

She must have bathed and washed while he slept as she smelled faintly of soap and the cinnamon scent he always associated with her. He had the vague impression he’d kissed her like this before, but certainly that had only been fever dreams. Now he had her in the flesh.

His lips trailed back down, brushed over her exposed collarbone, then moved back up again—despite the fact that he desperately wanted to move his mouth down and place hands and mouth over her small, rounded breasts. Instead, he kissed her neck, moving up to her jaw, and then to her cheek with the intention of reclaiming her mouth.

Until she shoved him back.

“No,” she said.

Hew had to grab the table to keep from falling backward. For a moment, he thought he would fall on his arse, but he steadied himself and, after one look at her, lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Forgive me,” he said, not sure what he’d done to warrant her forgiveness as she seemed to be rather enjoying herself only a moment before. Her hand was on her cheek, her face tilted down, and he had the thought that perhaps he’d hurt her. Were her scars sensitive? His mouth had been gentle.

“I won’t forgive you,” she said, her gaze fixed on the table.

Hew was still trying to catch his breath and gather the thoughts swirling about his head. “That’s your right, of course.” He paused. “I confess, I’m not certain what I did to offend. You seemed receptive—”

“I’m sure this is all some sort of game to you,” she said, her eyes finally meeting his. Gone was the softness he’d come to expect, replaced by a hardness that reminded him of a jewel he’d seen once. It had been placed in a necklace, and the woman who’d worn it had told him it was jasper. “I don’t want your pity.”

What the devil? “My pity? Why would I pity you? If anything, I should think you kissed me out of pity.” After all, he couldn’t even walk down a set of steps unaided.

She shook her head, her cheeks red with anger. “Stop. I’m not a fool. I forgot myself for a moment.”

“I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re clever and talented and beautiful—”

“Now you’re lying to me?”

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