Page 62 of Saved By the Belle

“Did I surprise you?”

“Always.” He was smiling, and she was drawn by that curve at the corners of his mouth. That was where she wanted to kiss.

“How did you break your nose?” she asked.

“That’s a long story.”

“And you have a letter to decode.”

“And I want to do this.” He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her lightly. Belle’s heart immediately began to pound, and she felt a sense of dizziness sweep over her. It was the good kind of dizziness. The kind she felt when she tasted a new tea that was unlike any she’d tasted before.

“This is a good distraction,” she said against his lips.

“I think I can do better.”

His arms tightened around her, lifting her so that she was on tiptoes. His mouth met hers again, this time with more pressure, his tongue sliding between her lips, coaxing her to open for him. Belle gasped at the pleasure that shot through her when his tongue swept into her mouth. His kiss was slow and persuasive, inviting her to join him. And she accepted the invitation, stroking his tongue with hers and stoking the heat that had begun to simmer between them. Belle was painfully aware of the feel of his body against hers, the scent of him, the fact that he’d all but lifted her off the ground as though she weighed nothing. She had a moment to worry about his wound. Should he be lifting her? But then his tongue slid along hers, and she couldn’t think of anything except that she wanted him.

And he wanted her. That was the miracle of it. He really did not care that half of her face was scarred and ugly. This was no act. She could feel the evidence of his arousal. He was attracted to her. He desired her.

And then suddenly his mouth dragged away from hers, and he set her back on the floor. She might have stumbled if he hadn’t grasped her elbow. She blinked, the room too bright and too warm. “What—”

She heard the tapping on the door. It was a bit insistent, as though the person at the door had tapped already and was making a second attempt.

“The maid with the tea,” Arundel said.

She’d forgotten all about the tea. She’d forgotten about everything except his mouth.

“One moment!” he called. Then to Belle he said, “You’d better stand with your back to the room. Look out the window.” He turned her to face it. “Take a moment to compose yourself.”

Belle realized she must look something like how she felt. Her face felt flushed, and her head was spinning. She touched her lips. They felt swollen and sensitive.

Arundel went to the door and opened it. Belle heard a cheery greeting from the maid and the sounds of her wheeling a tray into the chamber. Belle didn’t comprehend a word the maid said. She was still trying to catch her breath. She smoothed her skirts, closed her eyes, and tried to slow her breathing. Finally, by the time the maid had set up the tea service on the small table, she was able to turn and stride across the room to study the selections. The maid handed her a handwritten list of the teas available, presumably that was what the boxes on the lower shelves of the cart held.

Belle perused the selections, noting the favorites—the Earl Grey, Darjeeling, and Ceylon teas. Quite a selection of white teas as well, but her gaze was drawn to the Sencha Kyoto, which was a green tea composed of cherry blossoms. She had recently bought a shipment of what she considered some of the best Sencha Kyoto she’d ever sampled. She wondered how this compared.

“I will have the Sencha Kyoto,” she said, “and Mr. Arundel will have the Assam.” She glanced at Arundel who merely raised a brow at her presumptuousness.

The maid looked at Arundel as well. “Sir?”

“My sister knows me well. Assam is my favorite.”

Of course it was. He hadn’t even needed to tell her, but she knew he was the sort who liked a bold flavor, and the malty taste of the Assam added richness. Arundel went back to his letter, though Belle had no idea how he could concentrate on it after the kiss they’d just shared. She could barely keep her attention on watching the maid brew the tea. But she managed. After all, she was quite particular as to how her tea was brewed, and she gave the maid a few suggestions during the process. Finally, the tea was poured, and the maid took the tray away. Belle took one of the chairs at the table, inhaled the fragrant steam of the tea, and took a sip.

“Well?” Arundel asked. She opened her eyes to see he was watching her.

“It’s delicious,” she said. “But not as good as mine.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Do you want me to bring yours to the desk?”

“No. I’m done here.” He lifted the letter and carried it to the table with him, taking the seat across from her. He sipped his tea, nodded, and sipped again. “I’ve decoded the letter.”

Belle watched him over the rim of the teacup. Apparently, they were pretending that the kiss from a few minutes before hadn’t happened.

“And what does Baron Keating say?”

“He says he agrees with my theory regarding Pennywhistle, and he’s sent another agent to poke around Carlisle and the surrounding area of Cumbria and find out more about him. He’s also written to the railroad to expedite the release of their correspondence and records concerning Pennywhistle.”

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