Page 16 of Spellbound
“Don’t you see? That is why this cannot be! It isn’t real. What you think you feel for me is nothing more than the curse at work.”
He laughed. “No, it is not. I will not deny that circumstances for you have been harsh or that your family has not endured significant losses over the years. But what I feel for you is not about a curse laid upon you. What I feel for you is about the fact that you are beautiful… desirable. That you are kind and caring, even to those who do not deserve it. That when you touched me, though it was only to tend to me while I was recuperating, no touch has ever effected me so. In short, Belladonna, it is you. Not a curse. Not a spell. Not a potion. The magic of it all is only you.”
It wasthe way he looked at her, Bella realized, that was her undoing. She’d been looked at with contempt, with suspicion, with lust and envy. She had been looked at as an object of pityor scorn for most of her life. But he looked at her as though she were a gift, as though her very presence brought him happiness.
Against all reason and better judgement, against the very vows she had made to herself, she did the unthinkable. She threw herself into his arms, kissing him with a fervor that shocked them both.
It was as different as the other kiss they had shared as night was from day. There was no restraint. No caution or careful testing of the waters. It was raw and hungry, insistent and all consuming. Quite simply, it was unlike anything she had ever known. Certainly it was well beyond anything she had ever imagined. If this was the sort of desire that had taken the other women of her family, swept them headlong into doomed love affairs, she could now fully understand why it was that they had fallen.
But if she was swept away by the sudden onslaught of unfamiliar desire, Desmond seemed to navigate those waters very well. He shifted her on his lap so that she sat astride his thighs, her knees resting on the seat. It was an undeniably intimate position, one that presented possibilities which were both gloriously tempting and also terrifying.
His lips left hers, but only to press elsewhere against her feverish skin. He rained kisses along her jawline, her neck, the delicate and terribly sensitive spot just behind her ear. It was glorious and maddening all at once. She was clinging to him, wanting to be as close to him as she could possibly be.
The heavy velvet cloak Genie had insisted on her having was suddenly cast aside. The puffed sleeves of the silk gown were tugged down her arms until the bodice sagged. Then his mouth was there, pressing hot and fevered kisses to the swells of her breasts. Everywhere he touched her, she burned.
Somehow, with fingers far too quick and too skilled, he’d loosened the ties of her dress until it simply fell to her waist.Even with only her chemise and stays covering her, she felt no shame or embarrassment. Her unusual upbringing and her connection to the natural world had left her with what most would deem a shocking lack of modesty. But she’d been taught, all of her life, to treasure and take pride in her feminine form, to know that all women contained magic within themselves.
He drew back, his gaze roaming over her. “You are magnificent.”
“I do not want words.” Half in challenge and half in invitation, she continued, “Show me.”
SIXTEEN
Had he truly imagined she would be shy? He had no doubt of her innocence because she was not a woman who would give herself easily to another, not out of false modesty or social strictures, but because she had been guarding both her heart and her body for so very long. Her hands lifted to the ties of her stays, tugging them free, and then sending the worn garment fluttering to the floor of the carriage.
Desmond was alternately thankful for the heavy curtains at the window which shielded them from view and also eternally frustrated by them because they impeded his own ability to see her, to fully appreciate the beauty of her. Her full breasts were tipped with berry pink nipples that begged to be tasted. And he was unable to resist.
Dipping his head, he captured one taut peak between his lips. A soft gasp escaped her, but he had no doubt that it was one of pleasure. Her fingers had threaded through his hair, holding him to her as he teased the furled bud with his lips. When he drew her deeper into his mouth, increasing the pressure, she arched against him, her hips thrusting forward and her head falling back.
Tugging his mouth from her, he paused in his ministrations just long enough to pluck the pins from her wealth of black hair. With the mass of it cascading over her shoulders, it hung well bast her bottom, brushing his thighs.
Circe. Aphrodite. Venus. Eve. Delilah.She was more seductive than all of them. And she was his. Or she would be soon. Though perhaps not as soon as he would have liked.
“Belladonna, there is only so far we can take this in a carriage,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it has to stop here. There are things we can do, things that will bring you incredible pleasure.”
“Only me?”
“For now,” he said. “I want to please you. I want to show you how wonderful it can be. That is all the pleasure I require.”
“For now?” She asked, her head titled at a coquettish angle as her lips curved into a slight but wholly seductive smile.
“Yes,” he agreed. At that point, he would have agreed to anything she asked. He’d have offered her the moon and stars were they in his power to give. Instead, he slipped his hand beneath her skirt, caressing the delicate bones of her ankle with his thumb and gradually sliding his hand higher and higher. Savoring the feeling of her silk clad leg beneath his palm, he moved slowly until at last he reached the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. The first touch of his hand elicited a gasp from her. Touching her more intimately, stroking her flesh in a way that he knew would both deepen her desire and heighten her pleasure, he watched her face, cataloguing her every response. To watch her discover those sensual delights was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as if carnal activity were new to him as well. As if, he thought, he were discovering those wonders all over again.
Her body tensed, every muscle quivering as she hovered on that precipice. When she tumbled over the edge, her lips partedon a sob of pleasure, he captured her lips in a kiss. Swallowing that sound, drinking it in, he gloried in her responsiveness, in being able to share that with her.
When her shudders subsided, he cradled her in his arms, grateful to hold her, to have that perfect moment with her.
Reverend Lynden Stalkerapproached the cottage cautiously. It was the first surreptitious effort of the day. Prior to that, he’d walked through the village of Highgate-on-Trent, nodding and smiling, waving in greeting to others or exchanging pleasantries with them when it could not be avoided. Above all, he appeared entirely nonchalant, as intended.
Anyone who’d asked him where he was off to, had been told he was going to visit the tenant farmers who lived just outside of the village between Highgate and the next village. It was a manageable walk however, only a few miles, and not one that would arouse suspicion. After all, he’d been claiming to do just that for months. In fact, every such episode had been an excuse to spy upon Miss Belladonna Goodwynne.
But he wasn’t going to spy. Not that day. On that day, he’d decided to finally put an end to her wickedness. In the small satchel he carried was both his bible and the tools he’d amassed to do the work the good Lord had intended. But as he neared the cottage, he noted one thing in particular that bothered him. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. While the day was turning colder, it was not yet so cold that a fire would have been necessary. Still, it worried him. She might have gone, after all. If she had left there was really only one place she would have gone to. Mrs. Frye’s.
There were other worries, of course. Mr. Crane’s body had not been discovered. It was possible that he’d wandered senselessly into the woods and succumbed to his injury. It was also just as possible that he had been discovered by someone and was even now being nursed back to health. Health, he thought with concern, that would see him ruined. If Crane exposed him, he’d be cast out. Ostracized. Or perhaps worse.
Approaching the door cautiously, he pushed it open. Inside, the cottage was empty. Though it was dark and deserted, he felt no qualms about letting himself in. Cautiously, he moved through the lower level of the small home. He paused here and there to examine various items. The trinkets and talismans of a woman in league with the devil, he thought with a sneer.
He found nothing of particular interest to him, so he moved to the narrow stairs. Climbing them cautiously, he found himself in her bedchamber. As he looked about him, seeing her clothing hanging on peg—a worn chemise, a set of stays that had been patched and mended many times over. Moving to that row of pegs, he lifted the chemise to his nose and inhaled. The scene was seductive—heady and feminine. Insitanlty, he felt that familiar stirring of lust. And that was why she had to die. She was tempting him, drawing him into her web.
