Page 82 of The Lady Was Lying
“Probably.” He could barely feel his limbs.
She hummed, the sound rumbling against his chest, and he realized he remained on top of her, crushing her into the mattress.
“Maybe we should sleep first,” he suggested, hoisting himself up with an undignified groan and collapsing next to her. Sated was apparently synonymous with weariness because all he wanted to do was tug her close, pull up a blanket, and close his eyes.
“Sleep.” She pressed a kiss onto his cheek, and when she drew the blanket over them, he couldn’t help but listen.
Sleep did not come quite so easily for Belinda. Her brain refused to quiet. The thoughts cycling through it were not upsetting. On the contrary, actually. She was uplifted. Confident in who she was in a way she never had been before.
She was also eager. Eager for a repeat of the last hour. Eager to try another position. Eager to learn whether the second time would be as good as the first.
It was wild to think that she hadn’t believed herself capable of passion. All her expectations had been obliterated. Not because it was better than she expected, although it absolutely was, but because it was so different than she’d anticipated. For years, she’d assumed that sex, like kissing, would require her to take whatever was offered and find fulfillment if she could.
She should have known that bedding James wouldn’t be like that. Nothing with James ever unfolded in the way she expected. His willingness to listen to her balanced with his ability to tell her no offered a measure of freedom she hadn’t known she needed, and with it came a shocking amount of assurance. When he awoke, she was going to climb on top of him and see whether a different position enhanced their pleasure.
For the first time in recent memory, her future wasn’t desolate and empty. Instead, it was bright and full of promise.
Chapter Sixteen
Late the next morning, James had no choice but to halt when Belinda grabbed his arm and yanked him back from the staircase. She pressed him against the wall and whispered, “My brother.”
“Which one?” he asked, straining to hear the murmurs that were drifting up the stairs.
“Both,” she responded with a grimace as another voice joined the mix.
“We cannot avoid them if they are already here.”
It was far too late to decide they didn’t want to be caught. There was nowhere to hide in the small inn, and there was no way they could leave without being spotted. Staying last night had been risky, but lingering this morning had made it a virtual certainty that her brothers would catch up with them.
For obvious reasons, he didn’t regret that she’d convinced him to stay, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to confronting her brothers. Even if they were only slightly angry, it would be difficult to bask in the afterglow of lovemaking while they glowered at him.
Not impossible, but difficult.
“What if they expect me to return to London?” she asked, speaking quietly into his ear.
Surprised by the trepidation in her voice, he dipped his chin to look directly into her eyes.
“I thought you were confident of their support?” A harrowing thought occurred, and he forced himself to ask, “Do you want to return to London?”
Her eyes widened. “Is that a joke?”
“Absolutely not, but this is your last chance to change your mind.” While it might kill him to let her brothers take her back to London, he’d do it if that was what she wanted. “If you don’t want to end up in a Scottish village in the not-so-distant future, you should tell me now.”
Her squawk of outrage was so extreme he would have smiled if her boot hadn’t connected with his shin half a second later.
“Blasphemy,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t even suggest I’d leave you. You’re stuck with me. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.” She punctuated the last word with a steely glare.
With his shin smarting and his heart swelling, there was nothing for him to do except pull her closer and nuzzle the space between her collarbone and chin. Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore the scent of debauchery lingered there, and he sought to enjoy it as long as he could.
The sound of boots clomping up the stairs registered, but since it was impossible to pretend he hadn’t absconded with Belinda, and since he intended to marry her with all due haste, he didn’t bother putting a respectable distance between them.
She didn’t move away either, staying tucked into his side as first Greydon and then Edward appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Good day, brothers,” she said, her voice unusually cheerful. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Belinda.” Greydon’s expression was devoid of emotion. “Avondale. We did not believe we could catch up with you this quickly.”
Edward crossed his arms over his chest and added, “Makes one wonder whether you hoped we would find you.”
