Page 22 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
But would it be enough? Could she stay out of his grasp for a fortnight longer?
With a sigh, she stared up at the ceiling. A fresh foreboding crept through her thoughts.Gideon is a powerful man. He knows what he wants. And he’ll stop at nothing to get it.
Easing lower into the water, Belle drank in the calming essence of lavender oil. She wouldn’t dwell on her predicament tonight. For now, she would savor this brief moment of peace.
Still, her mind wandered. She left the tub, donned the flannel night dress that barely came to her knees, and made her way to bed. As she slipped beneath the quilt, another image entered her thoughts—a child’s large brown eyes, filled with a keen sadness her sweet little smile could not camouflage. The little girl had endured such terrible loss in her young life. How very desolate the tot must feel in a life of being shuttled from home to home. From caretaker to caretaker. The girl was lonely. Vulnerable. And sadly, without anyone to show her true affection.
The very thought of it seemed a thorn pricking Belle’s heart. If only there was something she could do.
Closing her eyes again, she mulled over Mrs. Gilroy’s words of gratitude for Belle’s small show of kindness to Carrie. The housekeeper had disapproved of the girl’s governess, of the woman’s sour attitude toward the girl. It seemed the old woman with her hobbled knee was the child’s only true ally. Was it any wonder Carrie clutched her little stuffed rabbit as if it were her only source of comfort in the world?
Perhaps therewassomething she could do to ease the girl’s unhappiness. She would speak to Jon on the matter. But he’d no doubt counter in that oh-so-practical way of his that the child did not want for anything. And she supposed he’d be right. He would see to it that Carrie had everything a child could need or want. When he’d bundled the girl off to bed, she’d seen the affection in his eyes. Jon cared for the child, and he would never deny her anything... anything he could buy, that is. She knew full well that he could not spare much time for Carrie. After all, the duties of his position at Mason Enterprises took precedence over most anything. She’d learned that bitter lesson when he’d left New York.
Fluffing her pillow, she allowed herself another sigh. She doubted Jon would ever be convinced to devote more time to the child at the cost of his business ventures. The very thought of it would be laughable if it were not rather sad. But perhaps—just perhaps—she could impress upon him the importance of selecting a nanny with a kind heart.
A kind heart.She smiled to herself, the words playing in her thoughts as she drifted off to sleep.How very rare.
*
Sprawled on hisback, Jon stared up at the darkened ceiling of his bedchamber. He was bloody exhausted. And yet, sleep would not come. Blast his uncooperative male body. And his unreasonable masculine mind. Despite his best efforts to rein in his thoughts, his mind wandered to images of Belle. Again. And again.
He’d never slept under the same roof with Belle. Not even when they’d shared passionate kisses—and more—during those days and nights in New York. Memories flooded his brain. Holding her in his arms. Kissing Belle until she sighed with longing against his mouth. Her soft, velvet voice, telling him she wanted him. Only him. Just as he’d wanted her, and only her. But he forced the images aside, banishing them to the recesses of his thoughts. It was bad enough when they heated his dreams. But in his waking hours, he would not succumb to the longing he was determined to keep dormant. He’d put all that behind him. Hadn’t he?
Not that any of it mattered. Belle was not here by choice. A moment of fear had driven her into the Rogue’s Lair, a desperation compounded by the realization that the man she’d left behind was in active pursuit. She’d come here tonight out of need. Out of self-preservation. Nothing more.
He’d brought her here to protect her. Not to relive the past. Still, he’d been a fool to think he would be immune to the beauty of her soft smile. To the subtle aroma of lavender on her skin. To the memory of how it had felt to hold her in his arms, so close he could feel the rise and fall of her breaths. The mere thought that he’d have a moment’s peace with Belle this close was bloody absurd.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now, was there? He rolled onto his side, thumped his pillow, and closed his eyes. All the while, his thoughts swirled. The first thing he needed to do was plan for her security. He’d see to that in the morning. One of his business associates had opened a quaint hotel off the beaten path. Surely, she’d be safe there. Of course, he’d see to it she was registered under an assumed name, with an imaginary husband’s moniker listed for good measure. And he’d arrange for a companion for her, a woman who’d draw little attention to herself and possessed the necessary skills to swiftly deter an attacker if the situation called for action. He knew just the person for that role. Now to hope that Mrs. Johnstone was in the country and wasn’t still running about exploring some ruin or another.
He pounded the feather pillow again. Again, his mind wandered to Belle. This time, his thoughts took a different path, picturing the compassion on her face when she’d encountered little Carrie. She’d seemed to instinctively know how to comfort the child. Blasted shame he did not possess that talent.
With another thump on the pillow, as if for good measure, he flopped onto his back. In truth, what did it matter if he possessed a knack for comforting a child? It wouldn’t be long before Belle’s life had returned to her charity balls and Carrie would be off to another home, one far more suitable for a wee girl than his. Macie’s correspondence had made it clear she and Finn would be happy to adopt the girl. And then, he could attend to hisduties without even a slight touch of guilt. The child would be happy with his sister. And his life would be back to normal. The chaos would be behind him. Just as it should be.
Bloody odd how the thought brought him no joy.
Chapter Seven
Another sunrise. Anotherday. Another adventure.
Rays of morning light streamed between the curtains, rousing Belle from a restful sleep. For a long, luxurious moment, she savored the feel of the sun upon her face as her mother’s morning greeting hummed in her memories. Throughout her childhood, Belle had awakened to the cheerful, slightly off-key notes of her mother’s voice.An eternal optimist, her father had dubbed Mama in that gruff yet affectionate way of his. Mama was still a vibrant soul who saw the best in everyone, who hoped for the best in every situation. In her eyes, every dawn was the opportunity for a new start.
Another adventure. The words echoed in Belle’s thoughts. She certainly would not have described the events of the day before as anything she had ever wished to experience. But perhaps there was a silver lining. She simply couldn’t see it yet.
She pried herself out of the comfort of the feather mattress and quilt and set about preparing for her morning. Hopefully, Mama’s ever-sunny outlook would be justified. Perhaps today would be the start of a new adventure, the first step in making her way home to the place where she belonged. Where she was safe.
She’d finished dressing when a light rap upon the door stilled her as she brushed her hair. Mrs. Gilroy called through the door. “Are ye up and about, Miss?”
“Up. About. And dressed in the lovely walking suit you found for me,” Belle said as she opened the door.
Mrs. Gilroy’s smile faded as her gaze landed on Belle’s shirtwaist. On her bosom, to be precise. “Have ye tried the dresses?” she said after a moment of hesitation. “That blouse appears to be a wee bit... snug.”
Belle glanced down at the mother-of-pearl buttons that appeared ready to pop their stitching at any moment. “I did,” she said, feeling a sudden pinch of defeat. “I’m afraid they’re not any better.”
“I’d had a worry that might be the case. Ye’ve got a bit more at the top than Miss Macie.”
Belle squared her shoulders. She certainly would not let such a small thing as a slightly—well, perhaps not so slightly—snug bodice put a damper on her prospects for the day ahead.
“I’ll take care not to breathe too deeply,” she said lightly, bringing a smile to the older woman’s thin mouth.
