Page 25 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
Then Arabella heard her mother following, calling after her sister. She gave both a long, slow count of ten to get some distance from the room. Then she cautiously crawled from her hiding place and crept towards the outer door, to check that the coast was clear. Looking out into the hallway there was no sign of either woman.
“Arabella?” came Aaron’s voice from behind her.
She whirled to see him standing in the inner doorway, naked from the waist up except for tightly wrapped bandages around his middle. Another bandage adorned his head.
For a moment, Arabella could only look on his sculpted, though bruised, physique. It excited her, sending a thrill through her body that she had only ever experienced in his arms. He wavered where he stood, then toppled over, face first.
Chapter 15
Aaron stole through the courtyard, cloaked by shadow. Treacherous moonlight stabbed through a break in the clouds and he shrank from it into the shadows cast by the castle walls. This was a dangerous place for him. The house of his sworn enemy. They would kill him on sight if they discovered him.
Or try to, at least. But in the conflict that would surely follow, some of them would be killed. And they were the kin of the woman he sought. He would not shed that blood, no matter the provocation, lest he earn her eternal enmity.
As he moved, silent under arches and through gates, he looked up. Above were windows, some lit and some dark. He knew the room he sought. Arabella had told him of the rose bower that grew beneath the balcony, onto which her window looked out. That was what he sought.
Rounding a corner, he saw it. There was no light from the room beyond though the shutters were open. Risking all, he stepped into the moonlight beneath the bower and called up in a hoarse whisper.
“Arabella! Arabella!”
She replied.
“Aaron? Is that you?”
There were tears in her voice, anguish, and pain. It inflamed him, sending the fire of anger through his limbs. The very thought of her being hurt, whether by physical or emotional cruelty, maddened him. Arabella appeared at the window. She wore a night-dress that was pressed against her by the breeze. It perfectly outlined her breasts and hips, showing the curves of her stomach and thighs.
“You must go! My father has sworn his men to kill you. You are not safe!” Arabella whispered down to him.
“I cannot. I am here for you. I care nothing for the rules of this society of which we are part. I do not care for scandal. Let them gossip about us. We will leave these shores and find a place where we can be nothing more than man and wife! Damn those who think it improper and damn your father too!”
“But then you will be bankrupt and your uncle along with you. I would not have that happen because of me.”
“I will make more money. If I have to plow, weave, or labour with bricks upon my back. I do not care. All that matters is you.”
At that moment there came the sound of booted feet marching on stone cobbles in unison.
“It is my father’s guards. Go or they will catch you!”
The same sound came from a different direction. Another group of militiamen set to patrol the castle grounds by their master. Aaron was trapped between them. Arabella realized it at the same moment and gestured urgently to him.
“Climb! Climb for your life!”
Aaron launched himself at the rose bower, hands torn by the thorns as he sought the wooden frame upon which it grew. The wood groaned but held his weight and he ascended as he would climb a ladder. At the top, he grabbed the stone balustrade that ringed the balcony, hauling himself over just as the first of the militia marched into view below.
Arabella retreated into her room, the darkness swallowing her but not entirely. Aaron could still see the pale gleam of moonlight on the slopes of her breasts and the tantalizing lines at the top of her legs, where the night-dress outlined much while hiding the womanhood beneath. He picked himself up from the stone floor of the balcony and walked calmly into the shade of her room.
Arabella continued to back away, her eyes locked on his. Behind her was a large bed, the sheets thrown back and in disarray.
“I had been thinking of you. Before you arrived tonight,” she said, biting her lip.
“I never stop thinking of you,” Aaron replied.
“But I have such…daring thoughts. Especially, when I am alone at night,” Arabella said.
She reached the bed and lifted one leg to clamber up onto it, without looking away from Aaron. She knelt on the edge, her thighs parted and hands pressed to the bed between them. It squeezed her breasts up between her upper arms, presenting an inviting sight. Aaron stepped closer.
“Tell me of your daring thoughts,” he said, softly.
“Such thoughts…sinful thoughts,” Arabella replied, smiling. “What is more, tonight those thoughts became so…overwhelming that I found myself doing something that I should not. Would you like to see?”
