Page 27 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
The pressure did not depart but her limbs suddenly felt as though they were liquid. A moan escaped her to be scooped up by his hungry lips, as he returned the kiss and deepened it. Aaron lifted himself on his elbows, against the floor above Arabella’s shoulders. He dove down to take another kiss, after briefly breaking away to look at her.
The kiss was sharp and primal. There was nothing of gentility in the force he exerted. Arabella felt the breath stolen from her. Her heart hammered in her chest, pounded against his. She felt one hand seize her about the waist and pull her hips hard up against his.
That was when she moaned aloud, unable to contain the pressure within her. She grabbed at him, wanting to explore his body with her hands, feel every inch. And Aaron cried out, not in passion but in agony. Too late, Arabella remembered the condition of his ribs. Her hands sprang away from him.
“I’m sorry!” She cried out. “I forgot!”
Aaron rolled from her, clutching at his ribs, breath hissing between clenched teeth.
“Think nothing of it,” he said in a tight voice.
“Are you alright?” Arabella asked, turning onto her side.
Aaron lay on his back, face tight with pain.
“Some laudanum wouldn’t go amiss,” he said.
“I will see if the Doctor left any,” Arabella said quickly.
Aaron laughed, turning over, and getting to his knees. “Don’t. It will just knock me out again. It will pass. Just don’t hug me.”
“Let me help you up,” Arabella said, offering a hand.
Aaron took it and she helped him to his feet. They staggered to the chaise, behind which Arabella had hidden. Upon reaching it, Aaron sighed in relief.
“Remind me how we came to this pass?” He asked.
“You remember the race?” Arabella asked. “A carriage race in the Ring in Hyde Park.”
Aaron shook his head. “Did I win?” He asked.
“No, I did,” Arabella said, blushing.
“You did?”
Arabella nodded. Aaron shook his head. “I remember the Cake House. The urchin and…”
He trailed off and Arabella blushed even deeper, knowing what he had remembered and recalling it herself.
“There was an accident. Your carriage overturned,” Arabella said. “You were injured and have been taken to the house my father rented in Portman Square.”
“God, is that what this place is? I thought it was too tasteless to be a house of mine.”
Arabella agreed with him but felt a flash of annoyance at his casual insult to her family. Helena, he could denigrate all day long. Even her mother, when it came to it. But her father had chosen this house and she would always defend him.
“It was chosen to give you honour,” she said.
“Me? Am I a courtesan, to be won over by gold and finery? It’s awful.”
“The blow to your head seems to have made you brutally honest,” Arabella said, moving away from him on the chaise.
“To thine own self be true,”Aaron said, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the chaise.
“You’re making me regret kissing you,” Arabella said, standing and folding her arms beneath her bosom.
Aaron groaned, putting his hands on his forehead. “I am sorry. The pain speaks for me. It is disconcerting to lose a portion of one’s day, without the pleasure of being drunk to account for it. Forgive me.”
He opened his eyes a crack and squinted at Arabella. She looked back at him severely. Then her anger softened.
