“When a man’s body reacts,” he was saying now, “there is often a need to—”
“Bellamy!”
“Yes, Countess?”
If there were enough room, she would have tried to slap his hand away from her hip. “If you do not desist with your ranting, the only thing your body willneedis a doctor,” she hissed.
He gave a soft little chuckle. “Promises, promises.”
Fuming and face burning, she turned towards him, well, as much as she could with all these infernal jackets in the way. She tried to push him farther away from her but he stood fast. He laughed again.
“Shhh!”
He seemed intent on ignoring her as he continued, “I’d wager, had I a lamp, you would be blushing most becomingly.”
“HadIa lamp, I would find a cravat and gag you with it.”
“My, my there is no need to be nasty.” He reached out, touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Youareblushing!”
“I am not! And kindly keep your hands to yourself, if you please.”
“Yes, definitely have you all hot and bothered, don’t I? Perhaps we should have jumped into an armoire earlier. I have a particularly large one, you know.” When she snorted he qualified, “And an armoire, too. It would accommodate two people a lot better than this old thing. I’d even toss out all my clothes to make more room. My valet would make a fuss, but I’d do it for you. What do you say, Countess?”
She pushed against his chest, knowing it would do no good but wanting to wipe the, no doubt, smug grin off his face.
“I’d say, regardless of how big youthinkyour armoire is it will never be large enough to tempt me.” She put her ear to the door, trying desperately to ignore his disturbing presence beside her. “Do you hear anything?”
“I believe that sound is my heart breaking.”
Scoffing, she turned towards him and replied, “Men don’t have hearts to break, though they do spend a great deal of their time trying to break ours.”
“Not true,” he whispered seductively in her ear. He grasped her hand and placed it over his heart, keeping it there, despite her efforts to remove it. She could feel the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm.
“You see? Just like yours,” he said.
Lisbeth’s whole arm tingled, just like last night during their dance. Her fingers flexed, glided over the woolen fabric of his jacket. She wanted to explore under the fine lawn of his shirt tothe hard planes of his chest, but this was Bellamy. Despite the strange things he made her feel, the extremes in emotions she felt when he was around, the fact was he was a man who was only to be in her life for a short time. A man who would pocket as much as the foolish gentlemen of thetonwould hand him and disappear from her life. What would be the use of letting herself like him, desire him—fall under his spell?
He placed his other hand on her left breast. “Your heart has considerably more padding, which is just as it should be.”
“Bellamy!” She swatted his hand away.
“I know, I know, but, Countess, would it be such a terrible thing? You and I in an armoire, giving each other pleasure?”
His fingers were tracing their way up her rib cage towards her breast again and she realized her other hand was still on his chest. The heated tingling sensation was spiraling through her body and doing strange things to the thumping of her heart. If she hadn’t been blushing before, she was now. Her breasts were already swelling. Her nipples were painfully erect and straining against the tight corset. Her body may be reacting but not in an amusing way.
Why was her body being so disloyal to her? Or was it her body knew what she wanted and was straining for his touch, even as her brain articulated all the reasons why she should end this right now. It had been an age since she had been touched with any kind of tenderness. Not a hug, nor kiss in years. Part of her rejected the need but her heart yearned for comfort and affection.
His hand brushed over her breast, and she gasped. She hardly knew what her body was doing, for she found herself pushing forward against his hand, as if wanting him to do more, press harder, release her from the confines of her bodice.
She could feel him come closer to her and realized with dread it hadn’t been him who had taken the step but she who hadpulled him closer. His fingers were now toying with the edge of her bodice. Part of her wanted him to hurry up and free her, kiss her, here, in the dark where there was no way he could see her.
The real her.
The desperate her.
The lonely her.
His fingers hovered over her skin, mapping their way in the dark, up her arms to her shoulder, collarbone, the column of her neck.
