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Ian took the chair next to Annabelle. “Good evening, Belle. Enjoying the play?”
“My lord. I thought you and Robert were leaving.” She did not look at him as she spoke.
“I was coming to look for you. I dinna need to leave now.” She opened her fan and began waving it before her, still keeping her eyes focused away from him. She looked regal as a queen in her gown of silver net over a pale green underskirt. Her hair had been piled on top of her head. Curling tendrils escaped and tempted him to touch them.
Finchley offered her some punch.
She turned to greet him with a smile and Ian felt jealousy flash through him. “Thank you, Ceddy, you are always kind.” She finally turned to face Ian. “My lord, I believe you have taken Ceddy’s chair.”
He glared at Finchley and his friend shook his head in denial. “Not at all. I believe I will go try my charms on your aunt, don’t you know?” He was gone before Belle could protest.
“Finchley was there yesterday, too, Belle. Surely, I dinna deserve all your wrath.” Her shoulders lifted in a movement of disdain. “He did not insist on going for the doctor or alerting my aunt to the afternoon’s events.” He was right. Her anger from the day before was still fresh. “Belle, you canna continue in this independent fashion.”
“What I can or cannot do is of no concern to you.”
“You are mistaken if you think that, lass. I’ll no have my wife putting her life at risk.”
She went back to gazing out at the audience. “Then I suggest you save your breath for Miss Caruthers.”
How had Miss Caruthers gotten into their discussion? The beauty could do as she pleased. Ian had concern only for the stubborn woman sitting next to him.
Insight came slowly. “You’re jealous.”
Her fan closed with a snap. “Don’t be ridiculous. I merely think you should save these little lectures for the lady that holds your true interest.” He did not like the unhappy timbre of her voice. “I’m no interested in Miss Caruthers.”
She turned blazing eyes to him. “You have exhibited many faults since I met you, my lord. You are arrogant and make erroneous assumptions. Until now I had always at least believed you to be a man of honesty.”
“I havena lied to you.” Several heads turned at his roar.
“You are causing a scene.”
He stood up. “Finchley, please make my excuses to Miss Caruthers.” Ian turned to Belle’s aunt. “Lady Beauford, your niece is a trifle overset. I will see her home.” He extended his hand to Belle. “Come.”
She glared at him for a full minute before giving a miniscule shrug and standing.
“The evening is ruined already. I may as well go home, but I would rather Ceddy escorted me.”
“Finchley has other business to attend to.”
When she looked like she would argue, he grasped her hand and turned to leave the theater.
Belle did not say another word until he had placed her in his carriage. “I hope you are satisfied with this night’s work, my lord. Dragging me from my aunt’s box is bound to make us the latest on-dit for many a day.” The carriage lamps illuminated her mutinous expression.
“I didna drag you and my name is Ian.” Her eyes widened at his enraged tone. Good.
“Say it.”
“There is no reason to shout.”
“Say it.”
She winced. “Ian.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “I’ve said it. Now you can stop shouting.”
He nodded and spoke in a more reasonable tone. “Explain to me again why you think I lied.”
“Do not order me about.”
“’Twas a reasonable request.”
“It was not a request.”
She was going to make him daft before he finished courting her. He asked with overstressed courtesy, “Would you please explain to me why you think I have lied?”
“You said that you didn’t want to marry a beautiful woman.” That was all? “I didna lie, Belle. How was I to ken ye’d change from one meeting to the next?”
“What are you talking about?”
This conversation was getting more bizarre by the minute. “I swear, Belle, I dinna understand the way your mind works.”
“You said you would not marry a beautiful woman and you have given up courting me to pursue Miss Caruthers. Either you lied or changed your mind. Neither speaks well of your honor.”
Pain lanced through him at her accusation. Just as his family had done, Belle assumed that the only excuse for his actions precluded integrity. His parents had believed that he had acted dishonorably when he cried off from his engagement to Jenna. He had
not told them about the incident in the garden, but it should not have mattered. His stepfather and his mother should have believed in him.
As should Belle. “Ye believe I am without honor?” Belle’s expression changed. He watched as first confusion, then uncertainty clouded her eyes. She sighed heavily. “No.”
A band that had been constricting Ian’s heart loosened.
“The only woman of beauty I would willingly marry is you.” Her eyes widened. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Aye, Belle.”
Her expression said that she did not believe him. He waited for her to call him a liar again. When she did not, he began to relax.
She uncrossed her arms and stared at the reticule in her lap, playing with its strings.
“I was not talking about me.”
“But you are the lady I want to marry.”
“Then why did you escort Miss Caruthers to the theater and refuse Robert’s invitation?” When he did not answer fast enough, she gasped. “I will not believe it.” Now what had her fertile imagination conjured up? “I probably willna either.” She ignored him. “You will not marry me and take another lady as your paramour.” His temper exploded. “Ye will no question my honor in this way.” She huffed in outrage when he pulled her into his arms. “I dinna want a paramour. I want a wife.” He ground the words out past the anger in his chest, his lips almost touching hers.
She trembled at the intimate touch. She twisted her body in his lap. “Let me go.” Her squirming rapidly turned his fury to another, stronger, emotion. Passion. He tightened his hold on her, reveling in the torture of having her body so close. “Nay, Belle.
I’ll no let you go.”
Her struggles ceased the moment his lips covered hers. It was as if she was too shocked to move. Ian took advantage of her confusion and deepened the kiss. He let go of her w
aist and buried his hands in her hair, untying the ribbon that held the silken mass atop her head. It tumbled over his hands. He felt all control desert him. He barely had enough sanity to reach out and close the curtains on the carriage windows. This is what he had wanted since the night of the Markham ball.
She renewed her struggles to get free. She pulled her mouth from his and he concentrated on kissing her shell-pink ear. She shivered. “Ian, you must stop.”
“Nay.”
“We were having an important discussion.”
He kissed her throat and she groaned. His lips moved back to cover hers. “We will finish our argument later.”
She sighed against his lips. “Very well, but it was not an argument.” He would have disagreed with her. ’Twas definitely an argument, but she tugged his mouth close for a deeper kiss. He obliged her willingly, sliding his tongue into her mouth and exploring its warmth.
She moved restlessly in his lap and he grew hard in response. It felt so good. She was like sunshine on the heather strewn hills of home. His hand dipped to caress her soft flesh through her bodice. She whimpered.
Her head tilted back. The look of utter abandon on her face pushed him over the edge. He was desperate to see her. Slipping the tiny cap sleeves of her gown down her arm, he freed her breasts. Pulling back, he took a moment just to feast on the sight of her bare skin. The flawless shape of each creamy white mound peaked in a pink succulent nipple.
“Perfect.”
She expelled the breath she had been holding. He cupped one breast, tenderly playing with the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She acted as if she had been jolted with an electricity machine.
“Ian.”
“Hush, Belle, ’tis all right, lass.” He continued his ministrations as she moaned with increasing passion. She mindlessly rubbed her backside against him. Thoughts of embedding himself in her body filled his mind. Breaking his lips away from her mouth, he trailed hot kisses down her neck and to her breast. When he took her already taut nipple in his mouth, she screamed.
