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He sucked rhythmically, thinking of all that he wanted to do to her sweet body. She was coming apart in his arms and he loved it. He moved his hand under her skirt. Feeling her silk pantalets, he groaned. When his fingers encountered the slit in the fabric between her legs, he growled in satisfaction. She tried to press her legs together and squirm off his lap.
Her movements nearly pushed him past control. He spoke soft words of reassurance in her ear and moved his hand over her breasts. He prayed she would not make him stop.
He wanted to give her pleasure. He needed to give her pleasure.
She began to writhe. “Ian, do something.” He smiled at her demand. “I am, Belle, trust me.” He slipped one finger into her tight heat and kissed her, using his tongue to imitate the movement of his finger. She writhed more frantically against him. He placed his thumb on the sweet button above where his finger did its gentle dance.
She tore her mouth from his. “No. Stop. I can’t…” He fondled her breast with his other hand. “Trust me.” He kissed her again. Soft tender kisses that turned passionate as she moved against his hand.
“Ian.”
“Aye, Belle. That’s it, lass.”
She went completely rigid and then convulsed around his hand. She cried out and collapsed against him. He kissed her once more. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to get his raging passion under control. He had never wanted another woman like he wanted Belle. He wasn’t going to take her for the first time in a carriage in the London fog though.
She hid her face against his chest. “That was amazing.” He smiled at the awe in her voice. “Aye, it was.”
Chapter Eight
Annabelle’s heart had begun to slow, but she doubted she would ever be the same again. No wonder Diana liked being married so much. She nestled closer to Ian, his distinctly masculine scent surrounding her. The rapid tattoo of his heart against her ear gave her pleasure. He had been as affected as she even though he hadn’t…her thoughts trailed off.
“You didn’t…” She couldn’t go on.
Lifting her chin, he met her eyes. “Not this time.” The tenderness she saw in his gaze washed over her wounded heart. “You wanted to.”
“Yes.”
She sighed and snuggled against his chest. “Thank you.” He righted her clothes and continued to hold her. “You’re welcome.” She played with the button on his waistcoat and enjoyed the feel of his arms around her. “Ian, it seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time to get home. Had you noticed?”
“I told my coachman to drive around until I signaled otherwise.” Her head flew up. “Did you know we were going to…to do this?” The thought that he could be that certain of her when she had been so angry left her insides churning.
He shook his head, “Nay, Belle. I wanted to talk without interruption.” She giggled. “I’d say we were interrupted.”
“Aye.” She heard the satisfaction in his voice.
“Ian?”
“Hmmm?”
“Why did you go to the theater with Miss Caruthers?”
“Hamilton told me that you were upset when our names were linked in the gossip column.” He wrapped her hair around his hand and rubbed the strands with his thumb.
She leaned back to look in his eyes. “You were trying to protect me from gossip?” He nodded.
“I don’t understand.”
“I didna mark you for attention and spent time with Miss Caruthers so that it would not be so clear I was courting you.”
She stared at him without speaking and then she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that tears trailed down her cheeks. He commanded her to stop. When she didn’t, he shook her lightly. “Stop that, Belle. What is so funny?” She gasped for air. “Ian, you do not understand the ways of the ton very well.” He wasn’t happy to hear that if his suddenly rigid body and angry eyes were any indication. She wanted to laugh some more, but controlled herself. “There will still be gossip.”
“Why?”
She shook her head at his ignorance. “Our names have already been linked. Those who have noted your lack of interest and your escort of Miss Caruthers will assume you have given up courting me in favor of her.”
Like Annabelle had.
“What would I want with her?” Ian asked.
“Do not be dense, my lord. Miss Caruthers is beautiful and most gentlemen would be pleased to gain her interest.”
“I am no most gentlemen.”
She smiled against his chest. He seemed to be waiting for her agreement. “No, you are not.”
Ian’s tense muscles relaxed. “You must call me Ian now. A wife should not call her husband my lord.”
She sat up straight to look in his eyes. “We have had this discussion many times.”
“Aye.”
“I do call you Ian sometimes.”
“As my wife, you will always use my name.”
“But I’m not your wife.”
Comprehension emerged at the look of complacency on his face. “Ian, you cannot believe that I am now going to marry you because of what just happened.”
“I bloody well do.”
“Do not swear at me.”
“You are going to marry me, Belle.”
She scooted off of his lap to the opposite seat in the carriage. “I am not going to marry you, Ian.”
She was thankful for the dim light in the carriage. Ian’s glare was intimidating enough and she could barely see him.
“After what happened, do you deny that you love me?”
“Should I now believe that you love me?”
“Men are different.”
She did not know if she wanted to cry or box his ears. She ended up shouting instead.
“So, you are saying that any woman could have been in your arms just now?”
“Dinna be foolish.”
“Do not call me a fool.”
“I didna call you a fool.”
The urge to cry grew stronger.
He grabbed her hand and yanked her back into his lap. He pressed her backside against him. She felt his hardness. “Do you feel that, Belle?” She squirmed in anger and embarrassment. “Don’t.” Her voice cracked.
“Do you feel it?” His words were no longer angry, but had grown gentle.
She nodded, refusing to answer.
“Belle, no other woman has ever affected me like you do.” Her eyes flew to his. “No one?”
“No one.”
“Not even your ex-fiancée?”
“No.”
“But it doesn’t mean you love me.”
“It means I want you to marry me.”
“Ian, passion is not love and I cannot marry you if you do not love me.” She wanted to bury her head against his waistcoat and bawl like a baby.
He pressed her face against his chest and soothed her. “We will not discuss this anymore right now.”
They would discuss it again soon, though. She was sure of it. The thought left her both dreading the next time and relieved that Ian had not given her up for Miss Caruthers.
* * *
Annabelle walked into her aunt’s garden unnoticed by Diana and Robert. The smell of freshly tilled earth attested to Aunt Griselda’s recent efforts in the flowerbeds.
Daffodils fluttered in the soft spring breeze and their bright yellow reflected the warm rays of the midmorning sun.
Her brother was gone on his favorite subject, farming. “Diana, this is really something to take note of. Aunt Griselda has certainly made extensive research into the proper planting patterns for her herbs.”
He pointed at a clump of purple and green leaves surrounded by tall stalks of green shoots. “Look at this basil near the garlic. I’m told planted that close together the one picks up the flavor of the other.”
