A Wayward Woman: Diamonds, Deception and the Debutante / Fugitive Countess

His face darkened with annoyance, and Belle could almost feel his struggle to hold his temper in check. ‘I could say that your own behaviour—by coming here tonight and breaking into my home, is not beyond reproach either. However, I am truly sorry if I frightened you last night. Despite how it looked, it was never my intention to hurt you.’

‘You didn’t hurt me. I was simply furious that you should have the audacity to do what you did. And now if you don’t mind I would like to leave.’

Turning on her heel, she went to the door. Lance followed, halting her by catching hold of her arm and speaking close to her ear from behind. ‘Of course you must go, but before you do, Belle, I will give you a warning. Just one,’ he enunciated coldly. ‘Call it advice, if you prefer.’

‘If I wanted advice,’ Belle retorted, spinning round, her eyes sparking green fire, ‘I would not come to you.’

‘I don’t normally receive guests in my bedroom—but then, you are not my guest, are you? If you break into my house again and come to my room and search through my personal belongings, I will lock you in and not release you until you are well and truly ruined. Do you understand me?’

Belle felt a sudden stillness envelope them. Vividly aware of the heat of his body and the spicy scent of his cologne, she was overwhelmingly conscious of the man behind her. She was irritated by the way in which he had skilfully cut through her superior attitude. She knew she had asked for it, but the magnetic attraction still remained beneath all the irritation.

‘I’m sure you would like nothing more, but I will not give you that satisfaction. Now, can we go?’ He was far too close and Belle was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. The tight tension of regret was beginning to form in her chest that she had dared to come here.

Lance continued to hold her arm. Now the issue of the necklace was out of the way he was reluctant to let her go, and to his way of thinking it was time she received her comeuppance and realised the danger of coming uninvited to a man’s bedroom.

‘Not yet. I have not quite finished with you.’

‘Are you saying I am in danger?’

Black brows arched above gleaming blue eyes. ‘Of the worst kind, I fear. Tell me, Belle, have you ever been kissed?’

The tension in her chest was tightening. ‘No man kisses me except the man I want.’

An almost lecherous smile tempted his lips as his eyes did a slow perusal of her lips before travelling to the slim, erect column of her neck, to the beckoning fullness of her breasts straining beneath her blouse. The all-too-apparent womanliness of her and the heady scent of her perfume evoked a strong stirring of desire, and he felt a familiar stirring in his loins.

‘Then I will have to make you want me, Belle.’

He moved closer, close enough so that she was trapped and could not move without coming into contact with him. He braced his forearms against the door and gazed down at her face. He ached to caress the womanly softness of her, to hold her close, and ease the lusting ache that gnawed at the pit of his belly.

His nearness threatened to destroy Belle’s confidence and composure, but only threatened. This man was far too bold to allow even a small measure of comfort. She lifted her head imperiously, and her eyes glinted as they glared into his.

‘I don’t want you to show me. I don’t want you to touch me, so kindly step back and let me go at once.’

‘Not a chance,’ he drawled. Gripping both her upper arms, he pulled her to him, holding her tightly against his chest, his fingers digging cruelly into her soft flesh.

Resolutely she squirmed against him. She saw his eyes darken in the dim light, his lean and handsome features starkly etched. A strange feeling, until this moment unknown to her, fluttered within her breast, and she was halted for a brief passing of time by the flood of excitement that surged through her. With renewed determination she forced it down.

‘I asked you to release me. I really must go.’

‘What’s the rush?’ he murmured against her ear and brushed warm kisses along her throat. ‘I’d like to show you that I in no way resemble those fancy bucks who dance attendance on you night after night, pouring flatteries and endearments into your ears they do not mean.’

‘Leave me be. And don’t get any high-handed ideas that you are any better than they,’ she stated shortly.

‘Say what you like, Belle, but I suspect that you’d prefer a real man to warm your bed than any of them.’

His statement brought a bright hue creeping into Belle’s cheeks. ‘I find that remark extremely insulting and uncalled for. The conduct of the men I meet at the affairs I attend has been exemplary and I have no complaints. You speak as if you are some great gift to womankind, whereas you could learn a lot from them. And now I wish to leave. Anything is preferable to this. At least they are gentlemen and wouldn’t take advantage of a woman as you are doing.’

‘Don’t you bet on it, but relax, Belle. I’m not going to hurt you.’

An iron-thewed arm slipped about her waist and brought her against that broad chest. Belle thought to remain passive in his embrace and did not struggle as his mouth lowered upon hers, but they flamed with a fiery heat that warmed her whole body. That was when she realised the idea was ludicrous and a gross miscalculation of her power to deny him, for the kiss went through her with the impact of a broadside.

Her eyes closed and the strength of his embrace and the hard pressure of his loins made her all too aware of the danger she was in, that he was a strong, determined man, and that he was treating her as he would any woman he had desire for. Her head swam and she was unable to still the violent tremor of delight that seized her, touching every nerve until they were aflame with desire. Her world began to tilt, and she was lost in a dreamy limbo where nothing mattered but the closeness of his body and the circling protection of his arms.

Moments before she had thought herself knowledgeable about men, but now, as Lance slid one hand down to her buttock and pressed her to him, she became acutely conscious of her innocence.

His lips caressed and clung to hers, finding them moist and honey sweet, and for a slow beat in time, hers responded, parting under his mounting fervour. She leaned against him, melting more closely to him, as though the strength had gone from her. Aware of her weakening, he raised his head and lifted her in his arms.

‘Put me down,’ Belle panted breathlessly, panic rising. ‘This is not at all what I want.’

‘To hell with what you want, lady,’ Lance muttered thickly. ‘I can feel your need, Belle. It is the same as my own.’

‘Please,’ she cried. ‘This game has gone on long enough.’

‘Games are for children. But this is something more between a man and a woman.’ His eyes burned into hers as he strode purposefully to the bed with her. Kneeling on the mattress, he lowered her to its softness and before she could move his arms came down on either side, trapping her between them.

‘You beast,’ she hissed. ‘You filthy beast. How dare you lay your hands on me.?’

He silenced her with his lips, kissing her long and deep and hard. She struggled, but her physical resistance was useless against his strength and his unswerving seduction. Lowering his weight on to her body, he cradled her head between his arms. He was strong, muscular, savage even and very determined, and for a moment Belle felt her insides lurch—she didn’t know why—and in the pit of her stomach flared a spark of something, and again she didn’t know what or why.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he breathed against her throat. ‘I won’t hurt you. Let yourself enjoy it.’

‘I can’t,’ she argued.

‘Yes, you can.’

Again he found her lips and parted them. Shuddering excitement passed through her, and the strength ebbed from her limbs. Not for a moment did Lance break the kiss that was inciting her. His mouth was hungering, turning to a heated, crushing demand. Her anger had become raw hunger, cindered beneath the white heat of their mutual desires. It was sudden, the awakened fires, the hungering lust, the bittersweet ache of passion such as Belle could never have imagined.

His position gave him full access to her body. Pulling her shirt out of the waistband of her breeches, his hand slowly snaked its way up to the tantalising fullness of her naked breast, cupping it, teasing her nipple until it was a hard bud. She made a sound deep in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was a protest or merely a sound of pleasure she couldn’t contain, so wonderful did it feel. She was kissing him voraciously as the pleasure swiftly escalated, her entire body trembling with desire. She moaned again and wrapped her arms around his neck, shoving her fingers in his hair without even thinking about it, for she couldn’t seem to help herself and it seemed the most natural thing to do.

Lance closed his eyes, intense desire for this woman torturing him and making him acutely conscious of the celibate life he had led for some time now. As he caressed the sweet, young body, his flesh betrayed his need, rising up against his will. He was hungry for her and could hardly restrain himself to free her from her garments, possibly even tearing them if they resisted his fingers.

His hands slid from her breast and Belle felt him fumbling with the fastenings of her breeches. Instantly her sanity returned and with a horrified gasp, she broke away from him, her whole manner conveying her fury, which reappeared with shocking speed. With a tremendous effort of will she flung herself away from him and rolled off the bed. She stood glaring at him, breathing hard, her hair tangled in disarray about her shoulders, her green eyes burning, completely unaware of the vision she presented to his hungering eyes.

‘How dare you?’ she hissed. ‘How dare you do that to me? I will not be forced.’

Struggling for control, finding it with effort, getting off the bed, Lance straightened his clothes. ‘Come now, Belle,’ he managed to say, smiling, though he himself was shaken by the moment. ‘It was only a kiss—an innocent kiss, nothing more sordid than that.’ But he was not convinced by his words. With her long sleek legs encased in breeches, he was led to think that he had never caressed any that had evoked his imagination as much as those. The lingering impression of those trim thighs entangled with his own had done much to awaken a manly craving that had gone unappeased for some months.

He cursed himself for letting Belle Ainsley affect him in this way. He went from hot to cold, a sensation not normal for him, a man who had always had a woman at his whim, had enjoyed a woman casually and made love to her for his pleasure. Now this young woman needed to be taught a lesson and he could hardly keep his hands off her.

Belle’s anger was boiling. Every single word she uttered seemed to make it worse, as if it were feeding upon itself. And having no other outlet for this anger, it would continue to grow and fester.

‘A kiss that would have led to other things—which was what you had in mind you—you lecher—had I not had the presence of mind to end it,’ she flared, furious with herself for not only responding to it, but liking what he had done to her. ‘You forced your will on me, forced me to kiss you. I did not invite you to do that.’

‘I forced nothing,’ he said, raking his fingers through his hair. ‘You brought it on yourself when you decided to invade my bedchamber, don’t forget.’

He sounded entirely too smug in saying that. ‘Only because I thought it wouldn’t have you in it. I am here because I had no choice if I was to retrieve the necklace.’

‘Choice? Yes, indeed.’ He turned her angry words aside as he walked round the bed to stand before her, the burning heat back in his eyes. ‘Choice you are, my love.’ He ran his fingers down the soft curve of her cheek. ‘The very cream of the lot.’