Bought for Revenge(17)

He lowered his head and kissed her open mouth. For a moment he hovered  there, his touch light as a feather, as if unsure how to proceed.  Annabelle remained quite still, afraid that if she moved he would  release her, and she knew, she knew she did not want him to do that. His  arms slid around her and she leaned into him as his kiss deepened and  he pulled her on to his lap, cradling her head against his shoulder as  he kissed her with a thoroughness that made her tremble right down to  her toes. She felt flushed with excitement and there was an ache tugging  at her thighs.

When at last he released her mouth she dragged in a ragged breath, but  it caught in her throat as she felt his lips on her neck, then on the  soft swell of her breast. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder  and she arched upwards, offering her body to his caresses. The blood was  singing in her veins, she had never felt so alive before. Annabelle put  her hand to his cheek, slid her fingers into his hair and gently drew  his face closer so that he could kiss her again and this time she  responded, her mouth working against his. But then the rest of her body  was bereft. Her breasts tingled, ached for his touch, and when she felt  his fingers sliding over them a little groan of satisfaction trembled in  her throat.                       
       
           



       

What might have happened, what other delightful sensations he might have  awakened in her she would never know. A door slammed somewhere below,  and Lucas raised his head. He was still cradling her and she clung to  him, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the mixture of soap and  spices and clean linen that overlay the male scent of him, the familiar  scent she remembered from the first time she had been in his arms. Now  it filled her senses and made her feel weak with a longing she did not  understand.

Raucous voices sounded on the stairs, getting closer. Lucas's chest rose  and fell on a sigh. They both knew the moment was over. Reluctantly  Annabelle sat up, trying to order her thoughts.

'If we are discovered now, there will be hell to pay.'

It did not need Lucas's hushed whisper to tell her that. If she was  found here her reputation would be ruined. How could she have been so  thoughtless? What was it about this man? He only had to touch her and  she melted into his arms, counting the world well lost.

Annabelle slid from his lap to the bench, but he kept his arm about her  and they remained there, silent and still, listening to the voices and  the thud of heavy feet on the stairs. There was a sudden swelling of  music and chatter as someone opened a door. Then it was gone, the voices  had disappeared and they were alone again.

'I must go-'

As she rose he caught her hand.

'Belle, I need to tell you-'

She looked back at him. Even in the shadows his face was ashen. He looked as shaken as she was by their encounter.

'Tell me what?'

'About me.'

She shook her head. 'There is no time. I will be missed.' She squeezed his hand, but his fingers did not relax their grip.

'Forgive me, Belle.'

For what, for kissing her when she was only too willing to be kissed?

'There is nothing to forgive.'

'Do not think too badly of me.'

'I do not.' She gave him a puzzled smile. 'Please, you must release me.'

He looked as if he would say more, but she dared not stay longer. Tugging her hand away, she hurried off.

Lucas did not stir. He heard her soft footsteps as she crossed the  landing, the sudden rise and fall of the music as she slipped into the  ballroom. His hands clenched into two hard fists. Hell and damnation,  what was he about? He had spent the past couple of weeks avoiding the  chit because he could not square it with his conscience to befriend her  while he was plotting her father's ruin, and here he was now making love  to her!

He wished to heaven he had not come to the assembly. He should have  stayed away, continued with his plotting and his planning until it was  time to spring his trap and take his revenge. By coming here tonight he  was once again prey to doubts. Samuel Havenham had greeted him in such a  genial manner it was very difficult to hate him. Difficult, but not  impossible.

But Annabelle-he looked up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. He could not  deny the attraction, she fired his blood but it was more than that. He  had admired her spirit at their very first meeting, the way she handled  that brute of a horse and since then he had enjoyed being with her,  making her laugh, seeing her eyes light up when something amused her. He  liked her. He wanted her to be happy, and he wanted to banish that sad  shadow he had seen in her eyes tonight, even when he was the one to put  it there.

He had not thought of Annabelle when he dropped the first hints about  Havenham's impending ruin, but the rumours were hurting her. Fool that  he was, he should have known they would. She had left the ballroom with  her head high, but his keen glance had detected the unnatural glitter in  her eyes and he had followed, wanting to comfort her.

Lucas dropped his head in his hands. It had all seemed so simple before  he came here, and even in those early weeks after he purchased Morwood  he had but one goal: to ruin Havenham. Annabelle had seemed at first  just one more weapon he could use against the man, but since then he had  come to know her and if there was some way he could save her from any  pain he would be glad to do so.

As he opened his eyes, his gaze alighted upon Annabelle's discarded  gloves lying at his feet. She had forgotten to pick them up in her hurry  to get away. He scooped them up and lifted them to his face. There was a  faint trace of scent about them, a hint of orange blossom and a touch  of citrus. He recognised it as Annabelle's perfume and breathed it in.

Perhaps he would delay his plans a little. After all, there was no  hurry. he had waited this long, a little longer wouldn't make much  difference. He was clutching at straws and he knew it. However long he  waited to exact his revenge she would be hurt by it and she would blame  him. Perhaps he should talk to her, explain why he had to do this. Would  she understand? He rose and prepared himself to return to the ballroom.  He had to try. He must arrange to see her. Alone.                       
       
           



       

Annabelle realised as soon as she returned to the ballroom that she had  left her gloves behind. She dare not go back for them and could only  hope that no one would notice. That seemed quite possible, for everyone  was in a boisterous mood now, joining in the country dances with such  spirit and laughter that the old building positively rocked with their  enjoyment.

Her body was still in shock after her encounter with Lucas, but she was  determined not to allow it to show. She desperately wanted to sit down  and go over every kiss, every touch but she dared not do so here. Such  an indulgence must wait until she was alone. She thought perhaps she  would make herself stay awake all night to think about it and relive  those delicious sensations, but for now she must put it from her mind  and dancing would help her to do that.

Annabelle returned to the dance floor, thankful that her wide  acquaintance meant she could find plenty of partners. It did not matter  to her whether they were very young men or contemporaries of her father,  she was just happy to dance, forcing herself to concentrate upon the  steps. The room was very warm. The windows were thrown wide to allow in  the night air, but even so by midnight Annabelle's cheeks were glowing  and she laughingly excused herself from dancing and sought the cool  breeze by one of the open windows. She was staring out at the night,  fanning herself vigorously when a familiar deep voice murmured in her  ear.

'I thought you were determined to dance your shoes into ribbons.'

She looked around to find Lucas behind her. He was smiling and she  suddenly found it hard to breathe, but even so she could not resist  smiling back.

'Who knows when I may have the opportunity to dance again?' she said lightly.

'You could hold a ball at Oakenroyd.'

She shook her head. 'Papa would not enjoy it. He would feel it was his  duty as host to be in place until every last guest had gone and that  would tire him too much. His health is not good, you see. He was very  ill a few years ago and it has left him with a weakness.'

'So you do not entertain.'

'We hold dinners and the occasional card party, but I must look to  others for dancing.' She smiled brightly. 'But you are not to be pitying  me, sir. I do not repine. My life is very full, I assure you.'

'I am glad of it.' A waiter passed close to them, bearing a tray and he  reached out to scoop two full glasses. 'Would you like a little wine?'

'Thank you.'

She reached for the glass and her fingers slid over his as she took it  from him. Touching his skin revived memories of their recent embraces  and sent little shock waves running through her arm. Afraid she might  drop the glass, she brought up her other hand, only to find she was now  cradling Lucas's fingers as well as the glass between her hands. It felt  incredibly intimate and her cheeks began to burn.