Bought for Revenge(45)

When Belle at last came to her senses she was half-sitting, half-lying  on the sofa with Lucas's arm around her. He had discarded his neckcloth  and the top buttons of his shirt were open, while the pins had fallen  from her hair, allowing it to tumble over her shoulders.

'I do not deserve such happiness,' he murmured between kisses. 'How soon will you marry me?'

'As soon as you like.'

'Then we will have the banns called immediately. I am all too aware that I have already compromised you.'

She smiled up at him. 'You did not compromise me,' she said softly,  touching his cheek. 'I gave myself willingly. To comfort you.'

Without thinking she slipped her hand into the neck opening of his shirt  and traced the hard, muscled contours of his breast. The crisp hair  curled around her fingers. He clapped his hand over hers.

'Careful,' he growled. 'Or you will have to comfort me all over again.'

She blushed, but continued to run her hand over his skin, giving him a provocative smile.

With a sound between a groan and a laugh he sat up.

'Shall we continue this upstairs?'

Taking her silence for assent he swept her up into his arms. Smiling,  she slipped her hands about his neck, but felt obliged to protest as he  carried her out of the room.

'Lucas, the servants!' she hissed, casting an anxious look around her,  but the hallway and stairs were deserted. A few dim lamps were burning,  giving sufficient light for Lucas to see his way up the stairs.

'Your room or mine?' he whispered, nuzzling her ear and making her  wriggle with pleasurable longing in his arms. 'I gave instructions  before I went out for my things to be moved to the blue bedchamber, so  that your father could have his old room.'

'I have never slept in the blue chamber,' she murmured.

He gave her a wicked grin. 'I was not proposing that we sleep there tonight, my love.'

He carried her along the corridor to his bedroom where the fire had been  banked up and was blazing merrily. He set her down gently on the bed  and she watched, fascinated, as he undressed. Belle's throat dried when  she saw his body, golden in the firelight, shadows playing over the  corded muscles of his shoulders.

'Come,' he said. 'Let us get you out of your clothes.'

She slid off the bed and pulled off her gown, but any thoughts of  hastily shedding the rest of her garments were soon dispelled. Lucas  moved behind her and slowly, oh, so slowly, began to unlace her stays.  She felt the vibration against her body as he pulled the ribbons free  and when she put back her head he fastened his mouth on the smooth slope  of her shoulder, nibbling his way along to her neck. She leaned against  him and was almost moaning aloud by the time the corset was finally  removed. He pulled her to him, his chest hard against her back and only  the thin chemise between them. He slipped his hands under that last  flimsy defence and cupped her breasts, working his magic on them with  the thumb and finger of each hand.

Unable to bear any more she turned, reaching for him, but with a laugh  he gathered up her chemise and lifted it over her head. Obligingly she  reached up, but instead of pulling it free he imprisoned her arms in its  folds while his head came down to wreak more havoc on her breasts,  suckling one then the other until her whole body was pulsing with  excitement. At last he released her and lifted her on to the bed. He  stretched out beside her, raising himself on one elbow and with his free  hand he traced a figure of eight around her breasts, then moved down to  circle her navel. He began to lay a series of kisses across the soft  skin of her belly. Her hips began to move restlessly as desire unfurled  deep inside. She reached for him, but he evaded her.                       
       
           



       

'Patience,' he murmured.

Lucas pulled out a pillow and placed it beneath her hips. He took one  stockinged foot in his hands. Belle shivered at the touch of his fingers  on her ankle. He untied her garter and began to roll the stocking down,  pausing frequently to plant kisses on the bared skin. The silk slid  away with a whisper and he ran his hand from calf to the ankle, lifting  her foot high to kiss it. He repeated the action with the other  stocking, but this time, once he had finished, his mouth trailed back  along her leg, licking and kissing her skin until she was tingling with  anticipation.

He began to stroke the soft mound at the hinge of her thighs, his  fingers smoothing over the dark curls while his thumb dipped towards the  opening beneath. The cushion was holding up her hips, presenting her to  him. She could not pull away from that teasing thumb as it circled and  pressed the delicate skin, exciting her until she thought she would  swoon with the pleasure of it. She gasped when his mouth moved over her,  replacing the thumb. His tongue flickered in and out, lapping at her  very core and rousing in her such delight as she had not known possible.

Belle groaned and moved restlessly beneath the onslaught, opening  herself to his touch. She had never known such sensations-her body was  throbbing, she wanted to pull away, yet at the same time she wanted him  to go further, deeper. As if he had read her thoughts, his fingers began  to stroke her again, even as his mouth worked its magic, until she was  bucking wildly with the combined pleasuring. Ecstasy convulsed her. She  gasped, her hands pulling at his shoulders and at last he released her,  but only long enough to slide up her body, covering her mouth with his  own while he slipped into her. She could taste herself in his kiss, feel  him moving deep inside her and the heady exhilaration of their union      sent her soul flying. She cried out, her fingers digging into his skin  as he carried her with him to the explosive culmination of pleasure. His  arms tightened, he held her close as her world fractured and they fell  together into oblivion.

The sun was shining on her. Annabelle slowly opened her eyes. She was in  her own room at Oakenroyd, but the curtains had not been drawn around  the bed, nor had the curtains been pulled across the window and now the  low morning sun was shining directly on to her. She turned away from the  light. She had been having such a lovely dream about Lucas.

She was no longer sleepy. It had not been a dream. A feeling of  well-being came over her and she shifted restlessly as she remembered  what had happened when he had carried her up to the blue bedchamber.

She had fallen into a deep sleep after they had made love so wonderfully  and it had been dark when she next woke up. She had felt incredibly  safe and comfortable, and as the fog of sleep left her mind she realised  why. Lucas was wrapped around her, his naked limbs entwined with hers  and his mouth close to her cheek. She shifted around until she could  kiss his lips. He stirred.

'I love you.' His softly murmured words lifted her soul.

'I love you, too,' she whispered and kissed him again, pressing her body  against his, exulting in his reaction to her closeness. They made love  again, slowly, languorously before sinking back into sleep.

It had still been dark when Lucas next roused her with a kiss. Sleepily  she opened her eyes. A single candle burned beside the bed, casting a  dim glow over everything. She reached out and tried to wind her arms  around Lucas's neck, but he held her off.

'Come along, sweetheart, I think you should go back to your own bed before the servants are about.'

'Why?' she complained, nuzzling into him. 'You said yourself they know everything.'

He chuckled. 'They might know what we have been up to, but we have to  observe the proprieties.' He eased her from the bed and wrapped her in  his own dressing gown. Walking her to the door, Lucas pressed the  candlestick into her hand. 'Off you go to your own room now, love, and I  will see you at breakfast.'

Breakfast! She sat up quickly. Had she missed it? Why had no one woken  her? She reached out and rang for Becky, then remembered that she no  longer had a maid. The pitcher on the washstand was full of fresh cold  water so she quickly washed her face and hands, then opened the linen  press. All the clothes she had left behind were there, just as she had  left them. She pulled out a fresh gown and was just scrambling into it  when there was a scratching at the door.

'Becky!'

'Yes, miss.' The maid came into the room, grinning broadly. 'Mrs Wicklow  sent for me at the crack o' dawn, said you would be needing me again,  only I was not to wake you this morning. But I am right pleased to be  back, I can tell you. Working as a chambermaid at the Lion was not the  same thing at all!'                       
       
           



       

'And I am glad to have you,' declared Belle, smiling. 'Help me into this  dress, will you, Becky? But I do not know how I am to do my hair-oh.'  She stopped, staring at the ivory-backed hairbrush and comb on the  dressing table.