Chapter Eighteen

L uke spent the better part of the morning ensuring Belle viewed him in a different light than any of her previous partners. After three orgasms for her and an explosive one for himself, they both fell asleep.

He spent the afternoon making notes for his new enterprise. Getting the details correct was important to assist people in succeeding. Staffing, pursuits to alleviate boredom during one’s stay, distance from the temptation of gaming hells and men’s clubs, et cetera—but more urgently, he needed to show that he’d thought of them. He was attempting to find the bravery to propose it to The Earl to request funding.

At several points, he considered asking Belle about one aspect or another. She’d proven very helpful in the initial stages of planning. However, his ultimate goal with her was to convince her to marry him, and he wished to be seen as an equal. Intelligence and independence were his surest path to her heart if she could get past her initial impressions of him.

To her heart? Yes, that seemed right.

She’d asked about love yesterday, and he’d stepped carefully. He’d been teetering on the edge of falling for her before last night. Last night and the morning had sealed his fate. He wanted Belle, no matter what his father might say. He wanted to give her children, a home she might run or not run as she pleased, and a life of luxury. Most importantly, he wanted her to feel safe, as though she’d never have to defer to anyone again. No member of the Ton, Black Widow, or whomever.

But he feared she’d see his desires as immature or not well thought out. He needed time to show her he was more than her initial impressions had led her to believe.

After supper, he led her upstairs again, undressing her layer by layer, smoothing his fingers over each inch of skin he revealed.

His cock was raging against his trousers at the unequal count from the morning. Ignoring it, he tugged her toward the bed still in his shirt, cravat, and waistcoat.

Belle balked, straining against his movement. She frowned. “Stop. Please.”

“Of course,” he said, releasing her hand. “What is amiss?”

“Intimacy should be two ways. I appreciate your worship-like approach, but when do I get a turn?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps when we are wed.”

She growled low in her throat.

He raised his brows in question.

“Besides the obvious,” she said, swiping a hand away to dismiss the idea of marriage, “I am not willing to wait.”

“You disliked something I did? You should have said. I’ll change it. Tell me how I can make it better for you.” He thought he’d given her pleasure. Blast, he hoped she hadn’t been performing as the courtesan all this time.

She sighed and dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. “That is my point. Like I said, it should be two ways. You know I admire your form. I’d like to play with you just as you play with me, but you don’t give me a chance.”

“I don’t want you to have to.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “That is what I was afraid of. ’Tis like you wish to ignore my past life and pretend it did not exist.”

He was aghast. Sitting next to her, he grabbed her hands. “No, Belle. I am sorry I made you feel that way. I wanted you to know this was different. That you didn’t have to work at it.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed an inch. “I suppose that makes sense, too. But I need to know that if I take charge or do something you haven’t experienced before, you will not freeze or be distracted or disgusted by thoughts of how I learned it.”

He smiled. She might not realize the reason for her concern, but he did. She was contemplating a future with him, despite her avowals that they did not suit. He was happy to lay her fears to rest.

Standing, he untied his cravat and tugged it from around his neck before tackling the buttons of his waistcoat.

As he removed the rest of his clothing, he asked, “Where would you like me then? At your feet as you direct? On the bed? I am at your disposal, Bellissima.”

Her cheeks went pink at the nickname. Her eyes tracked his T . Smiling, she asked, “Really?”

“Of course. As I said, I want this to feel different. I hope that much of the time, that will mean I take care of your pleasure first. However, I am also happy to be your plaything when the mood strikes. Just promise that you’ll only ever do things you want to do, not what you think I might expect.”

She nodded, her gaze still on his chest, making him grin at her obsession.

“Lie down, please,” she commanded.

His grin grew as he complied.

He thoroughly enjoyed her knowledge of the male body before demanding his turn to lead. She started to lie beside him.

“No.” He held her hips and sat her astride him, where he could touch all her most sensitive spots. With his thumb on the nub in front of where they joined, he said, “Sit at whatever angle works best for you.”

From there, it was a fast road to ecstasy for both of them.

After, they curled on their sides facing each other.

“What else do I need to do to convince you we are a good match?” he asked.

“Nothing. It shan’t work. I’ve gone over it a dozen times in my head. ’Tis not the first time I’ve considered marrying a titled lord.”

He lifted his head to stare at her in the room, moving out of the path of the candle so he could watch her expression. “What? You had an opportunity to marry before?”

“Not quite an opportunity.” She looked chagrined at having said anything, her lips tight. “He hinted several times. But he lived almost as far as you could travel and still be in England, and it seemed like the end of the earth to my twenty-something-year-old self. He was an earl, but older, and already had his heir, so I needn’t worry about besmirching his reputation, as he was not one for Town life.”

“Hmm. Perhaps we should talk about where you’re willing to live then, as one might say the same about my family’s country seat.”

“I’m older and wiser now and prefer to live far away from London, the Ton, and gossip, ironically. But I was serious about how far his home is. He’s on the edge of Scotland and told me once it is a longer trip than to Gretna Green.”

Luke swallowed, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Sweat prickled his palms, and rough memories of maps of the border areas spun in his head. She couldn’t possibly be referring to...? He managed to croak, “Where?”

“Northumberland.”

No. No, no, no, NO!

He shot out of bed to pace the floor.

Belle half-sat, the sheets pooling at her waist. “Luke? What is it?”

He thought back to when they reintroduced themselves after she’d brought him home. The blur of drink and hangover fogged the memory, but he was rather sure she’d cut him off, not caring about his title.

How different these past weeks might have been if she’d allowed him to state fully, “…heir to the Earl of Northumberland.”

Instead, here he was naked, having just come from bedding... his father’s ex-mistress. Worse, Belle had obviously cared about The Earl if he was the only client she’d considered marrying. How could she love such a curmudgeon?

“Luke?”

Best to get it over with. He turned and stood ramrod straight, nudity be damned. “Miss Rossi, I do not believe we were ever formally introduced.”

She sat straighter and clutched the sheet to her chest as he bowed, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Rising, he continued, every muscle locked, his words pushed through tight lips. “Luke Lynwood at your service, madame. Heir to the Earl of Northumberland.”

Belle gasped. After several blinks, she whispered, “Mercy.”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!”

They turned simultaneously to pull clothes on. Luke was far too vulnerable to remain naked for the conversation they needed to have.

“What I wouldn’t give for a whisky right now,” he muttered.

Belle looked dubious.

“No.” He shook his head, surprised to find he meant it. Apparently, he was past the worst of his cravings. “I said that out of habit, but I think we should keep our wits about us for this.”

He needed a clear head in order to reassess. He imagined The Earl’s reaction if he brought Belle to Christmas as his betrothed. His father would pull her aside and tell her of all his past failures. She’d share his sorry state when he’d come to her. They’d turn and look at him as a naughty child.

Hellfire, with this new information, he needed to work out his own reaction to her as his betrothed before he worried about his father’s.