He wanted to take her there. Since the moment he’d heard her first laugh, he’d wanted nothing more than to sink himself deep within her, to feast on her and end his perpetual starving.
She ran her hands through his hair and gave voice to her need. “Please.”
It was a plea, but his body responded as though it had been a command.
She was his.
Her body was his.
Her body is yours.
Gregory’s haunting words froze his blood right in the act of placing her on the couch.
He’d been about to fall on her. The ravenousness that had been a shadow in his soul would finally be put to rest.
All he had to do was take her.
She was his.
For two more years.
The contract.
It leached the desire from his bones.
He fell back on the couch.
Belle sat up and looked at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this.”
“What?’ She looked confused and slightly hurt. “Why not?”
Was she not used to a man telling her no?
The vulnerability left her eyes and she nodded. Her expression turned hard. “I understand. I’m just your special friend.”
He smiled. She had no idea what he’d meant when he’d told Mrs. Rose that. The woman had once boldly asked him at dinner if he were interested in any particular woman. He’d told her that there was a woman who was very special to him that he thought about often.
Mrs. Rose had said she would like to meet the special woman and had apparently decided she would continue to champion her daughter until this special woman could be produced.
At the time, Oliver had had no ‘special friend.’ It had been nothing more than an excuse. Not even Belle had been on his mind.
Yet this morning, it had felt right to imply Belle as the woman. He hoped it would help Mrs. Rose understand that he had no intentions toward her daughter. He just liked the woman’s food.
Though Belle now donned an expression of unconcern, her words exposed her thoughts and raised more than a few questions.
As an assassin, he never had to read the minds of his victims in order to know the most appropriate time and place to catch them off guard. All he had to know was their habits. Schedules made men predictable.
But the mind often remained a mystery. He’d avoided understanding his victims after Gregory delivered a list of their sins. He didn’t want to understand why they’d done the things they’d done.
But he wanted to understand Belle.
Her words, her tone, and the hardness in her eyes said she’d been jealous at Mrs. Rose's house.
It was an emotion he didn’t think she possessed.
Which led him to his next question. Why would she be jealous?
A calmness like never before settled over him. His mind blanked of worry.
He searched for the usual worries and concerns and came up… empty.
The silence in his head was nearly dizzying. He felt light in mind and heart.
And he dared to solve this new mystery. “Belle, would you like to be more than just my friend?”
It was almost comical the way her eyes grew and her mouth fell open. He recognized fear when he saw it. His mouth twitched, and his thoughts formed new possibilities.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 6
* * *
Belle struggled to breathe as she thought about the best way to answer Oliver’s question.
She wanted to say no. Dunst’s letter of degradation and Oliver’s earlier rejection still hurt. Yet she looked over his casual position on the other end of the couch, noticed the small smile on his lips, and wondered at his thoughts.
“Why do you ask?” She was afraid of being rejected again. Were he any other man, this conversation would have never taken place. Belle may have broken a few hearts in the last year. There were men who’d thought her smile solely for then. They hadn’t enjoyed hearing no during their proposals.
She thought about her conversation with Vita days ago. Her friend had encouraged her to go after Oliver.
This would be her final effort.
After this, she swore she’d never speak to him again.
Yet he was hard to ignore.
He had an arm thrown over the back of the couch. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought your words implied that you wanted more from this relationship.”
She looked his body over and met his eyes again. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
His gaze darkened. “I never said that.” He leaned in suddenly and brought his face close to hers. “I want you.”
She fought to keep her hands in her skirts. To make certain they didn’t move, she gripped the fabric in her hands.
He lifted a brow. “But I have to ask, why me? Is it because I’m here and you’re sad? Look at me,” he commanded when she began to turn away. “If this is a game, I’ll leave.”
She grabbed his wrist and closed her mouth. She’d been preparing something witty to say. Now, she didn’t know what to do. How was she to respond?
“Belle.” A foreboding expression darkened his face. “I want the truth.”
Her pulse rushed. She pulled in a breath. “Oliver, you’re being different again.”
“I feel different. Answer my question. Are you capable of the truth?” He asked the question in a way that made her wonder whether he was speaking to her or himself.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I can tell you the truth.”
He waited.
Belle, for the first time in years, wished she were one of those women who fainted at the first mishap.
What was happening between her and Oliver?
“You’ve kissed me three times now,” he said.
“Twice.”
He lifted a brow. “You kissed me back that first time. I’m counting it.”
She said nothing.
“Did you want me in the garden?” he asked.
Her stomach flipped. “Yes, but I was married.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And today? What was that about?”
She couldn’t lie. She closed her eyes. “I wanted to end the sadness.” She’d been certain Oliver could make her feel good. Sex had been an escape for her in the past. She opened her eyes and was surprised that Oliver had remained close. “But only with you.”
He touched her cheek, and her heart raced. “How long have you wanted me?”
She got really honest. “When you promised that the only time you’d ever hurt me would be when you were trying to make me feel better.” He’d been cleaning her wounds when he’d said it. It had stung. The barest touches had hurt. She’d ached everywhere. “No one had ever told me that before.”
The words were the purest form of honesty she’d ever heard. Sometimes, pain could not be avoided. She’d felt safer than she had in years after hearing it.
“That was the night you arrived,” he said.
“I know the feelings weren’t returned back then, but you were the kindest—”
“What makes you think I didn’t want you five years ago? You think I run my home like a hospital? I could have taken you into town after you recovered that first day.”
She stopped to think. “But… you never said or tried anything salacious.”
“Belle, you were in pain.”
“Not the entire time. My bruises left within the first fortnight of my stay.”
He caressed her cheek. “You were still broken in other ways. Even before you told me your story, I could tell you’d been hurt badly, because my brothers and I had been hurt as well.”
He thought her broken, and back then she had been. She’d grown up with terrible ideas about love and kindness. She took the fact that Oliver never called her pretty or gave her gifts to mean he was uninterested, when she should have been watching more closely.
He’d been kind to her. He’d given her the only pretty room in his house. His mother’s room.
He’d seen to her every comfort. He’d held her when she wept and had freed her from Gregory even after finding out about her deception.
He’d cared for her.
And she’d betrayed him. “I should have tried to run,” she said. “After I’d healed, I should have disappeared. Maybe Gregory wouldn’t have found me.”
“He would have,” he said. “He made it clear that he valued your mind above anything else. In his mind, he created you.”
“Which is why you’ve avoided me all these years,” she said.
Belle’s butler came into the room and announced Noel’s presence just seconds before the young man himself appeared.
Noel looked at Oliver. “I went to your house. You weren’t there. No one knew where to find you.”
Oliver stood. “That’s the way I like it.” He’d left his home on foot and hadn’t told his servants his destination. “How did you find me?”
“One of the boys saw you come in here,” Noel said.
Oliver lifted a brow. “Do you have one of those little thieves following me around?”
“Don’t call them little thieves,” Belle said in defense of the children. She stood. “It’s not nice.”
Oliver sighed and turned back to Noel. “Very well. Do you have one of those big thieves following me?”
“Oliver!”
Noel laughed. “No, I asked one of the boys to stand around Belle’s and alert us if anyone tried to break in. Someone wants her dead, right?” Noel was leading the street kids as though they were his own team. He’d won their trust and was now giving them purpose.
Oliver was proud.
Belle smiled at the young man. “How sweet of you to look over me, Noel. You’re an angel.”
Noel blushed.
“Why are you looking for me?” Oliver asked but already knew the answer.
Noel grinned. “We found him.”
“Found who?” Belle asked.
“The man who hired Husher. Maybe.”
“Where is he?” Oliver asked. “You didn’t take him on yourself, did you?”
“No. I only collected the information. Uncle Remy is taking him to Van Dero’s.”
Belle said, “Then we better go.”
Oliver put a hand on her. “You should stay here. This man tried to have you killed. He could be dangerous.”
“But you sent Shepard away.” She smiled. “Who shall stay and protect me? The boy outside my house?” Her grin grew. She was certain that she’d get her way.
And she was right. He tsked. “All right. Let’s go.”
They arrived at the duke’s house just as Remy did.
He led an unbound well-dressed gentleman up the stairs to Van Dero’s home. He was younger than Oliver, perhaps in his mid-twenties.
Remy and the stranger stopped just within Van Dero’s foyer. Remy introduced him. “Lord Venmont, Lady Cebele, this is Mr. Jamie Kennicot.”
Kennicot was regal. His pale gold eyes held Oliver’s as he bowed. He turned to Belle and did the same. “My lady.” His voice was deep but clear.
Oliver kept Belle close. Something about the man was off-putting and it was more than just the fact that he might have hired someone to kill Belle.
Kennicot said, “I am honored that Lord Van Dero would extend me an invitation.”
Noel frowned and Remy answered the question in his mind. “I found Mr. Kennicot with a group of men in Westminster leaving the House of Commons. He agreed to come with me.”
Kennicot had been in a public setting. Therefore, he likely had no idea why Remy had brought him. But now that they were alone, Oliver planned to get the truth from him even if he had to squeeze it out of him.
Oliver came into the room with Milly at his side.
Kennicot turned and smiled at them both as Remy did the introductions. “Actually, I go by Kennicot, which is my mother’s surname, but my true surname is Hayes.”
The room went quiet except for Milly, who gasped.
Cassius stiffened. “Hayes. Are we related?”
“Indeed we are, cousin.” Kennicot grinned, and Oliver saw the resemblance. The gold eyes gave it away. Also, there was Kennicot’s jawline. The men looked related indeed.
“How is this?” Cassius asked. “I was told I had no more family.”
Kennicot shrugged. “As I said, I go by my mother’s surname mostly. I despised my father.”
“Who was your father?” Cassius asked.
Kennicot’s expression showed his displeasure. “Thomas.”
Cassius looked him over. “That’s impossible. I grew up in Uncle Thomas’ home. I knew his only son. Both men are dead.”
Kennicot gaze shifted to something more blasé. “And good riddance to them both. From what I hear, they were both terrible people. They forced young men to fight to the death, did they not? At least, that is what I hear.”
“You’ve yet to tell me how you’re related to my uncle,” Cassius said.
“I was his second son to his second wife, but he only married my mother to appease her family after he raped her. She received money until his death and raised me on her own. We were forbidden from talking about it.”
“Oh.” Milly rubbed her chest. “I’m so sorry.”
The story was dreadful. Even Oliver was sickened by it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to question him about Belle’s contract.
Cassius frowned. “I cannot say I was a fan of your father either. I am glad he is gone.”
“As you should be,” Kennicot said.
“Are you here to challenge me for the title?” Cassius asked.
Kennicot lifted his hands. “No. It’s rightfully yours. Your father was older than mine. I have no desire to be Van Dero or to have anything to do with the Hayes name. Forgive me if that offends you. I only told you my name because I have a feeling you’d already discovered the truth. That is why I am here, isn’t it?”
So Kennicot didn’t want anything to do with Cassius. Oliver wondered how the duke felt about that.
“Actually, you were invited for an entirely different matter,” Cassius said. “Did you hire an assassin from Covent Garden to kill Lady Cebele?”
Kennicot’s eyes widened. “What? No. I’ve just met her. What reason would I have to want her dead?”
Cassius asked Belle, “Have you met or seen this man before?”
Belle shook her head.
Cassius turned to Noel. “Ask your friends to find Violet.” Noel left. Then to Mr. Kennicot, Cassius said, “You’re free to go for now, but please don’t leave the city.”
∫ ∫ ∫
2 7
* * *
“Do you think he did it?” Belle asked Cassius after Remy and Kennicot left. He’d sent one of his soldiers to follow him, just in case he tried to leave the city.
Cassius sat behind his desk. Milly had gone to see the baby and to give Cassius some privacy. He looked disturbed. “I don’t think I can be objectionable at the moment. Until a few minutes ago, I thought Irene my only family. I’m beginning to wonder if my uncle had any morals at all.”
Kennicot’s tragic story had disturbed her just as much as it did Cass.
She didn’t know how she felt about Cassius’ cousin. She didn’t understand why he’d want her dead. She didn’t want a good man accused of something he didn’t do.
“If he isn’t guilty of this, he’s guilty of something.” Oliver stood behind Belle with his arms crossed. He was like a wall at her back and she was thankful for it. “He’s no innocent.”
“What makes you say so?” Belle turned to face him.
Oliver looked down at her. “Did you notice what he didn’t say after Cassius asked him if he’d hired an assassin?”
Belle shook her head and turned to Cassius.
The duke lowered his brows in thought. “What didn’t he say?”
“He was not at all disturbed by the fact that you accused him of hiring an assassin, only that he’d been accused of hiring one to kill Belle.”
“An innocent man would have inquired about the assassin, you mean?” Belle asked.
Oliver moved and sat by her. “That he knows anything about my world means he’s in it, just like us. He does not walk on the bright paths of London. He’s a creature of the darkness, like me and Cassius.”
“He’s right,” Cassius said. “He didn’t say he’d never murder anyone, only that he had no reason to murder Belle. I’m glad you picked up on that.” Cassius leaned back. “But that doesn’t mean he wants Belle dead. I’ll need to find out more about him and his mother.”
“He knows you’ll look into him,” Oliver said. “It’s why he gave you his full name. He’s aware of the man you are.”
Cassius shrugged. “Most of Society is.”
“What should I do in the meantime?” Belle asked.
“Stay alert,” Cassius said. “I’m going to invite Mr. Kennicot to dinner. Irene will want to meet him. You both should join us. I’ll send an invitation once everything is in place.”
Oliver walked Belle to her carriage. She noticed Shepard was there and thought Oliver had sent for him before their meeting with Cassius.
At the door, Oliver asked her, “Are you sure you’ve never met that man before today? Maybe he fancied you and you rejected him.”
“I don’t know him, Oliver, though I hardly keep a record of every person I come across. I’m well known in London. I go to at least three parties a week during the Season.” She was more than a little irritated that he’d asked her again.
“All right,” he said coolly.
“Besides, perhaps your assumption of the situation is completely wrong. You’d already informed me that not every man wants me. I doubt you liked and hated me at the same time. It would be impossible.”
“I’ve been known to make the impossible happen.” His tone remained calm. His eyes were warm.
Belle’s cheeks burned. They hadn’t finished their conversation from earlier.
She didn’t know where it had been heading, but she desperately wanted it concluded. “Would you join me for dinner?”
He grinned. “I would love nothing more, but that would be a mistake.”
“I think otherwise.” She placed her hand low on his stomach and brushed her fingers over the edge of his breeches. If she moved her fingers a little lower, she knew what she’d find. His erection.
The Marquess Who Kissed Me: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 14
