by Wilde, Tanya
“I enjoy insulting him in creative ways whenever possible.”
“I approve. But we will find him, Belle. He will not get a chance to come near you again.”
“I am to be the bait. It is not as simple as continuing with my daily routine.”
His heart lurched in his chest. Her life would be in danger every day until this lunatic was caught.
“You will not be bait. No, that is an awful plan. Why not remain in your room until the scoundrel is found, instead?”
Yes, that sounded like the best plan to him.
She shook her head, a blond curl falling over her eyes.
His hand twitched, aching to smooth it back.
“You can forget about controlling me. I’m not some delicate miss you can lock away in her room at any sign of danger.”
“If only you were,” he muttered, before more loudly asking, “Did you love him?”
The question had been burning inside him since she confessed her part. Her soft sigh was like a vise grip on his heart.
“At the time, I thought I did, but I was still mourning the death of my parents and eager for an adventure to distract me…I think I would have loved a toothless pirate back then.”
Simon snorted. “Your brothers should not have abandoned you for their own adventures.”
“Bradford and Quinn had to manage their grief in their own way. I do not blame them as much as I blame myself.”
Simon did not agree, but he did not continue to argue the point. So much about Belle made sense to him now. “That bastard is the reason you remain unmarried, isn’t he?”
Silence met his statement. He plunged forward into the rest of his suspicions. “It was your blood the authorities found, your scream they heard.”
He caught the slight flinch of her face before she stiffened.
“My apologies, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that you clutched your middle when you said he stabbed you. It looked as though you’d seen a ghost or were reliving a horror. You truly almost died, did you not?” the last said in a low whisper.
“When you state it like that it sounds just horrible.”
“But it is true, is it not?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
His chest tightened at her soft murmur of confirmation. To think of her nearly dying felt painful.
“Though, regarding the marriage portion of your deduction,” she continued, “it is not for the reason you may have deduced. He is part of the reason I did not marry, yes, but he is not all of it. When you make the wrong choice in such matters, it is not something you can escape from.”
Simon wondered at that. He had always approached the notion of marriage rather practically. Not for himself, mind you, but in his considerations of Evelyn, when she’d been determined to never marry. For him, it seemed odd that any lady would not wish to secure a husband. It was, after all, the practical thing to do. And Simon believed in practicality above all. “So there may be more to marriage than just practicality then.”
Belle’s laughter drew his attention away from his own musings. “Ever practical, that is what you are. Is that why you took up, rather inappropriately I might add, residence here?”
Simon grunted. “It seemed like a more practical solution for your protection. I have also concluded females are incapable of making decisions based purely on practicality, thus your decision to take up with De Roux had to be, however unintentional, one of the heart. That is how I deduced his involvement in your reason not to marry.”
Belle snorted. “Take up with? How utterly male of you to suppose so much. Like I’ve said, he was an adventure, and nothing more.”
“Your adventure did some kind of insurmountable damage if it caused you to decide to never marry after him.” He regretted his words instantly—they went too far. He felt her go rigid beside him again. “I am sorry, that was uncalled for.”
Those heated eyes settled on him. “You do not know anything about me, Westfield. Never forget that and never assume that you do.”
Hell.
But she was right. He did not know what had happened between her and De Roux. He did not know very much else about her personal affairs either.
Yet.
“It could have happened to anyone, Belle,” he said, attempting to gain some control again.
“You still misunderstand me, Westfield. My heart is not broken irrecoverably because I trusted the wrong man. And neither is my soul crushed or anything as melodramatic as any of that. I simply do not wish to marry.”
“Yet he is part of the reason.”
“Of course. The man manipulated and fooled me. But he also showed me, however, unintentionally,” he cringed when she threw his own words back at him, “the value of life.” Her eyes bored into his. “That is why I chose not to marry.”
Then she did the most surprising thing, she took his hand in his and placed it on her abdomen. He could feel raised and jagged skin there. A scar? She traced the line of the scar, showing him that it ran from the center over to the side, just above the hip. It seemed impossible that she had survived such a wound, but here she was with her wide blue eyes, two little freckles on her left cheek, sinful and utterly kissable lips.
“He is as part of the reason in the same way that this scar is part of my body. It is a part, but not the whole.”
Something in Simon melted at her words. No one should ever have to learn the value of life at such a cost. It made him want to strangle the bastard.
His hand trembled as she dropped it again.
Still, he pressed, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Have you ever thought that by denying yourself, love, marriage, a family, you are letting him win?”
“Let it go, Westfield. It is my choice to make.”
Simon wanted to throttle her brothers. They should never have left Belle alone in her grief and later alone to her own devices. It was incomprehensible.
What the bloody hell had they been thinking?
And Belle was wrong about her choice to remain unattached. Being alone was not the way to truly value life. And who better than Simon to show her just how wrong she was in that assumption?
“You should not be here,” she muttered, breaking his train of thought. “You should leave.”
“Neither should you be bait, but as you insist on being stubborn, so I will insist on it, as well.”
“Derek and James are watching over me. I will never be alone.”
Simon scoffed. “They can rot in hell for all I care. I don’t trust them with your safety.”
“What have they done to warrant such animosity, might I ask?”
“They involved my sister in a dangerous project. No man worth his salt would ever allow a lady to venture into harm’s way.”
“They would never have let any harm befall Evelyn or me. Besides, you are a gentleman worth his salt, are you not, and yet here I am, venturing into danger with you by my side.”
“Stubborn women, the lot of you,” Simon groused.
She smiled at that. “Be that as it may, I must insist on your departure. Perhaps you have not given adequate thought to my reputation and what might happen if it were ever discovered that you stayed overnight here.”
“Your aunt is in residence and she serves as your chaperone.”
“Yet it is also well known that my aunt cannot keep her eyes open for more than ten minutes on end.”
“Much can happen in ten minutes,” Simon agreed. Much.
“Where do you plan to sleep? In the servant’s quarters? In disguise?”
“No.”
“In Quinn’s chambers, then?”
His eyes lowered to her lips and he heard her slight intake of breath. “No.”
“In Bradford’s chambers?”
“No to that, too.” His voice had changed to a hoarse whisper.
Her lips parted slightly but no sound emerged. “Then where are you planning to sleep?”
“Here.”
His whisper was muted as his
lips touched hers in a gentle kiss. When she made no movement of retreat, he softly ran his tongue over her lower lip. A moan sounded at the back of her throat and that was all the encouragement he needed.
“You taste like heaven,” he growled before deepening the kiss. He shifted his weight then, his much larger frame covering hers as his knee settled over her and she rolled into him.
Somewhere in the back of Belle’s mind, self-preservation battled to gather her scattered wits. It was only when his knee parted her thighs that her senses returned full force and she pushed out of his embrace, scrambling from the bed.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her breath coming out in short gasps.
An arrogant brow lifted, though he seemed to fight to gain control over the lust she saw in his gaze.
“I thought that was quite obvious. I was kissing you.”
She exhaled, her body still quivering from his onslaught to her senses. “Yes, but why—wait, never mind the reason, it cannot happen again.”
His jaw clenched and the fire returned to his eyes. “The reason matters. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.”
He wanted to kiss her for a very long time.
Belle’s mouth dropped open but she shut it just as quick. “You must leave, now. This,” she waved her hand over him and the bed, “must never happen again.”
An implacable masked settled over his face as he rose to his feet, his stormy gaze plastered to her face. The muscles in his arms flexed, as though it took all of his willpower not to shake her to her senses.
Well, he could bunch his arms all he’d like—her senses were very much in place! She supposed she must look quite seductive, only semi-clad and with her mass of blond hair cascading down to her waist. Still, that was no reason to behave so ridiculously out of character.
“I’m staying here until De Roux is caught and dealt with, whether you like it or not.”
Farthing hell! This could not be happening.
But by the stubborn set of his jaw, Belle knew he would not change his mind.
Insufferable man.
“Very well, I can see there is no use in fighting you on this. You will not, however, be sharing my chambers.”
“What if De Roux attacks you and I cannot get to you in time?”
“I can hold him off until you arrive all heroic and out of breath.”
Simon shook his head once. “What if he attacks you and I don’t hear it?”
“That will not happen.”
A vein in his jaw ticked, but Belle could be just as stubborn. She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
“Fine,” he growled.
“Good. You can sleep in one of my brother’s chambers if you prefer. No servant will bother you there.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest, but he said nothing as he stalked from her room with a nod of acknowledgment. Once he was gone, she let out the breath she’d been holding. She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, where his tongue had tempted her.
He’d completely taken her by the unawares. Not just by his kiss, but also by her intense reaction to him. How confounding. This was Westfield! Brother to her dear friend Evelyn! A beautiful, yes, but infuriating man!
So fine, she may have entertained a fantasy or two, but she never imagined this! Sure, she outrageously flirted with men on most occasions, but at most, they’d only managed to ever tempt a smile from her. Westfield had managed to turn her entire world upside down with just one kiss.
Belle began to think that allowing him to stay in her house at all had been a terribly bad idea.
Chapter 7
“It has been a week and that damn Frenchman has yet to make an appearance,” James Shaw growled.
Assembled at the residence of Lord and Lady St. Aldwyn, Belle understood James’s bitterness. A week of torture. She bore his frustration as her own, but for entirely a different reason. Every night Westfield came to stay under her roof. And even though he retained his distance after that first night and left her alone without any further intrusion on her privacy, it somehow felt worse knowing he was only a few feet away from her—and completely unaffected by her presence.
She, on the other hand, had barely slept. Something that was evident from the dreadful dark circles forming beneath her eyes. Another reason for her disheartenment was the mercenary’s lack of communication. Had he succeeded? Had he failed? Or perhaps he was badly injured, unable to send word? She hadn’t told anyone about him, so he could not have backed off, may even still be on the hunt. This lack of knowledge was the source of her overwrought mind.
I should never have paid him the entire amount.
Who is to say he even bothered to complete his task? Now, in the midst of uncertainty, Belle admitted she should have been smarter about the payment. Paid him only once proof of his success was delivered.
Like Edgar’s head on a proverbial silver plate.
The grave countenances of her friends were a further source of her restlessness. They were suffering, even if only emotionally, because of her. Their fear and concern lay heavy on her mind.
“He is cautious. Perhaps he senses that something is brewing?” Belle offered.
They were all seated in the drawing room, all distracted by their own thoughts. Well, all except for St. Aldwyn, who comfortably reclined on a chase and flicked through the daily paper.
Jo’s husband seemed to love trouble nearly as much as Jo.
Evelyn and Grey were the only ones noticeably absent from the group.
“A distinct possibility,” Derek agreed. “He will keep his distance until he is certain that he is not walking into a trap.”
“It may take weeks before he decides to make a move if that is the case,” Jo argued.
“I don’t like it either,” Belle murmured. “Weeks of watching our every step. We are bound to make a mistake under such scrutiny. We may already have.”
“I agree.” James regarded Belle with somber eyes. “We must lure him out. Bait him into crawling out of his dark hole.”
“No,” Westfield said forcibly. “It is too dangerous to use her as a carrot.”
Belle had half a mind to roll her eyes at his sharp command. Could the man be any more arrogant?
“If he does not make a move soon, we may not have any other choice,” Derek murmured.
“It’s all right,” Belle said in a low voice, her eyes locking with Westfield’s steely ones. “I anticipated this from the start. It was inevitable that I’d be the lure. And I want to help. This is my mess.”
“No, it’s not all right,” he bit out. “Someone has to be the voice of reason and draw a line. If it were up to you, you would march into a trap with nothing but your guilt as a guide and they,” he jabbed a finger at the Shaws, “would let you.”
Belle blinked, certain she’d just been insulted. The careful hold on her temper started to slip. Even if she did die, at least she would die aiding the people she loved and, if she were lucky, that miserable excuse for a man will not pollute the earth’s air anymore with his presence.
“It may mean your life, Belle,” Westfield pressed.
She inhaled deeply, shivering as her name rolled off his tongue. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Well at least I shall die fabulously dressed.”
Jo snickered but flushed when Westfield shot her a heated glare.
“This is no laughing matter,” he growled. “We will not use a lady as bait.”
Belle stood and rested her hands on her hips. “I was the one who assisted in his escape, so I will be the one to lure him back out.”
When no one contradicted her, Westfield threw his hands in the air. “This is bullshit! Do you know what he did to her?” Westfield growled at the room’s occupants.
“Westfield, no!” Belle exclaimed in horror.
“Do you know what she had to go through to get that piece of paper away from him?”
“Stop it!”
“He didn’t just stab her,
he gutted her like an animal without remorse. It was her blood they found. She nearly and truly died on that dock.”
Everyone inhaled sharply, including Belle. Shocked gazes swung over to her and she clutched her stomach, feeling as though her old wound had been ripped open again.
He reached for her, but she took a step back from him. “That was not your secret to tell.”
Guilt flashed across his face, but he only clenched his jaw.
“Is that true?” Jo whispered, horror reflected in her eyes.
Belle looked away. “It was a long time ago and I survived. That is all I will say on the matter.”
“Belle—”
“I do not wish to talk about it Jo, ever,” she looked over to Westfield, “again.”
Derek nodded. “Understood. Westfield is right, however, we will bait him another way. You have suffered enough.”
Belle stiffened. “I can do this.”
“We do not doubt that, my lady,” James said in a somber tone. “But when something that traumatic happens to you, something inside you, it changes. It haunts you. Sometimes even taunts you. But it never truly leaves you. We will not have you relive that again.”
Belle stared daggers at all of her friends. Blast them and the damn pity reflected in their eyes. She did not contradict James, for he was right, but she’d accepted what happened to her a long time ago.
“If I may,” St. Aldwyn drawled from beside his wife. “While you are all filling oceans with tears, I may actually have an idea.”
“Damien!” Jo admonished him. “I know you have a heart, however deeply disguised, so use it.”
“Please do not keep us in suspense,” Westfield said, sparing a quick sheepish glance Belle’s way.
Belle snorted. As if St. Aldwyn’s likely horrible idea will actually make her forget his betrayal.
“The envelope was destroyed, correct?” St. Aldwyn asked Belle.
She paused.
“De Roux does not know that,” he continued. “We can lure him out with the prospect of its contents.”
Oh, dear.
“That may not be such a bad idea.” Approval rang in Derek’s voice.
James narrowed his eyes on Belle. “You did destroy the envelope, did you not, Lady Belle?”
