Even better, once they were wed, she would be his property, just as much as her fortune. He could satisfy some of his more debauched proclivities upon her without there ever being any danger of her having recourse to the authorities regarding what he would do to her every night.
Then when he was tired of her, one little riding accident, and he would be home free.
At this happy thought, he swaggered off back to the ballroom, licking his lips and then starting to whistle a little tune.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Arabella fled to the privacy of the library, running straight in without even shutting the door. No matter how far or how fast she ran, however, she could not flee her own nature, she knew. With her hands over her eyes she began to weep, and so did not see Blake in the shadows by the bookshelves.
He was completely taken aback. She had just been kissing her cousin a moment ago, and they had looked so happy together. Had Adam tried…
But no, she did not seem scared, and her dress was undamaged. Yet she was weeping as though her heart would break.
He debated on whether or not he should just leave her, give her some privacy. But he cared too much. No matter what had happened, they were supposed to be friends. He had a duty to look after her. He had to try to help, even if what he heard was utterly painful to him.
Finally, unable to help himself, he spoke tenderly to his distraught love. "Darling, why are you so distressed?" Blake whispered.
He moved closer and rested his hands gently upon her partly bared shoulders, feeling the warmth of her soft flesh radiate right through his gloves.
She stepped away and sighed, drying her tears with the back of her wrists. "I'm sorry, Adam. You must think me a dreadful flirt, but I cannot allow you to press your attentions any further, as if we were to be wed."
"No, not a flirt," he denied hotly, his voice hoarse with barely suppressed passion. "But I don't understand--"
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I've tried. But it's just no use, Adam. I must tell you the truth. Much as I regard you, I cannot place my whole life in your hands, my, my person in your bed."
Blake's loins tightened painfully. Lord in Heaven, she was refusing her cousin after all? What had happened here? He had just seen them kissing!
He had to find out what had happened between them, even though he knew it was the worst sort of perfidy to allow her to maintain her belief that she was speaking to the man who had evidently just offered for her hand.
He clung to the shadows away from the fire lest she turn around and discover her error, and said, "Please, tell me what you honest feelings are. I thought you liked me, that you returned my esteem. May I ask why you do not wish to marry me, if it's not too painful for you to discuss?" he whispered, consciously imitating the younger man's speech.
She sighed again. "I have no wish to cause you or myself any pain or further embarrassment. I fear a candid answer would provoke both."
"Let me be the judge of that. I would like the truth, however dreadful you think it may be," he said softly.
"Very well, then. I'm sorry if what I'm about to say wounds your dignity. Please keep in mind that you did ask. The plain truth is your heart and um, your body don't speak to mine."
Blake felt a huge weight lifting from his shoulders. "I'm not sure I follow. Have I done something wrong?"
She shrugged. "Nothing wrong, no. But I feared from the first that we were far too different in our opinions, upon drinking, gambling, hunting, and so on. These issues may seem unimportant, but I would like to respect the man I marry. I fear in this instance we are too diametrically opposed on every opinion to ever be happy.
"Even were this not the case, I could not marry you. My feelings simply do not tend that way, no matter how much so many people have tried to persuade us that uniting our two halves of the family would be a sensible, practical thing to do.
"You cannot help it. It's me. I know you will think this is all fustian nonsense, the idle dreams of a foolish young girl. But I feel none of the delight, the soaring of the senses I would hope to feel in the presence of the man I am to share my whole life with."
"I see. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry. It's just a fact, no more. I know I'm completely unfamiliar with the way of the world, but I know what I've read and heard. Love does exist, romantic love. Not merely warm friendship. Therefore I cannot marry you."
A devil seized him and he simply could not resist the temptation. "You've just admitted you have no experience. Do you not think perhaps if you were to try-"
"I have tried. Your few kisses have left me unmoved, sir. I don't love you. I can't think further pursuit of that side of our relationship is going to improve this situation in any way."
"So you wish to move on to another man who can make you happy in that respect?"
She stiffened. "You make it sound so cold and calculating. I assure you, this is hard for me to admit-"
"No, not at all. I would never dare to fault you for your true feelings. I'm just trying to understand your wishes. I am not reproaching you. If you cannot feel for a man such as myself, you should by all means try to find happiness with another," he whispered in her ear.
"If you're referring to your brother Oliver, you need have no fear. His heart resides elsewhere, solely upon himself so far as I can see. He is even less likely a soulmate than you have proven to be."
Blake was elated. Both of his main rivals were being rejected by Arabella without him having said one word against them. It was just too wonderful, and surely had to be a sign.
"What of Philip Marshall, who has been ever at your side? Or Matthew Dane? You cannot tell me he did not try for you in London. Or Randall Avenel."
She shook her head. "Philip and I are friends, no more. He has never offered for me. And I would never consider marrying a rake. The appellation is supposed to suit all three men, though Philip has never shown any romantic intentions toward me at all. Do not fear you have been supplanted. This is my own decision."
"I have no right to be jealous or angry with you. You are your own woman. With your own thoughts, feelings and desires, which a man who was in love with you would wish you to fulfil."
She half turned, but did not face him.
He stepped back from the fire further to keep out of sight.
She sighed after a time. "I must say, you're being awfully generous about all this. I mean, this must be a significant dashing of your hopes if all you said to me in the past about your feelings was true."
Blake thought quickly. "Ah, but anyone who truly loved and cared for you would want you to be happy, even if that meant letting you go, giving you to another. It would be a huge sacrifice, one I am not so sure I will be able to make easily. But if you say I must, then I shall. My fate is in your hands."
She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger before pinching the bridge of her nose.
Really, this was so confusing. Adam was suddenly being so kind, lover-like, reasonable. Kind, tender, she thought as his hands came up to rest upon her shoulders once more.
This time she did not pull away. And this time he had taken off his gloves. His flesh burnt into hers, causing her to shudder, and most shamefully, causing her nipples to jut out through the jaconet of her evening gown. The bodice was taut with the effort of trying to breathe. She hugged her arms to her to try to disguise her reaction.
Blake said softly in her ear, "I can understand your concern. Our acquaintance has been very sudden, and almost forced along at a rapid pace by the instigation and promotion of others who think it would be a very fine thing for us both. You are confused, naturally. I don't blame you for being so.
"But I would beg you to grant me one favour, and that is to try to win your love for my own, gently, slowly, patiently, of your own free will. With no one trying to promote what they perceive as a so-called good match."
His hands upon her rendered her almost incapable of rational thought. Where had all her calm and poise fled? She could barely think
as his hands travelled over her body.
As his hands stroked along her back, she began to melt. "Yes, I give you leave," she whispered.
The floodgates opened then, and his lips were upon the back of her neck, sending sensual licking kisses down her shivering spine.
She gasped but stepped backwards into the close circle of his embrace.
Blake moved his lips up to the delicate hollow between her jaw and neck in a long, lingering kiss as he stroked both hands down her belly, noting as he did so the blush of desire suffusing her breasts, and her nipples peeping through the gown.
"Oh my," she murmured. "I don't understand."
"But do you like it? That's the question."
"It's lovely, lovely," she said in wonder, nuzzlling against him. "But you and I have never-"
He now moved to kiss the other side of her throat, nibbling delicately at first. As she began to move more tightly against his chest and loins, he kissed harder, determined to leave marks of his possession upon her.
"Mmm, this is lovely," she said again, reaching behind her with one hand to stroke his hair. The movement lifted her breast upwards so enticingly that he ran his hand right up her body and cupped it fully in his lean hard hand.
She gasped and the room spun. Her breath began to come in short, desperate pants.
Now his other hand roved up to caress her other breast and she groaned. He lightened the pressure so that that she could step away if she wished, but when she made no move to leave he murmured, "Did I hurt you?"
"No, no, it feels wonderful. Just what I've longed for. I knew this paradise existed. I was sure of it."
"How did you know?" he whispered.
"I felt it once before, this soaring sensation, but then I lost it. Yet now here it is again, and it's so marvellous."
He almost laughed in triumph at her awed tone. "Tell me, love, tell me what it feels like."
"Hot, wet, trembling," she moaned.
"It's how men and women fit together, darling. The wetness eases the loving. Makes it more pleasurable."
"Marvellous," she said again. "It's lovely."
They stood frozen in time in the flickering firelight until she moved her left hand around her back to touch one rock hard thigh.
"Is it the same for you too?" she asked innocently, nearly unmanning him.
"Oh, my love, you have no idea."
"But I want to know. I need to know," she whispered, closing her eyes and turning her head now to move her mouth up to his.
He kissed her full on, his lips and tongue questing, probing. Her every nerve ending went on fire as he continued to fondle her breasts. She turned into his arms then, pressing full length against him at last, and Blake knew he was lost.
His mouth slanted across hers, and his tongue thrust deeply into her mouth in an act of possession that left her clinging to his shoulders weakly, with little doubt of what was going to happen next.
One hand grasped her bottom as he ground his hips against her, his rigid manhood pressing into the tender flesh of her belly.
How we fit together, she thought, fascinated by the thrilling contact.
"That's what it's like for me, my lovely Arabella," he murmured against her ear. "What you do to me. I burn for you too. Only your delicate moistness can quench that fire."
"I had no idea it could be so, so magnificent, thrilling."
"It can be with the right person. Please don't hate me for this. You feel it too. The fire, the yearning."
"Yes, now I do, with you like this. It's like I've found Heaven at last."
"And this is just the beginning." Blake kissed her again, tightening his hold on her and vowing to himself that though he would be damned for this by many, he could never let anything separate them again.
Arabella rubbed her hand down his chest.
He had to snatch at her wrist before he lost control. "Darling, there's so much more."
"Will you, will you show me more?" she asked softly.
Her delicate fingers began to creep into the fastenings of his shirt and she fitted herself to him even more tightly. She felt as if she were dreaming, with the sensations washing over her until she was nearly prostrate with desire.
He backed her onto the low sofa in front of the fire, all thoughts of anything other than Arabella in his arms fleeing in the face of his overwhelming passion and need.
"May I touch you more?" he whispered urgently.
"Yes, oh, yes, please."
"You're not afraid, Arabella? Tell me the truth."
She nuzzled his cheek, never once opening her eyes. "This is all so wondrous and new. But when we're like this together, it feels as though we're made for each other. Like I never want anything to separate us. But this can't be real. It's so different from the way we were before. I can't believe-"
"Can I try to make it even better?"
"Yes. I'm not afraid."
"Perhaps I am," he admitted.
"You? Why?" she asked, continuing to plant light kisses all over his throat. "You've done this before, I'm sure."
"But never like this. This is all so wonderful, too good to be true. I want to preserve and cherish this moment forever, yet I know there is so much more awaiting us."
"Just let it wash over you then, enjoy it the way I am," she advised with a throaty chuckle, unfastening more of his shirt front.
"Oh, Arabella." His hand continued to tease her pert nipples, but now he lifted the hem of her gown and slipped his other hand upwards along her silk-clad leg.
With the warmth of his hand came an increase in the pressure in the pit of her belly. She allowed her knees to fall open, granting his hand unimpeded access to her cotton and lace drawers. He found the gap between her stockings and the edge of the lace and stroked it lightly.
She shivered and kissed him ardently, spreading her legs and arching her hips toward him. Once again, it was almost too tempting to resist.
Almost. For he knew he had tricked and deceived her, pretended to be Adam when he should not have. But he never would have found out the truth about what had happened between them otherwise. He did not think he could have easily lived with the jealousy which had wracked him ever since Adam and the other men she had been friendly with had come into their lives.
He loved Arabella, needed her. He loved her, and could not let her go no matter how much common sense and the dictates of society told him he had to.
At the same time, though, Blake knew full well the storm he was inviting down upon his own head by persisting in this folly. This madness. For the sensations coursing through him, the nameless desires giving rise to all sorts of fevered imaginings, could not be normal.
He wanted to bury his turgid flesh so deeply within her as to make her powerless to do anything other than beg him to take her again and again. He wanted her to say his name. Kiss him tenderly, tell her she wanted to please him in every way. She would laugh and smile, cradle him against her bosom and tell him how much she loved him. How much his love meant to her.
But for the moment there were quite a few barriers between them, not least of which was her underclothing. He knew he should not even be thinking about her in this way, not in the library, in the middle of the ball, when they were once more on the brink of war, but her fingers had already begun to undress him and Blake couldn't resist touching her more.
He worked his way up past the lace and felt Arabella's delicate softness, felt her damp heat almost begging him to quench his own fires inside her.
She groaned as he caressed her gently, inserting one large finger until she squirmed and panted in the throes of the most exquisite passion. He gently withdrew his hand, but she was growing desperate and grasped his shirt and began to tug it out of his trousers.
He knew he was going to have to face the consequences now. He couldn't simply walk away. He couldn't press on without some sort of explanation, confession on his part. But could he dare ask her to become his in every way? Tonight of all nights? Was it too soon? Not soon en
ough…
"Please, more. It's wonderful. Your hands-"
"Darling Arabella, before I touch you, I must confess something. I need to tell you how much I have always ardently admired and loved you. I've tried to restrain myself. Told myself you're a delicate little flower, a rose without thorns. I want nothing more than to take you into my bed and give you joy," he said, showering her face and throat with kisses.
"But it's your first time. We shouldn't spoil things with a rushed and ill-advised coupling on a floor or sofa in a place where anyone can walk in at any moment to find us. I'm being completely candid with you now, in the hopes that you can forgive me for what I've done in the past, and have done now. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted in this lifetime. But I need to give you one last chance to change your mind."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 87
