Belinda, who had only been half listening, suddenly paid attention.
“Why such haste from Mr. Sturridge today?” her uncle asked, before she could.
“Packing. He’s decided to begin his journey back north tomorrow, and the entire household must be at his command,” Francesca said, rolling her eyes.
“What?” Belinda asked abruptly.
“Yes, he’s leaving first thing in the morning. He said he only stayed this long because he wanted to see the Gages established in the neighborhood before he left.”
“Well, isn’t that a shame!” Sir Henry replied. “I was just saying the other day I’d not had the chance to catch up with the young man this winter, and suddenly he’s leaving. Such a pity – isn’t it Bel?”
Belinda’s mouth went dry. “But he… he can’t leave.”
The familiar panic began to rise in her chest. But, no… it wasn’t familiar. There was something different about this panic. It didn’t make her want to run. It rooted her to the spot.
“Why should he not?” Georgie asked, gently. “It was kind of him to stay as long as he did, but he has his estate, sheep to ready for spring sheering, a dozen reasons to go.” She eyed Belinda with open concern. “What reason does he have to stay?”
The words sunk under Belinda’s skin, weighed heavy against her heart. “I… I beg you to excuse me.”
And with that, she left her uncle, her oldest friend, and her newest friend in the middle of her front parlor without another word.
The day before yesterday, this news would have been met with relief. Or at least, that’s what she thought she would have felt. But now… now she was no longer able to blame it all on a random act of sentiment, and the inherent romance in hunting for crocuses shoots in cold, wet snow. Or on Georgie and Francesca’s interference. Ever since last night she’d been unable to push down her feelings and pretend normalcy. And now, with the news that normalcy was about to return with Adam leaving… a strange heaviness invaded her chest. As if her heart were breaking. But how was that possible. She was the one who walked away, unsure of herself. Not Adam. It was as if…
As if she was breaking her own heart.
Belinda was halfway down the hall to her rooms when the thought of entering them – of tossing and turning on the same bed as last night, of pacing the same ten feet of carpet – was suddenly abhorrent. She needed to be anywhere but here.
She left the house through the kitchens, drawing eyes but no words from the servants there. She didn’t know where she was walking, but let her feet take her where they may.
They trod a familiar path, and led her to where her thoughts were – Sturridge Manor.
Or rather, the woods she cut through regularly to get there.
It was warm again – warm enough that she didn’t miss the shawl she’d forgot to bring. And warm enough that the crocuses that only days ago had been covered in snow, were now in full bloom.
She stopped, and stared at those crocuses, for how long she couldn’t say.
They pushed through the snow. They could have retreated at that last snowfall. They could have dived back into the ground, where it was safe and warm.
But then, they wouldn’t be flowers.
She looked up, and saw the gray stone of Sturridge Manor through the still naked trees.
Belinda knew in an instant what she had to do.
She had a chance – a small one – to push through the snow. And she had to take it.
Before it was too late.
* * *
If Adam were to rank the days of his life from best to worst, today would be very near the bottom. Not the absolute bottom – that was reserved for his time in the war. But for a perfectly lovely day in spring where no one was shooting at him, it was absolute hell.
It had taken Adam approximately ten minutes after Belinda ran away from him last night to decide that he needed to go back north to his estate. Hemshawe, his home for so long, no longer felt as such. It was time to go.
He’d kissed Belinda Leonard twice. And she’d run from him twice. Adam knew himself to be less than observant when it came to matters of the heart, but really, how many clues did he need?
Two, apparently.
Hell, he’d even told her that he loved her.
He would have left this morning, if it had been at all possible. And he would leave now, if it wasn’t pitch black out and he wasn’t exhausted.
He entered his bedroom, ready to collapse. The room was lit only by the fire in the grate. His valet had long been sent to seek his own bed – he would need his rest for the journey in the morning too. And Adam… well, Adam had just wanted to forget.
Francesca had returned home that afternoon and tried to corner him, but he didn’t want to listen to anymore meddling, or apologies for it. He spent the day seeing that his horse was well rested and newly shod. Making certain that all his trunks were properly packed, that he had coin ready for the journey, and ensuring that Little Johnny would remember his uncle Adam until the next winter, when he would no doubt flee the cold of Not Scotland again.
Although, perhaps he wouldn’t, he thought, as he sat on the bed and pulled off his boots and stockings. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to face Hemshawe, and one resident in particular, for a while.
He could only hope that he had tired himself out enough to sleep as he pulled his shirt over his head. Tomorrow was going to be a long, hard ride.
“I think now might be an opportune time to make myself known.”
He froze with his shirt halfway up, covering his face.
Suddenly he was very, very awake.
“If you’re trying to decide whether to pull the shirt up or pull it down, my preference is for the former.”
He choked – either on a laugh or on his shock. Then he obliged, pulling the shirt up off his head and tossing it aside. His eyes cast about in the dark of his room, finally settling on the heavy leather chair he kept in the corner.
“Belinda.” He said, straightening his shoulders. “How did you get here?”
“I walked,” she replied. Her hair was in a loose braid, slung over her shoulder. She wore a plain, practical gown. She looked as relaxed and at ease as he’d ever seen her.
Except for her eyes. Her eyes gave her nerves away.
“No. I meant, how did you get into my room.”
“I spend half my time in this house, Adam. You think I didn’t know which room was yours?”
“If anyone saw you…”
“No one did.”
“Still, if they –”
“Adam, honestly,” she said, rising from the chair. “When did you become so missish?”
“Around the time I discovered Belinda Leonard in my room.”
She smiled nervously. Adam knew that whatever reason she was here, whatever happened next, he needed to do everything in his power to not muck it up. So he decided it was in his best interest to stand, very, very still as Belinda moved gingerly to the fire.
“You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve been in your room,” she said, as she gazed into the fire.
“Really?”
She nodded. “You were off at school, and my uncle was paying a call on your father. I was sent to go fetch a book from your father’s study and I ended up here.”
“And was your curiosity satisfied?” he asked.
“Disappointingly no.” She shrugged, staring into the fire. “It was just a normal room. I think I expected you to have a lair or a dungeon.”
“Belinda, is this why you came here tonight?” he asked, leaning his shoulder against the bedpost. “To reminisce about the past?”
Her shoulders tensed, her back went as straight as a pin. Ah, there was the Belinda he knew.
“No,” she replied before turning to face him, the fire framing her silhouette. “I came to talk about now.”
He waited. Forced himself to breathe evenly and not reach for her.
“You said something to me last night.”
“Th
at I’m in love with you,” he stated plainly.
“Two things, then.” She took a deep breath. “You said you couldn’t fathom why I was scared of you. And I’m not. I’m scared of myself. For myself.”
He chanced taking a step closer to her.
“I’m scared… of how you make me feel. Because I can’t control it.”
He nodded, slowly, chancing another step forward.
“As long as things are in my control, I’m not scared. Does that make sense?”
Her eyes rose to meet his. All the distance between them seemed to melt away.
“In spite of our history, you know I would never hurt you,” he breathed. “I would never want to put you in a situation that made you feel afraid… and I apologize if I have.”
“I know,” she nodded.
“Mostly because I know you would come after me with a saber if I did, but…”
She smiled and swatted his chest. He caught her hand and held it there. He could feel her pulse skittering beneath his hand. Her eyes fell to where they were connected, skin to skin.
“I… I think I know of a way to be less afraid.” She said, a tremor sneaking into her voice. “I was thinking about it all afternoon and… I’d like to try an experiment.”
“I’ll do anything you want.”
“Good,” she nodded, lifting her gaze to his. Her eyes glowed. “Take off your trousers.”
Chapter Ten
* * *
“My trousers?”
Belinda nodded, holding onto her resolve with both hands. Now that she was here, now that she had said it, she couldn’t take it back. Not even the surprise on Adam’s face would deter her in her quest to… to leap forward.
She just had to do it in her own way.
“You did say you’d do anything I asked.”
His head cocked to one side. A slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Yes, I did.”
“I’ve been sitting here in the dark for an hour,” she straightened her spine, “and I decided that’s what I wanted.”
“You’ve been sitting here for an hour?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That must have given you a lot of time to think. I wonder…” he leaned in his breath warm on her cheek. “Did you decide you wanted other things too?”
“…some. Possibly.” Her voice might have shaken a little. But she held her ground. “But first… your trousers.”
“Your wish is my command.”
She watched as his thumbs slid under his waistband, his fingers nimbly flicking open the buttons. The trousers slid away easily. He stepped out of them, kicked them to the side, leaving him only in his smallclothes.
“Good.” Belinda nodded once. “Good.” Good? She sounded like a complete imbecile.
She felt like one too, asking a man to remove his clothes, and playing the kind of woman who knows things, all the while trying very hard to look anywhere but at Adam Sturridge’s impeccable body.
And it was impeccable. He’d always worn his coat well, but she had to assume that the war and then the last two years of working hard, cold land had shaped him into something glorious. Hard planes across his chest, shoulders that rounded and sloped like they did on Greek statues. And there was a slight gap between his flat stomach and the white of his smalls and she found herself endlessly curious about what she might find in that shadow…
“Well?”
Her head shot up. “Yes? I mean… what?”
“Well… what now?” he asked.
“Oh. I… I thought you might be able to tell me –”
But he shook his head.
“Belinda, you are in control. We are not going to do anything, unless you desire it.” His eyes darkened, sending her pulse racing. “Now, you’ve spent an hour, in the dark, pondering all the different things you could ask of me. So… tell me what you want.”
She took a deep breath. She brought her hand up, let her fingers dance along his collarbone.
“I… I want you to kiss me.”
His grin spread wide, turning feline. “Finally,” he breathed, and brought his lips down to hers.
Relief swelled through her as he swept her up in his arms. He pressed his body against hers, lifting her to her toes. Then, it wasn’t relief she felt anymore. Awareness spread from her belly all the way out to the tips of her fingers. The top of her head. The peaks of her breasts. She let herself give in to her feelings, give in to him as his tongue delved into her mouth.
And it made the awareness zip through her blood anew.
Suddenly, she was no longer standing on her toes. Instead, her feet were in the air and her legs were taken out from under her, as she was lifted in Adam’s arms.
“Oh my,” she said, shakily. “I never thought up this.”
“Does it displease you?”
“Quite the contrary.”
“Excellent,” he smiled. “Glad I can expand your imagination. I thought we might be more comfortable over here.”
It was then she realized they had crossed the room and come to the bed. “That… is acceptable,” she replied.
With reverence, he placed her down on the bed. Laid down next to her.
“What next, Bel?” He kissed each of her fingers. “What do you want now?”
“I want to feel your skin,” she purred.
He held his arms wide. “Feel away.”
“No, I want to feel your skin against mine,” she clarified.
“Ah,” he replied, his eyebrow shooting up. “Well then you are decidedly overdressed.”
“I think that should be taken care of.”
He nodded. “As you wish.”
He worked the buttons at her back with ease, his eyes never leaving hers. The cool air hit her back. They sat up and her gown came over her head with one swoop, and then his hands – his glorious hands – caressed her shoulders. His fingers looped under the ties of her chemise.
“Still a bit too much in the way, I think.”
He slid the ribbons down her arms as his lips came to her neck.
Intoxicating. That’s what this feeling was. She’d had three glasses of wine once playing cards with Francesca, and had became quite giddy. She felt the same giddiness sliding across her body now, making her hum with delight and lose track of time. For instance, she had no idea when her corset had come off. Nor did she know when he’d rolled her stockings down. Although she did recall the line of kisses he placed down her calf.
And when her chemise finally fell to the floor, joining his smalls, she was at a complete loss as to how it happened. But now that her body was under his, and she could feel the heat coming off of his skin, the pressure of his weight, the hardness against her leg… she gloried in it.
“What now, Belinda?” he asked, his voice a rumble of desire. “What do you want now?”
“I… I don’t know what comes next.”
His head came up. “I am somewhat relieved to hear it.”
“Adam…” she blushed, squirming in embarrassment.
“May I offer my assistance?” he said.
“How?”
“I could ask you if you like… this.” His head lowered to her breast, and he took her nipple in his mouth.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Yes what?” he mumbled.
“Yes, I like that.”
“Good. Now… do you like this?” His tongue found her belly button, his hands ran down the length of her thighs.
“Yes.”
“And what about this?”
Hands slid up further to her warmest, most hidden part. She arched in surprise.
“Yes,” she whimpered, as his fingers delved into her slick wetness.
Her entire body buckled. She wanted to cry out, to scream, to melt against him.
“Shhh…” he said, coming up to let his mouth claim hers. “You’ll wake the house.”
She struggled to keep quiet as she struggled to keep herself whole. But his damned hand was all too clever, knowing exactly ho
w to tease her, to set her wanting… more.
He kissed her. She kissed him back harder. She let her hands slide over his arms, his back, finding the way to her own breasts, aching for sensation.
Belinda,” his voice was ragged against her ear. “What do you want?”
“You,” she cried. “I want you.”
That was all he needed. Suddenly, that hardness that had been pressed against her leg sat at the opening of her body. She reached down, felt it slick and smooth in her hand.
He let out an incomprehensible whimper at her touch.
“Bel, are you sure?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Yes. Yes, Adam I love you.”
There was nothing more to be said. Nothing more to ask of him. He gave her everything he had, inch by tantalizing inch. She gasped as heat lanced through her, then pain. But it settled and dissipated. And then… everything changed.
Every nerve in her body awoke to the place where they touched, where they joined. Every time he moved, she moved with him, her muscles straining with the newness of it all. New, but right, and good. She wanted everything, and wanted for nothing at the same time.
The delightful pressure began to build in her belly again. It was like a strange desire to fly off in several different directions at once. And suddenly, she found something new she wanted. She wanted to follow that feeling, wherever it lead her.
“Yes. Yes my love, that’s it.” His voice floated into her head through harsh breaths. She clasped her legs around his waist, let him pump and push and pull everything out of her until…
She fell apart in a thousand pieces. She arched her back, crying out. He only managed to catch her gasp with his kiss just in time. And suddenly, he was gasping, and holding her tight, and losing himself inside of her.
He let his weight fall against her body, and she welcomed it.
There was nothing else she wanted.
“Are you all right?” he breathed after a time.
“Yes,” she nodded, then frowned. “No.”
“No?” His head came up, alarmed. “I hurt you, didn’t I? Bel, I’m so sorry, but it won’t hurt again – at least that’s what I’ve been told…”
A Gentleman For All Seasons Page 8
