She’d strayed far away from the script Susan had practiced with her. But talking to Leo—somehow she didn’t feel tongue-tied or as unable to communicate as she did with most people. She didn’t know why, but she’d always found it easy to converse with him.
He hesitated, seemingly considering his response. Then, he said, “Both, I think.” There was a hint of wonder in his voice.
“I don’t want you to hurt anyone else, Leo,” she said softly.
“I told you before, and I was being honest. I never meant to hurt others. Only…only myself.”
“Do you regret it?” she asked softly.
“Hurting others? God, yes.”
“But you were ignorant of hurting them?”
“I was.”
“Because you were too selfish.”
“Yes.”
“I want to believe you,” she whispered, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
“But…?”
“But how can I believe anything you say? Your past actions don’t encourage trust.”
“I know.”
Yet, she still wanted him. Now even more than when she’d first walked into the room. She’d been sitting here, watching him, his compelling eyes covered, which turned the focus to his full, expressive lips. She remembered how those lips had felt on her.
Her skin stretched taut over her body, sensitive and warm. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. Warm tingles flushed deep within her womb. She knew that if she touched herself between her legs, she’d find herself slick with arousal.
Her body didn’t care one whit what he had done in the past seven years. It wanted him. Desperately.
She gazed at him, at that well-formed mouth that had touched her body in so many wicked places.
It was time to return to the script. She rose and stepped over to him. Her palm cupped his upturned face. Pierre must have shaved him this morning. Her fingers stroked over his cheekbone, his strong jaw. His skin was different from hers. So firm and so masculine.
“I want to see you.” His voice was a low rasp.
“Nay,” she whispered shakily. She trembled all over, little flutters expanding from her womb outward. She’d thought she’d never see him again. Never touch him again, never kiss him again.
She bent and pressed her mouth to his. His lips parted on a sigh, and she stroked her own lips over his, back and forth. The trembles in her body grew more powerful as she explored his mouth, taking in his taste, his softness. It was a slow, erotic glide, filling her with pleasure, with an aching, intrinsic need.
She wanted to take his blindfold off. She wanted to remove his bonds and ask him to hold her, to kiss her more, to rule her body like he once had.
She pulled away.
“I…I should go,” she said shakily.
“No!”
“I must.”
He struggled against the bonds that tied him to the chair, trying to rise. “Don’t leave. Don’t go. Please, Belle.”
“I cannot stay,” she managed, taking a step backward. The compulsion to go to him was so strong…
“Belle…”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I must go.”
“Please. Don’t.”
It pounded deep holes into all her defenses. The sight of Lord Leothaid, the most dashing, careless, dissolute rake in London, tied to a chair. The sound of him begging.
“I must go.” She swiveled around, and, like an automaton, she forced herself to walk out of the cellar.
The last thing she heard before she pulled the door shut was his whispering, broken voice.
“Belle…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Isabelle lay on her bed, pondering how she had changed since she’d arrived in London.
She’d gone to the theater. She’d acquired a rich gentleman suitor.
She’d made an earl beg.
The question was, did she like her new self?
She felt like more of a person now, less of a shadow. The people who surrounded her now listened to her, respected her, admired her. She felt human, not like an object of disgust, or even a mere annoyance. She was happier. Not happy. No, happiness would require…something else. But compared to the past seven years, the past two months had been relative bliss.
If that made her a selfish, wanton creature, then so be it. She did not, could not, care anymore. God would forgive her, if He was an understanding sort of deity. And despite her family’s catechisms, she still couldn’t help but imagine He was. Ultimately, she had two beings to answer to: God and herself. Since she was the only person asking the questions at the moment, she could not help but believe she wasn’t so very wicked after all.
What a relief. After he’d read the letter Leo had written to her, Isabelle’s father had said the sight of her immoral countenance made him ill. Now, her uncle tolerated her but with about the same amount of regard he gave one of his sheep. She had spent years believing that she was an awful person, that she did not deserve happiness.
Isabelle covered her face with her hands. She wished Leo hadn’t become what he had. She wished she didn’t have to return to Scotland so soon.
Someone knocked softly on the door, and she heard Anna’s voice. “May we come in, Iz?”
She took a deep breath. She had gathered herself since leaving Leo and was fairly certain she could hold a reasonable conversation now. “Of course. Come in.”
Anna opened the door and rushed to the bedside, Susan trailing just behind. “Whatever happened? Why didn’t you meet with us in the drawing room?”
“I’m sorry. I was…well, overwrought, I suppose. Again. But I have recovered.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to straighten her crumpled skirts.
“What happened?” Susan asked.
Isabelle forced a smile but feared they wouldn’t believe her so let it slide from her face. “It went just as planned.”
They gazed at her expectantly.
“Well…I kissed him and then left.”
Anna beamed and clapped her hands together at her breast. “Good!”
Isabelle sighed.
Susan lowered herself onto Isabelle’s vanity chair, plucked her shagreen perfume case from the table, and turned it over in her hands. “Was it so difficult?”
Isabelle met Susan’s gaze. “Not difficult—excruciating.”
Anna spoke softly. “Oh my. Isabelle’s turning into quite the lustful chit, isn’t she, Susan? Who will she conquer next? However will we stop her?”
“I think her next conquest will be Mr. Sutherland, certainly,” Susan said.
“I doubt that!” Isabelle exclaimed.
“I think you should become his mistress,” Anna said. “All it would require is a quick tumble every once in a while. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too awful, not with a man like Sutherland. You’d have your needs fulfilled, your own house in London—”
“You could stay near us, Isabelle,” Susan interjected. “It is true, I am being selfish, but I shall miss you dreadfully when you are gone.”
“That is very sweet, but I can hardly become Mr. Sutherland’s mistress so you won’t have to miss me when I go to Scotland. I will write. Daily, probably. You will find my ramblings about grass pasture and sheep quite tedious, I’m afraid.”
Anna gasped. “You wouldn’t write to us about sheep, would you? That would be monstrous.”
Isabelle held up her hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “I’m afraid that’s all there is. Sheep are my only Scottish friends. Perhaps if I write eloquently enough about them, they will become your friends, too.”
“Don’t even attempt it, Iz. Please. I beg you.”
Susan lowered herself on the edge of the bed beside Isabelle. “Tell us about what happened with Leo.”
Isabelle tried to make her voice light. “As I said. We talked. I kissed him, and then I left. It all went according to plan. I must say, I didn’t think it would go so smoothly, Susan. You are a cunning judge of human nat
ure.”
“What did he say?”
Isabelle’s chest filled, remembering the look on his face when he begged her to stay. “He said, ‘Please stay.’ He said he wanted me.”
Anna snorted. “Did I not say he’d want you? Men. They’re all the same. Exactly alike, I tell you.”
“And what of your Lord Archer, Anna? Will you see him again tonight?” Isabelle asked.
“He wishes me to.”
“I have sent a message to him asking him to visit us,” Susan said. “And I asked him to come alone this time.”
Anna’s gaze snapped to Susan. “Why?”
“I am going to get to the bottom of this once and for all. I want to know how he found you and why he brought you here. Further, I would like to put forth a show of solidarity behind you, to let him know that Isabelle and I support you and will protect you against him at all costs.”
Anna plunked the perfume case down on the table and scowled at Susan, her eyes fierce. “It will not come to that, Susan. Come now, you know him as well as I do. You know he would not harm a fly.”
“He’s killed men, Anna. He was at Waterloo, remember?”
“That was war. War is a different animal altogether.”
Susan threw up her hands in exasperation. “Regardless of what kind of an animal war is and how it differs from matters of the flesh, I wish to have a word with him. He is my cousin after all. You can choose to attend, or not—I will leave it up to you. Do you object?”
“Of course not.” Anna smiled sweetly, but trepidation burned in her eyes.
***
Lord Archer arrived after dinner, when Isabelle and the others were taking their claret in the drawing room. They all rose and exchanged bows as he entered, but the atmosphere in the room had changed since his last visit. Now one of them was his mistress, and the others were well aware of the fact. The resulting tension was nearly palpable.
It was strange, but thinking on it, Isabelle wondered why she didn’t feel odd when a husband and wife were present in the same room with her. This was not so different. Or was it?
“Good evening, cousin,” Lord Archer said, kissing Susan’s cheek. Then he bowed toward Isabelle. “Miss Frasier, it is nice to see you again.” He turned to Anna and nodded formally. “Anna.”
“Good evening, Thomas. Please sit down.” Susan poured him a glass of brandy.
Lord Archer lowered himself on the sofa and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Not that I object to calling upon you fair ladies, but I know you, Susan. There was purpose behind your invitation.”
“There was, indeed, Thomas.”
He took the cup she offered him and placed it on the round table beside him. “Well then, may I ask what this is about?”
“It is about Anna. And you.”
Lord Archer diligently kept his gaze from sliding to his paramour, though Isabelle could see by his clenched fists that it cost him some effort.
“I’ve asked you to come because I wanted to be certain I will not see Anna hurt again.”
Lord Archer rose indignantly. “Do you think I would replicate what Leoth—what was done to her in the past? I am a gentleman, Susan. I would never harm her.”
“Pish.” Susan flicked a dismissive hand at him. “Sit, Thomas. You’re being led about by your nether regions, just like every man I’ve ever known. What happens when you tire of her?”
Anna groaned softly. Isabelle glanced at her, saw that she’d buried her face in her hands. But Susan continued, “And don’t say that you will not, Thomas. You desire her for her beauty now, but all beauty fades, doesn’t it?”
Anna was one of the bonniest ladies Isabelle had ever known. It was hard to imagine that beauty such as hers could ever diminish.
Lord Archer seemed to agree. His mouth set into a stubborn line. “Hers will not fade.”
Susan rolled her eyes. “God save me from fools like you.”
Anna groaned softly. “Oh, Susie, this is so unpleasant.”
Lord Archer’s temper was rising. Isabelle saw it in the set of his jaw, in the flash of his eyes.
“That is enough, Susan,” he said. “Now I know in what little regard you hold me.”
When have you given me a reason to hold you in my regard?” Susan snapped. “I scarcely hear from you. Whenever I hear of you, the stories have something to do with orgies or gambling.”
Lord Archer’s face paled. His lips pressed into a thin line in an expression that reminded Isabelle of a look she’d often seen on his cousin.
Isabelle rotated her own cup slowly in her hand. “My lord, I believe, perhaps… Well, there is a bit of a mystery perhaps you could help us solve.”
Lord Archer gazed at her, his green eyes nearly reptilian in their anger. “What might that be, Miss Frasier?”
“Perhaps…perhaps you could tell us the story of how you came to find Anna in the…in the…well, where you found her.”
“That was many months ago. I fail to understand the importance—”
“I want to know.” Susan’s sharp voice cut through the room like a whip.
“Very well.” He glanced at Anna and swallowed convulsively. “But I would be loath to cause you any distress, Anna.”
She swung her head from side to side in two quick jerks. “Please do tell us. Susan and Isabelle know everything about my…my fall from grace. But none of us know why you took me from that place. Indeed, I have been madly curious.”
He sat on the edge of the sofa, took a sip of his tea, then rested his hands stiffly upon his knees. Finally, using a very low voice, he spoke, directing his words to Susan. “I was there. In Peterborough, the night Leo went to her bed.”
Anna gasped.
Lord Archer continued. “I had just arrived that evening. Leo hadn’t yet seen me—he only seemed to have eyes for one person that night—and I hadn’t yet been introduced to Miss Newton—to Anna. I had just entered the drawing room when I saw her whisper in his ear. I watched him rise to leave; then I followed him, thinking to engage him in conversation. I ended up following him all the way to her room without him realizing it.” Lord Archer’s lip curled. “He was definitely sotted. Early the next morning, long before dawn, I awoke to sounds in the room next door—Leo’s room. I saw him leave Jennings’s house. I could easily deduce the reason why he left.”
Lord Archer seemed to fall into some sort of reverie, but a hiss of a log in the fire seemed to return him to awareness. He blinked and refocused on his cousin.
Susan broke the silence. “But why had you gone to Mrs. Snow’s establishment in the first place, Thomas?”
Lord Archer cleared his throat, glanced at Anna, then swiftly away. “I witnessed what happened to her in Peterborough. It was the scandal of the house party. Her father took her home immediately, and then we all heard of her subsequent banishment from the only home she’d ever known. I returned to London, thinking she must have come here, and I looked for her. I spent the better part of a year searching before I found the landlord of the flat she’d rented. He told me he’d evicted her for not paying the rent. It was then that I realized she might have been forced to turn to one of the, er, less reputable establishments. I made a point to visit several per week. It took seven more weeks before I found her.”
The three woman sat, stunned, for several long moments. Isabelle glanced at Anna. She stared at the floor, her shoulders shaking. Setting her tea down, Isabelle went to kneel beside her friend, slipping an arm over her shoulders to comfort her.
Susan reached out to set her hand on Lord Archer’s arm. “That surely must be the most gallant story that has ever crossed my ears, cousin.”
Lord Archer cleared his throat. “Nonsense. I only did what was right.”
Rubbing her fingers lightly over Anna’s bowed back, Isabelle remembered that not long ago, she had heard the exact same words issue from Susan’s lips.
Susan smiled. “Your intentions are pure when it comes to Anna. I shall never forget that you are the one who saved
her from complete ruin. Thank you.”
“I care for her,” Lord Archer said gruffly.
“I can see that you do,” Susan said.
She squeezed his arm, and Isabelle felt like an intruder as something sweet passed between Susan and Lord Archer, something she interpreted as a reawakened familial affection.
“I was wrong about you,” Susan whispered finally. She passed the back of her hand across her brow. “I am so sorry, Thomas.”
***
The cellar was particularly cold this morning. Hercules had brought Leo a steaming bowl of porridge, but even after devouring it, Leo felt chilled inside and out.
Only one thing could warm him.
Hercules had just entered to blindfold and bind him. He knew by now that this meant he should expect one of his female captors to visit. When the door opened, he offered a quick prayer for it to be Belle and not one of the others.
“Good morning.”
Thank you, Lord. It was her. He released a long breath, relieved.
“Belle.”
She’d come back. He wanted to thank her. He wasn’t sure she would return after what had happened last night.
Silence. He felt her watching him. His eyes couldn’t see her, but his body reacted to her gaze, hardening all over. He shuddered.
“It is so cold in here,” she whispered.
He knew how they could warm each other. Come closer, Belle. Let me put my arms around you. But he couldn’t say that. He’d been desperate when she’d come to him yesterday, and his desperation had driven her away.
He didn’t understand her intentions when it came to him, but he’d do whatever he could to keep her close.
“It’s very cold,” he agreed.
“I don’t want you to suffer.”
I suffer every moment you are not with me.
She came closer. He smelled Scottish heather and female and Belle.
“Can I get you something, Leo? To make you more comfortable?”
God, he loved the sound of her voice. The softness of it, punctuated by the gently rolling sounds of her Scottish lilt.
“Don’t leave,” he blurted. “Please. Just stay with me.”
The Sweetest Revenge Page 18
