She had imagined being kissed by him, touched by him, claimed by him.
So many times.
Her imagination hadn’t prepared her for this. The certainty of his lips as they possessed hers. That marauding tongue seeking out and claiming every part of her mouth, and igniting want and need with every touch. For the taste of him, a unique blend of heat and addictive nectar.
Bella moved closer still, pressing her aching breasts against the hardness of his chest as Dante’s lips left hers and trailed an arousing path down the length of her throat.
His hands moved to unfasten her cloak, pushing it off her shoulders impatiently as his head lowered farther still and his lips sucked on the naked swell of her breasts above her gown. His breath was a hot caress against her sensitized flesh, his beard a pleasurable rasp.
Bella’s eyes were closed. Her breathing sounded labored in the quiet interior of the carriage. Her heart was pounding, her body trembling with urgent need.
“I suggest we continue this in our bedchamber inside the inn,” Dante murmured throatily, “where we can be more comfortable.”
Bella could not have emerged from her sensual haze any more quickly than if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over her.
Chapter 4
What was she doing?
Dante St. Just had spirited her away into the night against her will.
He was taking her to God knew where.
To do God knew what with her.
And she was letting him kiss and caress her while the two of them were sitting in his carriage outside a public inn.
Bella pushed against his chest at the same time as she pulled back, seeing from the slightly dazed expression in those dark green eyes that Dante was as aroused as she was. There was some consolation in knowing that, at least.
But she was fully aware the kissing had begun because Dante wanted to stop her from protesting any further about the two of them sharing a bedchamber tonight.
She had been a wife for six years, and although Jeremy had been the most amiable of husbands, he too had different ways of ensuring he avoided listening to something he had no wish to hear. Unfortunately, Dante had made the mistake of reintroducing the subject of the bedchamber in the inn.
Not that Bella intended making any further protest on the subject. Being a wife for all those years had also ensured she had learned ways of circumventing any decision Jeremy made with which she did not agree.
She turned to pull her cloak back on as she answered Dante. “I am ready to go inside now.”
Dante opened the door himself, waiting until Bella had stepped down onto the cobbles before doing so himself, delaying slightly to adjust his clothing over the throb of his engorged cock. By the time Dante emerged from the carriage, Bella had already entered the inn, and he quickly followed her. He had only meant to silence Bella when he kissed her, and instead it had made his cock ache all the more, after he had already suffered several hours of torture watching her as she slept.
Dante saw Bella was already in conversation with the landlord by the time he entered the building. It was also obvious that portly gentleman was completely enamored of her as he chuckled at something she had murmured in his ear.
“Might I be allowed to share the joke?” Dante prompted stiffly as he joined them in the hallway.
Bella looked at him with wide and innocent eyes. “I do not believe you would appreciate it.”
“Nevertheless…”
She linked her arm with his. “I was just explaining to Mr. Rogers why we have a need for two bedchambers rather than one.”
Dante stiffened. “We do not need to put him to that bother.” Damn the woman. Give her an inch—or, in this case, a few seconds alone with the landlord—and she took the whole bloody mile.
“It’s no bother, Your Grace.” Rogers, usually taciturn to say the least, was still smiling from ear to ear as he picked up two lit candles to light the way up the stairs. “Granted, we are very busy tonight, with seven of the ten bedchambers in use, but I am in total sympathy with her ladyship’s dilemma.”
Dante eyed the other man warily. “You are?”
“Oh yes, the late Mrs. Rogers was a terrible one for snoring too.” The landlord threw open the door to a bedchamber, placing one of the candles on a table inside the room before moving along the hallway to the room next door and throwing open that door too.
Snoring.
What the—
Rogers chuckled. “I used to say as how she could wake the dead in the next county with the noise she made.”
“I asked you not to mention it to His Grace, Mr. Rogers.” Bella laughed as she chided the landlord. “He insists he does not snore.”
“The missus used to say the same.” The older man nodded sagely as he placed the second candle inside the room. “Them as snores never hear themselves, only us poor beggars kept awake all night by it.”
Dante had been rendered speechless by the realization Bella had not told this man she couldn’t share a bedchamber with him because he had kidnapped her but because he snored.
“There’s a door here conveniently connecting these two bedchambers,” the landlord added with a wink as he took a key from one of his pockets and unlocked it. “So neither of you need have a sleepless night.”
Perhaps not because of Dante’s snoring, but he had every intention of administering some form of punishment on Bella for that particular lie.
“I do not snore.”
Bella turned from taking her nightclothes from one of the bags that been brought up to her to look at Dante as he stood in the doorway connecting her bedchamber to his.
Her bedchamber. Because despite Dante’s decree in the carriage, she had managed, as she had hoped to do, to attain a bedchamber for herself. After the snoring comment, she had done so without any further argument from Dante.
Now it was time for her to be graceful in her triumph. “I thought you would prefer that to my telling him you had kidnapped me for your own nefarious purposes.”
Well, yes, Dante did prefer that, and he could not say he was not relieved Bella had refrained from making that accusation. Otherwise he might be having a very embarrassing conversation with the landlord right now. It was impossible not to admire the way this little witch had manipulated the situation to her advantage.
The same manipulation and charm Bella used when gathering information to pass on for Napoleon’s benefit?
She looked so innocent and lovely, her bonnet removed, her dark blue traveling gown fitted over the swell of her breasts. Nor had she made any complaint, once her bags were brought up to her room, about her lack of a maid to help her undress.
Dante was willing, more than willing when the time came, to perform that service for her himself.
“The food and brandy are both in my bedchamber,” he informed her huskily.
“Mr. Rogers is arranging for food, wine, along with hot water for bathing, to be brought to me in here.” Bella continued to take things from the bag sitting on top of the bed.
Of course he was; the dour Mr. Rogers had become a complete slave to Bella’s every whim within moments of meeting her.
Dante was willing to become a slave to her whims in quite a different way.
He stepped further into the bedchamber. “You have bewitched the poor man.”
Bella kept a wary eye on him. “At least his partiality toward me is sincere.”
Dante stepped closer. “I thought I had more than proved my own…sincerity in that regard.”
She turned fully to face him, her cheeks red. “I do not recall inviting you into my bedchamber.”
He smiled confidently. “You may have succeeded in acquiring this second room with your charm, Bella, but that only means I will now be sharing this bedchamber with you rather than you sharing the one next door with me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Apart from the obvious?” His gaze moved over her slowly from head to
toe, leaving no doubt as to his desire for her. “Left alone here, you might persuade Mr. Rogers into helping you return to London.”
“As is my right.” The deepening of the blush in her cheeks confirmed she had intended doing exactly that. In all likelihood once Dante was asleep and snoring.
“You have no rights when you are with me, Bella,” he stated firmly.
“Of course I have rights,” she snapped. “I am a free woman—”
“You are my captive,” he reminded her. “Besides, you are sorely in need of a lady’s maid to assist you in undressing for bed.”
Her brows rose. “And you are offering to perform that role?”
“I am eager to do so,” he drawled.
Bella was nearing the end of her endurance. Today had been one emotional trauma after another. Dante’s visit. His having kidnapped her. The kisses they had shared in his carriage a short time ago. His presence now in her bedchamber. His insistence he intended to share this bedchamber with her.
She sat heavily on the side of the bed. “What have I done to deserve being treated by you in this way?” Tears stung her eyes once again.
“That is for me to know and you to find out,” he answered grimly.
She shook her head. “You talk in riddles.”
“Which will all become clear to you tomorrow.” Dante wanted the two of them safely ensconced at his hunting lodge before he began to question Bella in earnest.
“And in the meantime, I am to be forced into sharing a bedchamber and bed with you after all.”
It was clear to Dante from the pallor of Bella’s cheeks and her air of defeat she was near the end of both her physical and emotional strength. And who could blame her after the events of today?
He also knew if it should transpire Bella was not guilty of treason, then she would in all likelihood never forgive him for having doubted her.
He sighed. “If it pleases you, for tonight at least, we might put a Hadrian’s Wall of pillows between us.”
Tears glistened on her lashes. “Thank you.”
Dante was unable to stop himself from sitting on the bed beside her. He placed an arm about her shoulders as he drew her head down to rest against his chest. “I promise no harm shall come to you at my hands, Bella.”
“I do not understand why you are doing this to me at all when I have done nothing to you.” Her voice broke with emotion. “I have never even asked that you so much as acknowledge a family connection between the two of us these past seven years.”
He knew that, damn it. Perhaps if she had, if their relationship was not already so strained by past events, his behavior now would not seem so strange to her.
Dante despised himself utterly for what he was now putting Bella through. Unfortunately, he did not have the luxury of time or self-disgust where this business was concerned. Not when the fate of Napoleon was shortly to be decided for a second time. The traitor to the English Crown had to be found and apprehended before that happened.
He released her and stood up as a knock sounded on the outer door. “You will feel less emotional after you have eaten and drunk a glass of wine.”
Bella somehow doubted that. How could she possibly feel anything but emotional when she had no idea what was happening to her or why. All would become clear tomorrow, Dante promised her.
In the meantime, she had the onerous task of spending the night at this inn with Dante to get through.
Even with a Hadrian’s Wall of pillows in the bed between herself and Dante, she very much doubted she would be able to sleep.
Bella had never shared a bed with anyone but Jeremy. Even then her husband had preferred to return to his own bedchamber once their sexual relations were concluded.
Nor did Dante’s presence in her bedchamber, silent though it might be, make her feel any less nervous of the night to come, as they both ate a little of the food. Bella drank a single glass of wine from the jug, while Dante indulged in the brandy.
She breathed a sigh of relief when, after unfastening the buttons at the back of her gown for her, he returned briefly to the adjoining bedchamber to prepare for bed, leaving Bella to the privacy of her ablutions behind a screen in the corner of the room.
She heard Dante come back into the bedchamber several minutes before she emerged from behind the screen, feeling utterly self-conscious as she stepped back into the main room. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, and she wore only a light robe over her night rail.
A quick glance across toward the bed showed her Dante was already lying beneath the bedcovers to one side, his bare chest visible above the sheet as he lay back against the pillows. A chest covered in a fine dusting of dark hair.
Hadrian’s Wall showed clearly in the mound of pillows down the center of the bed.
“Good God, did I do that?” Dante cursed when Bella, having walked to the other side of the bed, turned away to remove her robe and he could clearly see the finger-shaped bruises on the backs of her arms.
She shrugged as she slid beneath the bedclothes. “I bruise easily.”
Or he had been overly heavy-handed with her.
His first thought was to kiss every one of those bruises on her otherwise unblemished skin. His second was to grovel and beg her pardon for having treated her so harshly.
Unfortunately, his third and final thought on the subject was a reminder of why the two of them were here together at all.
Damn Stonewell.
Damn the Crown.
And damn damn damn Napoleon Bonaparte for wanting to rule the world.
Families had been ripped apart by the Corsican’s ambitions. Not only from losing members of their family to his many battles, but also because loyalties and affiliations within those families had caused them to be stretched and broken by Napoleon’s thirst for power.
Dante turned in the bed to face Bella. “I apologize for hurting you. I merely wanted… It was not done intentionally.”
Her lashes were lowered as she stared down at the sheet her fingers were nervously pleating over and over within itself. “The bruises will fade, Dante.”
He studied her for several seconds before answering her. “Unlike the words I spoke to you seven years ago, which will never be forgotten or forgiven?”
She raised her lids to look him directly in the eye. “I do believe, if not for Jeremy’s proposal, I might have thrown myself upon the mercy of a convent.”
Dante could not help himself. He laughed. “Are you being serious?”
“Completely.”
His humor faded to be replaced by a pained frown. “I meant only to protect you.”
“I needed protection from the dowager.”
“Was she really so awful?”
“Yes,” Bella sighed. “What were you protecting me from by rejecting me?”
“Me,” he stated simply.
Bella quirked one eyebrow. “Are you so very dangerous, then?”
Dante could feel a nerve pulsing in his clenched jaw. “Are you sure you want me to answer that question, given where we both are?”
Where they were was precisely the reason Bella was asking the question. If anyone had told her yesterday that tonight she would be sharing a bed with Dante St. Just, she would have laughed in their face.
She was not laughing now.
She was too aware of Dante, too aroused by him, to find anything in the least amusing about this situation.
She had believed herself to be over the feelings she had once had for Dante. Had believed he had succeeded in killing those feelings with the cruelty of his words. Instead she found herself tense, expectant, longing for something she had long ago denied still wanting.
Here, in the privacy of this bedchamber, with Dante lying in bed beside her, and able to feel the warmth of his body, to gaze upon his naked chest, she knew she had been lying to herself all these years. The heat and dampness between her thighs, the aching of her engorged nipples, told her six years of marriage to another man had not lessened her desire for Dante. S
he still wanted him as much as she ever had.
If Jeremy had lived, Bella knew she would have remained faithful to him for the rest of their lives. She had too much to thank him for, to love him for, to have ever betrayed their marriage vows.
But Jeremy had now been dead for over a year.
And Bella was still very much alive.
She reached out and placed a tentative hand against the heat of Dante’s chest, at once able to feel his increased tension and the way his heart began to beat more rapidly beneath her palm. Evidence, along with his arousal earlier, he wanted her as much as she now wanted him?
There was only one way to confirm or deny that.
“Make love to me, Dante,” she invited huskily.
Chapter 5
Jesus Christ!
Dante’s cock had risen to attention the moment Bella stepped out from behind the screen wearing only a robe over her nightgown, and with that glorious dark hair a curling cascade about her shoulders. But her words now caused his cock to harden to an almost painful degree.
“Make love to me, Dante.”
Words he had never expected to hear again from Bella’s lips.
An invitation it would physically pain him to refuse.
Conscience in the form of his mission for the Crown, and desire in the wild racing of his heart—which Bella must surely be able to feel—and the throbbing demand of his cock warred within him.
Desire and his throbbing cock won out. As they always must when it came to Bella.
Still, he hesitated. “Only if you are sure? I want no accusations in the morning of my having used force or coercion.”
Her gaze was forthright as it continued to meet his unwaveringly. “I will make no accusation of force or coercion.”
His eyes narrowed. “A short time ago, you gave every impression that you hated me and could not get away from me fast enough.”
“You kidnapped me,” she defended.
She had a point, Dante conceded, knowing he would be less than happy himself if someone took his free will away from him.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I do not hate you.”
Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners 2) Page 4