A Gentleman's Guide to Save a Lady: Misadventures of the Heart

by Wilde, Tanya

  “On the contrary, my dear, there are muddy boot prints on the carpet,” he motioned to the telltale prints. “It could not have been De Roux or you would not be here. So who was it?”

  Belle blinked down at the pair of muddy imprints in disbelief. Though they were faint, they were there for all to see. Her brother clearly was not a stealthy spy. And drat Simon and his hawk eyes.

  “Simon—”

  To her surprise, rage suddenly contorted his face and his hands started to shake.

  “Have you taken a lover?”

  “What! No! How dare you imply such a thing?” Belle stood suddenly, restless. “Not to say where would I have the time or the opportunity?”

  “Then who was here?”

  “Fine! It was Quinn.”

  His eyes widened in outrage. “Bloomington? That young pup? He’s barely out of the cradle!”

  Belle’s temper exploded and she marched up to him, stabbing a finger at his chest. “I’ve not taken a lover. Honestly, after our last encounter, I do not see why anyone would enjoy the act. There is nothing pleasurable about it.”

  That seemed to bring him up short, his cheeks coloring. “Then who was here?”

  His jealousy astounded her. “Quinn, my brother.”

  He blinked. “Your brother?”

  “Yes. Also known as a sibling.”

  He glanced around the room. “Where is he now?”

  There was no point in lying. “He left again. He’s also aware you stayed in his room, secretly skulking about.”

  His shoulders had slumped in relief, but the last comment snapped them back to attention. “He knows and he did nothing?” he asked astonished.

  She shrugged. “Of course, the list of transgressions is long. He’s also aware of my adventure in the ocean, and about De Roux. Indeed, he seems to have been keeping an eye on me.”

  “Does he know what happened four years ago?”

  She nodded, a harsh breath escaping her. “Yes.”

  “Your brother is a spy.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Belle turned away, a bubble of laughter escaping her. She was glad Simon had come to the deduction on his own. “It would seem that way. My brothers have quite the story to tell. Once De Roux is taken care of, Quinn said they will return home.”

  And he’d be required to leave, though that was left unspoken.

  “When this is over, we may not have any choice but to marry, Belle.”

  “I believe I’ve made myself clear on the matter,” Belle sputtered.

  He took two steps closer to her until only a breath of air separated them. “I’ve been living in your home. I’ve known you intimately. And I plan on sleeping in this room with you. If any of it ever became known, you would be ruined.”

  Belle lifted her chin in defiance. “I was ruined a long time ago, Simon. Perhaps not in the sense you thought, but in every other way.”

  “What happened to you will never define who you are. And you must be aware of the consequences of my staying here.”

  He was too close. His scent was making her all hazy and doe-eyed.

  “Then go if you must, but I will never marry. Not you, not anyone.”

  It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, to keep declining Simon. He was everything she’d always desired years ago. If only she had met him then. Things may have turned out different. It was, however, no use mourning the past.

  Before she registered his intention, Simon lowered his head and captured her lips in a possessive kiss. Taken off guard, Belle didn’t protest when he lifted her into his arms and deposited her onto the bed, never once breaking the kiss as he followed her down. A small sigh of pleasure escaped her.

  His tongue flickered over her lips and Belle moaned at the sensation, giving him the opening he desired. His tongue plunged into her mouth even as his hands lifted her night rail, his hand roaming the length of her leg.

  She held her breath as his hand circled her hip and then lightly, carefully, traced her scar. His kiss softened and her heart lurched.

  “You aren’t getting rid of me so easily, Belle. I will make up for my blunder—that is a promise.”

  Belle opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her again. At the tail end of the kiss, he rolled her so that she faced away from him before scooping her up against his chest, his body protectively cradling hers. Pulling up the blanket, he covered them both before placing his arm around her.

  “Good night, Belle.”

  For a moment she considered kicking him out or at least telling him that his quest was hopeless, but she did not. And that alone worried her.

  Chapter 14

  Belle woke the following morning with a tickling sensation on the back of her neck. At first, she leaned into the sensation, wanting more, so much more, but when the unmistakable wetness of a tongue swirled about her earlobe, her eyes shot open.

  She attempted to sit up, but her body was firmly pinned to the soft mattress by a large arm across her midriff, whose fingers were resting on her womanly parts down there, and a leg, which covered her own.

  She gasped as one of his fingers ran between the folds of her cleft.

  “I thought you would never wake,” Simon’s low voice murmured in her ear.

  Belle lay still, still groggy from sleep, though not so much as to not notice that her body was aching with need. When she did not sputter in protest or shove him away, that expert little finger probed into her warmth.

  “Christ, you’re so warm.”

  Warm, yes. She felt rather warm, her mind surrendering to the sensation of his finger thrusting in and out of her, the hard edge of his manhood pressing up against her.

  So warm…

  Saints preserve her. She should stop him. She should stop what he was doing, but his mouth had lowered to her exposed breasts, her eyes closing when his tongue darted out to savor her nipple. Not an ounce of strength, or will, surfaced to stop him.

  When his green eyes lifted to meet hers, they were blazing with intensity and if her body could have gone up in flames, it would have done so then.

  “What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice hoarse with desire.

  “I would think it quite obvious,” he said in a teasing manner, before his lips lowered to her breast again, the invasion of his finger driving her to the brink of something unexplained.

  It was quite some time before she could breathe evenly again, his skillful tongue robbing her of air, leaving her to gasp and pant at his onslaught.

  Belle was completely paralyzed with pleasure as he kissed her and kissed her, first slowly, then more urgently, scorching her skin as he tasted every inch of her body.

  He had not been jesting when he promised to make it up to her for she was certain she never wanted to leave this bed again. Her idle hands found his back. She was not surprised to find it naked against her touch. He’d done short work with their clothing.

  She squirmed beneath him when the weight of his body lifted, his hand leaving her swollen mound. A disappointed whimper escaped her. His deep chuckle reached her ears and she pouted. Now that he’d thoroughly started to make it up to her, she didn’t wish for him to stop.

  Their eyes locked and Belle noticed with delight his face was as flushed as she imagined her to be.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Now, why would he ask her such a thing?

  Squirming beneath him, she shot him an exasperating stare, “I will maim you if you do.”

  His answering grin sent delicious flutters down to her toes and his lips captured hers in a ravishing kiss. She clung to him as his knees parted her thighs, his manhood probing at her entrance.

  His lips left hers as he moved down to her neck, then her breasts before Belle felt him press against her. She groaned in ecstasy when his thick hardness finally pressed into her heat, filling her.

  No pain accompanied his invasion this time, only the marvelous need for more.

  A growl of pleasure tore from his throat and Belle
bucked beneath him, her hands gripping his back more tightly.

  Fully sheathed into her core, he raised up to lightly brush a kiss over her brow. “You are exquisite Belle, and you feel so damn good.”

  Thrusting his hip once, the scoundrel grinned down at her when she groaned in sensual pleasure.

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “More?”

  “You are cruel, Simon,” she whimpered, wriggling beneath him, urging him to move again.

  He chuckled. “More?”

  “Yes! More, more, more, more—”

  He silenced her with a tender kiss, and his hips began to move in slow, gentle, thrusts. A sensation that hadn’t been there the first time built in her gradually, quickly surpassing anything she’d ever felt before as he drove into her harder, more urgently, until some happened, until something exploded inside her and a wave of rapture overwhelmed her senses.

  She hadn’t realized she’d cried out until Simon silenced her with a kiss, his own roar of bliss muted by her lips.

  “Bloody hell,” Simon muttered as he collapsed beside her, his rapid breathing matching that her own.

  Her sentiments exactly.

  Still dazed, Belle reeled in the aftermath of how Simon had dominated her body. She felt enchanted by the sudden tenderness that stole over her, making her want to kiss him, thank him, hold him and murmur sweet words into his ear.

  She didn’t, of course.

  Instead, she settled comfortably into the cradle of his arm, content to savor this moment and commit every little detail, every tiny prickle of pleasure to her memory.

  Much later, which turned out to be not so much later, after all, Belle was woken by soft kisses to her brow, her nose, her cheek and, finally, her lips.

  Her eyes fluttered open to the image of Simon grinning down at her. She felt her own lips stretch into a smile and she tried not to mull over the notion of how waking up to this, to him, every day would be quite splendid.

  “As much as I hate to leave this bed, we have guests arriving soon.”

  We?

  Guests?

  At her confused expression, he continued, “Your brothers’ return is not something we can keep from them.”

  That snapped her out of her euphoria.

  “You gathered everyone here, without discussing it with me first?”

  Her tone had him frowning. “I thought sooner would be better than later.”

  “That is not the point,” Belle snapped, tossing the covers aside before snatching them back again, covering her exposed flesh with a blush.

  “What is the point then?”

  The way he said it, so calm and patient, his brow rising at her attempt to conceal her body, only served to irritate her more.

  What was the point again? Oh yes, it wasn’t so much that he called a meeting, which she would have done, but the fact that he’d taken the liberty to call the meeting on her behalf. One night of passion did not constitute the dominion of her life.

  “The point,” Belle furrowed her brow and scrambled from the bed, taking the covers with her, “is that any number of servants can witness our gathering and…” she trailed off, uncertain at what exactly she was getting at. Her servants were most discreet. But then again, she would not put it passed a spy to insert a spy in her household. “What if—”

  “We are gathering in the garden for a small tea party. That is all they will see.”

  A tea party?

  It was Belle’s turn to raise a brow.

  Simon shrugged. “It’s a beautiful day to host a tea party and the garden provides more privacy to talk freely.”

  “Fine,” Belle relented, if only to make him leave her room. “Now if you’ll please, I need to dress.”

  “I can always help you—”

  “No!”

  He held up his hands in defeat but was grinning again, tugging up his breeches. “I’ll go, but first,” he said, his gaze intensifying, “will you marry me?”

  Her eyes rounded to saucers. “No!”

  His smile resembled that of a tiger. “Not yet, then.”

  She held her breath as he quickly covered himself with clothes and gave her a quick peck on the forehead before slipping from her room. Only then did she release her breath on a shaky exhale.

  Her gaze traveled to the rumpled bed, her cheeks flushing bright red again. Drat the man for being such a fine example of everything she ever desired.

  An hour later, Belle sauntered out to the garden and sure enough, tables had been carried outside, decorated with an array of cakes. sandwiches and cheese.

  How on earth had Simon managed this in such a small amount of time? Even her aunt had ventured outside and was currently napping in the shade. Belle shook her head fondly. No doubt her aunt would wake up only toward the end.

  Her heart melted at his consideration.

  It appeared Simon had found a way to bring a spark of light back to her otherwise somber situation. Perhaps he was feeling a bit sentimental after their night together, just like her.

  Jo and her husband were the first to saunter through the French doors that led to the garden. Her friend’s face was a picture of pure delight and in complete contrast to St. Aldwyn’s boredom.

  “By saints!” he exclaimed. “It is true. Westfield has arranged a tea party. What has the world come to?”

  “Oh hush! I think it’s marvelous and you can certainly take note of his actions.”

  St. Aldwyn looked aghast. “Am I truly to make the descent from wicked rake to heart-ensnared gentleman to an even further-tamed fop who holds tea parties?” he asked, his voice dripping with disgust.

  Jo ignored him and greeted Belle warmly with a kiss on the cheek. “How are you fairing?”

  “Oh you know, as scandalous as always.”

  “There is an old woman sleeping under the tree,” St. Aldwyn interrupted them.

  Belle glanced at her aunt. Sure enough, her aunt wasn’t sitting up against the tree anymore, but now napping on her back. “I daresay she has reached the age of napping.”

  “Something to look forward to then.”

  Jo swatted him just as Simon glided through the doors. He looked pleased as punch.

  Belle’s heart fluttered as it did every time she saw him, but she quickly glanced away. Jo was too perceptive for her own good. They would know if she was batting eyes at Simon. Not that she would ever bat eyes at him, but already she felt her face heating up.

  “I say, the day turned out quite marvelous,” Simon said as he reached them.

  “What have you done to my friend?” St. Aldwyn grumbled in Belle’s direction.

  Belle almost snorted. “St. Aldwyn, you are as chirpy as ever.”

  He ignored her. “Westfield, how nice of you to grace us with your presence, as if hosting a tea wasn’t enough.”

  “Old chap, happy to see marriage hasn’t improved your surly nature in the least. Where are the Shaws?”

  “Right behind you.”

  James wore a ready smile while his brother’s blank expression never faltered.

  Derek regarded the delicious sweets with cold eyes. “May I ask who came up with this idea?”

  “I did,” Simon said with narrowed eyes. “Thought it a welcome change to the usual overstuffed study.”

  “Of course.” Derek’s expression did not change, but there was an unmistakable dry note in his voice.

  It was well known that the Tremaine siblings’ imaginations were never lacking in substance.

  “Yes, well, there has been a new development that requires discussion,” Belle interjected before Simon could say anything.

  Jo frowned at them, her eyes flickering between Derek, Simon, and Belle.

  Belle stepped forward, breaking any direction of thought her friend’s mind might have taken. “Perhaps we can avail ourselves to some tea and cakes first before we take a stroll in the gardens. No need to not enjoy the treats.”

  At James’s grumbling assent, they moved to where delicious lemon cakes
beckoned. Of course, Derek was the only one to forgo eating, availing himself only to a cup of tea. The others, well, they all dug right in.

  “Perhaps now, Westfield,” Derek murmured moments later, “You will enlighten us as to the reason you invited us here.” His eyes had taken in every angle of the garden, even darting over her slumberous aunt in his assessment.

  “We can let De Roux be,” Belle murmured before Simon could give anything away about her brothers.

  Silence met her statement. She glanced at them then, noting the surprise registered on their faces—well, on all except Derek Shaw’s.

  He did not even blink.

  “And why, precisely, would you wish for us to stop our mission to apprehend a foreign spy that means to not only to harm you but possibly the Crown?” Derek asked.

  “There are more forces at work here than you are aware of.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Derek answered.

  James stepped forward. “And since when have you been so deeply embroiled in this that you know things that we clearly do not?” The note in James’s voice seemed to suggest if there was spy business in the works, he would know it all.

  Since my brother told me so.

  Belle risked a glance in Simon’s direction. Should she—could she—tell them? If word ever got out, would the lives of her brothers be in danger? But then, being spies, they possessed the means to take care of themselves, didn’t they? And Quinn had asked her to tell her friends to let this be. How could she convince them without explaining why?

  But then, did she count Derek and James Shaw as true friends? They’d been cloaked in mystery since the moment she met them. On the other hand, they did save her life. It was impossible to tell if she could trust them with her brothers’ lives, however. And instinct warned that she should always look out for her siblings first.

  Perhaps it was best not to say anything—not yet anyway.

  “I am not embroiled in anything other than being a pawn in a game of chess. But I have it on good authority that the matter is being taken care of as we speak. I, for one, would love nothing more than for it to be over.”

  Derek Shaw nodded. “Understood.”

  Belle narrowed her eyes on him. So did Jo and St. Aldwyn, who’d up to that moment been thoughtful, but silent.