A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1)

by Patterson, Stephanie

She dropped her gaze from his. “Lady Isley has been busy spreading tales about me.”

  Ah, so that was what troubled her. “I know,” he said softly. “Rafe heard the rumors before he left London.”

  “They’re not true, Michael.” There was desperation in her tone along with a note of fear. “I never once....” He caressed her cheek cutting off her words.

  “I know that, Belle. Believe me, when I return to London I will handle the matter,” he said grimly.

  “I thought perhaps you’d believe the gossip.”

  “I might have done so when you first arrived, but I would never give credence to such things now, love. The role of scheming adventuress doesn’t suit you. Besides, you were a virgin when you came to my bed.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. She sighed and relaxed against him, yet she was still troubled.

  “Your mother has good reason to dislike me, Michael. Many others do as well, I’m afraid.”

  “Many more have reason to thank you – Branfel for one.” At her startled glance he told her about their conversation in London. “You’re very fond of telling me to forgive myself for the past, but it’s past time for you to follow your own advice, my love. Forgive yourself.” He placed another kiss on her hand. “My mother should be thanking you for Drew’s recovery instead of making groundless accusations.”

  “She believes I’m interfering, though I’m not certain I understand her reasoning. It’s as though she is angrier at me for taking care of him than for breaking his heart all those years ago. She claims that it was only her devotion to Drew’s health that saved him as a child.”

  Michael reflected on their childhood. Drew had been what their nurse termed a ‘colicky baby,’ but he grew out of it as a toddler. He’d been a small infant as he’d been born earlier than expected and his mother had also been quite ill afterwards. He’d only been a young boy himself, but he recalled Drew’s birth to be one of the few times in his life when he’d seen his father express concern for his mother, or even noticed anything outside his own wants and needs for that matter.

  “Drew had bouts of illness that came on suddenly and left just as quickly when he was small,” Michael disclosed. “He almost died during two of them.” He tightened his hold on Belle at the memories of his youngest brother struggling to breath, or twisting in his bed from stomach pains. They were not images he liked to recall. “My mother sat vigils at his bedside holding his hand, soothing his brow when fever came. Jules mother and the other neighborhood ladies would come and offer her comfort for Drew’s suffering. I never understood why at the time, but they were her friends, I suppose, and they must have felt badly for her with a small son so ill and my father being distant.”

  “Lady Stowebridge said that even your father became concerned during Drew’s illnesses,” Belle offered.

  “He did.” Michael replied feeling suddenly uneasy as other memories of those darker days crowded in on him. He recalled his mother spooning cups of one, or another of her noxious brews into Drew’s mouth. He remembered coming into the nursery one day during one of Drew’s more serious episodes. He’d seen her put a drop or two of liquid into his brother’s tea from the little brown bottle she kept tucked in her sleeve. He’d asked her what it was and she’d reacted severely to his question, slapping him hard across the face and ordering him from the room. She’d called him a filthy little liar and he’d never understood why, or why her indifference to him seemed to switch to hate so quickly and so permanently. His little brother had suffered a breathing attack that night, unable to draw air easily and their father had been beside himself. He relayed his memories to Belle and his blood chilled in the retelling.

  “I think of Drew’s condition when I arrived home this winter and I wonder if she intentionally let his health decline. Is it possible? Could any mother intentionally add to the suffering of their children?” His heart constricted and he felt Belle squeezed his hand. Her eyes were warm, amber pools offering him comfort from his turbulent memories.

  “I’ve heard of such cases,” Belle told him gently. “Duncan has run into mothers, or father’s who, while they should be doing everything to aid in the recovery of their child, appear to do everything to inhibit it. These are very rare circumstances to be sure.” Belle hesitated and Michael could tell that she wasn’t certain she should say more.

  “You’re thinking something. Tell me what it is,” he demanded.

  Belle spoke with some reluctance, as though she didn’t wish to consider the truth of what she had to say. “Duncan had a case in which the mother drugged her child because she received so much sympathy from her friends and family during the illness. In another case he told me of a mother who induced vomiting in her little girl when she felt ignored by her husband.”

  Michael swore and hurriedly set Belle to the side so he could sit upright. “Drew’s most serious episode came on the heels of a terrible argument between our parents. I heard them shouting in the study. Though I didn’t understand much of it at the time, I’ve since come to realize that she’d confronted my father about his mistress. My Mother had been humiliated by gossip during the Season and demanded that he end his relationship with the woman when he returned to London. He refused and within a few days Drew became dangerously ill. My father remained at the Abbey for the entire summer, afraid to leave in case....” He couldn’t finish the thought. “Father relented and gave up his mistress.” Michael stood up and paced across the room heedless of his own nakedness. He buried his hands in his hair as he saw all the instances of Drew’s ailments in a new light. “I should never have left him alone with her.”

  Belle rose from the bed, coming to stand in front of him so that he was forced to stop. She reached out and grabbed his forearms. “No more regrets, Michael, remember, for you, or for me,” she said. “Drew is walking again and though he still has months of work ahead of him, he’s much stronger physically and has regained a measure of his independence. We will watch your mother carefully. If there is valid reason for concern we will stop her before she can do him any harm.” She shook his arms lightly, her eyes bright and fierce. “She’ll have to come through me first.”

  He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Hell’s Belle,” he murmured. “My God, what a mother you will be. No regrets,” he repeated as he leaned down to kiss her. She was passionate, his warrior goddess, and she would vanquish anyone who thought to harm those lucky enough to be loved by her. Belle folded into him eager to deepen their kiss. He cupped her breasts, gently teasing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Oh, my, that’s... quite delightful,” she said, her voice sounding breathless.

  “I thought you might like it.” Michael trailed the back of his fingers lightly down her ribcage to her hipbone. She giggled and arched away from his touch. Belle was so marvelously ticklish. She was responsive to his touch in every way.

  “Back to bed with you, my lord,” she said in a seductive whisper. “It’s very important that you follow your nurse’s orders. She does know what’s best for you, after all.” Her words, her voice went straight to his groin and he hardened in an instant. She led him across the room and sat him on the edge of the bed. She smiled as she straddled him, her core stroking him.

  He nuzzled her cheek and let his hand drift towards the V of her thighs and she murmured her approval.

  “You, my lord, have made me a complete wanton.” Michael rewarded her with a series of tender strokes along the hilt of her sex that caused her to arch and rub against him. Michael thrust his hips forward. Belle was a fever in his blood – she always would be. For the first time in his life, though, the force of his own will wouldn’t secure what he most desired – Belle as his wife. He wanted, needed her in his life in every way. He loved her. Somehow he must find a way to convince her of his sincerity.

  Michael rolled Belle on to her stomach and she purred in anticipation. He knelt behind her, but instead of moving to claim her, he reached for a small, ointment jar he’d placed by h
is bedside earlier in the evening. He scooped a generous dollop of the richly scented cream into the palms of each hand, before setting the jar aside again. Then slowly, teasingly, he worked his hands along Belle’s back and hips. She gave a mew of pleasure as he worked the delicate blend of herb and spice infused lotion into her skin.

  “And here I thought we were going to make love,” she said with a sigh. “But this is very, very nice. Don’t stop.”

  “I’ve no intention of stopping,ma Belle,” he whispered as he continued massaging the cream into her skin. “As for making love...we will definitely be doing a great deal of that.”

  “Hmmm, if you don’t put me to sleep first,” she murmured drowsily. “I’ve always known your hands are magical.”

  Michael chuckled. “No sleep for you tonight, love, not for hours yet.” He leaned over her and blew a gentle stream of air along the line of her backbone.” Belle gasped as the cream’s delightful warming sensation flowed sensually across her skin.

  “Where did you find this?” she asked on a sigh.

  “A discovery from my wicked past,” he answered with a chuckle. “Well, my more wicked past. I have others items and given time, I’ll share every one of them with you.” He gently rolled her onto her back and applied the mixture onto her nipples, then blew lightly on them. He was rewarded by Belle’s body arching up to him. Michael dipped his head and suckled first one tight bud and then the other. Belle brought her arms up to pull him down to her, but Michael resisted, flashing her a wicked grin as he dipped his finger in the ointment and moved himself lower along her body until his head was between her thighs. He met Belle’s heated gaze, her lips parted and her breath quicken. “What do you think you’re going to do with that?” she asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

  “Sending you to heaven, love,” he answered as he delicately anointed the hilt of her sex and then pursed his lips to blow.

  ***

  Belle felt the first puff of his warm breath swirl around the sweet pearl of flesh that gave her so much pleasure and lifted her sex frantically to Michael’s mouth. Dear, God, she felt as if she would burst into flame.

  He laughed lightly. “Like that, do you?” He raised his head as his hands took command of her hips. He held her firmly, but without pain, showing her that he, and he alone, controlled not only this encounter, but her pleasure as well.

  She moaned as he blew air across her sensitized flesh. Belle widened her legs and Michael permitted the movement, rewarding her with a light flick of his tongue. She writhed under his hands. “Michael,” she cried, pleading for the release he could give her. Methodically, relentlessly, he began stroking her core and working the center of her pleasure with a master’s skill. She arched higher and cried out as the waves of her climax overtook her, then collapsed back into the mound of pillows behind her.

  Michael kissed his way down the inside of her thigh to her knee. “You are the most precious thing in my life, Belle. If you’d let me, I’d cherish you for the rest of our days.” He moved up her body placing himself at the entrance to her sex. “I love you, you wonderfully, stubborn woman,” he growled as he took her in one thrust. Belle gasped and felt her own muscles contract around the welcome length of him. “No more wasted time, not a single second,” Michael rasped as he increased his pace, driving into her. Belle locked her legs around him, urging him towards their completion. She dreaded his question and at the same time longed to hear him ask it. In this moment with their bodies joined and their souls laid bare there could be no demurs, no denials. The truth had to be spoken. She loved him more than her life, more than her fear of entrapment. They strained together, reaching their peak, their cries resounding through the room. Much later she would cringe when thinking of the noise they made, but now only one thing mattered as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, gasping for breath.

  “I love you, Michael. Do you hear me, you impossible man? I’ve always loved you.” She released him and though he moved back enough to study her face, he remained buried deep inside her. “Do you know what day it is?” she asked softly, suddenly feeling shy and just a little unsure. “It’s today, Michael. It’s today.” He watched her steadily, his breathing still harsh and his face covered with a sheen of sweat, yet oddly devoid of expression. Belle felt her uncertainty shift to anxiety. As if her words had at last registered in the thickness of his mind, Michael’s face broke into a grin.

  “It’s today,” he stated with a laugh. “Belle,” he said firmly, “this better not be because of any post-sexual bliss, because I won’t have you changing your mind on me and if it is, be warned that I’m not enough of a gentleman not to press my advantage.” Any trepidation she felt vanished at his words and she felt just a touch of smugness.

  “I’ll not change my mind, Michael Lassiter,” she answered. “No matter how skilled you are in bed, and you are very skilled,” she offered seductively, “I still have my wits about me and today is the day.” He pulled out of her and rolled to the side in a single, fluid movement, then reached out and pulled her into his arms.

  “You won’t regret this, Belle,” he murmured.

  “No, but you might,” she countered, only half teasing him.

  “Never.”

  She looked at him intently. “I’m damaged, Michael. Not physically perhaps, but inside. I can be fearful and withdrawn. I don’t trust easily, but I do trust you. I’m stubborn, opinionated, too outspoken and very independent – not at all the sort of woman to make a good countess. I’m not even considered to be a lady by most of society. You’re not getting much of a bargain.”

  “Oh, yes I am,” he whispered. Her kissed her temple slowly, tenderly. “I know all those things about you, my love, and those are some of the things I love best about you. We will continue to have our challenges. I’m just as, if not more stubborn and opinionated as you, even if I am always right.” She rewarded him with an elbow in his ribs. He laughed and continued. “We are bound to have some glorious fights, but ah, the making up will be equally spectacular. We may never leave our bedroom.”

  “Ourbedroom? You intend to share a room with your wife?”

  “Damn right.” Michael’s expression sobered and his tone became more earnest than any Belle had ever heard him use. “It has taken years for our journeys to bring us together again and together we’ll remain. Once we are married I never want to awaken without you by my side. You, Arabella, Annabelle are my harbor, my delight, my friend and dearest love. Never doubt that.”

  Belle felt tears sting her eyes. She’d longed to hear him say those words five years ago and to mean them, but the girl she’d been then could never have valued them as did the women who heard them now. He was right. They had made their separate journeys, maturing and learning to slowly, cautiously open their hearts so that when next they met, despite all the hurts and wounds of the past, they would be ready to love each other without reserve, without fear. Michael brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss across her knuckles.

  “And so I ask you, Arabella Winston, or Annabelle Winslow – whichever name you prefer, will you....” A sudden pounding on the door broke them apart and Michael cursed as he quickly rose from the bed.

  “Michael!” Rafe shouted as he continued to pound on the door. “Get up, man! The dower house is on fire!

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Michael sprang from the bed, hastily pulling the bed curtains closed to shield Belle before he lit one of the lamps. “Stay where you are,” he ordered her in a harsh whisper, “and lock the door once I’m gone.” He tossed her nightgown and robe to her certain she would hate being discovered in such a severe state of dishabille with him a second time. She stayed silent and unmoving – probably one of the only times in their lives together that she would obey him, he thought, but he’d be damned if he’d see her humiliated again, mentally vowing to thrash Rafe soundly if he took so much as a step towards the bed. “Just a minute, blast it,” he thundered in response to the other man’s incessan
t pounding. He pulled on his britches and his shirt before yanking open the door. “What happened?” he demanded over his shoulder as he sat down to pull on his boots.

  “Someone set a fire,” Rafe said stepping inside the doorway. “I think we both know who.”

  “Is my mother safe?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Michael. We haven’t found her. The men are seeing to the fire and it’s no easy task. I’m concerned that....” His words were cut off by Drew’s appearance in the doorway.

  “I’ve just come from Belle’s room,” he cried. “She’s not there.” Michael heard a sharp intake of breath from the bed. Rafe’s gaze shot to the closed bed curtains. “Paddy hasn’t seen her either.” Drew continued. Thankfully, he hadn’t heard Belle’s gasp. “We’ve got to find her!” Michael grabbed the lamp from the table and ushered the men out the door and closed it firmly behind him. “Come on,” he growled.

  “I’m certain Miss Winslow’s in safe hands,” Rafe drawled, as they hurried down the hall, “or at least she was until recently.”

  Drew struggled to keep up with the other men leaning heavily on his cane. He seized his brother’s arm. “Has she been with you tonight?” he demanded.

  Michael pulled in a deep breath and prayed for patience. “Yes, she has,” he answered curtly, “still is actually, but we don’t have time for this now.”

  “Go on, don’t wait for me,” Drew replied just as shortly, “but you’d best plan on obtaining a special license come morning, brother.”

  “I will, if I ever get to ask her the blasted question,” Michael muttered hurrying down the hall after Rafe.

  He caught up with the other man on the staircase. “Are you certain the house is secure?” he asked.

  “As certain as I can be,” Rafe answered. “You’re thinking the same thing as me, that this is all a distraction to get us away from Belle.” Michael nodded grimly. “I’ve still got two men in the house. They’ll keep her safe.”