Page 65 of When the Scoundrel Sins

Belle was going to marry Bletchley. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it, unless he wanted to storm back inside and embarrass her in front of everyone. With that, he would ruin both her engagement and any chance she had of remaining in her home. Besides, the minute he opened his mouth, everyone in the room would think the same thing—that he wanted Belle for himself.

What hewantedwas for Belle to be happy so he could travel on to America and not feel guilty that she’d entered into a loveless marriage. That was all. It wasn’t as if he were in love with her himself.

In love with Belle? Laughable! She was theBluebell, for Christ’s sake! He didn’t love her. Hewouldn’tlet himself love her, just as he wouldn’t let himself love any woman.

But that resolution was becoming harder to keep.

He heaved out a frustrated breath. A bluestocking with the heart of an angel, she had him wanting to protect her with a determination he’d never felt before.

Yet he’d failed to do just that, and in one hour, she’d be at Bletchley’s side, announcing her wedding plans.

With a curse, he slammed his palm against the stone wall.

“Quinton.”

The soft voice swirled through him, prickling the little hairs at his nape. He froze, except for the fierce pounding of his heart.

Appearing out of the darkness like a ghost, Belle came toward him through the shadows. Her hair shined dark, the sage-green dress she wore tonight showing white in the faint light of the sliver of the crescent moon lying low behind the distant mountains. Silent and ethereal…like a figure from a dream.

As she stepped slowly toward him, he held his breath, fearing she was nothing more than a wishful illusion.

“Belle,” he whispered. He drew a deep, tremulous breath. The sweet scent of heather surrounded her. “What are you—”

She placed her fingers to his lips. “Hush.”

Then she rose up on tiptoes and touched her lips to his in a featherlight kiss that left him speechless. He was too entranced by her magical spell to put into words the emotions and desires pulsating through him.

When she lowered herself away, he pursued, his mouth lowering to capture her lips and his eyes closing against the painful sweetness of her. Soft, delicate…enchanting. He whispered her name and lifted his hands to cup her face and hold her still as he deepened the kiss, as he sought to fill up his senses with her.

But with a soft laugh, she slipped away. Taking his hand as she broke the kiss and lacing her fingers through his, she led him into the darkness beyond the garden walls.

He followed, a willing captive. In the dim moonlight, surrounded by midnight shadows, she guided him across the lawn and down the path through the trees like a sprite from a fairy tale. Whenever he tried to take her into his arms, she danced ahead just out of reach and taunted him with the soft, seductive sound of her laughter.

The path emptied into the clearing surrounding the old castle ruins. When they reached the outer wall with its tumbled stones, she stopped and leaned into him, letting his mouth possess hers and his arms encircle her. With a soft moan, she parted her lips, and he swept his tongue between them, to taste the sweetness inside.

Then she was gone from his arms again, the seductive sprite slipping away deeper into the ruins.

He chased after her. His arms ached to hold her, his body throbbed to enjoy hers. This time, he didn’t want to stop with a kiss and a touch. He wanted to possess her. He wantedallof her, every aggravating, independent, brilliant, beautiful bit of her.

He found her at the heart of the ruins, standing in the castle’s keep and softly panting, breathless with anticipation. Even in the shadows he could see her body trembling and her bright eyes shining with nervous excitement as he moved toward her.

“You can’t leave your own party,” he drawled, his voice hoarse with desire. He wanted her—Sweet Lucifer, he wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in his life! But he wanted her coming freely to him because she wantedhim. And no other reason. “You need to get back before you’re missed.”

“I don’t care!” She laughed, and the lilting softness fell through him like a warm summer rain. She held out her hand to him, and he stepped forward to take it, letting her draw him to her. “I don’t want to think about the will, or marriage, or the estate…” Her breath tickled warm and sweet against his cheek as she leaned against him and brushed her lips tantalizingly along his jaw. “And I don’t want to be at the party a moment more.”

Even as his heart raced with desire, he took her arms and set her away. He had to make certain—“Whatdoyou want, Annabelle?”

“You.”

His cock stiffened instantly at the breathless whisper, spoken so softly that he barely heard it. He stared down at her delicate face in the shadows, fearing that she truly was nothing more than a fantasy after all.

“When you took the waltz, you said you wanted one last dance.” She stepped forward, bringing her body against his, her arms entwining around his neck. “But I want more than that.” Her fingers played in his hair, and each innocent caress sent a jolt of aching need shivering through him. “I’m yours for the night…if you want me.”

CHAPTERTEN

Belle held her breath as her trembling fingertips combed nervously through his silky hair, waiting for him to say something…anything. But he didn’t, and in his silence, each beat of her heart pounded like a drum, so loud she was certain he could hear it.

Yet she couldn’t help herself. She knew she’d made the right decision not to marry, no matter how fearful the prospect of leaving her home. Just as she knew it was right and good to be here with Quinton. There would be no wedding night for her, no marriage bed—there would be only tonight, and she wanted to share it with Quinton. Every inch of her, full heart and soul, begged for exactly that.