Lady Belling's Secret Read online

  “Frankie, please stop crying.” Once again, he stroked her back with his palms and rested his cheek on her forehead. “Whatever anger I felt at the time has passed.”

  “How is that possible? You were so fiercely angry in the park that day.”

  Thomas chuckled. She heard it deep in his chest, felt the rumble. “Of course I was angry. I had just thwarted your kidnapping only to discover the supposed kidnapper was some actor you’d hired. You know, I lied. I am still angry. Do you realize how hurt you could have been? My God, when I think about it.”

  Frankie lifted her face from his jacket and smoothed his cravat. “I know, I know. I was such an idiot. Why did you never tell Mama or Christian?”

  “Because brothers don’t tattle.”

  That was heartbreaking. “Oh. You see, that was always the problem. I never thought of you like a brother. Not since I was six.”

  “Oh.” Thomas pulled away and looked down at her again. “Oh.”

  Frankie had to smile at his expression. “What did you think all that mooning around was about? I was in love with you.”

  “You weren’t in love with me,” he scoffed. “You couldn’t possibly know what love was at sixteen.”

  Frankie wasn’t about to argue with him about how well she knew her own mind. It would be nice to leave this conversation with some manner of dignity intact. Still, she couldn’t let that comment pass without some kind of protest. “I knew exactly what I wanted and precisely how I felt.”

  Thomas opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. After another moment he said, “I didn’t know you were mooning. I’m sorry, Frankie, but how much awareness did you expect from a twenty-four-year old jackass, because that’s what I was back then. I had no inkling, and then you pulled that stunt. I was terrified for you, that you’d been kidnapped, and then enraged that you would risk both of our happiness that way.”

  Any twitch of her earlier smile vanished with his anger. “I know. I was unbelievably stupid.”

  “I should have told your mother.”

  Frankie closed her eyes. “Believe me when I tell you that I’ve punished myself plenty.”

  “What you really needed was a turn over my knee.”

  Frankie’s eyes flashed open, and she gasped in indignation. “You’re not the man to do it.”

  Thomas quirked a brow in challenge. If this was five years ago, Frankie had no doubt he’d give it a try. Then he turned serious again. “Why did you never write me? I received timely letters from your mother and sporadic ones from Christian, but not a single one from you.” Thomas kept his eyes riveted on hers. He actually sounded hurt, and it surprised her. She couldn’t look away and she certainly couldn’t lie to him, not that there was anything left to lie about anymore.

  “After that, I was certain you wouldn’t want to hear from me. After all, you rushed out of town within hours of our row in the park.” Frankie sighed. “And I was sorely embarrassed.”

  “Sweeting, I would have gone eventually whether I was dodging a bullet from you or another round with my father. It was time I grew up. I couldn’t chase light skirts, gamble, and drink myself into oblivion forever. So you forced my hand. I didn’t hate you for it. Well, not for long, anyway.”

  Frankie hadn’t thought it possible that Thomas could come home even more handsome than when he left, but it was so. She didn’t know what his experiences had been in the King’s Navy, but five years of responsibility had given him the look of a man instead of a pretty youth. At the time he left, she had thought she’d memorized everything about him. Now it was apparent that his shoulders were wider, his jaw seemed sharper, his brown-eyed gaze more intense.

  “Am I forgiven then?”

  “If you help me put this house to rights, I will forgive you anything.”

  He smiled, and she felt it all the way to her toes. Charming and beautiful, that was the man she remembered. Clearly, his ability to make her nearly swoon had not been diminished. He tugged her gently back into his arms for a hug that he certainly considered familial in nature, a hug of truce or something of the sort, an embrace between long-time friends. Only, when Frankie closed her eyes and sank into the circle of his enveloping arms, she smelled sandalwood and fresh tobacco. The strong bands of his arms pressed her flush with his body. She was lightheaded.

  Thomas bent his head to buss her cheek just as Frankie turned her face ever so slightly and, instead, his lips brushed hers. He paused and she froze. Slowly his lips moved against hers and his hand pressed insistent the small of her back, drawing her in closer, if that was possible. There was a soft sigh, and Frankie realized it came from her. He angled his head and covered her mouth with his. The tip of his tongue smoothed along the inside of her bottom lip, and she opened to him.

  She didn’t think, she just let him kiss her, and she kissed him back. Her hands traveled up his arms, felt his muscles, tensed and strong, over his shoulders and twined her fingers through his hair, then behind his neck. Most of her life she had fantasized about kissing this man and having him want to kiss her. It lived up to all her expectations. Oh, how her sixteen-year-old self would have squealed.

  It ended as gently as it began. Thomas pressed his forehead to hers, and they breathed in unison, short, panting breaths.

  “Well,” he said, but didn’t finish his thought.

  “Mmm-hmmmm.” Frankie didn’t know what to say either. The kiss had been decidedly wrong, but she couldn’t make herself feel sorry for it.

  Thomas pulled himself away from her by removing his hands from her back and stepping away ever so slightly. The space gave her a moment to breathe, which she desperately needed to clear her head. What did one say in this situation? How dare you? More, please? She knew what she should say, or at least what would be expected of her to say, yet that was highly unlikely to occur. Still…

  “Perhaps we should continue our tour?” she suggested.

  Thomas grinned at her, and his eyes twinkled in amusement. That was Thomas’s gift—to make light of awkward situations. He clasped her hand in his and led her from his childhood bedroom. They visited the entire floor of sitting rooms and guest bedrooms. She made every effort to concentrate on the task at hand, but Thomas was making it impossible. Not that he seemed to be doing anything on purpose to throw her off, it was just that he was always touching her. She tried to focus on toile for the settee upholstery, and he brushed a loose curl of hair around her ear. She described the options for throw pillows on a window seat, and he ran his fingers down the inside of her arm. He brushed by her so closely his legs rustled the fabric of her skirt. Through every room they moved, he held her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb.

  All that physical attention kept her off kilter and constantly thinking about her body. She had to know no good could come from entering the master bedroom. It was the only room left they hadn’t toured and discussed plans for remodeling. It had to be done. Certainly, Thomas had no wish to sleep in the same room as the man who had maligned him his entire life.

  “What this room needs is a good brightening up,” Frankie announced in an overly cheerful voice she hoped indicated she wasn’t at all nervous.

  “Agreed. I hate all this dark, brooding nonsense.”

  She surveyed the draperies and wallpaper. The room was impeccably clean. It was simply dreary. She pulled back hunter-green curtains, and once the velvet parted, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a lovely view of the garden.

  “How would you feel about blue in here?” she asked, thinking a royal blue would be masculine enough and still allow some light into the room.

  “I like red better.” He brushed the irritating curl from her cheek again and wound it around his finger before settling it back behind her ear once more.

  Frankie could feel her cheeks redden from the suggestion. “Red could work.” She took a step backward and wandered over to another doorway. “Where does this go? The sitting room between this room and the countess’s?”

  Thomas nodded. He stil
l had a boyish grin on his face, and she looked away quickly. That grin was devastating, and she didn’t need it working its magic on her. Not now, after so many years. It wasn’t fair.

  Thomas had turned towards the bed and stared up at the canopy. “I felt like this was suffocating me last night, all this heavy, gloomy…oppression.” A sound like a forced laugh came from his throat. “I want a new bed in here. One with none of this.” He waved in the direction of the velvet curtains meant to be drawn around the bed for warmth.

  She found herself standing at the corner of the enormous bed. “The carving is pretty and the wood is a beautiful color. What if we just pulled down the curtains and left it open instead?”

  He wrinkled his nose but didn’t dismiss the suggestion out of hand. “I don’t know.”

  “See, look.” Frankie grasped the fabric in both fists and yanked it towards the floor. A vicious ripping noise came seconds before yards of green velvet puddled at her feet. “Better right? It’s like he’s gone already.”

  Thomas raised his eyebrows and tilted his head from side to side. “Better,” he agreed. He went to the opposite side and ripped down another corner of material.

  Frankie laughed and shifted to the next corner and tried the same move, but this set didn’t come down as easily. She leaned more weight and then tried raising her arms higher, closer to the top of the huge canopy frame. She jumped up and down, but still nothing.

  “Need help?” His arms came around the back of her on either side, and his hands grabbed the material as well. Still it didn’t come loose, even when she made strenuous grunting noises to accompany their tugging.

  “What did they put this up there with?” He was laughing as much as she was by this point.

  “Let me climb up there and pull from higher.” Frankie kicked off her shoes and hiked up her skirt to her shins to better climb up onto the high mattress. Thomas shifted to the other side of the curtain, facing her, and they both grabbed huge handfuls of drapery. “Ready, on three. One. Two.” On three she leaned back with all her weight and pulled. Thomas yanked down with great force at the same time. At last, the damn thing came loose with a rending tear, sending Frankie flat to the counterpane with Thomas and ten yards of ugly material sprawled on top of her.

  “Ooof,” she grunted in the midst of peals of hysterical laughter.

  Velvet slid across her face until Thomas came into view above her. “Are you all right?”

  She gasped between laughing breaths until eventually she could sputter out, “Fine.”

  “You really went flying there.” He was laughing as loud as she was until his mouth came over hers again. His tongue found hers almost instantly, and the kiss rapidly escalated, their laughter transforming into passion. His hands held her face in place, and her arms wound their way around his neck.

  This was bad, very, very bad. She had no business alone with this man, much less alone in his bedroom, on his bed, with their arms locked around each other. It didn’t matter how much her mother loved Thomas, she would be unbearably disappointed when she found out.

  But, oh sweet heaven, Frankie never imagined it would be so overwhelming. She was too consumed by the weight of him, the taste of him, his smell. All of her senses were engulfed. She’d waited so long for this. She refused to listen to the shrill voice in her head screeching about the implications of giving in.

  Of course, she’d had scads of daydreams about this very thing. Well, not this very thing. These circumstances were absurd, but she’d created a million scenarios since the time she’d hit puberty where Thomas would be overcome and kiss her soundly. Mostly they involved a soft breeze feathering the hair across her neck and a setting sun reflecting off the water of the Serpentine in order to best highlight her annoying red hair. She never worked out how it was that they were alone in the park at sunset together, but all the fantasies seemed to work out that way. What she never imagined would happen was that she’d be so distracted that she wouldn’t give a fig about how her hair looked or whether her dress showed her assets to their best.

  As it turned out, all she wanted was the kiss to never end. She arched her back ever so slightly and pressed her breasts into his chest. He responded by nudging her with his hips and angling his head for better access to her mouth. She flicked out her tongue in exploration and was encouraged by a masculine groan.

  “I should take you home,” he murmured as his lips kissed along the tender skin behind her ear. She felt the pressure of a hand on her breast even through the fabric of her dress and the velvet curtain.

  “Probably,” she agreed and made an effort to slow her panting breaths.

  Thomas’s lips found the tendon on her neck and nipped. “I will take you home.”

  Frankie fisted her hands in his hair. “All right.”

  Neither of them made any effort to extricate themselves from the embrace, however. Her conscience tried to break through the haze of passion and scream some sound advice, to remind her of her obligations once again, but then his lips found hers and his tongue caressed the soft flesh of her mouth.

  He lifted his head long enough to sweep some hair back from her forehead and gaze down at her. By God, his eyes smoldered. She’d read that in a novel once and thought it absurd at the time, but now she knew the truth of it. His eyes smoldered, and she was the cause.

  “This isn’t why I brought you here,” he whispered.

  Frankie froze. “I know.” She swallowed hard. He was too handsome for his own good. It wasn’t fair, after all this time, not fair by half.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” He sounded like he hoped she would decline. Or was she simply reading into his expression what she desperately wanted to hear? He leaned his weight on his elbow, and Frankie feared he was preparing to rise from the bed and leave her. She should let him. This was a mistake, a horrendous mistake, one with far-reaching implications. Still, she found herself grasping onto his biceps, holding him still.

  Was it possible she could have this one thing, what she’d always wanted but given up hope for? Thomas had always been a discreet lover. Despite his father’s dire predictions, he’d never been involved in a scandal. Not that his reputation wasn’t as outrageously cultivated as her brother’s was.

  “I don’t want you to take me home,” she said.

  “As a gentleman, I had to ask.” He grinned at her again, and her belly flip-flopped.

  He kissed her lips, her chin, the indent of her throat. He pulled away more of the curtain fabric pressed between them and kissed the top of her breasts, first one, then the other. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he murmured against the lace edging of her chemise where her dress had been tugged down slightly with the curtain. “I come back and you’re a stunning woman.”

  Frankie ran her hands down the strong arms that held him above her. “You look the same, as sinfully handsome as ever.”

  “No,” he told her with a shake of his head. “I’ve changed. I’m no longer a rudderless man at odds with himself. I have plans for my life.” He pushed more green material away, revealing her dress all the way to her midriff. His gaze was intently arousing as he surveyed her body underneath him, sliding a hand down her side until it fit in the indent of her waist, then back up to cup a breast. “I am charmed by your confession. I regret that I was ever so stupid as to miss all the signs.”

  Frankie arched her back again, this time pressing her breast into his hand. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. The excitement and anticipation was killing her.

  Chapter Three

  No longer a sweet, gentle kiss, this pairing of their mouths overflowed with passion. His tongue swept over hers, robbing her of any breath she still possessed. Even with their lips connected, he managed to wrestle the remaining curtain from between their bodies. Then he settled between her legs and concentrated on fully ravishing her mouth.

  Way in the back of her head, Frankie could hear the tiniest voice of her conscience sounding a fainter and fainter alarm. None
of that mattered. The real truth, the only truth, was that her love for Thomas had never diminished. From the instant she saw him in the solicitor’s office, every bit of emotion she had been sure had faded away burst back to life. She was foolish to think she was over him. She would never be over him.

  When he finally dragged his mouth from hers, she gasped. His lips and tongue nibbled at her neck, laved the indent of her throat. With a gentle tug on her dress and the fabric loosened to fully reveal her chemise-covered breasts. He sucked on them through the thin cotton, causing her nipples to harden. All the while, Thomas was easing her dress up her legs until he reached where their bodies pressed together. He slipped one hand beneath her bottom and lifted her hips high enough to slip the silk underneath, repeating the process then finally, with one more deft yank, her dress slid over her head. That left her bare but for the useless barrier of her chemise.

  Her fingers worked the buttons of his waistcoat until it hung open and the white of his shirt shown through. Reaching high, she pushed both the jacket and waistcoat from his shoulders, and he shrugged out of the garments so she could pull the sleeves the rest of the way from his arms. They landed on the bed near the rumpled remains of her dress.

  “Take off your boots,” she commanded. It was several pleasurable moments of his undivided attention on her breasts before he slid to the side and kicked at his boots. And kicked and grunted. “Need some help?”

  “No.” He made an exaggerated groan. “Yes,” he admitted when his boots still hadn’t budged.

  Frankie laughed. “That’s what you men get for wearing such formfitting boots.” She jumped from the bed and turned around so Thomas could slip his leg between her knees. She grasped his heel and pulled until the boot, as tight as a stocking, slid from his foot. She intended to do the second boot the same expedient way except that he flipped up the back of her chemise when he put the boot between her knees. Her fingers fumbled with the boot heel when his palms caressed her bottom. “Stop,” she said through giggles, but instead both his hands came up to cup her breasts while she leaned down. Forefingers and thumbs rolled the nipples then pinched them both slightly, making them so sensitive that even her chemise was stimulating. Frankie uttered a breathless sigh.