Ascension. A.S. Fenichel

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      It wouldn’t look good if Lady Belinda’s fiancé, just back from war, appeared nervous about the lady’s virtue. He was sure she would never forgive him if he ruined her reputation with his zealous curiosity. It was the last thing he wanted to do. All he wanted was the sweet girl he’d left behind four years earlier, but thus far, she did not exist.

      After the intimacies of the night before, he was convinced she remained a virgin but was no longer innocent of heart. Something had changed in her eyes as well as in her manner. They were no longer the clear, loving eyes that had looked up at him with purity. He’d seen the change happen to boys when the horrors of war turned them into men but he couldn’t explain the change in a lady of Belinda’s rank. She had all the conveniences a woman in her position could hope for. What could have initiated the change, and where had she been before their meeting in the garden?

      I suppose I am changed as well. He sighed.

      Left by his butler and ignored for more than an hour, the silver dish at the edge of his desk held several pieces of correspondence and invitations to upcoming balls and events. He had to attend some of them if only to keep an eye on Belinda, but there was also his sister to consider. Selina had come out only a few weeks before and she and his mother were rapturous about getting the girl married off in her first season. He’d been surprised at how his baby sister had grown during his absence, but he didn’t understand the rush to marry her off. Honestly, he’d prefer to keep her home for a while and have a chance to get to know her better. He did not mention this to the women in the household, as they would think him daft.

      Procrastinating further on the papers on his desk, he opened the invitations on the plate. Most he tossed aside, but then he opened an invitation to attend the ball of the Marques de Pompedo. The Marques’s daughter was a close friend to Belinda’s and it was certain his fiancée wouldn’t miss her friend’s ball.

      His heart pounded faster at the idea of seeing Belinda’s face when he appeared in the ballroom. He left his paperwork behind. The clock in the foyer indicated the hour was already late and he would have to dress quickly if he was to see her. He took the stairs to his rooms two at a time while hollering for his valet.

      * * * *

      He scanned the throng and spotted her golden hair from across the ballroom. Even with all the distraction of glittering candles, frescos and overdressed peerage, his eyes locked immediately to Belinda. Her bright green eyes became large saucers when she saw him approach. Good, he wanted her off balance.

      He wanted to look at her and feel nothing more than a legal attachment, but it was impossible. He couldn’t deny his feelings. Lady Belinda Clayton stimulated him in ways no other woman ever could. He was in love with her and had been since they had romped around as children together. She was smart, funny and exquisite in every way. Her pale yellow gown dipped low enough so that he enjoyed a discreet view of the swell of her breasts. He had seen them in the dim lighting of her chambers but he would never get his fill of her flesh.

      The curvaceous girl he left behind when he went to war was now a slender woman. Her taut, muscular body had surprised him, but also aroused him more than he would have expected. It had never occurred to him that a fit woman could be desirous. Actually, he’d only seen farm women with muscles, never a lady. More and more questions flooded his mind. Mostly, he yearned to touch her again.

      Her look of surprise he’d coveted changed quickly to mild disinterest as he crossed the ballroom. She recovered enough to give him a cold little curtsy before turning back to her friend for conversation.

      Pretending Belinda’s act didn’t bother him, he addressed her friend. “Lady Lorelei, you are looking lovely this evening. I hope you will forgive me if I steal my fiancée away for a dance.”

      The Marquis de Pompedo’s robustly-built daughter smiled charmingly and her smooth skin pinked. “I’m sure I will manage to find other amusements for a short time, my lord.”

      Anger flashed in Belinda’s eyes before she masked her emotions and turned fully toward him. He almost heard her mind whirling while she searched for a way to avoid being close to him. Then she smiled though the expression never touched her eyes. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

      She placed her hand on his offered arm so lightly that no physical contact penetrated his sleeve, but still the heat of her body seeped through his jacket, blouse and her glove. Her intentions may have been to display indifference, but the effect was quite the opposite. She drove him mad with wanting.

      He spoke as soon as they were far enough away from her friend that she wouldn’t overhear. “I wish you would mean those sweet words.”

      “I wish you would not pursue me to the point of suffocation.”

      Biting his tongue was the only possible help. The sharp pain successfully kept him from an angry response. His only clue to the cause of her disdain was his inability to communicate while in France. What did he have to do to make up for things that were beyond his control?

      The dance began and as it was a promenade, several other couples were well within hearing throughout. A question for another time. The dance brought Belinda close to him and she took his hand. “I thought perhaps after last night you might be less hostile toward me.”

      “This is hardly the time or the place to discuss my feelings for you, my lord.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the tension in her words cut through the din in the room and shot directly to his heart.

      “Perhaps I might make an appointment when you would be free to discuss those feelings.” He responded lightly, but his heart pounded. His chest tightened and he fought the temptation to pick her up and drag her from the crowded house to somewhere private.

      The dance ended, and she made her curtsy as he bowed deeply. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your lack of regard for such customs is quite obvious, based on your behavior the last few weeks. You show up at the most unexpected and ungentlemanly times and pretend to care for my feelings.”

      Her voice rose and a gentleman who’d been passing turned at the sound. Gabriel took her elbow gently and directed her to a quiet corner of the room. “Go on.”

      “I have nothing more to say.”

      “You lie.” In spite of the accusation, his voice remained soft and calm.

      Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed several times. She was about to take the top of his head off. Slowly, the rage diminished and a tear popped up on her bottom lid. Her sorrow ripped his soul as it tumbled down her cheek.

      She dashed the tear away. “Gabriel, stop pursuing me. We shall not repeat what happened last night, so there is really no reason for you to continue this charade. I wish to be released from our engagement.”

      She had whispered the words, but if she had screamed them from the top of Parliament for all of London to hear, it would have had no greater effect on his heart. His chest pained him and his hand clutched at the pain. It was a moment before he steeled his emotions enough to respond. “Does what I wish have no meaning in this matter?”

      “I cannot discuss this here.” Her words hung in a low whisper and another tear made its way down her cheek.

      Gabriel caught the drop on his ungloved finger and closed his hand as if to keep her emotion, even if he couldn’t keep her. He closed his eyes willing the pain away. “I shall call on you tomorrow at eleven. Will that be a more suitable time, my lady?”

      Her СКАЧАТЬ