The Outrageous Belle Marchmain. Lucy Ashford
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me so much worse a prospect than Jarvis?’
She shuddered. ‘Jarvis is despicable.’ She spoke with such absolute disgust that Adam felt a bolt of uncertainty shoot through him.
‘I was under the impression that you were holding out for considerably more money from him.’
‘Holding out for … Oh, you are a friend of his,’ she retorted bitterly, ‘so it wouldn’t matter what I said. But do you really think I would contemplate a proposal of any kind from Lord Jarvis?’
Adam shrugged. ‘Jarvis would offer a solution to your problems. He’s not as rich as I am, but he does have a title. And, oh, I believe his family goes back almost as far as yours, although there might not be a duke in the family …’
Belle had stepped shakily away from him. ‘You are hateful,’ she whispered. ‘Mr Davenant, I will find some way to pay back the money my brother owes, I swear. But you’ll understand, I hope, if I tell you that I can no longer bear to spend another moment in your presence.’
He shrugged. The taint of Miner Tom. Well—let her face the consequences of her and her brother’s damned arrogance.
She was already making for the door when he saw something sparkling under her dark lashes. Tears.
‘Stop,’ he said.
She turned. She was almost broken, he suddenly realised; he saw it in the paleness of her cheeks, the trembling of her fingers as she crammed her straw bonnet over her dark curls.
Something dangerously like pity twisted at his throat.
‘Jarvis is not my friend,’ he said curtly. ‘He was here on a matter of business and, believe me, that was almost more than I could tolerate. What exactly happened between the two of you?’
She lifted her eyes steadfastly to his. ‘Two years ago Lord Jarvis invited me to his house on the pretext of investing in my business. He made me an offer that I found … obscene. Though—’ Oh, what was the use? Belle was shivering. ‘You don’t believe me, do you? You still think I’m in the market for … That I visited you to … Oh, I’ve been so stupid. I should never have come here.’
Not now she knew who he was. Adam started towards the door. ‘Unlike Jarvis,’ he said, ‘I don’t—ever—force myself on unwilling females. You came here of your own accord and you’re equally free to leave.’
She started towards the door, then stopped. ‘But—’
‘As for those sheep,’ he went on pitilessly, ‘I’ll get my secretary to send you a bill so you can pay me for them. You told me your shop was flourishing, didn’t you?’ He was holding the door open for her.
Belle froze. Her shop—flourishing? Oh, Lord, this was bad. What could she do? He’d offered her a solution and she’d discarded it.
Think again, Belle.
She heaved in a great breath. ‘Mr Davenant,’ she said.
Now, Adam wanted this woman and her insults out of here. But something was happening. Some new desperation in her voice riveted his attention. ‘Yes?’
‘Mr Davenant—what if I were to consent to becoming your mistress after all?’
What? What in hell …?
Suddenly she’d tugged off her straw bonnet and tossed it to the floor again. He closed the door. That hat would be lucky to survive the day, thought Adam rather dazedly. Then she was sidling across the room to him and lifting her sweet face with its tempting rosebud mouth to his and—
Hell. She’d raised her arms to run her fingertips along his broad shoulders.
‘Mrs Marchmain,’ he began.
His voice was thick in his throat as her small hands tugged him closer. That delicate scent tickled his nose again—lavender soap, he guessed. He could feel the warmth now, of her tender body; her nearness was turning his blood to fire and making his pulse throb. He reached out his big hands to take hers and hold them away.
‘I thought,’ he grated at last, ‘that you were going to repay me from your business.’
Her voice was husky. ‘Perhaps I’ve had second thoughts.’
She was playing a mighty dangerous game. Adam swore under his breath; Jarvis had warned him she was a conniving minx, damn it, and Adam wasn’t one to be toyed with. With a low growl—half of anger, half of lust—Adam pulled her to him and let his lips capture her soft mouth.
And Belle’s world spun until she no longer knew if she was on her head or her heels. In this man’s arms, she didn’t much care either way.
Faced with that open door and his chilly dismissal, it had struck her most forcefully that—like a drowning seafarer—she couldn’t afford to be choosy about her rescue options. Pay him back from her shop? Dear Lord, she’d no idea how much a flock of sheep cost; she did know that if this man wasn’t going to show mercy she and her brother were sunk.
It wasn’t as if she was a youthful, shrinking maiden. One by one the frantic thoughts raced through her brain. Other women do this. In fact, he assumed that was why she’d come to his hateful abode in the first place. Other women use men of influence and wealth to get what they want—why shouldn’t I?
The trouble was that he didn’t repel her as Jarvis did. Far from it. The instant his firm, demanding mouth started caressing hers, she forgot she was supposed to be in charge. She forgot he was her enemy. All she wanted was more.
The sweetness of his kiss pulsed through her veins. As his strong hands caressed her she could feel the heat of his body against hers; then he coaxed her lips apart and deliberately set about ravishing her mouth with his tongue. She could taste the maleness of him. He was filling her senses, branding her with shocking demands.
She’d meant to fake her response but, dear heaven, this was no pretence. Her hands instinctively curled tighter around his heavily muscled shoulders; somehow she could not get close enough to him. When he grasped her waist and hauled her against him, she felt his rock-hard arousal pressing against her stomach and it stopped her breathing. Stopped her thinking.
Her response was primeval and passionate. She plied her tongue in his mouth, tasting him, shuddering as he thrust his own tongue between her lips in measured response. She yearned to press her aching bosom closer to the hard wall of his chest, then gasped aloud because his hand, warm and strong, was cupping one desperately sensitive breast, his thumb teasing her stiffened nipple through the silk of her gown, rubbing it gently to and fro until she was crying out for more …
Then he drew away.
Belle swayed where she stood. Needing the warmth of his arms around her. Missing the heat of his hard male body.
He said levelly, ‘This is an absurd situation, Mrs Marchmain, and both of us know it.’
She gazed up at him, imagining she saw a glint of concern in his dark grey eyes, but if so it was quickly gone. She felt as wretched as she’d ever felt in her life. ‘Absurd? But, Mr Davenant,’ she said with a forced smile, ‘I was merely indicating that I’d had second thoughts about the offer you’d made earlier—’
‘I was damned wrong to make that offer,’ he broke in harshly. He was making for the door again, straightening his coat. ‘Mrs Marchmain, please forget my proposition. You were foolish to come here alone, foolish to make yourself so vulnerable.’
She gazed at him, white-faced. ‘But what about my brother, and …?’
‘You can tell the young idiot he owes me nothing for my livestock,’ Adam rapped out. ‘The matter’s dealt with. Finished.’
Belle drew back as if he’d hit her with a sledgehammer. ‘So you’ve got your revenge,’ she said steadily.
‘What?’ His hand had