What a Wicked Earl Wants (15 page)

Oh, Lord. He pictured his wrists tied with silk scarves, and Laura kissing her way down his torso until she reached his cock.

“You have a very wicked gleam in your eyes,” she said.

His groin tightened. “I have a very wicked imagination.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He glanced at Colin, who set up the balls in the center. Satisfied his friend was intent on making his shot, Bell closed his hand round her small wrist and gazed into her green eyes. Her lips parted a little, and every instinct he possessed told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

The
clack, clack, clack
of the balls on the green baize brought him back to the present. He released her wrist just as Harry walked inside. “Justin and his friend found the backgammon board in the drawing room. I doubt we’ll see them anytime soon.”

“Another game?” Colin asked.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, picking up a cue stick.

Bell returned his attention to Laura. “Can I get you a glass of sherry?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said.

Bell strode over to the sideboard and poured her a brimming glass of sherry. He splashed two fingers of brandy into his own glass. When he returned to her, she blinked at the full glass. “You’re not trying to get me foxed, are you?”

“Just a little.” He swirled the brandy and inhaled the fragrance.

She sipped her sherry. “I’ve never had brandy before.”

“Do you wish to try it?”

“Is it strong?”

He nodded.

“I’ll stick to sherry,” she said. “I get a bit giddy after only one glass of wine.”

He smiled, thinking he’d like to see her giddy. She turned her attention to the game. Bell took the opportunity to study her face. In profile, her lashes were long. The slight fullness of her cheeks made her look sweet and younger than her twenty-eight years.

She must have felt him staring, because she looked at him with a slight frown. “What is it?”

He shook his head.

She returned her attention to the game, and he did as well.

Harry sighted the ball, readjusted his stance, and took the shot. The last two balls sank into the pockets. “Victory,” he shouted, shaking his cue stick.

Colin regarded Laura. “Harry is overly modest.”

She laughed.

“Bell, show her your trick,” Colin said.

“You have a trick?” Laura asked.

“It’s not really a trick,” Bell said.

“Do not let him fool you,” Harry said. “It’s quite impressive.”

“Then I insist upon a demonstration,” Laura said.

Bell set both of their glasses on a side table. Then he held out his hand to her. Once again, he was struck by her small hand. When she stood, the top of her head barely reached his chin. She was far more petite than most women. “I’ll do my best,” he said, “but occasionally it doesn’t work.”

“What is it?” she said.

“You’ll see,” Harry said. “Bell is a man of many talents.”

He said nothing as he lined the balls up in a perfect triangle and set the cue ball apart. Then he picked up the cue stick and sighted the white ball. He slid the stick over his hand and kept his eyes on the target. All of his concentration was on getting the right amount of force when he tapped the ball. He aligned his body with the cue ball, focused, and took the shot. The balls scattered over the green baize surface and dropped into the various six pockets.

Laura clapped her hands. “That was amazing.”

“Our friend is an amazing fellow,” Colin said from the sideboard, where he’d poured himself a brandy.

“However did you learn to do that?” she asked.

“I just experimented,” he said.

“You are too modest,” she said. “I doubt I could make even one land in a pocket.”

“Of course you could if you know what you’re doing.”

She shook her head. “I’m quite sure I could not.”

Bell beckoned her. “I’ll show you.”

She looked a bit uneasy as she neared him.

“You’ll need to remove the gloves,” he said.

Her fingers fumbled a bit as she pulled on the tips.

“Harry, let’s go into the garden for a cheroot,” Colin said.

Bell kept his expression impassive, but inwardly he applauded his friends for their timely exit.

“Here, I’ll help you,” he said. “If you’ll allow it.”

She hesitated a moment, and then she nodded.

He pulled on the fingertips first to loosen the glove. Then he reached for her upper arm and encountered silky smooth skin. As he slowly rolled the long glove down her slender arm, he imagined doing the same with a stocking and kissing the soft flesh he revealed.

Her breathing was a bit faster now and so was his. He pulled on the fingers of the other kid glove to loosen it. Then he began to roll it inch by inch down her arm. As he removed the glove, he met her gaze and almost staggered at the sultry expression in her green eyes. He stood there, powerless to move. The tension was palpable and her rose scent was like a potion swirling inside him with every breath. But he could not just stand here forever. So he cupped her elbow and led her to the billiards table and handed her the cue stick.

“It’s heavier than I expected,” she said.

He stood behind her. “Put your right foot forward and your left one back.”

She followed his instructions. “Now what?” she said, her voice a bit breathless.

“Lay the cue stick atop your hand between your thumb and forefinger.”

“This is a bit awkward,” she said.

“You’ll grow accustomed,” he said. “Now, grip the end of the stick, and slide it back and forth over your hand.”

She tried and fumbled with the stick.

He drew closer and put his hand over hers. His breath stirred the curl by her ear. “The stick is a bit long for you, but I’m sure you can accommodate it. Relax and keep a steady back-and-forth rhythm.” Lord, he was getting hot just thinking of what he was describing.

“Like this?” she said, her voice a bit husky.

“Excellent,” he said. “See the blue ball?”

“Yes,” she said in a whisper.

“You want to aim squarely for the white cue ball when you take the shot and knock the blue one.”

“I doubt I can hit it hard enough,” she said.

“I’ll show you.” Then he wrapped his hand over hers at the butt of the stick and helped her slide it fluidly over her hand. “On the count of three,” he said.

A little huff of laughter escaped her.

“Concentrate,” he said near her ear.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“One,” he whispered.

She inhaled on a ragged breath.

“Two.” His groin tightened again.

“Three.” He thrust the stick forward. The cue ball smacked the blue one, sending it spinning into the pocket.

He propped the cue stick against the table. “Well done.”

She gazed at him over her shoulder. “You made the shot.” Her mouth was so close, and he wanted her too much to hold back. When their lips met, he turned her in his arms and pulled her up on her toes. He leaned over her, supporting her back with his hands. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he captured her lips, and she opened for his tongue. She made a soft feminine sound, and all he could think about was eliciting far more from her. He slid his hand along her slender waist and cupped her breast. When she arched her back, he bent his head and ran his tongue all along the seam of her bodice. A shuddered breath escaped her.

He captured her lips again. She tasted so sweet, and he wanted so much more from her. His cock hardened, and he knew she felt it against her belly. He slid his hand down to her bottom and pressed her closer to him. Frustration gripped him. He yearned to undo the tapes of her gown and unravel every inch of shift, petticoat, stays, and stockings. More than anything, he wanted to carry her into the adjoining room where he could make love to her over and over on the chaise.

The devil take it. He could not remember ever wanting a woman this much before.

Approaching footsteps outside arrested him. He slid her down his body, and she quickly straightened her bodice. Then she covered her mouth.

He took her hand. “The gloves,” he said. He slid the first one on as quickly as possible. Then his fingers fumbled as he tried to put the other one on. She took the glove, turned her back, and walked over to the fire while sliding it on.

Male voices sounded. She gasped as she turned round. He winced, knowing he shouldn’t have risked kissing her.

Harry and Colin were projecting their voices to alert him. Relief filled him. If her son had walked in, she would have suffered humiliation and probably blamed herself.

Bell fixed a stoic expression on his face when his friends entered.

“Where are the cubs?” Harry said.

“I’ll investigate,” Bell said. As he strode out into the great hall, he grew suspicious. If those two had escaped, he would personally hunt them down and blister their ears. He ran up the spiral staircase and into the drawing room, but they weren’t there. When he descended, he sought his butler, Griffith. “Did you happen to see where the boys went?”

“Yes, my lord. The footman reported they were playing backgammon. I thought they might be hungry, so I asked Cook to offer them some biscuits and milk. They’re in the dining room.”

“Thank you.” Bell sighed in relief and strode off to the dining room. His previous French chef had quit in a stupid row over the breakfast menu. He’d told the housekeeper to promote the undercook to head cook. He was delighted that she was not very ambitious when it came to culinary masterpieces, as he preferred his plain English breakfast, the only meal he ever ate at home.

His cook must be thrilled to have such an easy job, but he figured if she cooked his regular breakfast of baked eggs, toast, and bacon without complaint, he would be a happy man.

When he reached the dining room, Bell found Justin and Paul eating sandwiches and biscuits while Cook poured them both a mug of milk. “Growing boys are always hungry, me mam used to say.”

“Do you have more cheese?” Justin asked her.

“Aye, I’ll bring it right up,” she said. “My lord, would you like a cheese sandwich and some milk?”

“No, thank you,” Bell said, watching the pair wolf down food faster than he’d thought possible. “You’d better bring all of the cheese,” he said. “They might gnaw on the furniture otherwise.”

Paul choked on his milk. Cook banged on his back. “That’s all right. I’ll bring another jug of milk.”

Colin and Harry entered the dining room along with Laura. When he looked at Laura, her gaze skittered away from him. He felt awful, but he would have to wait to apologize.

“Lady Chesfield got concerned when you didn’t return right away,” Harry said. “Griffith directed us here.”

Cook set her plump hand on her hip. “I’ll bring up more food since everyone is hungry.”

Laura touched her throat. “Oh, please, do not go to any trouble.”

“No trouble,” Cook said. “My, you are a pretty one, but you could use fattening up. The men like a bit of meat on the bones, if you take my meaning. Everyone take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

“Chatty cook you have,” Harry said, and bit into a biscuit.

“She’s never uttered a word in my presence before,” Bell said.

Colin snatched a biscuit. “Mmm.”

Laura poured milk into a mug and handed it along with a biscuit to Bell. He tried to communicate his apology with his eyes, but she averted her gaze again.

He looked inside the mug.

“What?” Colin said. “You don’t like milk with biscuits?”

“I haven’t had milk and biscuits since I was a boy.”

“Oh, that’s a crime,” Paul said.

“Nothing better,” Harry agreed.

Bell gave Harry an incredulous look.

“I meant when it comes to food,” Harry said.

“Keep talking,” Colin said. “You’re bound to say something you shouldn’t.”

“Never mind,” Harry said, and swigged his milk.

Justin dipped a biscuit in the milk and looked at Bell. “Dunk the biscuit already.”

“I don’t need instructions on how to eat a biscuit.” Bell pulled out a chair for Laura at the bottom of the table.

“Thank you,” she said woodenly.

Bell strode to the head of the table and took his customary seat. As he looked at Laura across the length of the table, he had the strangest feeling he’d done this once before. He mumbled something about nonsensical presci
e
nce and dunked his biscuit in the milk.

“Why are you so gruff?” Justin said.

“He made plans, and things changed,” Harry said.

“So?” Justin said.

Colin wiped the milk off his mouth. “He likes order.”

“Well, he has us for disorderly friends,” Harry said.

“That’s a bad joke,” Justin said.

He didn’t give a rat’s arse about order. He bit into the soggy biscuit and allowed that it did taste better after softening in milk. Of course, he would not admit it.

Cook sailed inside the dining room bearing a platter of sandwiches. A footman brought an additional tray of fruits, nuts, biscuits, and another jug of milk. Within minutes, everyone was eating with gusto, except Laura, who was gingerly eating a strawberry. Her lips were damp—and red. Mindlessly, he lifted the cup and got a mouthful of crumbs. He set the cup down and decided not to drink it.

“Is something wrong?” Laura asked.

“No.”
Yes, there is. I wronged you.

“I wonder what happened to George,” Justin said.

Paul shrugged. “He mentioned he might have other plans.”

“So we’re second choice?” Justin said, his voice rising.

Paul shrugged. “You know George. He changes his mind on a whim.”

“Sounds like a fair-weather friend to me,” Harry said.

Colin nodded. “Not the sort of fellow you trust.”

Justin pushed his plate aside and said nothing.

After an uncomfortable silence, Laura glanced at Bell. “Thank you for a delightful evening. I think we should probably leave now. If you could arrange for a hackney, I would appreciate it.”

“No, I’ll take you in my carriage,” he said.

“Harry and I will be shoving off now as well. Paul, we’ll give you a ride, if you wish,” Colin said.

Bell signaled a footman to make arrangements for his carriage and bade his friends good-bye in the great hall. When the carriage arrived a few minutes later, Bell led Laura and her son along the pavement. She attempted to speak to Justin, but he turned away.