Page 22 of Brazen Rogue
The situation was hopeless, and maybe she ought to leave sooner than planned. She had some funds saved, and it would be enough for a passage across the Atlantic and two weeks in America for board and food. Just not as long as she had hoped to ensure security.
"Damn it, Reign," his lordship's voice barked from the end of the gallery.
Reign stood, unsure why he was back and not entirely sure she liked the savage, conflicted expression on his features. He strode purposefully toward her, clasping her face in his hands, and kissed her.
Took her lips in a searing kiss that left her reeling.
Reign clasped the lapels of his coat to steady herself, hoping her knees would not buckle at the intoxicating embrace he held her in.
His tongue tangled with hers, his hands guiding her to deepen the kiss and give him what they both wanted.
Each other.
"Bellamy," she moaned when he broke away to kiss her neck. His lips brushed beneath her ear, and she shivered, gasping. "Do not stop," she begged, wondering where her self-perseverance had disappeared to. This was not supposed to happen. They were supposed to keep away from each other.
"God, I want you," he breathed against her skin, kissing his way down to her shoulder. "I cannot keep away. God help me," he said, his voice strained, tortured.
And then he was gone. He wrenched out of her hold, leaving her reeling as he moved in the direction he had come, his back straight, his stride determined.
Reign bit her lip, his words replicating what she felt herself. She wanted him too, but there was so much between them, stopping them both.
However could they come together without everything they feared coming to fruition? Maybe they ought to jump into that abyss and find out.
Bellamy cupped his hand over his mouth and leaned against the wall as soon as he was out of sight of Reign. He had been so determined and doing so well when he had walked past her, ignoring her beauty and sweet gesture of welcome.
And then he had crumbled like a badly built wall with no footings or, in his case, a backbone to do as he must.
He did not stand a chance of keeping from her, stopping the scandal that would ensue unless she left his employment.
But her kisses, her longing for the same as he, he could feel it in every touch, every embrace they had.
And it was like an elixir of such he could not wean himself.
He was going to hell, that he knew without a doubt, and Reign deserved so much more than how he treated her. He could not seduce his daughter's governess. If he could not keep his hands to himself, he would have to face the scandal of marrying one's servant and fight to have her by his side, accepted as an equal in society.
The thought of her being his, to have her in his bed, sent heat to lick along his spine. They would be wild and debauched. A temptation he could not deny himself. Not if he were being honest.
There would be no stopping them once they started.
He pushed from the wall and returned to his library, pulling several parchments across his desk, determined to finish the day's work and ignore the hunger that roared through him but minutes ago.
He picked up the letter and crumpled it, throwing it into the fire, and watched as the flames turned the parchment to ash. Each time his quill touched the parchment, all he saw was Reign and what they could have if he had the strength to fight for what he wanted.
The sound of his daughter's laughter pulled him from his frustrating thoughts before the door to his library burst open, and his child ran into the room, bonnet hanging from her hand, her rosy, smiling cheeks telling him she had enjoyed her day.
"Papa, we picked mushrooms," she declared, running over to him and climbing up on his lap. "Where is Miss Hall? She will be amazed by what I found. I must tell her." She smiled as Lord and Lady Chilsten followed his daughter into the room, weary but beaming also.
"I gather the ride about Derbyshire was a success then," he said.
"Very much so." The marchioness sat on the chair opposite his desk and sighed. "And very warm. I shall seek my bed early this evening, I fear."
Chilsten ran a hand over his wife's cheek before turning to Bellamy. "How was your day, Gage? Uneventful, I hope," he asked, and Bellamy did not need to ask what he meant by such words.
He shook his head, feigning indifference, much like he had tried to do with Reign upstairs before failing miserably. "Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately," he lied, hoping his tone procured truth. "I have much to catch up on after the house party," he said.
"Of course," Chilsten said, watching him keenly. Something about his friend's gaze told Bellamy that Chilsten did not believe his words and was contemplating pushing the subject further.
"Miss Hall is upstairs in the gallery," he said before thinking better of it.
