Chapter 8
Simon stared out of the window of the room he occupied. Quinn’s was it? He shook his head. It hardly mattered. He still held distaste for Belle’s brothers, still failed to understand how they could ever leave her so unprotected. That fact coupled with his general fury over what was to transpire tomorrow night made for an explosive temperament. He should have fought harder for her not to be used as bait. Now come tomorrow evening, Lady Belle was going to be put in peril to catch a spy.
It went against his very nature to allow such a travesty to take place. A gentleman did not allow a lady to venture knowingly into danger—particularly not the lady he had formed an attachment to.
Not that Belle would ever give a damn about his opinion on the matter. He might as well have been a cockroach under her boot. It infuriated him to have a woman disregard everything he said with a single, haughty look. And he’d been the recipient of many of those the past few days. He’d also gained renewed regard and sympathy for his friends, who were married to similar females. Perhaps there was something to learn from the two men, but in light of their previous blunders, it might be better not to listen to any of their advice.
From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the gardens below and was surprised to note slight figure by the pond, which was nestled in the center of the garden. Blond hair cascaded down her back to her waist.
Belle.
Blood hell!
His breath hitched in his throat. Moonlight illuminated her form, giving her the appearance of a temptress created for the night. She halted at the edge of the pond, dipping her toes into the water and causing small ripples to form. He watched mesmerized as she kneeled, her fingers combing through the water which caused larger ripples to take shape. Then to his utter amazement, she cupped the water in her hands and let it run down her exposed neck.
The breath left his body in a loud whoosh.
Sudden, forceful anger eclipsed his desire. What the hell was she doing? De Roux could be lurking out in the shadows!
He considered calling her back into the house, but that would only rouse the servants and perhaps even her aunt. And since he was supposed to remain undetected, that may pose a rather unexplainable problem. No, he would go down and give her the tongue lashing she deserved.
Yet, he loathed taking his eyes off of her. What if she disappeared on his way down to the gardens? Then again, his Belle possessed sturdy lungs.
Turning on his heels, he left at a run, determined to put her in her place and not think about the fact that she resembled a water nymph waiting to be seduced.
Belle kneeled beside the pond and cooled her body. She’d been restless and unable to fall asleep. Even more than her disturbing worries over that troll of a French spy, dreams of a certain earl had plagued her. Heated, passionate dreams that scorched her very soul.
A soft moan escaped her as the cool water dripped down her neck and dampened her nightgown. She wore no robe to cover her exposed skin, and though she had absentmindedly thought that her gown was a bit too revealing for the outdoors, she’d decided it was dark after all.
As one of her designs, it had been created to tempt even the most disinterested of hearts. It wasn’t exactly meant for garden explorations, but there was something comforting about feeling so self-possessed, so sensual and comfortable in one’s own skin. That was what her creations were really all about and perhaps that was the comfort she’d sought when she put it on earlier. She’d felt rather out of control as of late.
Belle wondered whether she would truly die this time round. She hoped not. Her gravestone would never hear the end of it.
A sudden thought claimed her then. She wanted Simon to kiss her again, to feel his lips pressed against hers. She traced her lower lip with a damp finger.
But she’d be better off without such desires. His temporary occupation of her home was dangerous enough and if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself married to an earl in the blink of any eye.
That must never happen.
Even so, that did not mean Belle could not appreciate the way his muscles rippled underneath his clothing. Not that she could actually see his muscles move, but she possessed an active imagination. Already her thoughts wandered, obsessing over the laughter that always seemed present in his countenance and the way his deliciously full lips would press together whenever he disapproved of something she said.
She shook her head.
This was not the time to fantasize about Simon Tremaine!
The soft padding of footsteps across the grass alerted her to an intruder and she stilled. She turned her head to glance at the approaching figure and her jaw dropped.
As if he’d just stepped out from her imagination, Simon stood a few feet away from her, clad in nothing but his breeches. Her gaze dropped to this exposed skin of his rippled chest in obvious fascination. She could tell she’d been right about his masculine form. Slowly, her eyes lifted to meet his and she inhaled sharply when she recognized the possessive desire reflected there.
Simon almost did a double take. As it were, his breath had been knocked from his lungs and all common sense had vanished at the sight before him. He stared at her, dumbstruck, his tongue unable to form words let alone reprimand her foolishness.
Her plunging neckline revealed bountiful breasts, ripe for his mouth to devour. Oh, but those legs. His eyes roamed down to the leg that was almost completely exposed to his gaze. He wanted nothing more than to trail kisses from the arch of her foot up to the soft flesh of her thigh.
Bloody hell.
“What in hades are you wearing?” he growled before he could think better of it.
Her eyes narrowed on him, specifically on his bare chest. “What areyouwearing?”
