That earned her a dark laugh. “I take it you have changed your mind?”
She nodded curtly. “A terrible idea.”
“And why is that?”
“I’ve clearly lost my marbles, even though the idea did seem promising at the time.”
He shook his head as if to disagree with her. “The idea, Lady Belle, should not have held any promise at all. I am not the sort of man that would have done the right thing by you should we have been caught. I would leave your reputation in shambles.”
If only Westfield exhibited such charm, Belle mused darkly.
“I am well aware of your type. But even if you were inclined to do the right thing, I assure you I most definitely would not. Indeed, sir, it is your reputation that would be ruined, not mine.”
A burst of laughter rumbled deep within his chest, earning him a surprised glance. Craven was not a man that laughed much, if ever, but amusement was ripe in his gaze.
He leaned closer until only inches separated their faces. “You are interesting as you are exquisite. I believe I like you, Lady Belle.”
Something fluttered in her chest.
Aha!
His gaze dropped to her lips. “And I’m beginning to think that perhaps a kiss might hold some promise after all.”
At the sharp intake of her breath, his lips twitched and then lightly touched hers, catching her exhale in a soft, feather-light kiss. Belle’s eyes fluttered closed as she waited for the inventible deepening of the kiss and the tightening of her stomach muscles in response, but suddenly his lips disappeared from hers, their absence only followed by a muffled grunt.
When Simon first saw Belle disappear outside with Craven he’d stood frozen in shock, disbelief playing across his features. His disbelief had quickly transformed into a hot rage that burned inside his chest, and before he could stop himself, he was barrelling down their way, stone-faced and horns sprouting. Admittedly, it was rather out of character for him.
Earlier, when a footman informed him that she’d decided to attend the Carleton Ball without so much as an escort, he’d nearly taken the poor man’s head off in his fury. His anger was fueled by fear for her. Her avoidance only added to his already barely-contained aggression.
Dammit, he’d made a mess of things. So she refused to listen to his apologies, to allow him a chance to set it right. Fine. But venturing off on her when a killer was after her?
Unacceptable.
And what the hell was she doing with Craven? Simon had not forgotten how St. Aldwyn’s wife had once tried to seduce the bastard. For Belle’s sake, he hoped she wasn’t plotting to get him back with such revenge.
So with the sole purpose of catching up with them in mind, he pushed through the crowd, ignoring anyone who called out his name or tried to gain his attention. He was in no mood to whip out his usual friendly charm.
Did the woman foster a death wish?
He burst through the French doors and out into the night with determined speed but paused on the terrace. There was no sign of Belle or Craven.
Something rattled in his chest. Fear for her, jealousy, all churned in his stomach as he ran into the garden at full speed. He was just about to shout out her name when laughter filtered through the dense shrubberies somewhere to his right. He stopped dead, his head whipping in the direction of the sound.
He recognized the low rumble of Craven’s laughter instantly. Then, after a short bitter moment, he heard it—the soft resonance of Belle’s tone as she too began to chuckle. Rage returned, swift and unrelenting, demanding retribution. His legs started to move, following the sound of their laughter until they came into view.
Craven’s body was propelled forward, leaning into Belle, his face mere inches away from hers.
Simon had never been one to give into feelings of jealousy. It had just never been his way. Until tonight. Tonight the emotion spurred on his anger. Yes, he’d made a terrible mistake in believing her stripped of her innocence, but that did not mean that he should be punished for it this way.
When Craven suddenly lowered his head to place a kiss on Belle’s lips, red filled his vision. Before he knew what was happening his feet had taken him forward with purposeful strides. His hands grabbed Craven by his coat and tossed the taller man aside, ready for the fight that would ensue. He wanted to pummel the bastard’s face in.
“Simon! What are you doing?” Belle’s indignant huff burned into his skin, awakening the deeply buried primal beast in him. He ignored her, his eyes locked on Craven, ready for any retaliation.
Craven straightened his coat, but made no further move to retaliate. “It took you long enough,” the man drawled, unconcerned that he’d just been tossed aside.
Belle gasped. “You knew all along he was here?”
Craven shrugged. “I saw him enter just before I guided you to the gardens. I figured he’d follow.”
