La Bella Isabella (5 page)

***

“Are you
sure
you want to do this,” Caroline asked her for the sixth time. “There’s only me on the piano. He might recognize you, and then what?”

“Caro, I’m sure he will recognize me. But for heaven’s sake, what can he do? I have got to bring things to a head.”

“He could make it impossible for you in the Ton,” said Caroline worriedly.

La Bella shook her head. “No, that’s the one thing he will be unable to do. Trust me. Now let’s get started. Put your mask on. You will only be here for about ten minutes. Just those two tunes. Then Tom will escort you to the ball. I will join you later.”
I hope. If he doesn’t murder me first.

***

As a woman moved to the piano, the lights reflecting off the sparkly mask she wore, Harry sat up straight and focused on the stage. The music played softly, then louder, but still no La Bella Isabella appeared. He wondered if she had lost her nerve.

He barely heard the door to the box open and didn’t register the soft footsteps of the person who had entered—until it was too late, and a soft cloth was placed over his eyes and tied firmly behind his head.

“What?” he started in fury, but soft, lush, feminine lips kissed him full on the mouth.

“Do I have your word you will not take the blindfold off, sir, or must I tie your wrists?” The voice was too quiet for him to recognize. He sought her lips, but she had moved back while awaiting her answer.

“You have my word. But how can I see your act if I am blindfolded. I presume you are La Bella Isabella?” He had no intention of keeping his word unless he chose to, but she had no need to know that.

“I, sir, am many things. If you choose Isabella, that is fine by me.” Below on the stage the piano changed tunes, signaling it was time to start.

She stood behind him and took his shoulders in her hands, kneading softly before pressing a row of kisses across the back of his neck. Harry felt his body stir in response.

“Why?” he asked, reveling in the feelings she was creating. “Why are you doing this? And only for me? Unless you have allowed another eighty-odd men in and they are all sitting blindfolded, awaiting their turn?”

She laughed. A deep rich, sensual laugh that stirred his senses and… No, he could not grasp the memory of where he had heard it before…but it would come. As he thought he might if she kept those seductive little nips and kisses up.

“I assure you, only you. A personal performance. My swan song, so to speak.” He felt her move around to his front. The music had stopped, and there was silence all around them, broke only by the sound of their breathing.

He felt her fingers on the buttons of his coat and waistcoat and her body brush against his chest. He groaned and ached to move his hands, clenching them convulsively.

“You may move your hands, my lord, just not uncover your eyes.”

“Is this making you as wet as I am hard?” he demanded of her. “A way to get what you want from me without recognizing your actions?”

She sighed. “No, my lord, it was a way for us both to enjoy ourselves to a small degree without any guilt attached. A small intrigue for us to explore a little. I want to see if you make me feel as I think a woman aroused should feel. And if you cannot see me, then you cannot worry about making me feel so.”

“Why here?” he asked her in a low voice.

“Well, my lord, we could hardly conduct ourselves in this manner at the Countess of Essex’s ball,” she replied.

He wished he could see her. “You will be at the ball?”

She sighed again.

“Maybe; maybe not. We will see. Or rather, I will see. You will not.”

“So why do you want to find out how I can make you feel? And you still haven’t answered my earlier question.” He left no doubt as to what he was referring. He reached for and found the top of her gown.

To his delight, it was cut low over her breasts. He gave a low growl. “Ah, to give me such access, to feel those breasts, to imagine how the redden.” He paused. “Well, do you answer, or do I find out for myself.”

“Oh, I feel as I think I should feel in these circumstances.” She put her hand over his rock-hard erection, which was straining his knee breeches. “As I feel, so do you.”

Harry pulled her dress down quickly, tethering her arms by her side. Still, he acquiesced to her wishes and did not remove his blindfold. There was a certain heightened arousal in his unseeing state.

Instead, he found her nipples and played with them, rolling them between his fingers, feeling them unfurl and peak. “Do I make you wet in your most secret place?” he asked urgently, not sure quite how to phrase himself, to one he was certain was a lady. “For I would like to lift your skirts, find that place, and put my fingers inside you; feel your juices before putting my cock within you. And riding you.”

He waited tensely for her reply.

Again, she did not disappoint him. “I have heard you are quite a rider, sir. Both hard and gentle, depending on your mount. Alas, I think we will not discover how we would ride together.”

“Why do you think that?” He was all interest.

Harry heard her sigh and felt her hand on his cheek. Then her breast was soft against his lips, pressing and demanding attention. He took what was offered to him, suckled strongly, and was rewarded by a long, drawn-out moan.

“Because, my lord.” Her voice was breathless, her breathing uneven. “I have discovered I am to be betrothed. I have been promised, on my twenty-fifth birthday. La Bella Isabella was my way of enjoying life as I have no chance of marrying for love, just duty.”

“How do you know it will only be for duty? Love may come?” His breath feathered across her, blowing gently before he suckled again.

“How do I know if he really wants to marry me?” she asked, her tone anguished. “He is also sworn by duty, I believe. It is not right, but it will be.”

“No, it’s not right,” Harry agreed quietly. “I feel your pain. But unless you know him, this man, and speak to him, how do you know how he may feel? Perhaps he feels as you. Or perhaps, he knows to whom he is to be betrothed and is happy. If you know who he is, can you not ask him?”

“I don’t know, my lord. If he does not know, is it fair to divulge this momentous news to him? I fear not. Let him enjoy his last months as a single man. As I am doing as a single woman.”

How long have you known about this matter?”

“That I was betrothed? Many years. My papa informed me to ensure I knew my place in his life. A cash crop were his words. When I asked to whom I was sold, he declined to tell me. He told me ‘twas nothing to do with me. Indeed?” Her laugh was mirthless. “I was promised to an unknown, told to learn all the niceties of the Ton, and behave. Well, my lord, I did. And then a mere four months ago, my intended was revealed. As was the date of my nuptials.”

Ah, so in fact almost to the day that rumors about a divine new dancing act started to circulate, not long before those select invitations began to arrive. He wondered what caused the other girls to be part of the act. It was perhaps something he would never know.

“However,” she continued, “I thank you for your patience and suffering.” She laughed as his erection moved involuntarily beneath her. “I really wish I could ease your pain, but I am afraid I cannot linger. My attendant will be here to escort you out shortly. Until then, I must ask you to abide by your promise and not remove your blindfold.”

Harry grabbed her by the waist as she went to move away. “I think it is my privilege to feel your hands on me first, just so you have something to compare with in the future. So saying, he held both her hands in one of his while he swiftly opened his breeches, before placing both her hands on his hot, hard cock.

She gasped and chuckled. He felt soft hands on his cock moving up and down, and he groaned.

Perhaps the blindfold gave her courage, for her movements became bolder, more forceful. Harry could wager his precum was gathering at the tip.

He moved his hands over her, whether to stop or encourage, he had no idea.

She chose to interpret it in a negative manner as she spoke, “Not to your liking, my lord? What am I doing wrong?” Harry felt her lips lap at his tip. He nearly fell off his seat before he grabbed her shoulders.

“Amanda, you should only do that to your betrothed. Once betrothed.”

“Oh, well, in that ca—what did you call me?”

He whipped the blindfold off and looked at her, on her knees in front of him, the tip of his cock resting just a heartbeat away from her mouth.

“I called you Amanda, my love. Did you think I would not recognize you? Your own special essence? I would sense you were you covered from head to toe in snow. And I will be the one to teach you all you know, either before or after your betrothal.”

She rested her elbows on his knees. “Why? How?” she asked with evident interest, and by the gleam in her eyes, hope.

“Come now, Amanda,” he chided, “let us play no more games. We have established you know to whom you are betrothed. Why prevaricate any longer?”

“Simple, my lord, and prevarication is not my aim; my happiness is. I told my papa it was my right to be told. If two fathers can concoct such a monstrous act, all over some petty feud, then I am entitled to know just to whom I am giving my freedom up for. He demurred until, as he said, he felt I was a lady who would know her place. It seemed my manner fooled him, for I fear I am no lady. And therefore, I chose to decide in which manner I got close to my intended. To see, if I would agree to this marriage or fight for my freedom.”

“So, do you not think the man in question will not also have demanded the same rights as you?” he asked.

She shrugged her slight shoulders.

“He is a man. How do I know how men’s minds work? If my father can…can
sell
me in such a manner, for a few acres of land, how can I expect another man to need to know who his wife will be? He will have the luxury of a mistress. I believe in the sanctity of marriage.”

Gently, Harry pulled her dress up properly, for although she had released her arms, she had not covered her breasts.

“In that, you are wrong, my love. He only has eyes and body for you. I also demanded to know to whom I was to be betrothed. And on receiving that information, was happy to agree. For although perchance our courtship has not been conventional to date, I’m damned glad La Bella Isabella has retired from the stage. Instead, I look forward to many private performances in the future. But my one husbandly demand is this. No nipping out in carriages on a dark night without me!”

Biography

Ever since I won not one but two Cadbury “Where Does Chocolate Come From?” competitions in primary school, I was convinced one day I would write a book. My parents encouraged me. My schoolteachers despaired of me—flowery, romantic, not factual. Hey, I loved weaving stories about anything and anyone!

So what happened to my grand ideas?

Life got in the way.

So more years later than I am prepared to disclose (a woman has to have some secrets!), here I am, with Breathless Press giving me my big chance. Thanks, B.P.

Married to my own hero (how cheesy is that?) after a couple of failed hero attempts, we live on the edge of a Scottish forest with two cats and three children as frequent visitors. And now two grandkids. Lucky or what?

I write on my laptop in my study, watching the birds on the bird table, the strange big, black, fluffy “I’m pretending to be a bird” cat sitting on the table and trying to convince the many birds he is invisible, occasionally seeing deer and red squirrel moving past. I am privileged.

As a non-closet romantic, sometime neurotic, and lover of words, I so enjoy getting involved with my characters. I hope you do too.