Page 55 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
She shook her head. “Still horrible.” She made a point of saying herh, and he smiled.
“It’s important to know who your friends are,” he corrected.
And while she was nodding, her expression relaxed and open, he took his reward.
Chapter Ten
When a gentleman takes liberties, it is laughed off with good humor. When a bastard takes liberties, the experience is too exquisite to laughat.
Maybelle knew hewas about to take liberties. She could feel it in the caress of his hands on her legs. In the way he smiled so sweetly. And, most especially, in the way he leaned into her body, moving himself closer in the guise of adjusting her foot in his lap.
It was a ruse—and an obvious one—but for the first time in her life, she had trouble resisting it. Certainly, lots of men had tried to take advantage. A few she had allowed. But this man with his tale of pain and betrayal, this man with his honest eyes and lying hands—this man was a contradiction who tempted her.
She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to spread her legs and teach her what she’d missed all these years. But even more than that, she wanted to know what this man was like with his lovers. She’d seen him protect Dicky, even though he knew Lord Linsel was about to betray him. She’d seen him angry enough to force a kiss from her, then soften almost immediately. And then he’d come to apologize. He was a complicated man, and she was fascinated to see all the different aspects of his personality.
Or perhaps she wanted to feel him touch her. Large hands rough with callouses slowly spread her thighs. She resisted, of course, but not hard enough to stop him. And not forcefully enough to rouse herself from the sensuous spell he’d cast over her.
She sighed and put her hands over his, where he pressed his thumbs deep into the topside of her knee. It felt wonderful, but she stilled him nonetheless.
“You know I cannot do this.”
“I know you must keep your virginity. There is much that can be done without losing that.”
She brought one of his hands to her lips, forcing herself to rouse enough to cup his strong fingers in her palm. “You will think me a whore. Or worse, a fool.”
“I know you are neither.”
“Mr. Hallowsby—”
“Call me Bram. I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“Bram, you cannot have me. Not without a wedding ring.”
He arched his brows, his expression boyish. “You would marry me?”
That thought pulled her straighter in her chair. She knew he was not truly offering, but the idea took root immediately. Without her willing it, reasons for and against listed themselves in her mind. He was more interesting than Charlie, that was for sure. Smarter in a worldly way. And in the few days that she’d known him, he’d never been dull.
But he was not respectable. He was a bastard, and the more time she spent with him, the more her own worth came into question. Not in her mind, but in everyone else’s. After a lifetime of fighting for respectability, she could not give it up so easily.
“No, I wouldn’t,” she said gently. “You are a bastard, and I want to be respectable.”
He nodded as if he expected as much, but there was vulnerability in his eyes. Did he want her to overlook such a flaw? She couldn’t because he wasn’t truly offering.
“Do you know…” Bram said, as he pressed his lips to the inside of her calf, “I spent years trying to be respectable? I said the right things, acted the right ways. When all my friends—legitimate children of proper parents—were cheating at cards or seducing women, I remained pure.”
She heard the echo of his words in her life. She too had spent so much time acting correctly when all those she knew cheated in one way or another. “It’s terribly hard.”
“And lonely.” He looked into her eyes. “And pointless. Those who will look ill upon you will continue to do so. No amount of correct behavior will change that.”
She knew that to be true. The vicar, for certain, would not think well of her until she proved her connection to her father.
She touched his face. “So you bid me throw morality to the wind? Open my thighs, and let you do as you will?”
Sudden heat burned in his eyes, and his nostrils flared. He knew it hadn’t been a true offer, but he responded as if she was truly offering. His hands tightened, and when he spoke, his voice was raw.
“Do what pleases you, Bluebell, and forget the rest.” Then he brushed his chin across the top of her knee. Once. Twice. The roughness of his stubble set her senses to tingling.
How she wanted to do it. Her belly was trembling, her insides liquid. Her breasts felt heavy and her eyes languid.
