Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms 3)
Page 29
With slow deliberation, he lifted her hand, his grip sure and firm, and slid the smaller wedding band onto her finger.
Belinda tried to keep her hand steady, fighting a tremor.
She knew what she was doing, she told herself. She was strong and capable.
Still, she sucked in a breath when Colin raised her hand to his lips. He kept his eyes on hers as he very properly blew a kiss right over the back of her hand.
She felt relief—and yes, a twinge of disappointment that she quickly banished—before Colin surprised her by turning her hand over.
He leisurely kissed first the pad of one finger and then another, and Belinda felt her heart quicken.
When he was done, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips into her palm.
Belinda took short and shallow breaths.
She felt his warm, soft lips like an erotic brand that sent pulsing sensation down to the tips of her toes.
Why, oh why did Colin know so unerringly how to get under her defenses? He certainly lived up to billing as the descendant of conquerors. Whenever she thought she knew what to expect, he caught her off guard.
Yet despite his calm facade, she could tell he was affected, too. He held himself with a leashed stillness and intensity.
He’d take her right here if she agreed.
The thought raced through her mind, and Belinda felt herself melt. She remembered how passionate their night in Vegas had been. The images were emblazoned on her memory in vivid 3-D, though she’d tried hard over the years not to play that particular movie.
Colin opened his eyes and raised his head, and she ran her tongue over her lips.
He watched the action like a bee drawn to pollen. She knew if he kissed her, her lips would certainly feel bee-stung.
He never did anything in half measures, she realized. In that respect, he’d acted true to form in his current take-no-prisoners battle with the Wentworths.
Belinda straightened her spine and extricated her hand from his.
Colin might be an expert at seduction, but he was also the one who had plotted the ruination of her family for his own nefarious purposes—and she was his pawn. She might allow her uncle to manipul
ate her for their family’s sake, but she would not allow her husband to control her, as well—certainly not now, before their agreement was officially in place.
Colin’s lips quirked with dry humor. “We can always select rings that are more to your liking. Garrard has been the Granville family’s jewelers for over a century. Naturally, you can also have your pick from the Granville heirlooms.”
“These are fine,” Belinda responded, curling her fingers into the palm of the hand that he had kissed.
She wanted the reminder of how their relationship had started with a hasty trip to a Vegas chapel. Somehow, she knew she’d need the clue in the weeks and months to come.
“You’ll also need a proper engagement ring.”
Belinda was glad the sexual tension had eased, but somehow she still felt under siege. “I’m surprised you don’t already have one picked out. This meeting has all the markings of a victor arranging to inventory his spoils.”
Unconscionably, Colin grinned. “So you see yourself as a spoil of war? Strangely, I find the analogy to Helen of Troy more compelling.”
“The face that launched a thousand ships?” she parried. “I doubt you have a thousand warships to launch.”
Colin laughed. “I’ll have to be more inventive, then.”
Belinda became aware of the pounding of her heart.
Colin had been inventive enough already. She really didn’t want him to be any more so.
He bent his head to kiss her, and she took a step back.