Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine #3)(31)

Jesus. His breathing came raggedly as he pumped his cock harder. She was mimicking being restrained. He watched with a tight focus, his arm moving like a piston as he vividly imagined holding her down on the mattress and pounding his cock into that snug pink *.

He came before she did, his orgasm sharp and delicious. She was still writhing, clearly about to climax, when he shut off the video feed, no longer interested.

Things were progressing well, he told himself as he set aside his computer and dried the semen on his belly with a tissue. He’d set the ball in motion. It was no good hunting wounded prey if it remained invisible to his sights. Certainly he would be lured into the open now, with the threat he’d provided . . . the bait.

All Gerard had to do was wait and let the unfortunate drama unfold.

* * *

Christmas Day was spent very pleasantly. Anne gave her a tour of Belford Hall following a delicious brunch. Afterward, they exchanged gifts, and Francesca was glad to see that the ones to her from Anne and James were small, token-type gifts in the style she’d given them. They must have recognized she’d be uncomfortable with expensive presents. Gerard, on the other hand, stopped her next to the huge, sparkling tree in the Great Hall before she went to her suite to dress for dinner.

“What’s this?” she asked, confused when he handed her a dark red, rectangular box.

“My gift to you, of course. Merry Christmas.”

Francesca glanced around uncomfortably, but they were the only people in the hall. She opened the jewelry box, gasping softly when she saw the stunning diamond and platinum choker nestled in black velvet.

“Gerard, I can’t take this.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do. It’s stunning,” she assured, regretting his concerned look.

“Then it must be yours, because you’re the very definition of stunning,” he said, his fingertips touching her cheek fleetingly.

“No . . . I couldn’t,” she said, holding out the box, but he refused to accept it. He just gave her a wry glance and turned away. She stood there in rising frustration and doubt as she watched him walk up the stairs.

* * *

The next morning she was getting ready to drive into town with Anne when a rap came at her door. Clarisse breezed in carrying a garment bag, her face radiant with excitement.

“It’s come,” she said, her voice trembling, her enthusiasm so great that Francesca truly sensed her youth for the first time.

“What’s come?” she asked, puzzled.

“Your dress.” Clarisse shook her head, beaming. “It’s amazing. You never said . . . you didn’t even hint . . . and he designs for the royals and all!” she sputtered.

Francesca laughed in complete bewilderment. “What are you talking about—”

But Clarisse was too busy hanging and unzipping the garment bag to pay attention. Francesca just stood there, her mouth gaping open at the most exquisite white and pale silver gown she’d ever seen or imagined. It fastened at the throat and was both sleeveless and backless. The design on the fitted bodice was of delicate silver leaves inlaid on white. Even though the white background was sheer, the dress was lined for modesty. The skirt was straight versus full, the sheer white fabric falling over a silver undergarment giving the impression of flowing, shimmering water.

“You must let me do your hair tonight,” Clarisse was saying breathlessly. “I know just the perfect style for this gown. You’re going to look amazing. Oh . . . and a note was delivered with it.”

Francesca took the small white envelope with numb fingers, pausing to assure it was indeed her name on the front. The note was typed on linen parchment.

Francesca,

Forgive me for being remiss and leaving you so unprepared.

She just stared at the note for an extended moment, holding her breath, a strange, tingling sensation settling in her limbs. No . . . it couldn’t be.

Forgive me for being remiss. Wait . . . hadn’t Gerard said that to her recently? And he knew she didn’t have a dress.

Disappointment flooded her.

“Are you excited for tonight? The ballroom is going to look so amazing. Did her ladyship tell you that the decorations are all in silver and white? You’ll look like a fairy princess in it with this dress,” Clarisse enthused, running her hand along the skirt so that the exquisite fabric flowed over her forearm.

“No. Just a lucky chance, I guess,” Francesca said dubiously.

“My gown is nothing to this, but I still can’t wait,” Clarisse said.

“You mean you’ll be attending the ball?”

Clarisse nodded, her eyes shining. “Her lady and lordship invited the permanent staff. It’s sort of a nod to the tradition of the servant balls they used to have on Boxing Day years ago. Since it’s also their anniversary, Lady Stratham thought it’d be nice to combine the celebration into one grand ball. We’re all very excited. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Francesca assured. She shoved the note into her pocket, ashamed of herself for the flash of hope that had gone through her for a split second as she read those typed words.

* * *

As it turned out, she and Anne were unsuccessful shopping for a dress in town. Of course she’d been spoiled for another one. No other dress stood a chance next to that exquisite creation that had been delivered. It rankled at her a little, knowing that Gerard had recognized how much she’d love it.