In the Barrister's Bed. Tina Gabrielle
had she been kissed like this by a man. Her experience was limited to Roger, and he had been demanding and hurtful. His affections had been a brutal performance of dominance. He had never been concerned for her pleasure, only her capitulation. She had learned early on to tamp down her defiance, or he would prolong his torment.
But James. He didn’t touch her with anything but his lips and the hand cradling her face. She was free to step away should she wish to. Only she did not.
For the first time in her life, she felt true lust. It was a heady emotion, a dangerous weapon in this battle of wills. A small warning voice cried out in the back of her mind that if she allowed him to treat her like a common dalliance she would lose whatever footing she had at Wyndmoor Manor. Yet, this rising passion could not be denied. How could a kiss be this potent, trigger such primitive yearnings?
Leaning forward an inch, she brushed against the harness of his chest, felt the warmth of his body, and inhaled the alluring scent of his cologne, sandalwood and cloves.
A groan rumbled from deep in his throat. His lifted his head, his dark eyebrows slanted in a frown, and looked down at her.
“I hadn’t expected that,” he said.
“The kiss?”
“No, your response.”
Enthralled by the gleam of desire she saw in his eyes, she tried to still the wild pounding of her heart. “It was a mistake.”
He laughed hoarsely. “Living together is a mistake, but neither of us is inclined to change our minds, are we?”
She shook her head.
He sighed, then reached for his jacket. “Shall we go back, then?”
He waited for her to pick up her discarded wildflowers, and they headed back to the house in silence.
Bella’s brain was in tumult as she hurried to keep pace with his long stride. What had come over her? Not only had she allowed him the liberty of a kiss, she had enjoyed it. The Duke of Blackwood was a complex man, and the fervent passion she had experienced in his arms alternately thrilled and frightened her. This attraction, this lust was entirely new—a first for Bella—exciting, yes, but also utterly dangerous.
He stopped to help her over a fallen log, and his fingers grasped hers. Their eyes locked, their breathing came in unison, and the tingling in the pit of her stomach was quick to return. She must avoid being alone with him in the days to come, but how could she accomplish such a task when they shared a residence?
She was still contemplating the question when they approached the stables, and a boy with bright red hair and a gap-toothed smile waved and called out for Blackwood.
“Coates mentioned the lad is your stable boy,” Bella said.
“Bobby may only be twelve years old, but he’s quick, intelligent and exceptional with the horses. He keeps an immaculate stable, and he will care for your mare as well as my horses. Anything you require in the stables, you have only to ask.”
“I shall keep that in mind, Your Grace.”
He stopped and looked down at her. “It’s James, remember?” he said, with a grin.
Her heart gave a little lurch.
He bowed. “The boy needs to speak with me. Until another time?”
She bobbed a quick curtsy and fled to the house.
James watched as Bella hurried into the house. He should be pleased that his plans were falling into place. But he hadn’t counted on the sweetness of Bella’s lips, her evocative response to his touch. And when she had capitulated to her desires and kissed him back, his heartbeat had skyrocketed and his arousal had been swift. He’d wanted to get closer to her, crush her lush curves against him, and discover if her auburn hair smelled like the vibrant wildflowers that she had picked.
He had ended the kiss only to find that when she raised her lids, she gazed up at him in wonder, like an innocent, inexperienced girl who longed to have him reveal the mysteries of sex. But how could that be? She had been married for seven years. Either she was a consummate actress or ... or what?
He shook his head at his folly. Perhaps the problem lay with him. How long had it been since his last conquest?
Over the past months his docket at Lincoln’s Inn had been taxing, and then the dowager duchess had resurfaced in his life. Since then James had been consumed with the news of his unexpected inheritance. And no matter how much he had told himself his father’s rejection had meant little to him as a man, the old duke’s passing had left a permanent sorrow and heaviness in James’s chest.
It was entirely reasonable to assume his ardent response toward Bella Sinclair was due to the recent pressure in his life and the fact that he had gone too long without female companionship. Unlike his colleague Brent Stone, James was not accustomed to even short stints of celibacy.
As for his telling speech by the stream, he hadn’t meant to reveal his entire family history—only that he had inherited the dukedom. But the sadness in Bella’s eyes when she spoke of her father’s passing had made him want to speak of his own parent. The irony was not lost on him. He had always been adept at getting a witness to confess on the stand, not the other way around.
There had to be a solution to this dilemma. He would win—he didn’t doubt himself—yet he found himself thinking of her. Reeves would eventually be found, and if the thief had spent all their money, then James would offer to pay Bella from his own pockets. If only she would accept the money and quit the place, then he never need be tempted by her again.
It was a good solid plan. She was merely a woman, no different from the countless other females whom he had entertained. He had a clear sense of himself and understood his current fascination with Bella Sinclair was due entirely to the fact that she was an irresistible challenge on two fronts—to bed her and to win against her in their battle over property ownership. He must maintain his focus, and not let the widow, no matter how alluring she was, distract him from his goal.
Chapter 8
“The duke requested you join him downstairs for the evening meal.”
Bella sat at a mahogany writing table in the corner of her bedchamber. Her notebook was open before her, the page blank. Whatever aspirations she’d had for writing had vanished for the day. She turned to see Harriet standing in the doorway, a look of expectation on the older woman’s face.
“Kindly give the duke my apologies and tell the new cook, Mrs. O’Brien, to prepare a dinner tray to be brought to my bedchamber,” Bella said.
Bella was tired from today’s events, and sitting across the table from Blackwood was the last thing she desired. Besieged by confusing emotions, she sought the comforting solitude of her room.
“He’ll want to hear it from you,” Harriet said.
Bella sighed. “I’ll write a note and have it delivered to him then.”
Harriet stepped into the room and shut the door. “You must meet him on equal footing, Bella. It is your house and you should dine downstairs rather than cloister yourself in your bedchamber.”
Bella raised her hand and stood. “Not tonight, Harriet. I spent enough time in his presence this afternoon.”
Harriet sat on the window seat and patted the cushion beside her. “Sit, Bella.”
Bella sighed and sat beside the elder woman. Harriet’s wizened eyes traveled Bella’s face as if looking for something amiss. “Tell me what happened.”
Bella bit her bottom lip, then blurted out, “He kissed me.”
Harriet’s face brightened. “Indeed. How was it?”
How was it? It was a kiss Bella wouldn’t easily forget. Just thinking of his lips brushing hers was enough to make the blood rush through her veins.
His