Read In the Barrister's Bed Online

Authors: Tina Gabrielle

In the Barrister's Bed (18 page)

“Will you help me rise?”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“I shall attempt it on my own then.”
“Very well, but I don’t want you standing for long. You can sit in the armchair.”
“Stubborn and bossy woman.”
A rush of pink stained her cheeks. “Perhaps I am, but it appears you need a firm hand.”
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she helped him sit. Her breath was warm and moist against his neck, and the soft curve of her breasts brushed against him. His heart thudded, and sweat beaded on his brow. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, then stood with her aid. His legs were wobbly, but his knees didn’t buckle; rather it was his head that swam.
“Do you want to lie back down?”
“The chair, please.”
She led him to the armchair and he sat. “Damnation, this is a nuisance. If Brent, Anthony, and Jack could see me now.”
“You asked me not to write them, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. I had no wish for them to watch me lingering on my death bed.”
She paled, and he felt uncomfortable that he had distressed her with a few careless words. Death was not a topic to make light of when it had been a grim reality days ago.
The problem was his pride. He had too much of it, and he couldn’t bear to exhibit weakness. He had succumbed to the emotion in his youth when he had cried during the lonely holidays at boarding school. The students, excited and eager to return home, would wait for their families’ arrivals. Too often James had remained behind, the vacant and eerily silent halls of the school a depressing and dreary existence.
But those years had long passed, and James refused to succumb to weakness now, especially in front of this strong, courageous woman who had survived the betrayal of a spouse who had abused her rather than cherished her. James had never forgotten the betrayal of his family as a child, and as a result he was fiercely loyal to those who stood by him as a man. His colleagues knew and understood this.
Bella had yet to discover it.
Whatever her reasons for caring for him, he would repay the kindness and do right by her. Gifting her Wyndmoor Manor was not sufficient. He wasn’t the marrying kind, but she was. Even though her first marriage had been a tragedy, he had the power and influence to ensure her second was not. He was a duke who could see to it that she married a wealthy man. An old, filthy-rich man whose estate was not entailed and who would leave her a bloody fortune upon his demise.
If only he didn’t desire her for himself. If only the thought of her with another did not make his thoughts race dangerously.
She pulled up a wooden chair and sat next to him. He liked her beside him. It felt right, comfortable. Reaching out, he clasped her hand.
“I owe you a debt for your tender care.”
“You do not owe me anything for your care.”
Something swam in her eyes. Regret? Pain? He didn’t want her feeling either emotion. He wanted to see her smile, and so he said in a teasing tone, “I’ll pay you with affection. A kiss to start.”
Her plump lips parted in surprise as she read the desire in his face. “I shouldn’t be here. It isn’t proper. Coates should be the only one to tend you now that you’re recovered.”
“Do you want that?”
“No,” she said softly, and again more firmly, “No.”
For several heartbeats, the air between them was charged with awareness. Then he pulled her forward in her chair and kissed her. He hadn’t meant for it to be anything but a brief kiss. He was still drained, but the moment their lips met, all thoughts of a quick encounter fled.
Weakness be damned. His blood heated, and his breeches grew uncomfortably tight.
Her lips parted on a sigh, and his tongue swept the sweet hollows of her mouth. She again tasted of strawberries and warm woman. She moaned and clutched his shoulders. She leaned closer, her full breasts grazing his chest.
He sucked in a breath. The thought struck him that he wanted her more than any other woman he had known. He didn’t understand this need, this compulsion, only that she evoked untapped emotions within him. He deepened the kiss, savoring her sweet essence. Leisurely explored with a wild swirl of his tongue.
With a low moan, she pulled back. “Your injury,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He looked down into her face. Despite the dim light from the closed drapes, he was mesmerized by the jade pools of her eyes, clouded with passion. Her lips were parted, full and glistening, enticing him to possess and claim. As alluring and seductive as a siren.
Then her tongue glided over her lower lip, wetting it, and the lust that had simmered in his blood burst into an inferno. In one swift motion, he swept her onto his lap and sealed his lips to hers. This was no leisurely kiss, but one fueled by passion, need, and an emotion he didn’t fully comprehend. An emotion only she had the power to wield.
He cradled her face in his hands as he smothered her lips with demanding mastery. To his surprise, she returned his kiss with reckless abandon. He soon grew restless, wanting more. His hands skimmed down her arms to caress the length of her back and the soft lines of her waist and hips. His touch was urgent as he grazed the side of her breast, then cupped a full mound. She moaned, her body instinctively moving toward him. His thumb grazed the nipple, taut beneath the fabric of her gown; then his fingers dipped inside the bodice to fill his hand with warm, womanly flesh.
She gasped and kissed him back, eagerly and urgently. When she squirmed in his lap and her bum cheeks rubbed against his arousal, his engorged cock throbbed in response.
His heart hammered; his need intensified. He had to have her. It was no longer a question of if. His fingers reached for the hem of her skirt....
The door opened suddenly, and Bella jerked back just as Coates entered the room carrying a tray of food.
Coates froze when he spotted them, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping. “Pardon!” he sputtered, and turned to leave.
Bella jumped to her feet, two bright spots of pink dusting her cheeks. “No! Please set down the tray. I was on my way.” With a swoosh of her skirts, she fled the room.
James ignored Coates’s incredulous expression. His gaze remained on the open doorway. Something shifted inside him, an almost indiscernible emotion that reminded him of the slight tipping of the scales of justice that had been artfully displayed on his mantel in his Lincoln’s Inn chambers.
James had witnessed it before from one of his clients. A cold-blooded murderer who had escaped a near-death experience that had changed him. Vendettas were forgotten, longtime debts repaid, religion discovered. Life was too short, the client had told him, to spend it battling his opponents.
James had never fully understood this client until now.
He had come to Hertfordshire to claim a piece of land and a country home. But his motives had changed, along with his mission. If Bella was in trouble, he swore to help her. And if she wasn’t, then he would ensure that she never had another worry in her life.
Chapter 19
Over the course of the following days, James’s health quickly improved. Dr. Grimsby returned to London, and James began a routine of vigorous physical exercise, which included hiking, swimming in the lake, and riding Maximus.
Bella’s care had come to an end. There was no longer a reason to be close to the duke, and so she had resumed her efforts searching for the missing ledger.
She met Harriet in the spare room, where the trunks they had brought with them from Plymouth had been stowed. Painstakingly they had rummaged through each one. Bella had saved her mother’s trunk for last, but now every item had been removed—her parent’s miniature portrait, her mother’s pearl combs, her books, notes, and writings, and a packet of documents. She had carefully examined the interior of the trunk and the curved top and flat bottom of the inside of the lid. No ledger had been hidden inside.
“We have searched every last one,” Bella said, wiping her brow. “It’s not here.”
“Maybe the ledger is still in the Plymouth house,” Harriet suggested.
Bella shook her head. “Rupert purchased the house and searched it. He was convinced Roger had hid the ledger amongst my possessions.”
Harriet shut the lid of the trunk she had just searched. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but it is not here.”
“What am I to do?”
“Nothing. Rupert has not been heard from since the incident in the stables. Rupert is bold, but he isn’t stupid. I doubt he
intended
to shoot Blackwood. Both Bobby and the duke must have caught him unawares. Rupert knew if the duke died, he would be hunted for the murder for the rest of his days. He fled, I tell you.”
Bella sighed. “I pray you’re right, and he never returns.”
“And Blackwood?” Harriet asked, arching a brow. “I take it you no longer consider him your enemy?”
Enemy? She could never think of James as her enemy. His impending death had changed her feelings toward him. That and the curious sweeping pull at her innards whenever she set eyes upon him.
“Do you still intend to seek the London solicitor’s advice about Wyndmoor Manor?” Harriet said.
Bella knew she should. James would eventually leave for London and his ducal responsibilities, and the property dispute would be left unresolved. They had not been able to discuss the topic when he was sick, and ever since he had recovered and Coates had walked in on them in a scandalous position, she had been careful to avoid James and her riotous emotions. She still desperately wanted Wyndmoor Manor, yet the thought of fighting James in a court of law no longer felt right.
At Bella’s silence, Harriet smiled. “You’re battling yourself, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Bella, luv. You have nursed the man through his sickness. I know you better than anyone and your efforts weren’t entirely out of guilt for Rupert’s actions. Were they?”
“I’m uncertain—” she said hesitantly.
“Coates said Blackwood sent you a note requesting you to dine with him this evening.”
Bella stiffened. “I had planned on declining.”
“Why?”
“He’s fully recovered! It would be unwise for me to spend more time with him.”
Harriet’s brow creased, her expression earnest. “Listen to me carefully, Bella. The heart makes its own rules. If only one could control it with logic, it would never be broken. But love and logic tend to stray from each other.”
“I do not love him!” Bella said, but her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.
I cannot love him! He’s a bloody duke, and I’m a country widow. Dozens of heiresses will throw themselves at his feet upon his return.
“Soon he will return to London, to his former friends, and to his new life as a duke.”
“So? Nothing is stopping you for being with him now.”
Bella had thought about it, God only knew she had thought of it many times. She could no longer deny the thrill of excitement at the prospect of being with James, of his warm flesh touching hers. She didn’t fear intimacy with him like she had Roger. Nothing about the two men was similar, least of all in a physical nature.
James was devilishly handsome, and there were countless times she had to tear her gaze away from his profile. She had been attracted to him before he had been shot, and her feelings for him had only intensified since.
And when James had kissed her ... had touched her ... sweet heaven, she had melted in his arms. Her instinctive response to him was so powerful, she had been impelled by her own passion. If Coates had not chosen that moment to enter the room, she would have
begged
James to ease the shiver of wanting running through her body.
“Accept his invitation,” Harriet urged. “Go and get the answers you need.”
Bella wore the amethyst gown she had purchased while shopping with Evelyn in St. Albans. At the last minute, she tossed aside a pair of old serviceable stockings for the new black silk stockings and frilly garters. As she pulled the delicate material up her long legs, the sheer silk felt forbidden and delicious against her skin.
Then, opening her mother’s trunk, she chose two pearl combs to adorn her hair. Parting her hair in the Grecian style, she used the pearl combs to sweep the tendrils from her face while the rest of her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and down her back.
It had been years since she had worn her mother’s combs. But tonight was special. She would go to James not as a fatigued and disheveled nursemaid concerned for his care, but as a woman accepting a handsome man’s invitation to dine.
She descended the stairs, intending to go to the dining room, when Coates met her at the bottom of the staircase.
“His Grace awaits you in the billiard room.”
Bella eyed him with puzzlement. “The billiard room?”
“Dinner will be served there.”
She frowned as she made her way down the hall. How strange. What was James thinking?
She had forgotten about the billiard room. James had purchased the snooker table and had it delivered when she had been out of the house with Evelyn. At the time, she had sworn he did it to spite her. He had taken over one of the smaller parlor rooms and had the table assembled and a cue rack installed on the wall within the short time she had been gone. He had been quite aware that a country widow had no need of a billiard room whereas a bachelor could spend countless hours ensconced in the room with his friends.
So why would James prefer to dine there?
A sudden uneasiness plagued her, and a warning voice whispered in her head. Now that his recovery was complete, did he plan on turning her out? Was the billiard room a symbol for his victory?
She opened the door to find James leaning forward over the cloth-covered table, holding a cue and preparing to take a shot. With a quick thrust of his cue and a resounding crack, ivory balls scattered across the table.
She shut the door behind her. He lowered the cue, his gaze sweeping her face and figure.
“Thank you for coming, Bella. You look beautiful.”
Her pulse quickened at the admiration in his eyes. “You look well, Your Grace.”
“James,” he corrected.
He turned away from the table to face her, and her breath caught.
He must have recently bathed for his dark hair was damp and curled around his collar. The candlelight heightened the rich mahogany of his thick hair and his bronzed, perfectly chiseled features. He was impeccably dressed in buff trousers, a striped waistcoat, and a navy jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The reflection of the flame in his eyes turned the deep cobalt into glittering sapphires. She hadn’t seen him wear a cravat since before he was injured, and she was struck with how startlingly handsome he looked.
He appeared very much the powerful duke—all supreme and immaculate grandeur and unmistakable nobility. Yet he stirred dangerous and scintillating memories within her—the power and strength of his arms, the searing heat of his kiss, the first touch of his tongue against hers, the distinctive scent of his shaving soap, at once masculine and alluring.
“I thought we were to dine, not play snooker,” she said.
“We are, but this room is much more intimate than the large formal dining room. Don’t you agree?”
Yes, too intimate,
she thought. It was difficult enough for her to resist him in a formal setting with the threat of the servants interrupting them at any time. But here she would be trapped in a small, private room that
invited
intimacy when she was struggling to keep it at bay.
James motioned to a table and chairs in the corner. The table was draped in a snowy-white tablecloth and fine china for two was set upon it. Until now it had escaped her notice, and she realized she had been consumed with watching him.
He walked to the table and held out a chair. “May I?”
His fingers brushed the tops of her bare shoulders as she sat, and a shiver of awareness ran down her spine.
There was a low knock on the door and a footman entered wheeling a cart with silver salvers bearing the Blackwood crest. Lifting the covers, the delicious aromas of turtle soup, roast lamb with a delicate mint sauce, and fresh vegetables made her mouth water. James uncorked a bottle of red wine and filled their crystal goblets.
The footman departed and Bella picked up her spoon. The food was exceptionally prepared, but she could have been eating cold porridge for all she knew. James’s eyes feasted upon her as she ate, as if she were as delicious as the main course. She drained her glass and licked her lips nervously. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he attentively poured her more wine.
“I received a letter from the dowager duchess this morning,” he said.
There was uneasiness in her stomach, and she lowered her glass. “Your grandmother?”
“I never called her by that name.”
“She provided for your education.”
“Yes, but nothing more.”
Bella’s memories were clear of her own paternal grandmother. Warm embraces, showering kisses, and the aromatic smell of fresh baked bread. She was once again struck by the emotional coldness in which James had been raised.
His father’s neglect. His grandmother’s disdain. His half brother’s belittling.
“She demands I return to London and take over my responsibilities,” James said. “It seems my half brother, Gregory, has returned.”
“Have you not yet spoken to him about ... about your circumstances?” she asked.
“No, not since I’ve inherited the title. I can only imagine how the dowager duchess broke the news to him.”
“Did you write her of your illness?”
His tone was harsh. “She deserves no explanations from me.”
“Perhaps, but she’s right in this instance. As the duke, you must return,” Bella found herself saying. How odd that she would have been thrilled to have him gone not long ago and now the knowledge filled her with despair.
Taking a deep breath, she asked the question that had been hovering in her mind like a black cloud. “What will happen here? I mean no disrespect, but we have not resolved our dispute.”
“Oh, but we have.” He stood and took her hand. “Come. I want to show you something.” Guiding her to the snooker table, he picked up a rectangular box that had been resting on its edge and handed it to her. “For you, my dear.”
She hadn’t noticed the box before, and she frowned in confusion. She opened the lid to find a stunning diamond and ruby necklace wrapped around a rolled piece of parchment. Her heart thundered in her chest at the priceless jewels. She slid the necklace from the parchment and unrolled it. It was his copy of the deed to Wyndmoor Manor.
“They are both yours,” he said. “Thank-you gifts for your kindness in my time of need.”
Speechless, she stared up at him. “You’re giving me these?”
“I thought to buy you emeralds to match your eyes, but the moment I spotted the rubies in the jeweler’s window, I knew they were perfect. They are full of fire and spirit just as you are. As for Wyndmoor Manor, I know it is your heart’s desire.”

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