In the Barrister's Bed (7 page)
Read In the Barrister's Bed Online
Authors: Tina Gabrielle
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.
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.”
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.
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 first day here and she had fallen victim to his charm, had actually
kissed
him back. She had been overcome by the beauty of the landscape, the comforting warmth of the sun, and the virile man stretched out on the bank beside her. She had been entranced by the bitter sadness of his face—however brief the flicker of emotion—when he had mentioned his family’s abandonment. And when his arms had wrapped around her as he had demonstrated how to skip a stone, she had been foolishly swept away by an awakening yearning.
kissed
him back. She had been overcome by the beauty of the landscape, the comforting warmth of the sun, and the virile man stretched out on the bank beside her. She had been entranced by the bitter sadness of his face—however brief the flicker of emotion—when he had mentioned his family’s abandonment. And when his arms had wrapped around her as he had demonstrated how to skip a stone, she had been foolishly swept away by an awakening yearning.
He was a skilled kisser, and no doubt a skilled lover. She couldn’t help but wonder—what would it be like to bed the duke? Her experience was limited to Roger, and based on James’s kiss alone she suspected the experience would be vastly different.
But Blackwood’s motives were questionable. He was devastatingly attractive and unscrupulous enough to take any woman. Combined with his title, she suspected females would be attracted to him in droves. Bella was nothing more than his opponent.
So why kiss her?
Harriet frowned, her eyes level under drawn brows. “Did the duke hurt you?”
Hurt her? Heavens, no.
James hadn’t even held her as he kissed her. It had been marvelous, gentle, and thrilling, and the degree to which she had responded stunned her. She could never admit, even to Harriet, that it had been
he
who had broken their kiss.
he
who had broken their kiss.
“No, he did not hurt me,” Bella said. “Yet he is trying to manipulate me. He wants me gone from Wyndmoor Manor.”
“You may be right. But how was the kiss?”
Harriet could be as tenacious as a terrier when she sought information.
“It was pleasant,” Bella answered.
Harriet eyed her as she had when Bella had stolen a sweet from the pantry. “You feared he’d be like Roger? You shouldn’t. Roger was nothing but a sick bastard, he was.”
Bella’s gut clenched just thinking of her deceased husband’s sexual attentions. Roger had only approached her after he had drunk no less than four tankards of ale. He had been mean without alcohol, but combined with spirits he was downright cruel.
It was then that he’d demand his marital rights. He’d douse the fireplace, insist she disrobe before him and stand still in the center of their bedchamber. She’d often tremble from the cold and dread, knowing what was to follow. As a young bride, she had been horrified to discover that he needed to inflict pain and fear in order to stimulate himself.
Bella was prideful by nature, and she had glared up at Roger in hatred. Often his frustration and ire would take control, and he would wrench her arm, push her to the floor before him, and strike her. After the first months of their marriage, he was unable to perform sexually, and he’d viciously berate her, repeatedly ranting that she was inadequate as a woman and not worthy to be his wife. She had prayed his visits to her bedchamber would stop, but to no avail. Her only consolation was he’d not been able to bed her.
She’d soon heard of whispers from the servants that Roger had whores enter through the kitchen door. Rumors abounded that the women were skilled at dominating Roger, inflicting pain upon him. That he’d
paid
to be whipped with his own riding crop.
paid
to be whipped with his own riding crop.
Bella had been shocked, for Roger had always seemed to thrive on enforcing his power over her, whether by isolating her on the estate grounds or coming to her bedchamber. If only she had known of his sick deviancy, she would have gladly offered to whip him for free.
Harriet reached out and took Bella’s hands in hers. “What I’m saying, luv, is that there is nothing wrong with you as a woman. I always worried your husband’s sickness and belittling had wounded you more than any physical abuse. Despite the circumstances that brought the duke here, I’m glad he kissed you. A little attention from a handsome man like Blackwood proves my point. Not all men are like Roger.”
“What about our fight over the manor?” Bella said.
“One kiss doesn’t mean you’re handing it over to him,” Harriet said.
Bella kept her features deceptively composed. “I do not trust him.”
I do not trust myself with him,
she thought. Any more attention from James could put her future plans at perilous risk.
I do not trust myself with him,
she thought. Any more attention from James could put her future plans at perilous risk.
James sat at the head of the table in the formal dining room as the footman delivered the first course. The new cook, the servant Bella had hired, had prepared a delicious turtle soup.
Even after Coates had handed him the note from Bella, James had decided to remain and dine at the manor rather than at the Twin Rams Inn. He needed to stake his claim, both with the servants and the striking woman upstairs.
Which led James to thinking about Bella Sinclair for the hundredth time that evening. He wondered what she was eating, and if she was dressed in the same pristine nightgown that covered every inch of her body down to her pretty feet that she had worn the first time he had seen her.
Was she sitting in bed enjoying the same soup or eating cold roast beef instead? And why did he give a damn what she was consuming? Except the thought of her in bed doing anything made him feel hot and heavy all over again.
One kiss. One kiss and he felt like a randy schoolboy with his hand caught beneath a girl’s skirt.
He dropped the spoon and it slid into the soup. This wouldn’t do. He’d have to get out despite his intentions. He threw his napkin on the table and rose. He would go to the Twin Rams, where strong spirits, a lively conversation with Anthony and Brent, and maybe the coy smile of a willing barmaid could distract his mind from the woman who slept under his roof.
Sleep eluded Bella that night. Her blood soared with unbidden memories, and her mind relived the velvet warmth of James’s kiss. The gentle persuasiveness of his lips had been as unexpected as her lustful response. She raised her fingertips to her own lips and imagined his perfect, firm mouth exploring hers.
It was well past midnight and her bedcovers were a tangled mess from her fitful tossing and turning. In the quiet solitude of her room, her thoughts ran free. She was helpless to stop herself from pondering the scandalous. What would it feel like to have him kiss more of her skin?
She fantasized about just that—his lips urgent and exploratory, searing her neck, her shoulders. He would leisurely lavish attention on her breasts, her nipples firming instantly under his touch. His touch arousing, but never painful. His tongue would lick a path down her ribs to her stomach, his hands roving lower still, to the pulsing ache between her thighs.
A moan slipped through her lips. She sat up and pushed the twisted covers aside. Scrambling to her feet, she flung the window open wide and inhaled deeply, hoping the cool night air would quench her overheated skin.
What had overcome her? James Devlin had come to Wyndmoor Manor and in a day he had succeeded in driving all logic and caution from her head. She was twenty-four years old, a widow of a seven-year marriage, and she had never truly experienced passion. For the first time, she suffered the dull ache of desire at the thought of a man.
But why in heaven’s name did it have to be for
this
man? She was a nuisance to him, and he had clearly stated his intentions toward her.
this
man? She was a nuisance to him, and he had clearly stated his intentions toward her.
I always win in the courtroom.
She gripped the windowsill, her body suddenly engulfed in weariness and despair. Her eyes burned dryly from sleeplessness. She needed to sleep for whatever hours were left of the night. She needed to be prepared to face him tomorrow.
Harriet had always fixed her a cup of warm milk laced with brandy when she had difficulty sleeping after Roger had left her room. Bella’s hand reached for the bell pull, but she hesitated.
She didn’t want to wake the old woman. There was no longer the risk that she would run into Roger walking the halls at night. The first and last time that had occurred, Roger had flown into a jealous rage and had accused her of meeting a lover. He had locked her in her room for a week. Even Harriet was prohibited from attending to her. Bella had almost gone mad, and she had never again ventured out at night without Harriet beside her.
But life was different now. Harriet had overheard Blackwood tell his manservant that he was going out after dinner to the Twin Rams to meet his friends and would not return until late. Bella could go downstairs, fix herself a cup of warm milk, and even wander the halls if she chose. She could relive the first night she had slept in the house, oblivious of Blackwood’s impending claim.
Lifting a bedside candle, she opened the door. She was at the top of the stairs when a trill of feminine laughter echoed off the marble vestibule. Then came a distinct male laugh that Bella knew belonged to Blackwood.
She froze, like a bird that had flown into a stone wall.
How dare he!
She had just lain restless, burning with her first taste of desire because of his kiss, and he was returning to
her
house from a night of drinking and carousing with a woman.
her
house from a night of drinking and carousing with a woman.
Bella rushed down the stairs to see Blackwood hand his hat and a woman’s cloak to Coates, who, in turn, nodded when he spotted Bella clutching the balustrade, then discreetly disappeared.
The woman’s hand rested on Blackwood’s sleeve, her golden hair swept up in an elegant coiffure, her blue eyes exotically slanted like those of a Persian cat. She was stunning, and Bella suspected she was an expensive Cyprian that only a duke could afford.
Bella’s spine stiffened. If Blackwood thought he could bring this type of woman into the house he was gravely mistaken.
Blackwood and his ladybird looked to her. “Bella,” he drawled. “I hadn’t suspected you were a night owl.”
She lifted her chin and boldly met his eyes. “Get out. I don’t care that you are a duke or a barrister or if you were first to record the deed. I won’t stand by and permit you to bring women here. Go back to the Twin Rams and rent a room,” she ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.
To her dismay, a chuckle rumbled from his throat. “I warned you about sharing a residence with a bachelor. It’s not too late to reconsider,” he said.
Bella’s breaths came in ragged gasps. “Don’t you dare mock me, Your Grace.”
Amusement lurked in his eyes. “Don’t tell me that we’re back to rigid formality again.”
The blonde pursed her lips at Blackwood, her eyes flashing a gentle but firm warning. “Stop instigating, James, and introduce me.”
James. The woman had called him James.
Her familiar manner and use of his Christian name suggested that she was no random trollop he had brought home for the evening, but someone with whom he shared a relationship. A longtime mistress, perhaps?
The nauseating sinking in the pit of her stomach was as confusing as it was distressing.
“If you insist. Although I admit her reaction is highly amusing.” James made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Bella, may I introduce Lady Evelyn Harding, the wife of my good friend and legal colleague, Jack Harding.”
Lady Evelyn stepped forward and smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I do apologize for the late hour. My husband and I hadn’t planned on visiting until several days from now, but his trial was postponed and we decided to arrive straightaway. We would have arrived hours ago at a decent time, but our coach threw a wheel. We were stranded on the road until, as luck would have it, James was returning home from the Twin Rams and spotted us. My husband is seeing to the horses in the stable as we speak. I had hoped we’d only have to disturb the young stable lad from his sleep.”
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