Free In the Barrister's Bed by Tina Gabrielle Page B

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.
    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