Bella and the Beast (18 page)

With dizzying swiftness, Miles backed her up against the wall. His strong arms bracketed her on either side. He didn't quite touch her, but he stood so close that Bella felt scorched by his body heat. Her heart leaped and her mind raced. She should push him away, she should duck under his arm. But her limbs refused to move. She could only gaze up into his masculine features, his expression now ablaze with the same passion that had so enthralled her the previous night.

He glided the backs of his fingers down her cheek. In that seductive tone she remembered so vividly, he murmured, “So you think I'm angry, do you?”

His touch. It unfurled tendrils of pleasure that tangled her thoughts. “Of—of course. What else—”

“Bella,” he said huskily. “You're far too adorably naïve for such an intelligent woman. Can you truly not guess why I'm short-tempered?”

“No. Why don't you enlighten me?”

He bent his head so that his warm breath feathered over her lips. “It isn't anger, it's frustration. Sexual frustration. Last night, you set me on fire and then left me to burn. I'm still burning for you.”

Every part of her body thrilled to his avowal. She oughtn't be pleased to hear that he still desired her—so much that it made him irritable and snappish.

“Then it's your own fault for kissing me.” As her gaze strayed to his lips, she felt a tug of longing that required an instant denial. “And should you ever dare to do so again, you'll regret it.”

A chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. His mouth curved in a rare smile that made his handsome face even more devastatingly attractive. Bella might have melted into a puddle from the force of that smile if she wasn't a strong, sensible woman and capable of resisting his allure.

“Keep your dagger sheathed, darling. I've never forced myself on an unwilling woman—and I never shall.” His lashes lowered slightly as he traced her lower lip with his thumb. “If you ever decide that you want me, you'll have to—”

He bit off his words and glanced back over his shoulder. Footsteps approached out in the corridor. He dropped his hand from her face. In one fluid move, he stepped away from her and turned around.

Just in time.

Mrs. Helen Grayson entered the doorway. Her keen amber gaze flitted from Miles to Bella and back again. Her lips tightened ever so slightly in her perfect face. “Ah, there you are, Miles. Have I interrupted something?”

“Nothing at all,” Bella blurted out before he could reply. She willed strength into her wobbly legs and took a few unsteady steps. “His Grace and I had just finished talking.”

Miles cast an enigmatic glance at her that suggested otherwise. Then he turned to his cousin's wife. “You were looking for me, Helen?”

“Yes. I should like a word in private, if you please.”

“Of course.”

He walked away from Bella without a backward glance. He and Helen strolled into the corridor and vanished.

Shaken, Bella headed to an overturned crate and sank onto it. The twinge in her foot reminded her of Helen's callousness. Blast that woman. It was just like her to barge in here and lure Miles away right in the midst of a very intimate and enlightening exchange.
If you ever decide that you want me, you'll have to …

Have to what? What had he been about to say? That it would be up to
her
to initiate their next kiss?

Bella resisted the leap of fervor inside herself. There must be no more kisses, no more embraces. Miles wanted her in his bed without the shackles of marriage. He would cause her to fall from grace and then saunter away, his own reputation safeguarded by his rank.

Nevertheless, she reveled in the knowledge that he desired her. The Duke of Aylwin craved her with an intensity that made him behave even more beastly than usual. Why? What did he see in a twenty-nine-year-old spinster? The bloom of her youth had faded. She had spent the past fifteen years mothering her twin siblings.

Yet Miles found her desirable.

A delicious shiver coursed through Bella, for she found him very desirable, too. There, she'd admitted it. Miles tantalized her—and not just in the realm of the physical. He stirred her curiosity, too. He kept himself as closely guarded as these artifacts, and she sensed there was much more to him than he showed the world. How she would love to uncover all of his secrets …

No!
Spending more time in his company would be the height of folly. She had to put Miles out of her mind and concentrate on her mission to hunt down the treasure map. That meant finding a way back into the storeroom where he'd forbidden her access.

And if he caught her again, what would he do to her? Foolish or not, she could scarcely wait to find out.

*   *   *

“Miss Jones appeared to be limping a bit,” Helen said as they headed down the corridor. “Did she hurt herself?”

“Yes.” Miles spoke curtly, recalling how Bella had refused his assistance. She was the most stubborn woman he'd ever known. And also the most intriguing. He had never before realized how stimulating the ordinary scent of soap could be …

“What happened to her?” Helen asked.

Miles intercepted her sharp glance. He hoped to God she hadn't guessed that he and Bella had just been caught up in the most erotic nonembrace of his life. “A piece of stone fell on her foot.”

“Ah!” Helen's lips curved in an arch smile. “That explains it.”

Miles found her reaction unsavory. It would be just like her to revel in someone else's injury. But today he didn't want to contemplate the strange workings of Helen's mind. He would rather reflect upon what had just happened in the drawing room.

He felt almost cheerful as they entered his study. The encounter with Bella had vented a portion of his pent-up frustration. He had enjoyed trading wits with her, watching those animated blue eyes react to his suggestive comments. His touch on her face had caused her expression to soften. Even as she'd vehemently denied wanting to kiss him again, her gaze had flitted to his lips.

Yes, Bella desired him, though maidenly scruples stopped her from admitting it aloud. Clearly, she was determined to keep him at arm's length. He was sorely tempted to test that resolve.

Miles had always avoided virgins. He had no interest in marriage, so what was the point? His women were the sort who tumbled into bed at a snap of his fingers. They could be had for the price of a few coins. Pursuit had never been necessary. Whores were always there, always available, an efficient and straightforward means of satisfying his lust.

Now, however, he found himself relishing the prospect of the chase. He wanted to tease Bella, to flirt with her, to stir her desires. Her wit and intelligence made him curious to learn more about her likes and dislikes, her childhood and her years abroad.

But he had no intention of taking her to his bed. None whatsoever. He had made a firm decision about that, and he wouldn't relent. Bella Jones was merely a novelty to him, an enjoyable pastime. As soon as she supplied the information he wanted about Sir Seymour, Miles would send her on her way.

“There must be something quite interesting in those papers,” Helen said lightly from her chair across from him. “I do believe you've forgotten my presence entirely.”

Miles hadn't even been aware of sitting down behind his desk. Or staring at the loose pages of the hieroglyphic dictionary spread across the polished mahogany surface.

He leaned back in the leather chair and regarded his cousin-in-law. She made an angelic picture, the mint-green gown a perfect foil for her fair features. But he wasn't fooled. As usual, Helen had some busybody purpose for wanting to speak to him.

She was damned lucky he felt magnanimous today, or he'd already have sent her packing. “I was thinking about all the work I have to finish,” he said. “So tell me what you want and be quick about it.”

She worked her face into a pouty expression, one that she'd no doubt practiced in front of a mirror. “I'm only here to help you, Miles. You see, I've been considering the situation you're in, and I'm very concerned for you.”

“Situation?”

“Yes. With Miss Jones living here. I realize that you felt obligated to hire her, given her father's connection to the family, but—”

“I was not
obligated,
” he corrected in irritation. “I needed a job done, and she is doing it for me.”

Helen pursed her lips. “But you must realize that it's highly irregular for a lady to live in the household of an unmarried gentleman. People are already talking.”

“Let the snobs gossip, it means nothing to me.” He gathered a few of the papers into a sheaf. “Now, if that's all you've come here to say…”

She leaned forward, her hands clasped in a virtuous pose. “Please, Miles, I beg you to consider how your behavior reflects upon Oscar and me. That is why I would like to offer the perfect solution. Something that would be best for everyone.”

“And just what might that be?”

“I am proposing to act as chaperone to Miss Jones. Oscar and I can move into Aylwin House for the length of her stay, and then there will be no hint of impropriety.”

Miles snorted. He could think of nothing more irksome than bumping into her and his foppish cousin every day. “Good God. You can't be serious.”

“I am, indeed. Only think of Miss Jones. Do you care so little for her reputation?”

“I doubt she'll be entering society anytime soon.”

“But when she leaves here, she may seek a post as a governess among the ton. She won't be hired if you've allowed her good character to be ruined.”

Miles narrowed his eyes. Helen was too selfish to make altruistic gestures. She had to have a reason to keep a close eye on Bella; he doubted she'd inconvenience herself for fear of gossip. Did she view Bella as some sort of threat? The most logical answer jolted him. Nothing could strike greater terror into Helen's social-climbing heart than the prospect of losing her chance to become a duchess someday. She must fear he meant to propose marriage to Bella. That he might sire a son to usurp Oscar's place as heir to the dukedom.

For an instant, his blood heated at the notion of claiming Bella as his own, having her in his bed, making love to her each night for the rest of his life. But he rejected the notion at once. His life was already arranged exactly as he wanted it. He had no need for a wife. Especially a headstrong one who would be constantly underfoot, reorganizing his artifacts and disturbing his concentration.

And despite Helen's accusation, he hadn't
allowed
Bella's reputation to be harmed. Bella had
asked
to be housed under his roof. It had been her choice, not his.

He pushed back his chair and stood up. “The answer is no. Miss Jones is not a guest here but an employee. As such, she requires no chaperone.”

Helen's expression turned petulant. “Well!” she said huffily. “I don't believe you can see what is going on right under your nose. Men seldom do.”

“See what?”

“Isabella Jones has designs on you, Miles. A woman can tell these things in other females. And from the way she looks at you, it is quite clear she is angling for an offer of marriage!”

Miles bit back a dark chuckle. So he'd guessed right about Helen's purpose. “Poppycock.”

“It's true, I swear it. She's extremely crafty—only look at how she insinuated herself into your household. Being so plain-faced, she will no doubt be forced to concoct a ruse in which to trap you into wedlock. Be forewarned of that!”

If only Helen knew, Bella had fended
him
off with a knife.

“Bella, plain?” he mocked. “Rather, I would say she has fine blue eyes, a pleasing smile, and a handsome figure. Should I ever choose to court her, it is no concern of yours.”

Helen paled. “Court her? Why, she was raised among savages!”

Miles had had quite enough of the woman's smug commentary. He pointed to the door. “Better a savage than a meddlesome gossip,” he said. “Now, begone with you!”

 

Chapter 14

The following morning, Hasani entered the drawing room with a large package in his arms. His robes swirling around him, he walked briskly forward and laid down the parcel on a crate. “His Grace asked me to deliver this to you, Miss Jones.”

Bella had been sorting through a box of miscellany. Her eyes widening, she hurried to him. “For me? But what is it?”

“I do not know. His Grace went out himself this morning to purchase it.” The Egyptian valet waved his olive-skinned hand at the parcel. “He said you were to open it at once.”

Mystified, she untied the string and tore away the paper. Inside lay a generous length of white silk. With a sigh of pleasure, she stroked her hand over the soft fabric. “Oh, how lovely!” She glanced at Hasani to find him watching with polite curiosity. “Yesterday, I suggested to the duke that the scarabs should be displayed on a piece of cloth like this. How kind of him to remember.”

“Kind” seemed too mild a word. Bella felt stunned and amazed that Miles had listened to her. It gratified her to think that he might truly support her proposal to exhibit his artifacts to their best advantage.

“Such a plan is most admirable,” Hasani said, his face warming in a smile. “I have long believed that even damaged treasures such as these deserve to be honored. Perhaps I might bring some tables down from the attic for your use.”

“Thank you, that would be most helpful.” She tapped her forefinger on her chin while glancing around at the piles of broken statues and other bric-a-brac. “I shall have to think about how to make room for the tables.”

Hasani bowed. “I will leave you to your work, then.”

“Please, wait,” she said as he turned to go. “If I might ask you a question.”

Bella had been mulling over her mission. She had assumed the treasure map was in the storeroom attached to Miles's study. But what if she was wrong? What if it was hidden in another location?