Bella and the Beast (25 page)

He kissed a path up her bare leg. “Tell me what you like,” he murmured. “I want to know what feeds the fire inside you.”

Moving restlessly on the bed, she curled her fingers into his hair. “Everything, Miles. Everything you do makes me burn. I never dreamed it was possible to feel this way.”

When she looked at him like that, with wonder and desire in her big blue eyes, he ached to give her the stars and the moon on a silver platter. And if that meant denying himself for her sake, then so be it. He kicked off his shoes, but left on his trousers to stop himself from succumbing too soon to the urging of his hot blood.

Leaning over her, Miles caught the hem of her chemise and tugged it upward. She shifted position without hesitation, undulating her hips and raising her arms to allow him to remove the last barrier to her nakedness. Then he feasted himself on the sight of her in the candlelight: the perfect breasts, the graceful curve of her waist, the dark furring at the jointure of her legs.

Settling down on the bed, he gathered her close, fitting her body against his and cradling her cheek in his hand. “My beautiful Bella,” he murmured against her brow. “You are so very lovely. Never doubt that.”

She splayed her fingers over his bare chest and shoulders, tracing his muscles, a keen look of fascination on her face. “And you, as well. You could be a model for a sculptor.”

A raspy chuckle broke from him. “I'd sooner study statues than pose for them.”

“I mean it, Miles. You're … perfection.”

As she touched her lips to his throat in a soft kiss, he again felt that peculiar ache in his chest. Her admiration pleased him far more than practiced compliments uttered by paid companions. Bella spoke from the heart. There could be no pretense, given her lack of experience in the art of lovemaking.

All conversation melted away as he began to pay homage to every inch of her body, the slender arms, the tender dip at her throat, the delightful globes of her breasts. She embarked upon her own exploration of him, as well, seeming to delight in his muscles, the flat nipples embedded in the mat of hair on his chest, the hard lines of his ribs. At last he could resist no longer. Sliding his hand down over the flatness of her belly, he began to play with her in feathery strokes.

Bella caught a sharp breath. Her hands stilled on him and her eyelids drifted shut as if to focus on the glorious new sensations. Watching the display of pleasure across her expressive face, he delved deeper into her folds to find her secret pearl. She was already hot and wet, ready for him.

Her hips moved instinctively, brushing the erection that strained against the buttons of his trousers.
Wait,
he ordered himself.
Wait.
If it killed him, he would have her pleasure before his. He would make her first time memorable.

He deepened his rhythmic strokes, and she opened her legs wider, uttering small sounds of delight against his throat. He whispered that she was beautiful, intriguing, alluring, the perfect woman. All at once, more quickly than he'd anticipated, her hips arched and she cried out, her body shuddering with the force of her release.

Miles held her tightly, his heart drumming in his chest, as he allowed her a moment to recover. Her swift responsiveness fed the fire of his own reckless need. Laying her back against the pillows, he sat up unsteadily to wrest open his pants. His fingers were clumsy and her hands came down to grip his. He glanced over to see her half sitting, dreamy-eyed and smiling softly at him.

“May I?” she asked.

He gave up the task to her. Bella leaned close, her tangled hair draping her bare body as she applied herself to the buttons, one by one. Opening the placket to free his tumescence, she lightly traced the length of him and swirled her fingertip in the moisture that glistened at the tip.

Miles groaned from a stab of intense pleasure.
Wait. Wait.
He removed her hand at once, lacing his fingers with hers while he wrestled his desires under control. He wouldn't explode like a green boy with his first girl.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked quickly.

He could scarcely manage a hoarse chuckle. “No,” he rasped. “That felt far
too
good … but I want to be inside you …
now
.”

He shucked off the trousers and then covered her with his body, nestling himself in the cradle of her thighs. She parted her legs at once and he pushed slowly into her hot tight channel, her slickness easing his entry. As he met a barrier and thrust through it, she tensed, her hands clutching at him.

He paused, contrite in the midst of being blissfully sheathed inside her. “Bella,” he muttered, kissing her brow. “I've hurt you.”

Her eyes were closed as if in a trance. Then her lashes lifted. As their gazes met, a rapt smile lent a glow to her face. She touched his cheek. “Oh, my love … this is heaven.”

My love.
The words flowed over him like a heady balm. He could form no reply. His brain refused to function. He knew only that this coupling had a depth and a richness beyond his experience. Joining his mouth to hers, he let the tenderness of his kiss answer her. He and Bella were a perfect fit, as if they were meant for each other. Nothing in his life had ever felt better than this moment.

Those scattered impressions vanished into the intense pleasure of moving within her, thrusting deeper and harder each time. His entire being was focused on the allure of her femininity, the joy of being one with her. She lifted her hips, panting and fervent, as together they strained in unison toward the ultimate pinnacle.

Wait
.
Wait
.

Yet the powerful tide of rapture could not be stopped this time. It rushed over him in a drowning roar that enveloped him completely. He hoarsely uttered her name, and in perfect synchrony, she too cried out, her body trembling. As the last waves carried him into a place of pure satisfaction, he lay over her for timeless moments. His harsh breathing grew steady again, his sanity intruding all too soon.

My love.
The echo of her soft words made him never want to leave her bed.

Yet neither did he have any right to stay. Bella needed more than a man who had vowed long ago to dedicate himself to his solitary work. He could never give her the care and affection that she richly deserved.

Holding her close, he knew too that she had mistaken passion for love. It was understandable given her inexperience. Nothing could ever come of their liaison. He must not take further advantage of her—no matter how enticing the prospect of an affair might be.

*   *   *

Blissful and relaxed, Bella relished the heavy weight of him. She had never imagined that the act of physical coupling could be so gratifying in body and soul. No wonder parents protected their daughters so strictly. One taste of that bliss, and she would want to experience it again and again …

Miles abruptly rolled off her and sat up on the edge of the bed. Opening her eyes, Bella lifted an indolent hand to touch his bare thigh. It was rough with hairs and damp with sweat. Why had he drawn away?

“Miles?” Her voice sounded low and husky to her ears.

He turned to meet her gaze. In the candlelight, his eyes were very dark and inscrutable. He brushed back the tangle of her hair and bent down to touch his mouth to her brow. It was the sort of tender peck she'd often given to her brother or sister.

Bella parted her lips in anticipation of a proper kiss. One that would stir those exciting emotions inside her again. One that would lead to another bout of lovemaking. Was it possible to join their bodies more than once in a night? Oh, she hoped so.

But Miles didn't kiss her.

Even as she lifted her arms to draw him close, the mattress dipped as he rose to his feet. He disappeared into the dressing room, returning a moment later. She rolled onto her side to watch him. How magnificent he looked in his nakedness, with his sculpted muscles and lean waist, his male member lying in its nest of dark hair. How thoroughly he had used it to pleasure her. The mere sight made her body hum with desire.

Bella had not known such joy existed. She still felt stunned by the occurrence of that startling release. And keen to do it all over again.

Miles sat down on the edge of the bed. He held a damp cloth in his hand and he cleansed her between her legs. An unexpected shyness crept over her. Why was he being so silent?

Then he spoke. “Luckily one of your stockings was caught beneath us. There won't be any stain for your maid to notice.”

As he picked it up, she saw the rusty smear on the white silk. But that wasn't what chilled her.

It was the indifference of his observation. He might have been noticing a spot of dust on the floor rather than the proof of her virginity.

The coldness crept deeper into her core. She had always been somewhat impulsive, acting at times without thinking, letting her emotions overrule logic. But never before in her life had she behaved with such utter abandon. How could she have forgotten herself so completely tonight? With a man of such exalted stature?

A man who was known to visit concubines.

In her desire to lie with him, she had forgotten that vile truth. Perhaps his experience with those females explained why he now seemed so aloof. Perhaps she meant nothing more to the Duke of Aylwin than a receptacle to be used and discarded. Those lovely, exciting words he had uttered to her—he might have voiced them to all of his women.

His large hand came down over hers. She looked up to see him gazing somberly at her. As if he had something unpleasant on his mind.

Her throat tightened as it struck her that Miles was also her employer. He might use her unchaste behavior as an excuse to eject her from this house. By her own reckless folly, she could lose her chance to find the treasure map.

He compressed his lips as if he were trying to find the right words to dismiss her. “Bella, I—”

“Let me say something first.” She pulled up the covers to her chin, then drew a deep breath to ease the tangle of panic and distress inside her. “I enjoyed this … our little encounter. But I'm sure we can both agree that it must never happen again.”

He gave her a penetrating stare. “Indeed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Feeling miserable inside, she contrived a cool look to counter his emotionless mask. “It would be best if we forgot this night entirely. Then we can go on as before. There's no need for us to speak of it ever again.”

 

Chapter 19

Late the following afternoon, Bella stepped through the open doorway to the archives. She had spent most of the day in the drawing room, moving artifacts here and there while accomplishing next to nothing in her distracted state. She'd continued the pretense of work until it seemed the walls were closing in on her and a change of scene became crucial to her sanity.

As if to underscore her unsettled mood, the weather had turned damp and dreary, and the leaden skies cast a pall over the archives. Raindrops tapped on the windowpanes, and the only other sound was a tuneless humming that came from the far end of the room where the mummies were stored.

Bella hesitated by the open door. She didn't recognize the humming. Surely it had to be William Banbury-Davis. But … what if it was Miles? Did he ever hum while he worked?

She had no idea.

Since issuing her ultimatum to him the previous evening, she had not encountered him anywhere in the house. Perhaps that was only to be expected. He'd been agreeable to her request that they behave as if the passionate interlude had never occurred. All too swiftly, he had donned his clothes and departed her bedchamber with only a cursory farewell. Alone in her bed, she had lain awake gazing into the darkness, inhaling the trace of his scent on the pillows, remembering the bliss of their lovemaking, and wishing it had never come to an end.

Now, the thought of seeing Miles flustered her. She almost turned around and walked out. But he was her employer and she would have to face him sooner or later. She couldn't run away every time.

And why should she run, anyway? Yes, they'd lain naked in bed together and had enjoyed an amazing ecstasy, but she had to keep in mind that the experience was nothing new to
him.
According to her maid, the Duke of Aylwin visited a bawdy house on a regular basis. He'd likely engaged in that intimate act with hundreds of women over the years.

Their joining held far less significance to him than to her. If he'd given it a second thought at all today, he likely was relieved to have escaped her bedchamber without the deflowered virgin making weepy demands upon him.

The dirty dog.

No
.

No, she mustn't blame him, no matter how much her heart ached. She had
invited
Miles into her bed. He had made her no promises other than to satisfy her desires, a promise that he had fulfilled beyond her wildest dreams. And she did not need anything more from him, anyway. She had a map to find and a mission to complete—which was why she had come here to the archives.

Armed with that resolve, Bella stepped briskly forward. Her footsteps tapped on the dusty parquet floor in an echo of the pitter-patter of raindrops on the windows. She walked past the rows of polished wood filing cabinets and emerged into the far end of the room where the shelves held numerous wrapped mummies.

The tuneless humming came from the man bending over the half-exposed mummy on the long table. A man in a wrinkled dark green coat and baggy trousers, with a fringe of brown hair edging his balding pate.

A sense of reprieve eddied through her. All that soul-searching had been for naught. “Good afternoon, Mr. Banbury-Davis.”

The humming stopped abruptly. He spun around, a sharp, bladelike implement clutched in his hand. His bulldog features tightened into a sneer as he looked her up and down. “Miss Jones.”

He looked as grumpy as ever. So much for hoping the humming might indicate an improvement in his disposition. He did not like her in the duke's employ; he'd made that clear in their first meeting. According to Hasani, William Banbury-Davis had wanted to be a part of the expedition to Egypt, but the duke had chosen Sir Seymour instead. Now, it seemed the man had transferred his resentment of her father to her.