Nicola Cornick

by The Dukes Mistress

  ‘We are entering into a business arrangement. It does not mean we must be on…on intimate terms with each other.’

  A sardonic light leapt to his eye. ‘You don’t think coming to my bed constitutes intimate terms?’

  ‘No, not necessarily. I think true intimacy can only be based on mutual affection and trust. Since we do not have those between us then we cannot truly be on intimate terms. I do not think a mere physical relationship can be defined as an intimate one.’

  ‘So you consider our relationship to be a form of prostitution?’ His eyes narrowed.

  She flinched but forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘You are remarkably matter of fact about this affair. I would almost suspect you have entered into such a relationship before.’ His words were deliberate and cruel.

  Anger shot through her. ‘Perhaps I have. Although I was young and naïve and thought physical intimacy was equivalent to love. I know better now.’

  She was unprepared for the blaze of fury in his eyes. ‘Who was he?’

  ‘That is not your concern.’ She had undoubtedly had too much wine or she would not have provoked him in such a way.

  He stared at her for a moment longer. ‘We will sign the documents and then eat.’ His voice was indifferent again.

  He crossed to the small desk to find an inkpot and pen.

  His shoulders were broad beneath his coat and his thick hair, slightly longer than the fashion, brushed against his collar. A peculiar pit began to form in her stomach. She should not have made him so angry but his words had pierced her. And why should he be so angry? In another man she would have thought he was jealous, but of course that could not be it. She picked up her wine again and took another sip and realised she had just finished the entire glass.

  She watched him with the pen in his strong, lean fingers. He signed both copies and then pushed them towards her. ‘Your signature.’ He gave her the pen, his fingers brushing hers. A dart of awareness shot through her and she took it with a shaky hand. She had no idea whether it was from the wine or his touch.

  She wrote her name beneath his bold, impatient signature and then gave him one copy. He took it and put it on the desk behind him.

  She nearly jumped when the door opened. She turned and saw two footmen enter, carrying trays. She moved away from the table and watched while they deftly laid the covers then they departed as quietly as they had come. ‘Sit down, Belle,’ Justin said.

  She took the chair he held out for her and sat. He again took his place across from her. Her appetite had fled, but at least if she made some pretence of eating she could put off the inevitable.

  She glanced across the table at him. The candle flickered over his strong features and she could tell herself and him that there was no intimacy between them, but the setting itself conspired against her. Her gaze fell to his lips and she swallowed. She took another sip of wine. The smell of the food drifted up and to her surprise she felt a pang of hunger. At least eating would be something to do besides staring at him and anticipating what was certain to come after dinner so she picked up her fork.

  The food was good. She had eaten several mouthfuls before she looked up to find Justin had stopped eating and was watching her instead. ‘Must you stare at me?’

  His eyes drifted over her face. ‘You are very beautiful.’

  Her face heated. ‘I wish you would not pay me compliments.’

  ‘I am merely stating a fact.’ His eyes remained on her.

  She put her fork down, feeling self-conscious. ‘I would prefer it if you would not make such personal remarks.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The business relationship we are embarking on. Very well, then talk to me.’

  ‘Talk to you?’ She started. Her hand hit the empty wine glass and it fell to the floor and rolled under the table. Mortified, she pushed her chair back with some idea of retrieving it. And then froze when his hand closed around her wrist. Her eyes flew to his face. His mouth twitched and he released her hand. ‘Sit down. There’s no need to panic yet. I was merely suggesting conversation.’

  ‘Oh.’ She took her seat, feeling foolish.

  ‘More wine?’ he asked.

  She glanced swiftly at him. ‘Yes, if you please.’ She rarely drank wine, but perhaps if she had a bit more she would not be so…so nervous. It seemed to have dulled her emotions and thankfully her headache as well.

  He poured her another glass and brought it to her. She sipped it and watched him take his place across from her. She was suddenly aware of the broadness of his shoulders and the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. With a sort of detached fascination she stared as he picked up his own wine glass and brought it to his lips. Lips that would soon be on hers. As would those strong lean hands that were now wrapped around the stem of his glass.

  Heat coursed through her and she felt almost dizzy. She set her glass down and nearly set it on her plate. She stared down and realised she was having a difficult time focusing. Oh, lord. She was not just relaxed but on her way to becoming inebriated. Only once before had it happened, when she was only eighteen, and it had not been an unpleasant experience. Except for the dull headache and horrid taste in her mouth the next day.

  Perhaps becoming foxed was not a bad idea. When he started to…to…seduce her she might not mind so much. Or maybe she would not mind at all.

  ‘You are not hungry?’ he asked.

  His voice jerked her from her contemplation of the plate. ‘No, not very.’ She glanced at him and forced herself to focus. ‘Are you?’

  ‘No.’ His eyes met hers. Despite the amount of wine she’d drunk, she could not mistake the desire in his eyes. He pushed back his chair and stood. ‘Come here, Belle,’ he said roughly.

  Her heart leapt to her throat. She started to rise and knocked her chair over.

  Her cheeks burned as she stared at the downed chair. ‘You must think I intend to destroy your house.’

  He came around the table and set the chair upright then he turned to look at her. ‘Not at all. I do think, however, you have had too much wine.’

  ‘Do you? I am not certain I’ve had enough,’ she blurted out.

  ‘It won’t be that bad,’ he said almost gently.

  ‘Won’t it?’ Her eyes searched his face and what she saw there made her tremble. She stepped back and stumbled into the chair.

  He caught her against his chest. ‘You are foxed.’ He sounded bemused.

  ‘No, I am not. Perhaps if I sat down.’ His chest felt hard and strong and warm. He smelled nice, she thought with vague surprise. Unlike Lucien, whose odour had been harsh and unpleasant.

  ‘I think that is a good idea,’ he said.

  He took her arm and led her to the sofa. To her dismay, her gait was unsteady and it took all her willpower to keep from swaying. She sank down on the sofa and closed her eyes. Everything spun for a brief moment. Then he was beside her, his thigh pressed against hers. The sensation was not unpleasant. She opened her eyes. ‘I never drink wine,’ she told him.

  ‘I thought not.’ His eyes were on her face. ‘As soon as you have er…sobered a bit, I will take you home. First you need some tea.’ He started to rise.

  ‘No!’ She grabbed his coat sleeve. ‘I…I think we should start the contract.’

  He sat down and stared at her. ‘As tempting as the offer is, I think it best if we wait until we are both sober.’

  ‘No. I really prefer we start now.’ She must be mad or perhaps he was. ‘Otherwise I…I will be afraid.’ She undoubtedly made no sense at all.

  ‘Of me?’

  ‘Of…of any man.’

  Something flickered in his eyes. ‘Then come here.’ He held out his arm.

  She scooted next to him and he pulled her to his side. He bent his head towards her, and she felt a bolt of panic as she always had with Lucien. He stilled for a moment. ‘You can kiss me first,’ he said.

  She stared at his mouth, firm and sensuous, with a hint of dark beard
around the edges. His eyes were dark and still and waiting. She closed her eyes and forced herself to lean towards him.

  Her mouth found his. His lips were warm and firm. He made no move to possess her and merely waited. She tentatively nibbled at him and then kissed him more firmly. Her hands caught his arms so she might brace herself and she realised with a sense of wonder she had never explored a man’s mouth before. She lightly ran her tongue over his lips, tasting him. A low sound escaped from his throat, almost a groan, and his muscles tensed under her hands.

  She lifted her head and opened her eyes. ‘Is something wrong?’ she whispered. ‘I have not done this before.’

  ‘No.’ His eyes shot open.

  She touched his face. His cheek was rough under her palm. ‘Should I kiss you again?’

  ‘No!’ He looked as if she’d offered to shoot him. ‘That is…’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘If you continue kissing me like that you will end up in my bed.’

  Perhaps she was more drunk than she thought. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. And her hearing. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’

  ‘No. At least not tonight. Hell.’ He stood. ‘I thought—’ He stopped and turned to look at her. ‘I’d best take you home.’

  ‘Why?’ She seemed to be rapidly sobering. ‘Why not tonight?’

  ‘Because I have no intention of taking advantage of you. I would prefer that you are sober and fully conscious of what you are doing.’

  ‘I see.’ She rose, feeling a little dizzy. She supposed she should be relieved, but she only felt confused. To make matters worse, her headache was returning in full force and she rubbed the back of her neck.

  ‘What is wrong?’

  ‘’Tis nothing. I have had a slight headache most of the day.’ She was beginning to feel a little sick as well.

  His brow shot up. ‘And you drank three glasses of wine? My dear, you will have the devil of a head tomorrow.’

  ‘Was it three? I thought it was only two.’ She sat back down as another wave of light-headedness overcame her. Why must this happen now?

  ‘Most definitely three.’ He looked down at her for a moment. ‘I will take you home,’ he said abruptly.

  Although he draped the cloak over her shoulders and helped her into his carriage, his touch was as impersonal as her maid’s. Once in the carriage, he sat in the corner opposite her, his legs stretched in front of him and said nothing. Belle tried to look anywhere but at him as they made the short journey to Gower Street.

  Once they arrived, he stepped down and then held out his hand to assist her. Despite his hand, she stumbled. His arms closed around her. ‘Please ’lease me,’ she said as coolly as she could but, to her chagrin, her words were slightly slurred.

  ‘You cannot go in by yourself.’

  ‘Yes, I c…can.’ She swayed again.

  ‘No.’ Before she could protest, he had swung her up in his arms. She hardly registered the bewilderment on the face of James, her footman, before Justin was carrying her up the stairs. They met Mrs Bates at the top.

  ‘My lady?’ Mrs Bates said, her face alarmed.

  ‘Your mistress has the headache,’ Justin said. ‘If you show me her bedchamber, I will take her there.’

  ‘It is this way.’

  He did not put her down until Mrs Bates had pulled back the covers and then he gently laid her on the bed. Belle thought she would die of humiliation. She closed her eyes and hoped it was all a bad dream brought about by too much wine.

  ‘Belle.’

  She was not dreaming. She opened her eyes to find Justin bent over her. ‘Will you be all right?’

  No, she was dreaming after all. He sounded almost concerned, which was impossible. ‘Yes, of course.’

  He straightened. ‘Then I will leave you. Goodnight, Belle.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered. But he had already left the room. To her chagrin, she felt tears prick her lids. Why did he have to behave in such a gentlemanly fashion? She wanted to think him cold and callous. Otherwise, she could never keep her emotions uninvolved.

  Justin asked himself the same question the next day. He threw a punch that nearly sent Brandt reeling. Brandt held up his hand. ‘Wait! What are you trying to do, bloody my nose? Might I remind you we are relations? Damn, Westmore, what’s the occasion?’

  Justin scowled at his cousin, still breathing hard. ‘None,’ he finally said. They were at Gentleman Jackson’s. He’d hoped a good sparring match would at least temporarily distract his thoughts from Belle. However, it seemed to have the opposite effect and he could think of nothing but when he would see her again.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He had had her exactly where he wanted her last night, in his arms and kissing him, her body soft and pliant against his. The contract aside, taking her would have been easy—he had only to scoop her into his arms and carry her to his bed.

  Except she had been three sheets to the wind and her pliability had little to do with wanting him. And she had said she was afraid. Perhaps he had been a fool to believe her, but something in her voice told him she did not lie. Had it been the lover she claimed had hurt her? Or her wretch of a husband?

  ‘Let me guess. Isabelle Milborne.’

  Justin yanked his thoughts back to his cousin. ‘What?’

  ‘Lady Milborne. She was not seen at all last night although her relations were. Nor were you.’ He picked up a cloth and threw it to Justin.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Completely unremarkable except you were seen calling on her yesterday morning.’

  ‘Who the devil saw that?’ He wiped the sweat from his brow and frowned at Brandt.

  ‘Percy Ormund. He was calling on an acquaintance in Gower Street.’ He cocked a brow at Justin. ‘Taken together with your absences, I would almost suspect you were with her last night.’

  It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, but why, since he wanted it known he had an interest in her? ‘You would not be incorrect.’

  Brandt stared. ‘I’ve no desire of interfering in your business, but what the devil are you about?’

  Justin shrugged. ‘Payment for my two thousand pounds. With interest.’

  Brandt choked. ‘The hell you are!’ He stared at Justin, a peculiar light coming into his eye. ‘And what role does Lady Chloe play in this?’

  ‘Lady Chloe is my trump card.’

  Brandt’s eyes narrowed. ‘She may be the late Lord Milborne’s half-sister but she’s an innocent. I would hope you have the decency to leave her out of this business.’

  ‘Precisely Belle Milborne’s sentiments. Which is why she is willing to co-operate with me.’

  Brandt continued to stare at him. ‘Are you certain it is payment you want? Or is it revenge? Because as much as I appreciate your desire for the latter, I fear you will pay part of the price yourself.’

  Justin thought of how pale and vulnerable she had looked in her bed last night then shoved the thought aside and gave a short laugh. ‘That is something I do not intend to let happen.’

  Chapter Four

  Belle pulled on her glove and picked up her fan. She was in no mood to go to another ball but after crying off last night, she could hardly do so again. So she would go despite a heavy head and a dry mouth. Reminders of last night—a night she would have preferred to forget. Not only had she disgraced herself by drinking too much wine, she had thrown herself at Justin in a way that made her blanch just thinking about it.

  Worse, was his own behaviour. He had been nothing but a gentleman even after she made it patently obvious she was willing to do whatever he wanted. Instead of taking full advantage of her, he had taken her home.

  She had no idea why. She would have thought it would have suited his purposes perfectly to have seduced her last night. But he had not attempted to at all and had only insisted she kiss him after she practically begged him. Never in her life had she behaved in such a wanton and despicable way.

  And, she thought bitterly, her behaviour had no doubt conf
irmed she was exactly what he thought her. She would not let such a thing happen again. If she saw him tonight, she would be cool and composed and completely in control. The unassailable Lady Milborne.

  Justin finally spotted Belle near the faux Grecian pillars at the far end of the ballroom. She stood with her mother-in-law and Ralston. He started across the room. It was time to make his intentions public.

  She stiffened at his approach and then she quickly looked away. To his annoyance, she kept her gaze on Ralston, apparently so absorbed in what he was saying that she did not notice him until he stood directly in front of them. ‘Good evening, Lady Ralston, Ralston. Good evening, Lady Milborne.’

  ‘Good evening, your Grace.’ Despite the flash of apprehension in her face, her voice was polite as was her expression, as if they were nothing but mere acquaintances. He fully intended to shake that composure.

  He turned to Lady Ralston, who looked as if he had come to escort her to the gallows. ‘Lady Ralston, I trust you are well.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I…’ She swayed a little and Belle caught her arm.

  She cast Justin an angry look before turning to her mother-in-law. ‘Do you need to sit down, Maria?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, no. I will be fine,’ Lady Ralston said with a wan smile.

  ‘Then perhaps you will not object if I solicit your daughter-in-law for the next dance?’ Justin said.

  Lady Ralston gaped at him. ‘Belle? You wish to dance with Belle?’

  ‘I fear Lady Milborne does not dance,’ Ralston said icily. The ingratiating smile on his face had disappeared. He shifted, just barely towards Belle, but the movement signalled possession.

  Unaccountably annoyed, Justin’s brow rose. ‘I was not aware you were Lady Milborne’s guardian.’

  Ralston’s face reddened. ‘I am not, naturally, but since she never dances she should not make herself a source of gossip by doing so now unless, of course, she dances with a relation.’