by Olivia Drake
Despite the dire circumstances, Bella felt a pulse of attraction deep within her body.
He leaned one shoulder against the door frame and crossed his arms. A dangerous smile tilted one corner of his mouth. “Well, well. It appears I’ve caught an intruder.”
She lifted her chin. He must not guess how swiftly her heart was thrumming. “My maid mentioned you were gone for the evening. It seemed the perfect opportunity to take a peek at the papyri without disturbing you.”
“Even though I forbade you to do so.”
“Pray forgive me, Your Grace, for I merely wished to expand my knowledge of Egyptian history.” Striving for a sincere look, Bella took a step toward him. She stopped when he didn’t budge from the doorway. “I would very much like to learn to read this hieroglyphic writing. Do you have a dictionary that I might borrow?”
His chuckle held an edge of sarcasm. “It’s a far more difficult and complicated procedure than looking up the meaning of a pictograph.”
“Perhaps you could give me lessons, then. I couldn’t help but notice the papers on your desk. You seem to be quite the expert.”
He fixed her with the Ducal Stare. “And you seem to be quite the little snoop, Miss Jones.”
She met his gaze without flinching. “I’m fascinated by the hieroglyphs, that’s all. If I can learn to read and write Sanskrit and Farsi, then why not ancient Egyptian?”
“Quite impressive,” he said, cocking one eyebrow. “I can’t claim to have ever known so educated a woman.”
“My father always challenged me to learn the language of the places we traveled. He believed that women have a better grasp of linguistics than men. But if you’re too busy to help me, I understand perfectly. I’ll just go now and leave you to your work.”
Gripping the candelabrum, she marched toward Aylwin in the hopes that courtesy would induce him to move aside. Of course, he did not oblige. She stopped directly in front of him, close enough to see the faint shadow of a beard on his jaw. His dark hair was slightly mussed as if he’d just arisen from bed.
Which he had.
With a twist of her gut, she remembered that Aylwin had gone out to a bordello. He had spent the evening with a concubine. Why couldn’t the filthy dog have caroused all night? Why had he returned so early?
He was eyeing her with the same intent look he’d had the previous day. As if he wanted to haul her into his arms and have his way with her. Should you dare to set even one pretty toe in my private quarters, I will presume that you have come to share my bed.
An inner tremor stole her breath away. They were all alone here. No one would hear her if she cried out. He could pull her against his muscled form, kiss her senseless, carry her into his bedchamber and ravish her. In a secret shameful part of herself, Bella wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to stop him.
“Pray step aside, Your Grace,” she said in her most frigid tone.
Aylwin regarded her for another long moment. The faint ticking of the casement clock filled the silence. Then, to her great relief, he moved slightly so that she could brush past him and enter the study. On wobbly legs, Bella went straight to the desk and set down the heavy candelabrum. Her fingers felt stiff from grasping it so tightly.
Intending to bid him a cool good night, she turned around with an excuse ready to make her escape. But he spoke first.
“Sit down, Miss Jones.” He pointed at a pair of chairs by the unlit hearth. “Over there.”
“I’m rather weary—”
“If you can peruse my documents without falling asleep, then you can certainly manage a conversation with your employer.”
He stood with his hands on his hips like a king demanding obedience from a subject. Anxiety tightened Bella’s throat. Her thoughts had been so centered on evading his seduction that she’d overlooked the very real possibility of being dismissed from his employ for her infraction.
She would lose any chance of finding the treasure map. And then how would she provide for her brother and sister?
She settled gingerly on the edge of the seat. “Of course, Your Grace. What is it you wished to discuss?”
Aylwin strolled to a table and uncorked a crystal decanter. As he filled a glass, he said over his shoulder, “For a start, your conversation with Hasani.”
Bella blinked in wary surprise. Hasani had been the last person on her mind. Her gaze flitted to the door. Was the Egyptian nearby?
Cautiously, she asked, “When did you see him?”
“Upon my return half an hour ago.” The duke approached with a glass in each hand. Towering over her, he thrust one into her hand. “I’ve dismissed him for the evening. You see, I had a suspicion I might encounter you here.”
Distracted, Bella frowned at the amber liquid. “What is this?”
“Brandy. You look rather pale after being caught trespassing in my private domain.”
“Of course! You startled me.”
Aylwin’s mouth crooked slightly as if he found amusement in her reactive reply. He settled into the chair opposite hers, crossed his bare feet on an ottoman, and took a swallow from his glass. “Drink up. It’ll restore you.”
Bella took a small sip. The liquor had a potent yet mellow flavor that slid down her throat to warm her insides. She took another sip and found that she did indeed feel somewhat better.
She looked up to find the duke watching her in that unnerving way of his. As if he were disrobing her with his eyes. Her insides clenched, and to deny her imprudent reaction, she said coolly, “I suppose Hasani told you that he saw me in this wing.”
“He believed you were lost. But I knew perfectly well that your presence here was no accident. You were determined to view the papyri.” Aylwin studied her over the rim of his glass. “I suspect that temptation is something that you find difficult to resist. Am I correct, Miss Jones?”
Her heart tripped over a beat. His silken tone of voice hinted at an erotic meaning. “I firmly believe in indulging my curiosity in regard to educational pursuits. It is a trait I learned from my father.”
Aylwin’s expression underwent a subtle alteration. His eyes became more secretive, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and abruptly changed the subject. “Hasani tells me you had another memory of Egypt.”
“Yes, I did.” Peering down into her own glass, Bella experienced the scene all over again: the leap of flames against the black sky, the wild cries, the clasp of arms drawing her away from it all. “The camp was attacked. I remember fire and mayhem—and someone pulling me to safety. Hasani said that you did so.” She leaned forward, studying his features in a futile attempt to see him as the adolescent boy from the mists of her past. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d saved my life?”
“Frankly, I’d forgotten all about it.”
Of course. He must have been caught up in the horror of his father’s violent death. Bella ached to know every detail of what had happened that night—and to discern if the treasure map might fit somehow into the scenario. “Was it after the attack that you discovered your father was missing from the camp?”
A harsh mask tightened Miles’s face. “No. I already knew he’d gone to the excavation site.”
“How far away was it?”
“A quarter mile perhaps.”
“It was nighttime. If there were bandits in the area, why did your father go alone to the tomb? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”
Miles shot out of his chair and paced to the fireplace. “Good God, woman! I am directing this inquisition, not you. And you will tell me what else you remember about Egypt.”
In the candlelight, his face was coldly authoritarian. Nevertheless, Bella felt the softening of compassion. The long-ago murder of his father must still be a raw wound in him. “I remember very little,” she replied. “Other than a brief impression of the attack on the camp, there was only that one incident I told you about, digging in the sand and hearing a boy laugh at me.”
/> He drained his glass and set it down with a sharp click on the mantel. “Surely if you gave the matter some reflection, you could dredge up a memory of departing from Egypt.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Then think, by God! Do you recall seeing your father talk to anyone? Did you perhaps overhear a snippet of conversation between your parents?”
Bella shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s all a blank. I was just too young at the time.”
He compressed his lips and glowered at her, and his expression of angry frustration only confirmed the accusation made by William Banbury-Davis. It pained her to admit it, but Papa had deserted thirteen-year-old Miles, and Miles had never forgiven him for that.
She set aside her glass and went to him, placing her hand on his sleeve, aware of the tension in his muscles. Gazing up into his hostile brown eyes, she murmured, “My father should have remained in Egypt to help you in your time of grief. It’s important to you, isn’t it, to understand why he left? That’s why you’re asking me these questions.”
He subjected her to the Ducal Stare. “You were indeed an eyewitness to his betrayal. Though a rather useless one, it would seem.”
Stung, Bella stepped back, letting her hand drop to her side. “Then why don’t you prod my memory?”
“How so?”
“When Hasani told me about you saving me from the burning tent, it caused me to remember the incident. So tell me about that night and the following day. Give me all the details. Where was I? Who was I with? What was I doing?”
He made a dismissing gesture. “How the devil should I know? In case you’ve forgotten, my father had just been murdered. I was a bit too busy to pay heed to a pesky little girl.”
His nettlesome temper exasperated her. “Then there is no way that I can help you, Your Grace. I’ll bid you good night.”
She brushed past him, intending to march out the door of the study. But his fingers clamped around her upper arm, dragging her around to face him. His eyes were intent on her, burning with anger and something else. Something that made her heart skip a beat.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” he growled. “Not until you give me my due.”
“Your due?”
“I warned you not to enter my private quarters. Or there would be the devil to pay.”
He hauled her close, molding her to the hard length of his body. With one strong arm locked around her waist, he used his other hand to tilt her face up to his. She caught her breath, inhaling a light, unfamiliar scent along with his masculine spice. Before she could identify it, his mouth came down on hers with raw, unbridled passion.
The speed of his assault momentarily disoriented Bella. Never in her life had she been kissed, let alone with such fervor. The jolt of pleasure she experienced when his tongue pressed between her lips was so startling, so unfamiliar, that she struggled in his arms and tried to turn her head away. His hand glided over her throat, cupping her jaw and holding her firmly in place.
As his mouth grew more coaxing, an irresistible desire swept away her resistance. His body felt like a bonfire that heated every inch of her. He tasted of brandy, and she felt giddy from the drink of his kiss. The pressure of his lips, the sweep of his tongue, ignited strings of pleasure that unraveled down into her core.
On the rare occasions when she’d wondered how it felt to be held by a man, she had imagined a chaste peck, a brief embrace, not this wild seduction of her senses. The rough pads of his fingers traveled over her neck and upward to trace the curve of her ear, then slid into her hair to loosen her bun. A delicious shiver made her gasp, and she leaned closer, lifting her arms around him and returning the kiss with instinctive ardor.
Miles. This was Miles, whom she had known long ago, Miles who had saved her from certain death as a child. Now, it felt as if he were breathing new life into her once again, opening the door to forbidden pleasures, stirring an awareness of just how drab and colorless her existence had been without him.
When he kissed a path down to the hollow of her throat, she tilted her head back to accommodate him. The brush of his lips on her bare skin was pure heaven. Her eyes were closed, the better to savor the sensations he aroused. Her legs felt so shaky that if not for the support of his muscled arm, she would have melted into a puddle at his feet.
His fingers moved to her bosom, tracing the fullness of one breast and rubbing the peak. A moan rose from deep within her. Despite the gown and corset, she felt a flush of heat that radiated throughout her body and weakened her limbs. The vibrations stirred by his touch scorched her very center and throbbed in her veins.
“Bella,” he rasped, nuzzling her throat. “I knew you had fire under all that ice. We belong together.”
Her heart leaped at his stunning avowal. Did Miles truly think they were meant for each other? He was usually so aloof, so cold, so beastly. But perhaps that was merely the wall he’d erected around his emotions. Perhaps this kiss had made him, too, feel the deep connection between them, for their lives had intersected twice now.
Never before had she felt such an intense attraction to any man. The feelings he inflamed in her were new and exciting, and she ached to learn more about him, to become closer in mind and soul.
He nibbled on the lobe of her ear, feeding the fire within her. She felt his hands slide down her back to cup her bottom and press their hips together. The silken whisper of his voice tickled her ear. “I want you in my bed, Bella. Right now. Give yourself to me, and I’ll make you the happiest of women.”
In my bed.
Those words penetrated her sensual reverie, and she opened her eyes to the dim-lit study. She was gazing down at his dark head as he kissed her neck. At the chocolate-brown hair that was still mussed from his earlier tryst with a concubine.
He intended to use her as he had that other woman. Lust ruled him, nothing more. That thought flitted through her mind, yet she didn’t want to believe it.
“Come with me,” he murmured. “You’re curious, aren’t you? Allow me to educate you in the art of lovemaking. We’ll have all night together, just you and I.”
As he spoke, Miles drew her toward the door, his lips warm against her temple, his hands feathering over her throat and bosom. Her traitorous body responded to his touch, and Bella found herself tempted to succumb. To let him introduce her to the mysteries of fleshly desires.
The shock of her own weakness broke the spell. He wanted her to give to him what rightfully belonged only to a husband. This nobleman would take what he wanted and then walk away.
She writhed against his hold. “No,” she said, her voice sounding far too unsteady. “No, let me go, Miles.”
Instead of relenting, he brought his lips down on hers again, not in the wild manner of before, but sipping at her mouth in soft, persuasive kisses that sapped her of the ability to think. His fingers tenderly stroked her face. “Bella, darling. Please don’t deny me. I want you so very much. You’re a fever in my blood.”
A gravelly sincerity vibrated in his voice. Miles meant every word. He desired her with all his being. The knowledge, rich and sweet, lured her beyond reason. It was flattering, enticing, enthralling, and nourishment to her starving heart.
Taking advantage of her vacillation, his nimble fingers shifted to the back of her gown, undoing the top few buttons, caressing bare skin while he murmured sweet nothings in her ear. As he touched a sensitive spot along her spine, she sucked in a quick breath. In so doing, she caught another whiff of the lighter fragrance intermingled with his masculine scent, and this time she realized what it was.
Flowery perfume.
The smell of his concubine.
A cold wave of revulsion doused her desire. In its wake, anger rose so quickly that it sickened her. We belong together. What a fool she had been to believe that—even for a moment! The Duke of Aylwin thought nothing of going from one woman to another, all in the same night.
He considered it his right. His due.
She must not be his
next conquest. He would take her virtue, ruin her without a qualm. He was worse than a thief plotting to steal her last coin.
In desperation, Bella groped in her pocket and whipped out the dagger. Pressing the sharp tip beneath his jaw, she hissed, “Filthy dog! Release me at once. Or die.”
Chapter 12
Miles froze as the blade pricked the underside of his jaw. His passion-hazed mind struggled to comprehend her threat. A moment ago, Bella had been kissing him. Responding to his caresses with passionate abandon. Granted, she had resisted him once or twice, but surely that was only to be expected from a virginal spinster.
What the hell had just happened?
He stared down into her ferocious blue eyes. Her breasts rose and fell with quick, angry breaths. The tip of the knife pressed into his skin. One hard upward thrust and she would slice open his jugular. He would bleed out in seconds.
The prospect chilled his ardor.
She wouldn’t kill him, he told himself. She wouldn’t dare.
Yet doubt held him motionless. Bella Jones lacked the prissy refinement of other ladies. She had been raised in a wild, uncivilized region of the world. The workings of her mind eluded and intrigued him.
Perhaps it was that very unpredictability that made him mad for her. Even now. While she held a knife to his throat.
“I’ll let go of you,” he said. “Have a care with that blade.”
It wasn’t in his nature to retreat. Nevertheless, Miles stepped back, his hands raised, his palms open to show that he meant her no harm. His kiss had overwhelmed her, that was all. Bella was inexperienced, and for that reason, he should not have been so insistent in pressing his attentions on her.
But all logic and wisdom had fled him the moment he’d taken her into his arms. He didn’t understand his own intense reaction. He usually kept a cool head even in the heat of the moment.
Bella’s hostile gaze tracked his every move as he went to his desk and sat down on the edge of it. A few strands of glossy brown hair had tumbled down around her shoulders. Her mouth had the soft redness of a thoroughly kissed woman. There was nothing spinsterish about her now. She looked as fierce and untamed as the lion goddess Sekhmet.