In the Barrister's Bed. Tina Gabrielle
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Название: In the Barrister's Bed
Автор: Tina Gabrielle
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
isbn: 9781420128376
isbn:
How odd.
The doorknob rattled.
Locked. She had been sure to lock it before retiring.
The intruder would be forced to break a window or force the lock. Blood rushed through her veins like an avalanche.
Then she heard the jangle of keys and the distinctive sound of a key sliding in the lock.
Impossible.
The dead bolt slid aside and the door opened. A dark cloaked figure stepped inside.
She swung the poker downward with all her might.
He moved so swiftly she barely had time to gasp before she was thrust against the wall and a hard body slammed against hers. The poker fell from her grasp and clattered across the marble floor. Her scream was cut off by a large palm pressed against her mouth.
“Don’t,” a masculine voice said curtly. “No screaming to bring your criminal acquaintances bearing down on me.”
He held the lamp high with his other hand, and she realized with alarm that he had managed to disarm her and pin her against the wall with one hand.
Fear and anger knotted inside her, and her heart thumped against her rib cage. Every solid inch of him was pressed against her. He was a tall man, broad and lean. The lamp lit half of his features, and she looked into blue eyes so dark they were almost black. Wavy jet hair framed his chiseled features. He shifted his weight, and she felt the muscled hardness of his body. His expression was taut, his jaw tense.
“I’m going to let you speak, but no screaming. Understand?”
She nodded, and he leaned to the side and kicked the door shut with a booted foot. Placing his lamp on top of a nearby crate, he released his palm from her mouth and rested it against her throat.
“Who are you?” she croaked.
“James Devlin, the Duke of Blackwood.”
A duke? Good lord, what was a duke doing at Wyndmoor Manor?
And yet, he had said the title stiffly, awkwardly, as if unpracticed in pronouncing it. Her mind raced and she wondered if he was truly a duke. Perhaps he was a local member of the criminal class who had heard of the new mistress of Wyndmoor and had come to pillage and steal whatever he could get his hands on. It made more sense. What duke traveled alone without a crowd of servants and a fancy, crested carriage?
His eyes raked her form, and she was highly conscious that she wore her nightdress without a wrapper. “Now it’s your turn. Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” he demanded.
“My name is Bella Sinclair. I am the owner of this manor.”
If she thought she couldn’t be more alarmed, she was wrong.
He arched a dark eyebrow, the expression making him appear even more sinister. “You’re lying. As of yesterday morning, I am the owner of Wyndmoor Manor.”
Chapter 2
Bella’s first instinct had been correct. James Devlin was not a member of the nobility, but a criminal.
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his hard stare. “I assure you, I’m not lying. Whoever you are—and I doubt that you are a duke—I demand you leave at once.”
His hand dropped from her throat. He stood inches away, and she felt the heat emanate from his body through her cotton nightdress.
There was a lethal calmness in his eyes. “You demand?”
Her pulse beat erratically at the threatening undertone in his deep voice. She knew she was in a precarious position, but instinct told her if she backed down or showed the slightest fear, he would swallow her whole.
“I will summon the constable,” she insisted.
“The constable? And pray tell me, Miss Sinclair, just how would you accomplish that?”
“It’s Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Ah. Where is your strapping husband?”
“Bella?” A voice sounded from the top of the landing. “I heard noises. Are you down there?”
No, not Harriet!
Anxiety spurted through Bella as an old woman dressed in a blue robe carrying a heavy candelabrum slowly descended the stairs.
“Do not trouble yourself, Harriet,” Bella called out. “It is only a lost gentleman, and he was just leaving. You may go back to bed.”
Bella turned to the stranger, her gaze imploring. “She is just an old servant. Please, if you are who you say, you will not harm her,” she whispered vehemently.
His brows drew downward in a frown. “I never intended to harm anyone.”
Harriet reached the bottom of the stairs and started across the vestibule. “A lost gentleman in the middle of the night?” She came close, holding the candelabrum high with both hands. Candlelight fully illuminated the man’s features.
The chiseled planes of his face were arresting and elegant at once. His dark curling hair was cut short, and his lips were firm and sensual above a strong chin. His eyes weren’t as dark as she had initially thought, but an extraordinary indigo. He needed to shave, but it was the middle of the night and most men would be in need of a razor, and the dark bristles only added to his rugged appeal. He was dressed in formfitting trousers and a white shirt that molded to impossibly wide shoulders.
Bella realized he was intently regarding her as well. His sharp eyes seemed to strip her of her nightdress, and she was thankful her unbound hair covered her breasts.
He bowed to Harriet. “Pardon the late hour. My name is James Devlin, the Duke of Blackwood. I had no idea the house was temporarily occupied.”
Harriet’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and she looked to Bella.
“Temporarily?” Bella said.
“The previous owner never mentioned renters.”
“Renters?” Bella said.
“Do you have a tendency to repeat people?” James asked.
“Only when they make little sense,” Bella snapped.
“You think I’m a burglar?”
“What else am I to think of a man breaking into my home in the middle of the night?” Bella retorted.
Harriet gasped; Bella held out her hand to silence her and confronted the man.
He drew his lips in a tight smile. “I didn’t break in. I lit a lamp and used a key. Have you ever heard of a burglar using a key?”
“You СКАЧАТЬ