Justin found her in the library again. She sat in the same chair as she had yesterday, her gaze on the sea below. He watched her for a moment, the perfect outline of her cheek, the way her hair curled about her face, the soft curves of her breast beneath her lavender gown. He could almost feel their rounded softness in his hands and his groin tightened in response.
‘Belle.’
She turned and soft colour filled her cheeks. ‘Good morning, your…that is, Justin.’
She looked adorable. ‘You still want to address me as “your Grace”? After last night, I would think the need for such formality between us was annihilated.’ His eyes swept over her face. ‘Don’t you?’
Her colour deepened. ‘I suppose so. Although in front of others I would prefer to preserve a certain amount of formality.’
‘But, my sweet Belle, there are no others present at this moment.’
‘But there could be. A library is not very private. Anyone could walk in.’
‘Anyone?’
‘A servant. Or a guest, that is.’
The prim note that had returned to her voice made him want to kiss her. ‘There are no other guests that I am aware of. And my servants would hardly be shocked if you addressed me by my given name. Or perhaps you fear something else might happen.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Such as what?’
‘Such as this.’ He caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. Before she could protest he kissed her. Her lips parted under his and then she moved her head away. ‘No.’
He lifted his head for a moment. ‘No, what? Say my name,’ he whispered against her mouth.
‘No. Justin.’
He released her. ‘That was not too difficult. Nor did anyone interrupt us.’ He touched her cheek. ‘Why did you leave me this morning? I awoke and you were gone.’
‘I…’ She flushed. ‘I did not want to be seen in your bed.’
‘Still so modest?’ he murmured. He smiled wickedly. ‘I look forward to unmasking you again. And very soon at that. I wasn’t quite finished with you, you know.’
‘Justin!’ She took a step away from him as if she feared he was about to have his way with her at that moment. He was tempted, but he did not want to shock her. However, he intended to seize the next appropriate opportunity.
‘I need your company for something else,’ he said.
‘And what is that?’
‘Billiards.’
‘Billiards? Why would you want me for that? I can hardly hit the ball.’
‘You will, by the time I am finished with your lesson. This time there will be no interruptions and we can spend the entire day on your lesson if we want.’
‘Do you not have something else you would rather do?’
He allowed his eyes to linger on her mouth. ‘I do, but I somehow doubt you would agree to it.’
Instead of the blush he had expected, she eyed him calmly. ‘I do agree a horseback ride would be rather uncomfortable. Perhaps when the sun is out.’
He laughed. ‘That is not quite what I meant as I suspect you know very well.’ He picked up his gloves. ‘I will change and then we can go to the billiards room. We can also tour the house if you’d like.’
‘I would like that.’ She smiled at him.
He was stunned at the happiness on her face. Was it merely at the prospect of seeing the house or at spending time in his company? He had experienced a moment of panic when he had awoke and found her gone and for a moment had wondered if he had dreamed the whole night. But the faint scent of her that still lingered in the bedclothes told him the night had not been a dream.
He had not known why she had left him and had half-expected she would have returned to her cool, composed self. Had she only come to him in order to atone for the wrongs she thought she had done to him? Or had it been because she desired him as much as he did her?
He could only hope it was the latter. The alternative was worse than nothing at all.
The billiards room was in the older wing of the rambling house. They passed through a long gallery of portraits and finally came to a dark panelled room with long windows and an old carved mantelpiece. A fire already crackled in the fireplace and warmth had started to seep into the room. There were several comfortable chairs and a sofa as well as the billiard table which occupied one corner of the room. Belle walked to the window. The sea was visible from this room as well. The rain now beat against the window and the sea was as grey as the clouds—wild and untamed and she was utterly fascinated. She hardly noticed Justin was behind her until he spoke. ‘Have I lost you again?’
She jumped and whirled around. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You seem to go into a trance every time you catch a glimpse of the water.’ His voice was dry but his face held amusement. ‘Jackson said you went directly for the window in the library and hardly knew when he left the room. I doubt you moved until I entered.’
‘I am sorry. It is just it is so entrancing and it changes colours with the sky. Perhaps when I grow used to it I won’t care so much.’
‘I suspect you will. I think it has enthralled you. It did me the first time I saw it, which is why I prefer this house, much to the dismay of my relations.’ His mouth lifted in a half-smile. ‘I have already instructed Mrs Keith to have your possessions moved to a chamber with a view of the sea. I should have thought of that earlier, but it never occurred to me you would be so fascinated. The chamber is smaller than the one you occupy, however.’
‘That does not matter.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’
‘I am glad it pleases you,’ he said softly.
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘You do not need to please me.’
‘But it is my pleasure to do so.’ His eyes met hers and the intensity of his expression made her catch her breath.
She forced her voice to remain light. ‘I am ready to start the billiards lesson. But I should warn you that I have not done this since the last time you attempted to instruct me. If I recall, I was an extremely dismal pupil. I am less than hopeful about the results.’
‘But the lessons themselves can be enjoyable.’
She felt the telltale blush steal to her cheeks. ‘I suppose so, although I have found most lessons rather tedious.’ She had no idea what she was saying.
The lazy smile still curled his mouth. ‘I assure you these won’t be.’
She gave up. Fencing with him was impossible—that he was a master at it was obvious.
‘Should we begin?’ she asked.
He took her hand. ‘Yes, but first I must drag you from the window.’ He gave her hand a gentle tug. She followed him to the baize-covered table where he released her hand and moved to a rack of cues. ‘Would you prefer a mace or a cue?’
‘A cue, I think.’
He pulled one down and tested its weight. ‘This should work for you.’ He took another stick down and then gave her the first one. He set his aside and shrugged out of his coat. It was hardly suggestive but her mouth went dry none the less. He wore a waistcoat over his fine linen shirt. She watched him set the balls, his movements graceful and expert, then he turned to her. ‘Are you ready? Come here and I will help you position your stick.’
She moved to the table and took the cue from his hand. She pointed it at the ball only to find Justin’s arms closing around her. ‘Like this,’ he said into her ear. He moved her hands into position and then moved away from her. ‘Now try to hit it.’
Whatever was he talking about? Her body still tingled from where he had touched her.
‘Do not worry if you make a mistake. You can try it as many times as you wish,’ he said.
Oh. She was supposed to hit the ball. She took aim and brought her arm back, then forward. Her stick contacted with the ball and it slowly rolled towards the middle of the table and then stopped. ‘Oh, dear. It hardly did anything.’
‘At least you hit it,’ he said kindly. He retrieved the ball and set it back in place. ‘Try it again. Do you want me to help you?’
No! Then she’d never have a chance of concentrating. ‘Perhaps if you showed me first.’
‘Very well.’
She stepped aside and he positioned himself in front of the ball. He leaned forward, the movement stretching his shirt and waistcoat across the taut muscles of his back. A sudden recollection of how they felt under her hand hit her and she jerked her gaze to his fingers. They were strong and lean around the stick, the signet ring he wore on his left hand catching the light from the window. Unfortunately, watching his hands proved no less distracting.
He finally hit the ball in a swift, sure movement. It rolled directly into the pocket on the opposite side. He straightened up and glanced at her, male satisfaction at such a neat hit evident. She found herself smiling at him. ‘Very good. How did you do that?’
‘Practice. And concentration. I do not allow myself to be distracted.’
Evidently, her presence was not having the same effect on him as his was having on her. Well, she would just have to put aside her lustful, immoral thoughts and focus on the task at hand rather than on him. ‘Let me try it again, then.’ She picked up her stick with resolution.
He made no move to physically help her this time, but she was quite aware his eyes were fixed on her. It was almost as bad as having him touch her. She tried to ignore him and vowed she would at least hit the ball hard enough so it would reach the other side of the table.
She slammed the stick into the ball which bounded across the table and leapt off with such force she feared it would crash through the floor.
Mortified, she forced herself to look at Justin. His brow shot up. ‘I should hate to have you angry at me with the stick in your hand. I suspect you would be lethal.’
Her hand went to her mouth. ‘I am sorry. Do you think I damaged your floor? Or the ball?’
His mouth twitched. ‘I doubt it very much.’
‘I will retrieve it.’ She moved around the side of the table. The ball had rolled across the floor and come to rest near the fireplace. She was relieved to see no holes in the floor and find the ball in one piece.
She picked it up and walked back to the table. ‘I would like to try again,’ she said. All signs indicated that she should acknowledge defeat and give up, but she was determined she would get at least one ball in a pocket. Particularly since he was laughing at her.
‘Good girl.’ His eyes danced. ‘Perhaps I should help you this time.’
‘No, I wish to try it myself again. However, I think I could concentrate better if you would look at something besides me.’
‘Most certainly, although you will deprive me of the pleasure of watching you.’
She cast him a baleful look. ‘It is hardly kind of you to take pleasure in watching me make a sad botch of this.’
‘Ah, but that wasn’t what was giving me pleasure.’
He was flirting with her, and no matter what she said he would twist it. She marched to the table and glanced back at him. ‘I really would like to try this without any spectators.’
‘Of course. I will stand near the window, although I would be grateful if you would warn me before tossing any more balls off the table.’
‘I have no intention of doing that again, your Grace,’ she said with dignity. She turned back to the table and gritted her teeth. She would conquer this.
The first shot went wide of the mark, but the second was solid. By the third try she had managed to at least move a ball in the direction she wanted. And by the eighth shot, a ball finally wobbled into a pocket. She nearly shouted with joy.
‘Very nice.’
She whirled around and nearly hit Justin, who stood directly behind her, with the stick. He stepped back and then gently took it from her hand. ‘You are dangerous with this thing,’ he remarked.
‘I had no idea you were behind me. I thought you were not going to watch.’ Her heart was thudding rapidly although she couldn’t tell if it was from his nearness or excitement over her victory.
‘I could not help myself,’ he said with an apologetic air, but she doubted he was the least bit apologetic. ‘I own I was bored so I thought I would see how you were progressing. I arrived in time to see your victory. I had no doubt you would finally manage to corner one of the balls. You are very determined when you want something.’
‘You may still laugh but I will get better and then I will challenge you to a match.’
He grinned. ‘I look forward to it. However, a few more pointers might be in order.’
She frowned at him. ‘Such as what?’
‘The position of the stick when your ball is here, for instance. This angle can make it rather difficult. Allow me to show you.’ He neatly demonstrated and then hit the ball. He then re-spotted the ball. ‘You can try it now.’
The stick would not quite line up and she felt awkward. He moved to her side and put one arm around her so he could guide her hand. Then he shifted her other hand into position. His light impersonal touch made her feel almost weak. ‘I’ll help you hit the ball,’ he said. He spoke almost impersonally, but she heard the slight huskiness in his voice.
‘All right,’ she said. Her own voice sounded very peculiar.
But he made no move to hit the ball and he suddenly stepped away from her. ‘This is impossible,’ he said.
Belle managed to speak. ‘I fear I am a poor pupil at such things. I could never throw a ball properly or…or shoot an…’ Her voice trailed away as he drew her back against him.
His hands splayed over her stomach, his breath warm on her cheek. ‘No, my sweet Belle, that is not what I meant.’ And then his mouth found the hollow at the base of her neck. Her head fell back and she could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her, then his hands moved up to cup her breasts through the soft muslin of her gown. She made a little sound.
‘I do not think I can wait,’ he murmured. ‘I want to love you now.’ He pulled her more firmly against him, leaving her in no doubt of his desire.
‘Justin…’ But he had turned her and his mouth covered hers silencing her protest. She was backed up against the billiard table and he was kissing her with a wild passion that sent her spiralling into a vortex. He lifted her and she was on the table. He braced his hands on either side of her, his mouth still on hers. She clung to him but when he lifted her skirt and his hand began to stroke the soft flesh of her inner thigh, she pulled her mouth away. ‘Justin…we cannot…’
His smile was wicked. ‘But we can. I told you these lessons would not be tedious.’
‘No, they are not.’ Her body was trembling with anticipation and heat. When his hand went to the fastening of his breeches, she thought she would explode then. His eyes were fixed on her face as he bent over her, bracing his arms on either side of her on the table. ‘Where were we?’ he asked.
‘I think…’ She looked up into his dark face, his eyes heavy with passion and need for her. With astonishment she saw that although she was for all purposes at his mercy, that was only an illusion. She was not powerless, instead, he was in her power, a feminine power she had never dreamed she possessed.
She surrendered then, both to him and to herself. Her arms came around his neck and her hands tangled in the thick, silky hair at his nape. She drew his head slowly towards her. ‘I think we were here,’ she whispered before bringing his lips to hers.