And he decided instantly he was going to do all of those things.
Every last one.
What he would not do was break her in order to do it.
Something which Miles would not hesitate to do.
Therefore, he had no other choice really.
Thinking of Belle’s lips parting on her soft “oh”, Jack wouldn’t have even considered another choice.
But knowing his brother, he definitely had no choice.
And, his decision made, his eyes focussed on Miles, Miles read what was in Jack’s eyes and then Jack watched his brother smile.
Then Miles’s eyes began to burn with an unhealthy fire that made Jack’s gut get tight and his brother whispered hungrily, “You’re on.”
Chapter Two
James’s Tour
Belle
Belle wandered down the long hall looking for escape.
But escape wasn’t easy to find.
There were people everywhere.
Joy must be much loved for the castle was enormous and in every nook and cranny there were people.
And Belle needed to escape people.
She’d just spent the three most excruciatingly uncomfortable hours of her life amongst a stifling clutch of people and she needed somewhere where she could be alone and just breathe.
Her night was uncomfortable for three reasons.
Firstly, Miles was intent upon being way too close at all times and introducing her to everyone who came within shouting distance.
And this he did with alarming zeal.
Secondly, both Joy Bennett and Yasmin Delacourt were acting as if she was a long lost daughter (Joy) and a best friend from high school lost for decades and now joyfully reunited (Yasmin).
Belle already liked Joy but it seemed the lady was protecting her. More times than Belle could count, Joy materialised at Miles and Belle’s side in order to curb Miles’s wild enthusiasm at breathing Belle’s air. This she did before she had to go off and be the guest of honour that she was, which as the hours passed she seemed to do with more and more trepidation.
With time Belle got over Yasmin’s overwhelming friendliness not to mention her startling frankness and began to like her. However, Belle noted, Yasmin seemed to do the same thing as Joy in the same protective way.
The striking, leggy, curly redheaded, barely clothed Yasmin, at first, terrified Belle. She really liked Yasmin’s turquoise satin slip dress but with the deep cle**age, deeper back and short hem even if it left very little to the imagination. Then again, if Belle had a body like hers, she might consider wearing the same thing (who was she kidding, she’d never consider it).
But she was clearly a very nice woman who’d been around the family for some time and also seemed to be regarded as a kind of daughter.
Regardless, Belle thought Yasmin and Joy’s behaviour was beyond odd. Although, she had to admit, she was grateful for it. Miles was driving Belle up the wall.
Lastly, and most importantly, until about a half an hour ago when he’d thankfully disappeared, James Bennett was always there.
Always.
He wasn’t close but he was also never far and often she’d feel that weird trill up her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck would stand up and her belly would melt. She’d look around and, every time it happened, she’d see that he had his amazing jade green eyes on her.
She did not understand why he was watching her.
It was simply bizarre.
What was more bizarre was Belle’s reaction to him.
Okay, so he was the very definition of masculine beauty.
And there was the fact that she was shy and nervous, not just at the worst of times but all the time.
But James Bennett utterly and completely petrified her.
He was way too attractive. No one should be that attractive.
In fact, Belle thought being that attractive should be against the law.
He should be locked up in order to save all of womankind from his stupefying appeal.
He was, Belle convinced herself, dangerous, he was so darned good-looking.
When he’d first touched her, first spoken to her, she’d actually felt her body moving toward him of its own volition like she was made of metal and he was magnetic.
After that happened, she decided she wanted nothing to do with him.
Indeed, she wanted nothing to do with the entire family no matter how nice they were (except, possibly, Miles in the nice department).
She should have never come there.
And she decided she was breaking up with Miles the first chance she got.
If it didn’t demonstrate extremely bad manners, she would have done it that very night.
She would definitely do it tomorrow.
This was most assuredly not a safe place for Belle Abbot to be.
She needed her tranquil, cosy cottage. She needed her tidy sewing room. She needed to be anywhere but there.
On that thought, she saw a closed door and hoped that no one would mind if she opened it and went inside. She didn’t care if it was a closet. She’d stand amongst the brooms just to get away for five minutes.
She opened the door and found it wasn’t a closet.
Instead, it was James Bennett’s study. She remembered it amongst the numerous rooms Miles had shown her that afternoon.
It was, Belle saw with relief, dark and deserted.
She slipped in and quietly closed the door.
This room, like all of the rest in Chy An Als, was huge. It held a gigantic desk with two chairs at angles in front of it all of which sat in the massive bay window. There was a large, tan-coloured, button-backed sofa that was situated facing an enormous, stone mantel fireplace, a heavy, ornate, dark wood, low table between the two. There was another seating area in the corner, two comfy armchairs separated by a round table and sharing an ottoman. The entire room (outside the window) was lined in bookshelves chock-a-block with books.
Belle didn’t see any of that. Instead, as she started to pick her way across the room aided by the bright moonlight shining from the bay window that faced the sea, she heard the telltale jangle of dog tags.
Between the table and fireplace, she stopped and looked down to see a large dog, who appeared in the moonlight to be a German Shepherd, standing at attention and staring at her.
Belle smiled.
She loved dogs.
Slowly, so as not to alarm him, she crouched low and, just as slowly, lifted her hand toward him.
He came forward cautiously and sniffed her hand.
“Hey there, fella,” she whispered and watched his head come up at the sound of her voice.
Then it moved, his snout butting Belle’s hand. At his invitation, she shifted forward slowly, shuffling in a crouch and started to stroke the silky, thick fur at his handsome head.
“Aren’t you beautiful?” she asked on a soft coo. He inched toward her as the strokes became her fingernails scratching behind his ear and she let out a soft laugh. “You know it, don’t you? Just how beautiful you are,” she went on and lifted her other hand to rub his neck as her nails worked behind his ear.