In the Barrister's Bed by Tina Gabrielle Page A

thought he would find attractive. A woman like Bella, if she allowed herself, would be full of passion in the bedroom. Where he’d thought he’d find satisfaction in her nervousness, instead he now longed to see her unwavering courage return.
    What had addled his brains?
    Annoyed with his thoughts, James banged on the roof. The horses set off with a jingle of harness and the carriage lurched, before settling into a steady pace across the graveled drive.
    James leaned back on the bench. “When we get to the Black Hound and find Reeves, let me speak first.”
    She regarded him with a speculative gaze. “Why?”
    “I don’t know what type of criminals he’s consorting with.”
    Her eyes grew wide. “You think Sir Reeves consorts with criminals?”
    “Don’t be so naïve, Bella. Redmond Reeves is a criminal.”
    “But still—”
    “Is your safety of no concern to you?” his voice grated harshly. “There’s only one reason for a beautiful woman to be present in such an establishment.”
    Her lips parted in surprise, and he suspected she was more shocked that he had called her beautiful than that he had suggested the Black Hound’s customers would think her a prostitute.
    Had her husband never told her she was beautiful?
    Not for the first time James sensed her marriage with the deceased Mr. Sinclair had been intimately unsatisfactory. Whether the man had been a simpleton or a selfish bastard, James could only guess. What James knew for certain was that Bella’s innocent yet sensual reaction to his kiss would forever be imprinted on his mind.
    A foreign stab of protectiveness pierced his chest.
    They rode in silence for the remainder of the journey until the swaying of the carriage slowed upon a section of the cobbled road that had fallen into disrepair. With a creak of the harness, the wheels of the carriage hit a rut with a teeth-jarring bounce, and Bella was jolted from her seat and thrown atop him. James grasped her about the waist at the same time she reached out to clutch his thigh, and they nearly bumped heads.
    A glance down at her small hand on his upper thigh caused the temperature in the carriage to rise twenty degrees. An erotic image focused in his mind of Bella touching him without the barrier of clothing.
    “Oh!” she cried out.
    “Easy, Bella.”
    Realizing where she grasped him, she pulled her hand back as if she had clutched a scalding hot poker. She leaped off him, reseated herself, and smoothed her skirts.
    Just then, the carriage came to a full stop. James glanced out the window. His arousal instantly cooled, and his gaze narrowed on the inn across the street. “We’ve arrived.”

Chapter 10
    The sign for the Black Hound creaked on its rusty chains above the door. The posting inn was at a crossroads, where travelers on their way to London or through the villages of Hertfordshire might be unfortunate enough to stop.
    Bella had spent her married years in Plymouth and was aware of the many taverns the sailors, fishermen, dockworkers, and prostitutes frequented, but she had never set foot in one of those establishments.
    Night had descended, and thick clouds obscured a hazy moon that seemed to hang precariously on a curtain of black velvet. Fog furled around the crumbling stone walls of what looked more like a dockside whorehouse than a frequented inn. One of the inn’s shutters hung askew on its hinges, and coarse male laughter spilled into the street. Two men leaned against the posts just outside the door smoking, their eyes red from too much gin, their jaws unshaven. They turned to stare at James and Bella as they passed, and she lifted the hem of her skirt to avoid the debris of broken bottles and horse dung.
    James opened the door and ushered her inside. A thick cloud of smoke stung her eyes and swirled above to hang in the rafters in a heavy cloud. A long bar with stools ran the length of one wall, and an assortment of tables and chairs jammed the floor. The tavern was crowded with