Griffin Stone: Duke of Decadence. Carole Mortimer

was a very handsome gentleman, and wealthy too, judging by the meticulous condition of this beautiful estate. Of course such a man would have a wife. A beautiful and accomplished duchess, to complement his own chiselled good looks and ducal haughtiness. And, no doubt, to provide him with the necessary heirs.

      Was it possible he already had several of those children in his nursery?

      Bella swallowed before speaking again. ‘I did not know... I had no idea... I had assumed—’ She had assumed that Griffin was unmarried. That the way she felt so inexplicably drawn towards him was acceptable, even as she acknowledged it was altogether impossible that that interest would ever be felt in return for the vagabond she currently was. ‘Why have I not yet been introduced to your wife?’

      A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched cheek. ‘Obviously because she is not here.’

      Bella felt totally bewildered by the coldness of his tone.

      ‘Then where is she?’

      His eyes were now glacial. ‘She has been buried in the family crypt in the village churchyard these past six years.’

      Oh, dear Lord!

      Why had she continued to question and pry? Why could she not have just left the subject alone, when she could see that it was causing Griffin such terrible discomfort? The stiffness of his body, the tightness of his jaw, and the over-bright glitter of his eyes were all proof of that.

      But no, because she was irritated with him over his earlier behaviour, those ridiculous assumptions he had made concerning her conversation with Arthur Sutton, she had continued to push and to pry into something that was surely none of her business. Into a subject that obviously caused this proud and haughty man immense pain.

      ‘Do you have children, too?’

      His mouth tightened. ‘No.’

      ‘How did she die?’ Bella knew she really should not ask any more questions, but the look on Griffin’s face indicated that if she did not ask them now she might never be given another opportunity. And she wanted to know.

      Besides which, Griffin could only be aged in his early thirties now, and he said his wife had been dead for six years, so surely that wife could not have been any older than her early to mid-twenties when she died?

      ‘She drowned,’ he bit out harshly.

      ‘How?’ Bella gasped.

      ‘I will not discuss this subject with you any further, Bella!’

      Bella knew she really had pushed the subject as far as Griffin would allow, as he turned away to look out of the bedroom window.

      She hesitated only briefly, her gaze fixed on the rigid set of his shoulders and unyielding back as she swung her legs to the floor, before rising quickly to her feet to cross over to where the Duke stood. ‘Now it is my turn to apologise.’ Her voice was huskily soft as she stood behind him. ‘I should not have continued to ask questions about something that so obviously distresses you.’

      He made no response, indeed he gave no indication he had even heard her.

      Bella waited for several long seconds before lifting her arms up tentatively and sliding them gently about his waist, hearing him draw in a hissing breath as she did so. She could feel the way that his body became even more rigid beneath her hands as she rested them on his abdomen.

      Realising her mistake, she started to draw away.

      ‘No!’ Griffin’s hands moved up to hold those slender arms about his waist. ‘Stay exactly where you are,’ he ordered as his body relaxed against Bella’s warmth and the soft press of her breasts against his back.

      It had been so long since any woman had voluntarily offered him the comfort of her arms other than for that brief prelude occasionally offered before the sexual act began.

      Griffin’s eyes closed as he now savoured the sensation of just being held. Of having no expectations asked of him, other than to stand here and accept those slender arms about his waist. At the same time as Bella’s softness continued to warm him through his clothing.

      Griffin had not realised until now just how much he had missed having a woman’s undemanding and tenderness of feeling. He had not allowed himself to feel hunger for those things that he knew could never be his.

      He had to marvel at Bella, giving that tenderness and warmth so freely, when circumstances surely dictated she was the one in need of that comfort.

      For the moment Griffin did not want to think about those circumstances, to give thought to the fact he knew nothing about this young woman. Why should he, when he had known even less about the women in whose bodies he had taken his pleasure these past six years? No, for now he intended to simply enjoy the moment.

      Bella had not moved since Griffin had instructed her not to. But she still couldn’t stop thinking about the wife he’d lost so tragically.

      Had Griffin been very much in love with her?