Kristen Ashley - Lucky Stars

“Like now?” he asked.

No, she was definitely not okay standing in a moonlit room with Magnetic James Bennett chatting one-on-one.

“Kind of,” she semi-fibbed (all right, so it was an out and out lie).

He studied her a moment and then moved away. She watched as he put the glass he’d been holding on the desk then turned back to her.

Her body locked as his strong fingers curled just above her elbow. She felt them there, so hot on her skin she thought they were going to leave burn marks.

As she was thinking this, he moved to her side and propelled her forward.

She took two steps then froze, rooted to the spot.

Her head tilted to look at him and she queried, “Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry Belle. We’re not rejoining the party. I’m going to show you The Point,” he explained.

Belle felt immense relief that she had a ready and truthful excuse to get out of a tour of “The Point” (what they called his enormous, multitude-of-rooms-filled castle) with James Bennett.

“That’s okay. Miles took me on a tour this afternoon.”

She watched as James looked over her shoulder and muttered, “Of course he did.”

Then he moved forward again, his hand firm on her arm so she had no choice but to move with him. As they went toward the door, he grabbed his dinner jacket from the arm of the couch.

“Um, James…” she began to protest but he spoke again.

“Jack,” he stated firmly then he let out a low whistle and Belle heard dog tags behind them.

“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly and went on, “I should probably find Miles and –”

He cut her off, “I’m betting Miles missed part of the tour.”

Belle couldn’t imagine that. They’d been wandering around for over an hour.

“I think he was pretty thorough,” Belle informed him as he stopped them and put his hand to the doorknob.

He looked down at her before opening the door. “My brother is many things,” he said softly and there was a wealth of meaning behind his words, Belle just didn’t understand it. “But he is not thorough.”

Then he opened the door and guided her through.

Then he guided her down a deserted hall.

Then he guided her through some busy kitchens.

Then he took her out a backdoor.

They stepped into the nippy May evening and Belle shivered.

Upon her shiver, James pulled her to a stop and dropped her arm. She turned to him and saw he was shaking out his dinner jacket. Before her mind registered his intent, he moved close to her front, his hands came up on either side of her and he settled the jacket on her shoulders.

Then his fingers came to the lapels and pulled them closed at her chest, leaving his hands there.

Throughout this she stood shocked and solid.

It was a kind thing to do.

Immensely kind.

Even gallant.

It was also, the way he did it, casually intimate.

She barely knew the man and yet there she was in the night wearing his jacket, his hands on her and it seemed, unlike when Miles touched her, strangely natural.

“Better?” he murmured and all she could do was nod.

Part of her hoped they could stand like that forever (or at least for a while).

Part of her wanted to run screaming into the night.

Therefore, she felt relief and disappointment when his hands moved from the lapels of his jacket.

Her body relaxed then grew stiff again as only one of his hands dropped away.

The other one came up to her neck, sliding against her skin in a barely there touch (but still, she felt it, and his touch affected her everywhere ). He tugged free her errant lock of hair from where it was caught under his jacket.

Then she felt rather than saw him twist it around his finger, his eyes on this movement, his expression thoughtful, his face beautiful and all she could do was stand there and stare.

Then his finger released her hair and he dropped his hand.

That was when Belle realised her lungs were burning again due to lack of oxygen because she wasn’t breathing.

“I think you’ll like the part of the tour that Miles missed,” he told her and she nodded because she couldn’t think of what else to do.

He turned and put a hand to the small of her back, moving her forward, walking beside her, his hand never leaving her (and it burned there too).

He glanced behind them as they walked and called, “Baron,” and the German Shepherd jogged up to his side.

They walked silently along a stone path that led around the castle and up a small hill. Some of it was uneven though not treacherous but James obviously knew this path like the back of his hand because before they hit the rough patches, his arm would slide around her, fingers curving at her waist to pull her protectively to his side.

Belle didn’t think much about this because her mind was in a perpetual horrified whirl.

How she was going to make it through whatever he was going to show her, she had no clue.

However, their silent, moonlit stroll was weirding her out even more.

It wasn’t like this was the first time they walked close by each other’s sides but as if they’d done it countless times before. And because of that, it seemed even more personal than Miles holding her close in the drawing room.

She had to break the silence and the strange, innate intimacy.

“Is he yours?” she blurted.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“The dog, Baron. Is he yours or is he a family dog?” Belle clarified.

“He’s mine,” James stated in a way that made it clear the dog was definitely his.

Something about the way he said this gave Belle a melty belly too.

Therefore she decided to stop talking.

Finally they approached a building set some distance away from the castle and James stopped Belle at a wooden door. He opened it, gently pushed her ahead of him and then stopped her again. His torso twisted, his hand still on the small of her back, and light flooded the room.

It was stables.

Belle immediately emitted an unabashed cry of delight.

She loved horses.

She turned and smiled up at James.

“I love horses,” she told him but, even seeing his eyes were on her, something which normally would terrify her, she was too excited to be scared of him. That was how much she loved horses.

Therefore she turned away and instantly moved toward the horses.

There were ten stalls, eight of them filled, the heads of the horses hanging over the doors as they looked to see what was happening.

Belle slowly approached the first horse and put her hand under the horse’s nose. The horse sniffed and snorted at her hand and she laughed softly at the tickling sensation. Once the horse had given her permission, Belle moved closer and stroked her muzzle.

“She’s beautiful,” Belle breathed as she felt James arrive at her side.

“You like animals,” James commented.

Belle kept stroking.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, her eyes never leaving the animal.

She gave the horse one last rub then moved around James, not looking at him, to the next horse, giving him a nuzzle. Then she went to the next then the next.

At the last stall, she saw a huge grey, his smoky mane sleek and long, his body bigger, muscles more defined and powerful than any of the other horses.

He was pure equine beauty.

James was again at her side as she stroked the horse’s nose.

“He’s my favourite,” she whispered and as if the horse understood her words, he moved his nose to her neck and blew, causing Belle to let out a short, startled giggle.

“He’s mine,” James said and Belle moved her head away from the horse, her hands still on his powerful jaws and looked up at James.

“I’m thinking you have good taste,” she told him.