Loving Bella. Renee Ryan

Very carefully, very slowly, she pulled her hands from his and straightened. He stood, as well.

      “As an opera singer, I am not good enough to become your wife.” She tilted her head to stare at him. “Is that what you are saying, William?”

      “I love you too much to imprison you.” He rose to his full height and continued. “As my mistress, you would have certain freedoms my wife could never have. I would give you a notice of carte blanche. You will never again incur a debt and will live a life of complete luxury.”

      The haughty tone of his words conflicted with the desperation she saw in his gaze. He looked so young, staring at her with those startling blue eyes. So sincere. As though he’d just offered her the most precious gift in the world.

      “Yet, you don’t love me enough to marry me.”

      He clasped his hands behind his back and drew in a long breath. “I already have a wife.”

      Bella gasped and her hand clutched at her throat. Her fingers brushed the locket which now weighed heavy around her neck. Chills swept across her skin, followed by scorching heat. Unable to speak, she stumbled backward until her spine hit the door leading to freedom. She dropped her gaze to her toes. From the hallway, a beam of light shone like a beacon under the door. She wanted to run from the ramifications she could not yet face, but that would make her a coward. Thus, she found the courage to demand further explanation. “You’ve pursued me all these months, while already married?”

      “What I am offering is far more than marriage.” He stood tall, head erect. His stance was full of aristocratic pride but his gaze held a silent plea. “Think of it, Bella, you will be the celebrated mistress of a viscount in his own right.”

      How could he think he offered her something of value, when it meant the desecration of his wedding vows? These long months of pursuit she’d held him at arm’s length, had remained pure, all the while assuming he respected her as very few men respected women in her profession.

      She’d been woefully mistaken. He hadn’t been courting a wife. He’d been seducing a mistress.

      She had just enough pride left to be furious at him. “I would like you to leave now.”

      Rage and anguish, guilt and love tangled in his gaze. “Bella, no, don’t make a hasty decision. I love you.”

      His eyes begged her to believe him, and to her shame, she wanted to do just that. Hadn’t she felt his admiration, respect and love grow deeper these past weeks? Was this how Bathsheba had felt when King David had pursued her? Was David’s love so real and desperate, his arguments so convincing that Bathsheba willingly walked into sin with him?

      Bella had never felt pity for the woman who committed such a brazen act of adultery. Until now. Heaven help her, Bella still loved William.

      But the emotion shamed her.

      Perhaps if she found the strength to walk away she could redeem them both. “I cannot accept your offer, William.”

      “I will not lose you, Bella. You are my greatest desire, I will die without you. I know I can make you happy. You will never want for anything.”

      Desire? Want? Was that how he defined love? She kept her head lowered to hide the spark of anger. At him. At herself for feeling such sorrow over her loss.

      Marriage was sacred. Therefore, what God has joined together, let no man put asunder.

      “I will not turn into an adulterer this night.”

      But she knew, in her heart, the deed was already done. Hadn’t Jesus said that the thought alone made her accountable for the sin?

      Apparently unaware of her turmoil, William turned his back to her, idly fiddled with the wax on a candle.

      “I have pursued you these two months, have I not, with the benefit of nothing more than your smiles?” He sent her a shrewd glance over his shoulder, shifted to face her. “I honored your purity when I could have had any number of mistresses by now. I want you, Bella. The way a man wants a woman.”

      With each word he spoke, her disgrace grew. The room was suddenly hot, so hot she feared she would faint.

      Dry eyes were her only defense. “I cannot become your mistress. I will not.”

      A range of emotions crossed his face again, more subtle and harder to read. The eyes that locked with hers were sharp and measuring. She knew he was calculating how best to win her. A wager he’d already lost. Bella would not harm an innocent woman.

      At that thought, her mind was suddenly clearer. So clear it hurt. The churning in her stomach was humiliation, she knew. But she would survive.

      Unfortunately, shame was a bitter taste on her tongue, one she feared would never go away. It helped to remind herself that she was not the victim here. Lord Crawley’s wife bore that burden alone.

      “Bella,” he pleaded.

      Their stares locked, held. He was so handsome. And she loved him so much. Even now. Still. Self-directed anger and misery bubbled up, but Bella forced it back with a hard swallow. She had to come up with a plan to get him to leave before she agreed to do something she already knew she’d regret. It was her only hope of salvation. “I need time.”

      A flicker of hope pulled his lips into a soft smile. “I understand.” He drew her hand to his lips. “But make your decision quickly. I have been patient long enough.”

      It was a caddish remark, but Bella saw genuine emotion in the flash of anxiety that wavered in his eyes. In that moment, Bella realized he loved her. Truly loved her.

      Yet, he would never understand her. His upbringing had taught him duty and possession and broken vows. Hers had taught her the sacredness of marriage and loyalty and obedience to Christ, her Lord and Savior.

      With that last thought, her humiliation burned deeper.

      She knew what she had to do now.

      It was only years of training that enabled her to look him in the eyes without breaking into tears, knowing this was the end. “Allow me one day to consider.”

      He dropped her hand. A smile hinting at his confidence slithered across his lips. “I will return before noon tomorrow.”

      She nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

      A knot twisted in her stomach as she watched him walk out the door. There would be no additional meeting. Her only chance was escape. And she knew just the place to run, a place where William would never dare to follow.

      A small victory, to be sure, but hardly an honorable one.

      She could only hope with distance and time, absolution would come.

      Chapter One

      One month later, Denver, Colorado

      He couldn’t let her leave. Not without a fight. The spasm of panic shocked him, even as it pounded angry and insistent through his blood. For a moment—just one—Dr. Shane Bartlett had to fight the horrible urge to give in and beg, but he knew any display of emotion would be his doom.

      For the sake of his patients, he had to ignore the choking sense of dread rising inside him and continue.

      Jaw tight, Shane dragged a hand through his hair. If he was to win her over, persuasion had to be doled out in degrees of charm and skill.

      Putting aside his frustration, Shane forced his heartbeat to slow to the same rhythmic cadence as the tick-tick-tick coming from the clock on the mantel behind him.

      “Please, Miss Marley,” he said, curving a pleasant smile along the edges of his mouth. “I only ask that you hold off making a final decision until you hear me out.”

      Her gaze remained direct and unwavering. But instead of responding right away, she clamped her lips shut and scrunched her forehead into a web of hard, vertical lines.

      Shane