Belle of Bellville - Cover

Belle of Bellville

Copyright© 2015 by Catharinas_SOL

Chapter 4

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 4 - The men at Barrington Ranch need a housekeeper and cook badly. When a mysterious and beautiful Louisiana belle responds to their ad, no one believes she's up to the task. But she soon proves she's as adept at cooking and cleaning as she is at hiding her secret past from everyone - everyone except Jacob Barrington, that is.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction  

Isabella felt her eyelashes flutter before her eyes opened. She frowned and blinked, not recognizing the thick wooden beams of the ceiling high above her. She laid a hand over her eyes, closing them briefly when she felt a lightheadedness that could easily become a full-fledged headache. Had she fallen into a deep sleep? Was she that tired?

After taking a few moments, she dropped her hand and set elbows under her before she rose on them, blinking, and gazed disoriented around the unfamiliar room. Then she froze when she saw a pair of astute blue eyes watching her from the sofa with right next to him, a curious and panting tri-colored long-haired dog with strange blue eyes.

"Where am I—?"

"Where you shouldn't be."

A quick gaze around told her exactly where she was as her memories flooded back. She was laid out on a bed—his bed! With a cry she was on her feet beside the bed but that was one hell of a foolish move! She was immediately overcome with an acute case of vertigo and she teetered, about to fall on the floor—again—just when she was caught in his arms.

"I swear," Jacob said, shaking his head as he carefully helped her to sit on the edge of the bed. "If you had a brain, it'd die out of loneliness."

She was clearly confused as she looked at him kneeling in front of her. "What?"

"Nuthin'," he said as he rose to his boots. "How're you feelin'?"

"Better," she said. Then she pressed her hand against her head and frowned. "I think."

"Yup. Out of loneliness," he said again and she heard his cowboy boots thump over the large rug as he walked away from her and then again as he returned to her. "Here."

She looked up to find him holding a glass of water to her. She felt parched and she took it before she thirstily drank.

"You need to drink a lot of water out here in the southeast. You dehydrate quicker around these parts, and I reckon it's what had you faint twice already."

She recalled that she hadn't touched the orange juice earlier. She hadn't much to drink the entire day, really. He had a point. After she finished the glass of water, she moved to set it on the nightstand but his hand was there. She looked up at his unreadable face before she handed it over to him, and watched him as he walked to the small countertop and set the glass down, now standing in profile to her.

Then a thought hit her. "Wait," she said with a curious frown. "I fainted ... again?"

"Yup," he said as he looked over at her with a calm expression. "How're you feelin' now?"

"Much better," she admitted.

"Good." He nodded. "Now do you wanna tell me what you're doin' in my home?"

She blinked big eyes before she felt color rise in her face. "Your-Your home? I-I thought your father told me to recuperate from the earlier, uh, earlier black-out—"

"—I meant here. This place."

She swept her big eyes around. "This is your place?"

"Most times."

She quirked her head with a confused look. "Most times?"

He didn't answer. He just stared at her for a moment. Then she realized what he meant. Of course a healthy Texas boy like him rarely slept in his own bed! She felt color shoot into her cheeks before she swallowed and looked away.

"Oh."

"So," he said, "are you gonna tell me what you were doin' in my place?"

She kept her gaze averted. "I ... I was looking for my brush and comb. My hair ... I washed my hair," she frowned down at the scraggly swirls down her left shoulder, "and if I don't comb and brush it out, it tends to tangle and become unmanageable. But I couldn't find them in my suitcases or my shoulder bag."

He popped eyebrows. "And you reckon you'd find 'em up here?"

"What? N-No. No," she shook her head. "I found them in the Rover where I remembered I'd left them."

"That doesn't explain why you're up here."

"I didn't know it was your home—place." She shook her head. "But no. It doesn't explain my being here." Then she looked at him. "I just ... I saw stairs after I'd found my brush and comb and I was ... um ... I don't know," she shook her head. "I guess I was—"

"—Bein' nosy."

She looked a little irritated. "I was going to say, curious."

"Nosy. Yea."

She cleared her throat. "I apologize for that."

"For what? Bein' nosy?"

She was getting really annoyed now. "For obviously treading on hallowed ground."

He heard the irritation in her tone and stared at her until she looked away.

Feeling somewhat better—and wanting nothing more than to be out of his "home" as soon as possible—she rose to her feet to leave. Then she paused and frowned as she remembered something and patted the pockets of her wrap.

Occupied with looking for that elusive brush and comb set, she didn't notice how his gaze ran slowly down her slender frame in that elegant nightgown that followed her feminine curves perfectly. She also didn't notice how his gaze lingered at the level of her breasts where twin bumps pressed wantonly against the satin of her gown.

"Where can they be?"

He turned his eyes away as a tic appeared in his lean cheek and jaw as he switched on the faucet and filled the glass with water again. "Lookin' for somethin'?"

"Yes. My brush and comb. I seem to have misplaced them again."

"They're right here," he said, and he looked at her, seeing her big eyes on him before he nodded down at the counter. "You dropped them when you fainted again."

She went apple-red and her eyelashes fluttered as she gave him an apologetic smile before she quickly came over to him and took the brush and comb. "Thank you," she said softly. Then she nodded. "Good night, Mister Jacob," she said softly before she passed him to make for the stairs posthaste!

"Who's Charles?"

She came to an abrupt halt. Then she snapped around and found him looking over his shoulder at her as he sipped on a glass of water.

"What?"

He lowered the glass. "Who's Charles?"

She swallowed big and looked away. "Why do you ask?"

"Cuz you'd screamed out that name just 'fore you fainted."

She stared at him with big anxious eyes. She screamed? Then she looked away as she shook her head. "No one important."

"I reckon he's important enough to make you scream out his name when you saw me. You did that once before, just 'fore you fainted back at the main house," he said. "I'd wager anythin' he's the poke who put tears in your eyes earlier."

"I-I wasn't crying. I told you, I had something in my eye."

"I'd bet the farm that he's the one you're runnin' from, too," he said, ignoring her excuses. "Yea. I'd be mighty surprised if that ain't the case." He set the glass down and turned and he began walking toward her. He noticed that the closer he got, the more anxious she became. "And you know what else?"

"I-I really need to go. It's getting late—"

"I reckon you see him in me."

She snapped up her head and looked at him as if she'd seen a ghost. Then she shook her head and her eyelashes fluttered wildly. "No. No, that's not true," she said, shaking her head.

"Ain't it?" he asked quietly.

"No." She shook her head. "Please ... Please don't come any closer, Mister Jacob."

"You ain't gonna faint on me again, are ya, Bella?" he asked as he kept a tight gaze on her while she began to back away.

"I-I-I have to insist you keep your distance, Mister Jacob," she said with as much bravado as she could, but even she could hear how her voice trembled—which only made her feel even less confident.

"Why?" he asked as he continued to slowly come to her.

"Because I'm asking you to." She took another step back, looking panicked now.

"You came up to my home, to my room, in the night, in your nightgown. What am I supposed to think, Bella?"

She snapped up her head and stared in shock at his unreadable face. "You could think that I was disoriented and lost. You-You don't have to think the worst—"

"—Worst?" He quirked his head quizzically. "Is that how you see it? As somethin' bad?"

"No, of course not!" she protested hotly. "It was a poor choice of words, I'll admit, but I don't want you to think that I've come to ... to ... to..."

He arched an eyebrow. "To ... what, Bella?"

"I was just curious what was up here!" she cried desperately.

"And then you saw it was my place and you stayed?"

"I wasn't planning on staying. I-I couldn't know this was your place! I didn't know. I swear I didn't."

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