“Are we not a little old for this?” she murmured.
“Never.” Oliver grinned. “And I wouldn’t think you would have thought so either.”
She pressed out a breath. She would have welcomed the chance to enjoy a silly game once upon a time but it was different here. How could she be herself when everyone expected the worst of a fallen woman, when she had a fictional person to live up to?
“I shall get lost,” she muttered. “You know I have no sense of direction.”
“Lord Calderton can help you,” the marchioness said. “Can you not, my lord?”
“Of course, my lady.” Benedict’s lips tilted and he offered a tiny bow of his head as he stepped forward. “I shall find us the very best hiding place.”
“Excellent.” Oliver stood. “I shall count to twenty, yes? Give you all a little time to find a good spot. What shall the winner get?”
“A kiss!” Elizabeth suggested brightly.
Angelina wanted to pinch her nose in despair and Elizabeth’s mother and a few of the other women gasped. But the marchioness merely laughed. “A kiss it is. After all, it is not Christmas without a kiss under the mistletoe. But from whom? Mr Sutherland?”
“I am sure Lord Calderton would be a finer prize.” Oliver laughed but his cheeks flushed a little.
She had to wonder why. He was hardly the sort to go around kissing young ladies but she wouldn’t have expected him to be embarrassed by playing a game.
Benedict lifted a brow but said nothing. Apparently he didn’t much care if he ended up being used as a prize in this ridiculous game. Angelina resisted the desire to shake her head.
“Then it is settled. Come, now Mr Sutherland, start your counting.” Lady Fairfax clapped her hands together.
“Come with me,” Benedict said, taking her hand before she could protest or worry about the intimate move.
He led her out through the door, into the hallway and out of the front door. She rubbed a hand up her arm while they trudged through the snow, around the back of the castle.
“Where are we going? Benedict, it’s freezing.”
“I know this house well.”
He led her down the servants’ stairs, under the house and through the heavy, glossy black door. Angelina scowled. What on earth was wrong with this man? He was almost possessed.
“Benedict!” she tried again, as they moved past several servants who eyed them with curiosity. It was all so improper.
He ignored her and led her through a maze of corridors until they reached some winding steps. They took them up until she was breathless and emerged in a small library. She couldn’t help pause to eye the spines of the battered-looking books, all lined up in various shades of red, brown, blue and green.
Though the room was small, the impact of being surrounded by so many books was not. It mesmerized her how they were stacked from floor to ceiling. A little ladder sat to one side to aid in reaching the top books and the room only had space for two leather chairs. Light slipped in through three narrow windows but no lamps were lit. The effect of the bright light from the moon reflecting off the snow created a magical haze. She almost felt as though she’d stepped into a dreamland.
“You always liked libraries, if I recall.”
Benedict released her hand finally and she found she missed his touch. “You remember that?”
He stared at her, his eyes darker than ever in the low light. So intense she felt as though she were drowning. Air left the room and heat replaced it.
“I remember everything.”
There he was again, inferring things. What sort of things, though? And why did she feel this hopeful buoyancy over the potential behind his words?
“You need not have hauled me away like some caveman,” she said with a smile while she circled the room, pausing to touch the spines of several ancient-looking books.
“I don’t believe I snatched you by your hair.”
“Close enough.” She gave him a look. “Everyone will be talking of us, you realise.”
“Does that bother you?”
Angelina turned her full attention on the books in front of her and lifted her gaze to the top titles. “It bothers Miss Manners.”
“What about you though, Angie? You might have others fooled but I know you are nothing like Miss Manners in your heart.”
She turned on him. “How do you know? Do you not think that after years of living in her shoes, of watching my every move, that she is now me?”
“Not at all.” He moved to light a lamp on the tiny table between the two chairs. Turning it up until the flickering ambience warmed the room, he faced her and moved forward. With only a pace between them, he touched his finger to her chin. A touch so light she had to concentrate hard to feel the welcoming warmth of it. “I believe you are still the Angie I knew. I shall just have to dig a little deeper to find her, that is all.”
“Why should you want to?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. She saw his intent, his answer to her question. It confused, it excited. She curled her fingers into her palm until her nails bit into her flesh. Moments passed by and she realised there had to be a clock somewhere as it ticked impatiently behind her. She moved her gaze from his mouth to his eyes and breath caught in her throat. She blinked and looked again. What was she seeing?
The finger on her chin moved and she startled. It didn’t dissuade him, though. He ran it along her jaw line to just under her ear. Benedict fingered the simple pearl drop earring, sending it tapping against her skin. She shivered as a jolt of sensation speared through her and her skin tingled along one side. If she looked down, she imagined she would see her arms covered in goosebumps.
Somewhere in the distance, Miss Manners tried to break through. This wasn’t ladylike behaviour. He hated her. She was a fool to even be here.
But the voice dimmed and eventually vanished. Miss Manners had gone for the moment, leaving only her. But who was she without her? Angelina simply did not know.
“How can you still be so beautiful after all these years?”
“I—” Angelina gave up. How could she respond to that? Perhaps he’d simply expected she would turn into a withered old crone after all that had happened but she suspected his words were meant differently.
He confirmed as much when he brushed a finger down her nose and told her, “I always thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen but I’d been wrong. Now you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”
“But...” You hate me, she wanted to declare again. That had always been her certainty. She’d understood that all that had occurred had been down to one thing and one thing alone—Benedict’s hatred for her.
He cut her off. With his lips. They met hers quickly yet softly. This was not the kiss of a rake. In spite of her sterling reputation now, she had received a kiss or two as a young girl. She understood kissing well enough. This was no snatched, naughty kiss. This was reverent, hopeful.
He moved his mouth carefully, feeling the shape of her lips. She felt the anticipation behind his movements and the way he questioned with his kiss. Can I have more? he asked.
Angelina had been staring wide-eyed while all this occurred but at some point she waved the white flag of surrender. Angie had resurfaced and was taking hold. Her lids fluttered closed of their own accord and she unfurled her fingers to clutch his arms. He took this as his permission.
He pressed harder this time, his mouth warm and strong. She tasted the warmth of alcohol and the heady scent of his cologne filled her senses. His good hand came up to cup her face and she couldn’t help but release a sigh against his lips. It had been so long since anyone had kissed her. No one would expect Miss Manners would even want a kiss from a man—let alone a rake like Benedict. But she did, she really did.
His palm cradled her face perfectly, making her feel protected and cherished. Angelina couldn’t recall the last time she felt that way. They moved together, working slowly but seductively. His tongue darted o
ut and she opened her mouth to meet it. The shock of sensation that ricocheted through her made her knees weak. She tightened her grip on him.
Somehow, her brain had managed to forget this was Benedict or that they hated each other. Instead, he was a man she was somehow beginning to respect. He’d been straight-forward and charming with her. She had caught no hint of lies in his words during their time here. And she’d seen determination, one that she recognised from herself, in his desire to do well with his invention.
Now, that man she’d spent so long directing her loathing toward was kissing her in a way that made her whole body feel warm and delightfully aware. Now she couldn’t help remember the times when she’d admired him when they were younger.
Before she’d realised how he hated her and before her memories had been clouded by what he’d done, she’d watched him. He’d been devastatingly handsome to her young eyes. She doubted eighteen-year-old Angelina would believe she would eventually get a kiss from him.
He broke the kiss slowly, using the moment to rest his forehead against hers. Their breaths blew between them and she knew he was doing the same as her, remembering the past and absorbing what had just happened. A man who hated her could not kiss her like that, surely?
“I have been wanting to do that for an eternity,” he admitted softly.
Yet more baffling words. But she believed him. She needed to find out more. “But—”
The door to the library swung open and Oliver entered followed by several giggling women.
“Oh, looks like Miss Ashdown has taken her prize already!” Miss Carlton declared.
Benedict tore away from her and Angelina frantically straightened her gown. A glance in Oliver’s eyes told her he’d seen enough. Any chance of persuading him to propose again was gone. Her career was likely over.
Chapter Eight
Miss Manners says...
A lady should always remain composed. Never appear too eager or upset. If one feels the need to make a show of their emotions, one should remove themselves from the situation. My dears, men do not wish to be dealing with tears or giddy young women. Remain refined, strong and elegant at all times and keep those pesky tears at bay.
Benedict smothered a yawn as he put on his Norfolk jacket, tugged on his gloves and wrapped a scarf around his neck. He grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles ringed his eyes and he didn’t look nearly as handsome as he’d have liked. How was he meant to declare his love for Angelina while looking like hell?
It could be a foolish move but he had to do it. Though he’d made progress with Fairfax, the man was still wary. And while he had Angelina on his mind, he could not prove himself the steadfast and reliable business partner he needed to be.
He’d relived that kiss all night, remembering the taste of her and the feel of her body next to his. Even now he grew aroused as he recalled her curved body flush against his. The simple fact was he should have told her he’d loved her long ago. Perhaps she would have rejected him but he could have moved on, perhaps not even becoming the rake he was reputed to be. Becoming lost in so many women’s arms had seemed the best way of removing her from his mind but it had failed. Maybe if he’d declared his intentions and she’d rejected him, he could have found another nice girl to replace her.
This time he smirked at his reflection. Of course he wouldn’t have done. No one could replace her. He’d been with enough women to know that for certain.
Holding air in his lungs, he straightened the sleeves of his jacket and adjusted his scarf before releasing the breath. He picked up his top hat and headed out of the room. Today was the day he made his move. He’d confess all. They were only two days away from New Year’s Eve. What better time to do it?
Trying to ignore the way his hands shook, he headed down to the hallway to find most of the party already assembled. They were to light a large bonfire and roast chestnuts tonight while singing carols. The setting would be perfect if he could only get Angelina away from that blasted Sutherland. They were together again, confiding in one another like an old married couple. He had thought that perhaps him catching them almost kissing would put him off but it seemed it did not. Not that he could blame the man. Angelina was worth fighting for.
He clenched his teeth when Angelina rose onto her tiptoes to say something to him. Sutherland laughed and this time Benedict’s hands shook with rage. That man wasn’t good enough for her. He’d crush her. Angelina needed someone to help release her from Miss Manners and all that nonsense. She wasn’t built to be buttoned up and hidden away. Even now, in a deep green jacket and long skirt with matching hat, she was radiant. Her golden hair glowed against the rich colour like a halo.
Bloody hell, he wanted to kiss her again. If she was his, he’d be able to stride up to her and sweep her into his arms.
But she wasn’t...yet. And he had to prepare himself for the fact she might never be.
The marquess clapped a hand on his back. “There you are, Benedict. Was about to send out a search party. Thought you’d got lost in the library again.” The man winked, leaving him in no doubt the marquess knew about their kiss.
At least he trusted the marquess and marchioness to keep that information to themselves. They were hardly the sort to gossip and being so far from London would probably prove to be their saving grace. Of course, if he could make Angelina his wife, none of it would matter.
“Let us head out then,” the old man bellowed and thrust his walking stick toward the door.
Benedict followed him and managed to move so he was behind Angelina and Oliver. Somehow, he needed to get her on her own.
When Elizabeth Carlton trotted up behind them and attached herself to Sutherland, Benedict had to lift his gaze to the stars and thank God for his intervention. If he was on his side, he had to be doing the right thing.
Angelina was forced to move back when they made their way down the narrow column of trees that led to the bottom of the gardens. The box trees rose up either side, dusted in white while a fountain marked the end of the corridor. Benedict offered Angelina his arm and tried not to be surprised when she took it.
Perhaps he had a chance after all.
The amber glow that leaked into the sky signalled their arrival to the bonfire. Servants had already started the blaze and by the time they reached the burning mound, the flames reached high in the sky. Warmth caressed his skin but when he glanced at Angelina and the way the orange haze enhanced her beauty and how her eyes were wide at the marvellous sight, a rush of need burned through him. And this wasn’t simply desire or a need to take her to bed. This was a need to make her his, once and for all.
A smaller fire had been set up specifically for roasting chestnuts so he led her over and they were served up a paper bag full. He cupped the bag, feeling the heat of them seep through his gloves. Benedict led Angelina around the back of the bonfire, far enough away that they would stay warm but could be well out of earshot of anyone. He drew out a chestnut and cracked it in his palm before offering it.
Angelina looked at him, her eyes wary yet...curious? No doubt if she thought he hated her, his behaviour had been thoroughly confusing. But the courageous Angelina he’d once known was here right now. Facing him down. He owed her an explanation and she knew it.
She took the chestnut and ate it so he helped himself to one. They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the warm nuts and the spectacle of the bonfire. A shrill voice from around the other side of the bonfire started singing Good King Wenceslas and Angelina sniggered.
He darted a surprised look at her and chuckled too. “That would be the marchioness.”
“Well, she’s not shy, I shall give her that.”
“Indeed.” Several deep baritones joined in, softening the sound then one of two younger, prettier voices. “Elizabeth and Eleanor have beautiful voices.”
“Yes, I suppose they do.” He hadn’t really thought about it. He’d been far too focused on the beauty in front of him. “Do you wish to join in?”
She shook her head wildly. “I would make the marchioness sound like an angel.”
“I’m sure that cannot be true.”
“It is. I never sing.”
He thought back and realised she was right. He’d never once heard her sing. “I am an awful singer too,” he confessed. “Utterly tone deaf.”
She smiled at him and his heart skipped in his chest. “I’m in good company then.”
Easing her back from the fire a little, he scrunched up the paper bag and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. “Angelina—” he began.
“Benedict—” she started.
He paused and grinned. “You start.”
Facing him, she gave him a wobbly smile. “Why...” She glanced down and twined her gloved hands together. “Why did you kiss me yesterday, Benedict? And say all those things? I think you know I am not the sort to be seduced or to be interested in an affair and honestly, I cannot fathom why you would be interested in that with me either.”
A grin threatened to break free but he remained serious. He couldn’t afford to let the impact of his words be dampened, no matter how thrilled he was to see elements of Angie revealing herself.
“I have never hated you.”
“You said that before but...but when we were younger, you never spoke to me. You always looked at me oddly. When I approached, you would walk off. Surely you can see why I would think that?”
“I looked at you because...” The words lodged in his throat and he cleared it. When the devil had he come so ineloquent? This was a disaster. “I treated you like that—and this is an appalling excuse—because, well, damn it, I loved you.”
Her mouth dropped open. She stared at him for so long that he felt his legs had turned to ice and he’d frozen to the spot. Vaguely, he realised the song had turned into Silent Night. Appropriate, he felt.
“You—” she pointed at him, “—loved me?” Then turned the finger on herself.
“Yes.” He pulled off his hat, pushed a hand through his hair and replaced it. “I avoided you because I didn’t know how to behave around you. I watched you because you were so beautiful and I was entranced. You never paid me any attention or seemed to wish to talk to me, though. When you became engaged to Robert, it near killed me. I couldn’t be around you.”
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 63
