Benedict had listened to Genevieve’s confession with ever-increasing amusement. Would this woman ever cease to surprise him? ‘And you now wish to confess that you are disappointed Devil preferred your friend Pandora?’
‘Not at all!’ She gave him an impatient frown. ‘Indeed, I find him even more fearful than I do you!’
His brows rose. ‘Fearful, pet …?’
‘Top-lofty and arrogant.’
‘And you do not now consider me to be either of those things?’
‘On the contrary, I know that you are both of those things,’ she assured airily. ‘It is just that, having come to know you better, I tend to forget to feel nervous of you the moment you kiss me.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Benedict drawled.
‘Yes. Well.’ Her cheeks were once again aflame with embarrassment. ‘I had not realised at the time I made that statement that you did not take mistresses and that any interest you might show me would place you in a position where you would be made the subject of gossip and speculation,’ she continued earnestly. ‘Otherwise I should not have—should not have—’
‘Allowed me to pursue you?’
‘Exactly!’
Benedict held back his laughter with effort. ‘In that case, I believe I have a confession of my own to make.’
Her eyes widened guilessly. ‘You do?’
‘Hmmm.’ He nodded. ‘Do you remember, on the day of Devil and Pandora’s wedding, when I asked you if you would care to come for a ride with me in my carriage?’
‘I recall it very well,’ she answered cautiously.
‘Well, I am afraid that the ride I was suggesting was not one where you sat on your side of the carriage and I sat on mine!’
She stared at him blankly for several minutes, before her eyes widened, her cheeks reddened and she gave a shocked gasp. ‘Benedict!’
He chuckled softly. ‘I also confess to not giving a single thought to the gossip of the ton either then or since. There, are we done with confessions for now, pet, or do we need to delay our dinner a while longer?’ He held out his arm pointedly.
‘I think it best that we do not!’ Genevieve placed her gloved hand upon that arm.
It was not until much later, when Genevieve, at Benedict’s insistence, remained seated opposite him at the small dinner table enjoying a cup of coffee as he indulged in a brandy and cigar after Jenkins had served them a delicious dinner, that she realised he had once again succeeded in diverting her attention, this time from his meeting earlier with William Forster.
Having spent the past two hours or so looking across the candlelit dining table at Benedict, answering his conversation more and more distractedly as her complete physical awareness of him deepened—the darkness of his hair was rakishly tousled, the blackness of his gaze hooded as he returned her gaze often, those patrician features appearing harshly etched in the candlelight—Genevieve confessed to having found it difficult to concentrate on anything else but the physical splendour of the gentleman with whom she was currently enjoying an intimate dinner.
It was shockingly improper, of course, for a young widow to dine alone in her home with any gentleman, but she doubted that Benedict was any more eager than she was to have that knowledge made public; he was, despite what she had said earlier, the arrogantly elusive Lord Benedict Lucas as well as the disreputable Lucifer.
Although Genevieve confessed to finding herself thinking of him less and less as Lucifer, and more and more as Benedict—the gentleman who excited her more than she could ever have imagined and who had today leapt so ably to her defence—she did not believe the face he chose to present to the ton, that of the bored and arrogant Lucifer, would ever have cared to stir himself enough to bother leaping to any lady’s defence!
‘What are you thinking of now, pet?’ Benedict eyed her through the haze of the smoke given off from his cigar, having been aware of her shy glances in his direction through dinner, as well as noting the flush of arousal that had now spread from her cheeks down to the swell of her breasts, and the return of that reckless light to the deep blue of her eyes.
An awareness that he had felt just as deeply as their dinner had progressed and he attempted to keep up a light conversation. So much so that he was unable to stand up at this moment without revealing the throbbing state of his own arousal!
Those deep-blue eyes now avoided meeting his. ‘You did not finish telling me earlier of the conclusion of your visit to William Forster.’
‘Possibly because I am grown bored by the subject—do not look so stricken, pet!’ Benedict instantly regretted his impatience as he saw the way Genevieve’s cheeks had paled at his harsh dismissal. ‘It was not my intention to hurt you, Genevieve—’
‘Please ignore me, Benedict, I am merely being silly.’ She blinked back the tears swimming in those deep-blue eyes as she looked across at him. ‘I should have realised how bored you have become by all this talk of my disreputable family.’
‘Forster was never your family, disreputable or otherwise,’ he assured her firmly, wanting to stand up and go to her, but knowing that his physical arousal was now such that he very much doubted they would be able to finish this conversation if he were to do so. ‘Nor is it now his intention to become a member of the Earl of Ramsey’s family next month,’ he added with satisfaction.
Genevieve gasped. ‘William has agreed to end his engagement to Charlotte Darby?’
The hardness of Benedict’s smile lacked all humour. ‘That would never do, Genevieve; the lady must always be the one to end the betrothal if she is to maintain her place in the marriage mart.’ He grimaced at thoughts of the social strictures society placed upon them all. ‘No, what Forster has agreed to do is give Charlotte Darby every reason to break the engagement.’
‘How …?’
‘I have left the details of that arrangement to Forster. My only condition was that it be accomplished as soon as is possible and that he then as quickly remove himself, and remain removed, from all polite society.’ Benedict’s expression hardened as his thoughts lingered on the unpleasantness of his conversation with William Forster earlier this evening.
His meeting with Eric Cargill having been quickly completed, the earl showing he was as eager as Benedict to reopen the investigation into the death of Benedict’s parents, Benedict had then wasted no time in calling upon the Duke of Woollerton.
The other man had at first refused to receive him, something which Benedict had taken exception to, to the point that he had pushed his way inside the house and sought that gentleman out in his study. Nor had he spared a moment’s interest in hearing his indignant blustering at this infringement of good manners, dismissing Forster’s butler himself before coldly informing the other man of the exact reason he was there.
The insults and scorn Forster had then proceeded to rain down upon Genevieve’s innocent head were not for repeating to anyone, let alone to Genevieve herself, and had earned William Forster a hefty right hook to the chin for his trouble!
Once the other man recovered enough to be able to talk through his swollen lips and bruised jaw, it had quickly become obvious that Forster did indeed feel deep resentment towards Genevieve for having married his father, a man old enough to be her own father, and that his main reason for that resentment was the huge financial settlement he knew Genevieve was to receive upon his father’s death—too late to be of any help to Genevieve’s hapless brother, but timely enough to allow Genevieve to set up her own household and rejoin the society she had been forced to leave so abruptly seven years ago.
The Forster fortune was not, it seemed, as healthy as it had once been, the previous Duke of Woollerton having squandered much of that fortune, first on the extravagant life he had chosen to lead in London for so many years, and latterly on the doctors he constantly had brought to his country estate with a view to finding a cure for his affliction. It seemed that Genevieve’s widow settlement had been the final straw that broke that particular camel’s back, necessitatin
g Forster now needing to find himself a wife in possession of her own fortune, a role Charlotte Darby suited admirably.
Benedict’s chilling promise to expose the other man to the Earl of Ramsey for the vicious and violent bully that he was had succeeded in persuading Forster into deciding Charlotte Darby would not make him a suitable wife, after all.
None of which Genevieve needed to know in any detail, but most especially those viciously insulting remarks Forster had made in regard to her personally …
Benedict stubbed out his cigar before rising slowly to his feet. ‘I believe it is enough that he will not be bothering you again, Genevieve. Especially as the two of us now have a more pressing matter to attend to.’
Genevieve’s eyes widened as Benedict walked slowly, and with lethally elegant intent, about the table until he stood at her side, the evidence of that ‘more pressing matter’ unmistakable even to her innocent gaze.
Chapter Fourteen
And instantly brought about a return of Genevieve’s previous feelings of nervousness!
What if Benedict were to attempt to make love to her and she failed him once again?
Benedict’s statement of earlier, in regard to the women he had known previously, confirmed that he was a gentleman who was accustomed to much more worldly women than she, women who did not need to be coaxed and petted in order to share their bed with him. The type of woman, in fact, that Genevieve now sincerely doubted she could ever be.
‘You are giving far too much thought to the matter, Genevieve, instead of allowing your actions to speak for themselves,’ Benedict murmured softly as he took both her hands in his and pulled her effortlessly to her feet so that she now stood in front of him. ‘And this evening it is you who will decide what those actions shall be. You approve of that idea?’ he prompted huskily as her eyes instantly lit up with interest.
Her little pink tongue moved in a moist sweep across the fullness of her lips before she answered him. ‘If it means I may touch you intimately, as I did earlier today …?’
Benedict’s breath caught in his throat at thoughts of having Genevieve’s hands and lips upon him once again. ‘If that is what you would like?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Her eyes glowed in anticipation. ‘I believe I should enjoy that very much.’
Benedict’s breath stilled altogether. ‘Then that is what we shall do.’ He released her hands before moving to the door and turning the key in the lock.
Genevieve eyed him uncertainly. ‘What are you doing?’
‘All evening, as we ate our dinner together, I have imagined you with your hair down, posing naked and tempting upon the chaise over there in front of the window.’ He moved back towards her with those purposeful and predatory strides.
Genevieve’s cheeks warmed at the knowledge that Benedict’s thoughts had been as distracted as her own. ‘You wish me to undress now, in the dining room …?’
‘We shall undress each other, Genevieve,’ he assured her huskily, the intensity of those black eyes fixed upon her parted lips. ‘You have dismissed Jenkins for the night, but I still think it best to lock the door for the sake of your modesty, so that there is absolutely no risk of anyone walking in and finding us together.’
Genevieve very much doubted that Jenkins, if he should return and discover the door was locked, would dare to knock for entry—but that would not prevent him from drawing his own conclusions as to the reason his mistress and Lord Benedict Lucas were alone together on the other side of that locked door!
Instead of filling her with dismay, Genevieve found herself titillated by the thoughts of her household staff knowing—or, at least, guessing—that she and Benedict were being intimate together.
As Benedict had no doubts intended she should.
She looked up at him admiringly as she removed the pins from her hair and allowed those red-gold tresses to fall loosely about her shoulders. ‘I believe you to be an extremely wicked gentleman.’
He gazed at her hair admiringly. ‘One does one’s best to oblige.’
Genevieve chuckled softly. ‘And are you now going to “oblige” me even further by undressing …?’
‘Oh, no, love, in that it is you who will oblige me, by removing my clothes.’ He smiled down at her rakishly.
Genevieve felt that now-familiar warmth enter her cheeks at thoughts of removing Benedict’s clothes, one by one. Something she found both unacceptable and exciting to contemplate. To be given the freedom, the invitation, to undress Benedict, to slowly reveal the splendid nakedness of his muscled body, to her avid gaze and caressing hands, seemed impossible for her to do at the same time as she found it thrilling beyond belief.
She looked up at him shyly from beneath the fullness of her long lashes. ‘I trust you will make the necessary … allowances for my lack of finesse in such matters?’ She began to slowly unfasten the buttons upon his waistcoat.
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘I believe I shall be too busy enjoying the experience to concern myself with how it is done!’
Benedict did not look as if he were enjoying himself as Genevieve removed first his jacket and then his waistcoat, an expression of strained tension etched into the harshness of his features as she then removed his neckcloth before unbuttoning the collar of his shirt, her fingers lingering caressingly on the silky dark hair revealed by his unbuttoned collar, his breath drawn in sharply as her fingertips skimmed the hardness of his nipples.
‘You seemed to enjoy this earlier … Are you—can it be that you are as … sensitive here as I am?’ she prompted curiously.
‘If a single caress to your breasts succeeds in making your cock pulse and your balls tighten in pleasure to the point of pain, then, yes, I believe I am,’ he bit out tautly.
Such frankness of speech should have shocked her, Genevieve knew, and yet once again she found herself excited, her breasts tightening beneath the bodice of her gown, a warm dampness gathering between her heated thighs. ‘I am sure, if I were in possession of a cock or balls, that its pulsing and their tightening would equal my own depths of pleasure when you caress my breasts, yes.’
Benedict stared down at her blankly for several long seconds, before he closed his eyes briefly, and then opened again as he gave a sharp bark of laughter. ‘You were not meant to repeat my words, love,’ he finally sobered enough to reprove drily.
‘Then perhaps you should not have spoken so frankly in my presence?’
He gave a self-derisive shake of his head. ‘I believe I shall know better not to do so another time!’
She eyed him beneath lowered lashes. ‘And do you also enjoy it when I place my lips against you, and lick and suckle in the same way you do to me?’
Benedict groaned low in answer, that groan deepening as Genevieve suited her actions to her words, first pushing his shirt aside as she first kissed his nipples, before licking them with the moist rasp of her tongue and then lightly suckling. ‘I have created a monster!’
Again she gave him a sidelong glance from beneath the heavy weight of her lashes. ‘And you wish you had not …?’
‘God, no!’ he assured fervently as his fingers became entangled in those loose red-gold curls.
What Genevieve lacked in experience Benedict very quickly learnt that she more than made up for with instinct, as she removed his shirt completely before running her hands in slow exploration over and across his chest, and then moving to stand behind him to do the same with the tensed muscles of his back, the lace of her gloves adding to the pleasure of those caresses.
Benedict’s jaw now felt as if it were permanently locked and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as he fought to maintain control. Fought to control the need he had to take Genevieve in his arms and strip her naked before laying her on the chaise and making love to her, as he had imagined doing for most of the evening.
Except he could not. This, whatever transpired between himself and Genevieve this evening, had to come from her, as she took them both to the level of intimacy s
he found acceptable.
Benedict only hoped he did not suffer a seizure—much like the one her husband had suffered on their wedding night!—before that happened!
Standing completely naked before a woman who remained completely clothed in her evening gown and gloves was yet another new experience for Benedict. One he found exciting. And he had never given particular thought to his own body before now, to its attractions or otherwise, but as Genevieve ran her hands slowly, tortuously, in a light caress over the flatness of his abdomen, the leanness of his hips and down the long length of his muscled legs, before starting an equally as intimate exploration of his back and buttocks, he found himself tensing for her reaction.
He had not received any complaints from women before as to the way he looked, but, as he knew only too well, Genevieve was unlike any other woman he had ever known.
Finally Benedict could stand that tension no longer. ‘Do you like what you see, love?’
Genevieve allowed her hands to once again trail lightly down the length of Benedict’s bared spine before slowly moving round to face him. ‘You must know that I do,’ she chided huskily. ‘You are everything I have ever imagined a man should be. Wickedly handsome of face.’ She smiled at him. ‘Wide and powerful across the shoulders.’ Her gaze lowered as her fingers trailed lightly across that bared flesh. ‘Muscled about the chest.’ Her fingers moved lower. ‘Slender of waist and—and thighs.’ She hesitated, moving lower still.
‘Take off your gloves, love, and touch me there as you did earlier,’ Benedict bit out between gritted teeth.
Her cheeks were ablaze with colour as she slid her gloves slowly down her arms before removing them completely, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out tentatively to touch the pulsing length of Benedict’s arousal, her caresses becoming bolder as she heard his sharply indrawn breath. ‘Are all gentlemen as long and thick around as you?’
Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) Page 17
