Chloe suspected who might be knocking on the door of her bedchamber some two hours after she had retired for the night.
Unless the house was on fire, only Benedict would have the audacity to come to her bedchamber this time of night.
But once she had got out of bed and opened the door to see a disheveled Benedict standing outside in the hallway, her eyes still widened. His hair was tousled, and he was dressed for bed, as she was, in his slippers and a long, dark brocade velvet robe, fitted across his wide shoulders and secured by a belt about his tapered waist.
“I have come to apologize to you.” The words burst forth from him, as if he had been repressing them for too long. “I had no idea that I would bring about such hardship to you that day. I should not have…” He ran a hand over his face. “Dear God, I felt gleeful as I tested the ability of one of my new medical instruments that day. I wished to know if it would be able to discern from listening to the rate of Gordon’s heartbeat whether he was lying to me when he denied there was a young lady living within his household.”
“And did it?”
“Yes!” Benedict groaned self-disgustedly. “But, selfishly, I did not think of the repercussions to you when I asked that question, saw it only as a confirmation of medical progress.” He looked pained. “Jimmy called me an arrogant bastard earlier, and he was right to do so, for that is exactly what I am. That day and this one. Certainly, there was very little of that kindness you have previously attributed to me tonight when I forced you to talk again of Gordon’s reprehensible behavior brought about by my actions.”
Chloe’s expression softened at his obvious anguish. “Lord Gordon never needed an excuse to whip or hit me,” she acknowledged ruefully. “And no matter what transpired before, you have now become my savior.”
“You would not have needed saving if I had not so thoughtlessly revealed that day I knew of your presence upstairs in Gordon House.”
She smiled sadly. “I have needed rescuing for the whole of the two years I have lived in Lord Gordon’s household. He… For some reason, he seemed to dislike me on sight the day we met at my parents’ funeral, and that dislike has deepened to hatred since he became my guardian.”
“You told me he was half brother to your father?”
“Yes, I…” Chloe repressed a shiver from the cold draught of the hallway. Her own robe was nowhere near as warm as his brocade velvet one. “Would you like to come inside?” She stepped back. “There is a fire burning in the hearth,” she encouraged when Benedict hesitated.
Chloe accepted, as an unmarried lady, it was not the correct thing to invite Benedict, a single gentleman, into her bedchamber late at night. But during their short acquaintance, she had already been half or fully naked in front of him, and the two of them had shared previously unknown intimacies just days ago. In those circumstances, it now seemed ridiculous for her to keep him standing in the cold hallway outside her bedchamber.
She gave another shiver as the chill of the hallway seemed to penetrate to her bones. “Please, Benedict.”
It was impossible for Benedict to refuse the invitation when he could see Chloe was already feeling the effects of being away from the warmth of the fireside.
Well…perhaps not impossible. He had already apologized, after all. But the temptation to enter Chloe’s bedchamber again was beyond Benedict’s ability to resist.
The memory of what had happened in this room several evenings ago caused his cock to once again engorge and throb. A reaction which had become normal whenever he was anywhere near the beautiful Chloe.
He had kept that arousal under control while they ate dinner earlier, out of awareness they were not alone, but the warmth and intimacy of Chloe’s bedchamber was once again weaving its sensual spell over his senses.
He gave a low groan the moment he realized the flames from the fire allowed him to see the shadowy figure of Chloe’s naked body through her night rail and robe.
She looked at him with concern. “Are you quite well, Benedict?”
How did he answer such a question when the need to once again kiss and touch this beautiful woman now raged through him with the force of a forest fire he had once seen when visiting Canada? It was a fire that destroyed all in its path, which, in Benedict’s case, was the last of his self-control.
“I apologize in advance this time,” he rasped as he stepped forward to put his arms about her slender waist and pull her toward him. “Because I am about to kiss you again,” he explained at she stiffened warily in his arms.
Her tension eased. “You never need to apologize for doing that,” she assured him warmly.
“I might not be able to stop at kissing you,” he admitted heavily.
Chloe continued to smile. “I might not wish you to.”
Benedict gave another groan. “You are doing nothing to assist my self-control.”
She tilted her head. “Do you wish me to assist it?”
“No,” Benedict answered truthfully. He held her gaze as he slowly lowered his head, her lids fluttering closed the moment his lips claimed hers.
Chloe had been longing, aching, to again feel the wonder of the strength of Benedict’s arms about her and his mouth against hers.
Her hands caressed the hardness of his chest before her fingers clung to the width of his shoulders, her heart leaping and then soaring at the first touch of Benedict’s lips on hers. The kiss became deeper, more intensely arousing, the moment his tongue parted and then thrust inside the heat of her mouth to seek out and set light to every sensitive nerve ending.
Chloe’s arms clung about his neck as he swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed.
He placed her down on the sheet before straightening, his gaze holding hers prisoner as he slowly unfastened and then removed his robe, tossing it aside before moving to kneel on the bed beside her, wearing only a nightshirt. “Sit up,” he instructed huskily.
Chloe felt no hesitation to do as he asked. Nor did she offer a single word of protest when Benedict removed her night rail and robe.
She began to tremble at the way Benedict’s eyes darkened as he stared at her naked breasts, that trembling becoming a heated ache as his gaze lowered to take in the gentle slope of her abdomen, the golden curls over her mound, and the shapeliness of her slender legs.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You are beautiful all over.” He lowered his head.
His lips against her throat caused her to tremble.
The heat of his mouth on her engorged nipples, one after the other, caused her to groan and arch.
His breath against the skin above her navel kindled a fire deep in her belly.
The sweep of his tongue against the hard nubbin nestling amongst the golden curls covering her mound made her tremble and groan, and her spine to arch.
Chloe became lost in that sea of sensation. Heat and pleasure—so much pleasure!
“Benedict!” she cried out as the roughness of his tongue moved lower to lap up the juices flowing freely from her channel. “Please. I need— I want— Yes…” Her words became a long and keening moan as Benedict’s fingers began to caress and stroke her nubbin to allow his tongue to continue to lick and suck on the lips of her channel.
She moved restlessly, desperately, wanting, needing— She had no idea what she needed, only that the torment of emotions had become too much, too intense, too—
“Come for me, Chloe,” Benedict rasped.
Her lids flew open, and she looked down at him. The pleasure intensified at the sight of Benedict’s wide shoulders holding her thighs apart and his head nestled between them. She watched, mesmerized, as his fingers stroked and pressed against the exposed and erect nubbin above while his tongue lapped up her juices below.
He raised his head slightly, his lips slick with her release. “Let go, Chloe, and come for me,” he said again.
Let go? Let go of what? She didn’t know—
She let out a sound, half groan, half scream, when overwhelming heat swept
through her and pleasure claimed her body as, instead of stroking, those long and sure fingers now squeezed the swollen nubbin.
It was pleasure such as Chloe had never known existed, certainly never imagined, as wave after wave of her release took her higher and higher still.
“Again,” Benedict instructed gruffly before he sucked that nubbin into the heat of his mouth, soft and then harder, over and over again until release claimed Chloe for a second time, then a third, and she fell into a mindless euphoria where it seemed her body listened to and obeyed only Benedict.
She lost count of how many times her flesh listened to and answered his demands. Consequently, it took several seconds for her to realize… “Someone is knocking on the door. Benedict!” she hissed when he gave no reaction.
Benedict was so lost to the intensity of pleasuring Chloe, he had been deaf to that knock. “Ask who it is,” he recovered enough to request softly.
“Who is there?” she called out.
“It is Carlton, miss. I cannot find His Lordship, and his presence is needed urgently. I have not seen him since shortly after dinner, and I have looked for him everywhere without success. I wondered if you had any idea where—”
“I am here, Carlton,” Benedict rasped.
There was a brief silence before the butler, obviously surprised by this information, managed to collect himself enough to answer. “You presence is needed in the east wing, Your Lordship.”
Those few words were enough to pull Benedict back from being on the edge of doing something both he and Chloe would have cause to regret. So far, he had only given her pleasure, but the throbbing demand of his cock told him he would shortly have wanted more. Much more.
“I will be there immediately,” he informed the butler, even as he pulled Chloe’s arms from about his neck.
“Benedict?”
Benedict kept his gaze averted. It was enough for him to hear the hurt in her voice. He did not need to look at her to see it. There was nothing he could do to dispel the taste of Chloe from his mouth, but he could wipe all physical evidence of her slick juices from his lips.
He quickly used his nightshirt to do so before pulling on and refastening his robe. “I have to go.”
“To the east wing?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
Benedict made the mistake of glancing at her when he heard the anguish in her tone. Mistake, because Chloe was now sitting up, her breasts fully on display, revealing two perfect and sloping orbs tipped by dark rose-colored and engorged nipples, made that color from his having licked, suckled, and bitten them just minutes ago.
Saliva flooded his mouth again merely looking at them. “I simply have to go,” he repeated, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
She frowned. “You already said that.”
Benedict drew in a deep and controlling breath. “Then you would do well to listen and cease asking me the same question over and over again.”
“Benedict!” Raw pain edged her shocked tone.
He stared at her coldly. “I never should have come here tonight.”
Chloe flinched. “Nor made love to me?”
“No,” he stated icily. “I… This will not—it must not happen again.”
Those words struck Chloe with the force of a blow, causing her to hastily pull the covers up the bed so that they now covered her naked breasts. “I believe you said that the last time this happened.”
“This time, I mean it,” he bit out harshly.
“Go,” Chloe ordered in a shaky voice. “Please, just go, Benedict.” She felt too weary to argue with him further.
She waited until he had left the bedchamber before turning to bury her face in the pillows, after which she proceeded to sob deeply.
One thing Chloe knew for certain, she would not—ever—allow herself to be seduced, then so callously discarded again.
She had no transport or means of returning to London on her own, but for the rest of her stay here, she would avoid burdening Benedict with her company as much as possible.
Quite what would happen to her once she returned to London, she had no idea.
Perhaps Benedict might give a reference of her character so that she could become a governess or lady’s maid?
Whatever transpired, she could not and would not be any more of a burden upon Benedict’s generosity of nature than she already was.
By the time Benedict had calmed Beatrix down from her nightmare and persuaded her into going back to sleep while he remained seated and reassuringly close in a chair beside her bed, the sun was already rising outside her bedroom window.
Beatrix’s nightmare had served as a timely reminder to Benedict that he had responsibilities here. Ones which did not allow him to indulge in a relationship with Chloe or any other woman who might expect more from him than brief physical pleasure.
Merely thinking of Chloe’s pleasure brought back the taste of her on his lips and tongue. A sweet and earthy musk Benedict knew would haunt him long after Chloe had disappeared from his life.
By Chloe’s design, he was sure, Benedict saw very little of her during the next two days.
Jimmy proved himself equally as elusive.
They did both join Benedict in the evenings for dinner, as he had originally requested. But those evening meals were strained and polite affairs, during which Benedict’s irritation grew to such an extent, it was a relief when Chloe and Jimmy excused themselves and returned to their respective sleeping quarters.
During the day, it seemed Chloe and Jimmy were content to each find their own way of amusing themselves. Chloe, by wrapping up warmly before taking long walks about the countryside. Jimmy, by stubbornly insisting on carrying out work in the stables. He continued to keep those bandages about his forearms, but the industrious way in which he now worked implied they were no longer necessary.
Benedict divided his own time between the work needing his attention on the estate, and Beatrix. The former as a way of exhausting himself so that he could fall into bed and sleep at night, rather than lying awake, his body aching to touch and again make love to Chloe. The latter provided a brief diversion to exactly the same thing and also resulted in Beatrix suffering no more nightmares.
Benedict’s frustrations were added to because, so far, he had not received word back in response to the letter he had sent Julius regarding Lord Gordon’s movements—which he considered to be the equivalent of no news is good news—or supplying any more information concerning the background of either of his guests.
But Benedict had every reason to trust that Julius would learn all there was to know and that he would not stop until he had done so. The other man had worked as a spy for England for many years during the war against Napoleon, and his contacts and associates were numerous, both abroad and in England.
Their friend Gabriel had traveled to and was now in France, primarily on his honeymoon, but also in search of news of the nineteen-year-old orphaned niece he had never met. He was doing the latter with the help of the informants Julius was able to direct him to.
Benedict had no doubt that Julius would come through with information for him too, eventually, in regard to Chloe and Jimmy.
In the meantime, Benedict’s work about the estate concluded for the day, and, feeling superfluous to both his guests’ needs—Chloe was once again out walking, and Jimmy had disappeared to goodness knows where—Benedict made his way up the stairs in the east wing to once again visit with Beatrix.
He came to a halt at the top of the stairs when he heard the sound of the piano being played.
Benedict had instigated moving a piano up here years ago, in the hope that Beatrix might one day play again. She had always found such joy in playing the piano, but the accident nine years ago had robbed them both of so much.
This was the first time Benedict had heard Beatrix play in all the years since she had shut herself away in the east wing.
A smile curved his lips and his heart lifted at the beautiful soun
d, allowing him to forget about his other worries as he strode down the hallway with fresh vigor.
Perhaps, with time, he might even be able to persuade Beatrix into stepping out into the world once again.
Perhaps.
The smile froze on Benedict’s lips and his steps faltered the moment he heard a rich baritone voice singing in harmony with the playing of the piano.
Chapter Ten
“What the devil is going on in here?” Benedict demanded, having stepped into Beatrix’s sitting room to see it was Jimmy standing beside the piano as Beatrix played. A smile of pleasure lit up her face as she gazed at the young man standing beside her.
Jimmy stopped singing and Beatrix’s fingers stilled on the piano keys the instant Benedict spoke. Both of them turned to look at him. Beatrix appeared slightly guilty, while Jimmy raised his chin in challenge.
Benedict drew in a controlling breath and paused as he searched for the reason seeing Beatrix and Jimmy together made him feel so angry.
Jimmy had been told not to enter the east wing. A request Benedict had made on Beatrix’s behalf, for she did not react well to strangers.
Not only did Beatrix seem to accept Jimmy’s presence, she had also allowed him to persuade her into playing her beloved piano again.
Which, if Benedict was being completely honest with himself, now seemed to be at the root of his anger.
Was he jealous?
Because not only had Jimmy been accepted into Beatrix’s inner sanctum, he had also managed to charm her into playing her piano again and enjoying it. For the past nine years, Benedict’s own efforts of persuasion on the subject had been rebuffed. Gently so, but nevertheless, rebuffed.
However, Benedict’s feelings of jealousy were of absolutely no importance when placed alongside the pleasure and happiness he had seen reflected on Beatrix’s face before he interrupted them.
She now rose to her feet, her expression one of apology and appeal, the latter no doubt for his understanding. “I am so sorry—”
“You have done nothing wrong, Beatrix,” he instantly reassured. He held out his arms to her, waiting until she had crossed the room and slipped into his embrace before smiling at her warmly. “It is wonderful to hear you enjoying playing your piano again.”
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