Best of Both Rogues Page 18

  When he stroked between her legs, she jumped. The sensation was odd, unfamiliar, and yet she wanted to feel it again. He didn’t disappoint her. His fingers glided over her damp skin, circling and lightly feathering over a particularly pleasurable place. His lovely caresses drew husky moans from her, low and barely audible, but satisfying in a way she couldn’t describe. He slowly inserted a finger inside her and her body clenched. As he slid in and out, the ache inside her intensified. She needed more, even though the thought of taking all of him made her heart slam against her ribs.

  Releasing her breast, he positioned himself over her, cradling her face and smiling. His eyes were a soft blue and radiated with love. Her heart began to calm. Ben was her husband, and he would take care of her. He kissed her sweetly, his tongue caressing hers, their breath mingling. She arched into him, seeking, longing. He entered her slowly, stopping when she stiffened to kiss her until she began to dissolve against the bed. Between languorous kisses, he inched deeper until he filled her.

  He closed his eyes and released a breath that was part sigh, part groan. His arms trembled as he supported his weight and held very still. The fullness of him inside her was foreign, and she shifted her hips to adjust to this new feeling. Ben’s eyes flew open, worry etched in the lines on his forehead. She pulled him toward her to place a loving kiss on his lips.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  His worry lines faded and he kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you too.”

  As he moved slowly, she began to welcome the newness of their joining. She loved the closeness: the feel of his skin against hers; his breath on her neck. She stroked his back, following the curve and admiring how perfectly formed her husband was. And when he spilled his seed with several commanding thrusts and a low groan, she was content. At least mostly.

  Ben kissed her once more before settling beside her on the bed and pulling her into his arms. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to his heart hammer and noting how it slowed in small measures.

  He snuggled her, his mouth touching her temple. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head, surprised to realize there had been no excruciating pain. When she grew uncomfortable, Ben had distracted her with kisses. “It was nice,” she mused.

  His chest shook with laughter, jostling her.

  She propped herself up on her arm to frown at him. “We just had a lovely moment together. I fail to see what is funny about it.”

  In a blink, she was flat on her back with her husband straddling her. He flashed a roguish grin. “Nice is a walk in the country or sipping lemonade on a warm afternoon. I don’t settle for nice in the bedchamber, Kitten, and neither will you.”

  Before she could guess at his meaning, his mouth was at her breast and his fingers swept over that wondrous spot he’d discovered earlier. She moaned as heat filled her again. His touch was relentless, allowing her no rest and stoking a fire inside her until her body pleaded for relief. It came quickly, flaring and consuming her. Shocking cries ripped from her as he held her in a state of ecstasy—wave after wave of the most intense pleasure she had ever known—until she was at last depleted and collapsed against the bed.

  Her limbs were too heavy to move. Even her eyelids refused to work properly. Ben lay beside her, stroking her hair from her face. She yawned.

  Her husband chuckled. “Nice doesn’t make you sleepy like this, does it, Evie?”

  She shook her head, not bothering to open her eyes. “Stay with me,” she mumbled as she rolled on her side away from him.

  “I’m never leaving, remember?” Despite his promise, the mattress dipped as he climbed from bed, but he was gone only long enough to snuff the candles. When he returned, his strong body surrounded her. A drowsy smile pulled at her lips. She was sated, secure in the cocoon he created for her, and confident in their future as she succumbed to sleep.

  Twenty-two

  Ben woke on a choking gasp. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He stared into darkness, lost in the space between nightmares and alertness. Charlotte’s trampled body weighed down his arms. The accusation in her eyes was slowly fading, leaving them glassy, nearly vacant. Her last ragged breath sent a shiver down his back.

  The dream hung like a dense fog, slow to dissipate. He knew he was at home—London. The sounds outside were different from those in India. A soft body was curled against his side, and warm, steady breaths stirred the hair on his chest. An involuntary tremble shook his body.

  “Ben?” Eve’s voice was groggy from sleep. Her petite hand skimmed his damp skin. “Are you all right?”

  Relief flooded through him. He wasn’t in a dusty lane holding Charlotte as she died. He was snug in bed with his wife.

  She stirred. “Ben, do you…need something?”

  His pulse was slowing and the images from his dream were starting to evaporate. “No, go back to sleep, Evie. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He fought to keep distress from leaching into his voice.

  “Are you certain?” she mumbled.

  “Yes, dearling.”

  She turned her back to him, and Ben rolled on his side to tuck her against his chest. She wiggled until her derriere was well fitted to him. One deep sigh and she surrendered to sleep again.

  Ben kissed her hair, breathing in her sweet scent. “I love you,” he whispered.

  He wished he could succumb to sleep as easily as she did. Instead, he lay in the dark with horrible images invading his mind. He didn’t always recall his dreams, but waking up in the midst of one sometimes branded it into his memory.

  Charlotte didn’t speak in this dream. Just as she hadn’t been able to say anything after the travel coach struck her. After the accident, he’d held her, telling her repeatedly that he loved her. He promised to do whatever she wished if only she would stay with him.

  You are right. I can’t allow Father to control me. We will marry like you want. We can leave tomorrow. Please, Char. Stay with me.

  He had babbled about working in her father’s bakery to support her until he received his inheritance, and promised her a house on the edge of the village. The old Leabow place. You’ve always admired it.

  She had simply stared at him, her life slipping away. One moment they had been arguing about him needing to stand up to his father, and the next moment the girl he loved was gone. He’d still been pleading with her when her father arrived. Ben hadn’t seen the rage on Mr. Tanney’s face or anticipated his fist slamming into his cheek. Ben lay sprawled in the dirt, ears ringing, as the man hurled accusations of murder at him.

  Nothing came of Mr. Tanney’s indictment. When the magistrate made an inquest, the coach driver provided testimony that “the dotty chit ran into the lane.” Furthermore, Ben refused to make a complaint over Mr. Tanney’s treatment of him. He hadn’t murdered Charlotte, but he was still responsible for her death. He had been the reason she was too upset to see the coach bearing down on her.

  Fifteen was a tender age to learn a cruel truth: love could be lost in an instant. And he had sworn to never love again. Eve murmured in her sleep, and he hugged her close. Then along came this sweet and lively young woman, and his promise to never love again was broken. Eve held his heart and gave his life meaning. If he lost her, he would be lost too.

  Those dreadful images flashed in his mind again, but this time he wasn’t holding his childhood sweetheart. Eve’s face stared up at him. A quiver originated from somewhere deep inside him, and the flood of impending doom that came with his spells bore down on him. He couldn’t stop it.

  Scrambling from bed, he tried not to wake Eve. She whimpered in her sleep, but he had no time to comfort her. His pulse tore through his veins as he reached his chambers and closed the door. Darkness was creeping up behind him. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, he wrestled for control of his body and mind.

  “The House of Hanover: George III, Geor
ge II, George I,” he murmured. Working backward through the Kings and Queens of England required concentration and kept his despairing thoughts at bay. “The Stuarts: Queen Anne, William III and Queen Mary, James II, Charles II, Charles I, James I. The Tudors: Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mary, Edward VI, Henry VIII…” By the time he was reciting the Kings of the House of York, his heartbeat had slowed, and he was beginning to feel more like himself.

  He hadn’t experienced an episode this intense since his return to London. Raking his fingers through his hair, he released a shaky breath and went in search of the tinderbox kept on the mantel. He lit a candle and retrieved another dressing gown from his dressing room before settling in his chair to read.

  Occupying his mind would calm him further, but he wouldn’t return to Eve’s bed. Waking in a cold sweat and trembling like a child was mortifying, and he never knew when a nightmare might strike. He didn’t want his wife to see him when he was weak. Her father had been similarly tormented by his memories of war, and on more than one occasion, Lord Thorne had behaved like a madman out in Society before he’d become a hermit in his own home. Ben didn’t want to burden her with his affliction. She deserved a normal life. He wanted a normal life.

  In India, throwing himself into work had helped. There was comfort in routine, and any problems he encountered were solvable. He had an appointment with an investor at the docks tomorrow that he hadn’t been able to cancel. He’d been irritated to be locked into a meeting the day after his wedding, but perhaps it would help clear his mind so he could concentrate on enjoying the remainder of the day with his wife.

  Feeling a little more at ease, he got up to open the doors between his and Eve’s chambers so he could hear her when she began stirring and slip back into bed before she realized he’d been missing.

  * * *

  Eve squinted against bright sunlight pushing through the bedchamber window and smiled sleepily. A contented haze enveloped her as she spotted the colorful bed curtains and recalled where she was: in bed with her husband. Blindly, she reached for Ben and touched an empty place. She swept her arm across the sheets, searching for his warm body and only finding cool sheets. Her eyes popped open to discover he wasn’t in bed with her, after all.

  She sat up, hugging the sheet around her to cover her bareness, and looked around the room. The doors between their chambers stood open. “Ben?”

  He didn’t answer. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she slipped from bed and retrieved a robe from her dressing room. She took a moment to freshen up, then went in search of her husband. She found him slumped in a chair. His head hung forward, his chin resting on his chest, and he snored softly.

  She moved to his side. He looked like an overgrown boy, oblivious to the world around him when he slept. Her smile widened as she leaned to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. As her lips touched his whiskered face, he startled, his arm flashing out and knocking her off balance. She grasped for the arm of the chair, but she grabbed air and landed on the plush carpet with an indelicate “Oof!”

  Wild-eyed, Ben swung toward her where she was sprawled on the floor with her robe gaping. “God’s blood! Did I hurt you?” He scrambled to haul her from the floor.

  “I’m fine. I had a plush landing.”

  The rigidness in his shoulders melted and his eyes twinkled. He seized a handful of her bum and pulled her flush against him. “I see you’ve lots of cushioning back here.”

  “I meant the rug, silly man.” Laughing, she swatted at his hands as he playfully squeezed both cheeks. “What are you doing asleep in your chair?”

  He sat, pulled her into his lap, and nuzzled her neck. “Being bedeviled by a nymph, apparently.”

  “I wasn’t bedeviling you. I was greeting you with a good morning kiss.”

  He planted a sound kiss on her lips. “Good morning.” His seductive smile caused her heart to skip. His hand stole inside her robe to caress her breast, and her nipples puckered through the thin silk. “I intended to crawl back into bed with you before you woke. I’m sorry I missed my chance, or did I?”

  His mouth glided along the gentle curve between her shoulder and neck, and she closed her eyes with a sigh. It felt so lovely when he touched her, and she would gladly crawl back into bed with him if not for the dull ache between her legs. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her limited knowledge of husbands did not include how to dissuade them.

  He flashed another heart-melting smile and extracted his hand from her clothing. “I am teasing, Kitten. It’s too soon. Perhaps you would like a warm hip-bath before breakfast?”

  That actually sounded quite nice. “What are our plans today? So I might know how to dress?”

  “I—uh…I have an appointment.” His brows knitted. “I am sorry. It is too late to cancel now, but it is just one meeting at the docks and then I will be at your disposal.”

  Her heart fluttered at the mention of his destination, and her fingers tightened on his dressing gown before she realized what she was doing. Releasing him, she smoothed out the wrinkles with her hand. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I thought we would spend the day together.”

  He tilted her face up with a soft touch to her chin. “I am not leaving you, Eve. I would rather stay here with you, but I made the arrangement before I knew we would be married or that it would fall on the day after our wedding.”

  She sighed. He probably thought it was a ridiculous notion—ignoring his responsibilities and spending time with her—but she was only requesting a day. And they were newly wed.

  He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “We will do whatever you like this evening. Maybe dinner at the pleasure gardens or the theater? You choose where you would like us to go.”

  “Very well.” His offer appeased her since she did enjoy Vauxhall Gardens. Furthermore, an evening of dining alfresco and then exploring the winding paths sounded like an amusing excursion. She lifted her eyebrows in mock sternness. “But I insist on a supper box.”

  “Anything you wish. I should summon my valet or I will be late. I promise to return as soon as I’m able.” He scooted her from his lap and urged her back toward her chambers. “Allow me to ring for a footman so you can have that bath.”

  Eve pursed her lips as he dismissed her.

  During her bath, he stopped by her rooms to bid her a good day and informed her the cook would send up a tray if she preferred breakfast in her chambers. “I won’t be gone too long,” he promised.

  That was quite all right. No doubt she would wait for him as long as it took if the fact she had waited two years was any indication.

  At the doorway, he turned back toward her. “Evie, I love you.”

  “I know. I love you too.” After he strode out the door, she hugged her knees to her chest, feeling a little sorry for herself. She quickly tired of pouting, however, and made her own plans for the day.

  First she would meet with the housekeeper Mrs. Fitzhugh for an overview of the running of the household, and then she would visit Mrs. Beardmore in the kitchen. That should occupy the better part of her day.

  After Alice assisted her into a clean gown and her toilette was complete, Eve made her way below stairs to attend to her own duties as mistress of the house. She sadly underestimated the amount of time this would take, for an hour and a half later she was back in her chambers. No correspondence needed tending, and her maid had put away all her belongings yesterday, aside from a valise in her dressing room.

  “I suppose I should unpack it,” she mumbled to herself, less than thrilled with the mundane task. She carried it to the bed and released the fastenings to see what Alice had stashed inside.

  The valise held a few books, a bundle of letters from her brother that he’d written while he was away at boarding school, her favorite pair of slippers, and a hand-carved jewel box inlaid with mother of pearl. She retrieved the box and lifted the lid, knowing she would find the necklace
Ben had given her two years earlier. It was such a beautiful piece, and while she loved the ring he had chosen for their wedding, the symbolism of the necklace always had struck her as truly romantic.

  She held it up to the light, admiring how the yellow diamonds sparkled. Did Ben even remember the necklace? Later, she would ask him about it and question why he’d wanted her to have it when he had believed they would never see each other again. She replaced the necklace and found a spot for the jewel box on her dressing table, then looked through the books to see if one enticed her to open it.

  Two were gothic novels her sister-in-law had loaned her, and which sparked her interest a little, and the last was Jonathan’s copy of The Histories of Herodotus. When she had asked him what had formed his love for ancient cultures, he talked at length about his love for this book. The next day he brought his copy to share with her. She had thanked him for his thoughtfulness and promised to read, and return, Herodotus’s writings with Godspeed. Her first promise was broken the moment she realized it was written in Greek. She supposed she should at least keep her promise to return his beloved book.

  Inside her writing desk, she found a stack of foolscap. She would write a short note to Jonathan and send a footman to deliver the book. But when she sat down to compose the note, she didn’t know what to say. Should she rail at him for deceiving her? Ignore their past and wish him the best? Perhaps she should forgo a message altogether since they no longer claimed a connection. She was sure her mother would advise her to do that very thing, but Eve felt coldhearted for even considering it.

  No matter what Jonathan had done, she cared for him. He hadn’t judged her like so many others had in the past, and she wouldn’t judge him now. Truthfully, she was worried for him. Something in Jonathan’s expression the day he cried off had been haunted. Even though Ben thought they should mind their own affairs, she couldn’t reconcile herself to ignoring someone she cared about when he was in trouble.

  Perhaps all Jonathan needed was a listening ear, and even though she could not fulfill the role, she could encourage him to seek out Lady Norwick’s counsel.