Blythe appeared perfectly composed, not at all as if he were—
Beatrice bit her lip so hard, she drew blood. She was going to erupt. Explode. Burst into a thousand tiny bits all over the staid, proper Vicar Farthing. The only one who could possibly appreciate this moment fully was, ironically, the vicar’s wife. And Blythe, of course.
I’m going to kill him for this.
“Of course, my lord.” Vicar Farthing couldn’t hide his annoyance at having Blythe put him off. He thought himself far too important to be ignored.
How Melinda had ever ended up with such a—
Oh, good lord.
“Tomorrow then, vicar.” Blythe dismissed him. “I’ll stop for tea, shall I?”
“My lord.” Farthing bowed, glaring at Beatrice before striding away into the darkness.
“You’re very close, Bea, aren’t you?” Blythe said in a rough tone as his fingers retreated again. “That went on far longer than I supposed.”
“I—” Beatrice could barely think let alone answer his question. It was all she could do to stay upright.
Blythe reached over and grabbed the wine bottle by the neck and took several swallows, all the while stroking her.
Did she have a fever? Beatrice was burning up, her hips thrusting across the bench toward Blythe. “Your Grace, don’t make a sound.” He pressed and pinched gently at the small bit of flesh hidden in her folds. “Press your head to my shoulder. Bite down if you need to.”
She did as he bid her, teeth tearing into the edge of his coat as the pleasure Blythe held at bay finally ripped through her, jerking her body against his. A sob came from between her lips.
“Blythe,” she gasped.
The sounds of the crowd around them became low and muted as tremors shook her body. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling all that citrus-scented warmth until the fluttering pulse of her blood cooled.
“Not at all like a corpse, Your Grace.” Blythe cupped the back of her head, holding her against him, his fingers trailing up and down her spine. “Castlemare was an idiot.” Blythe shifted. “Don’t worry yourself, Mrs. Tidwell.” He fell back a few inches. “The hem of Her Grace’s dress is caught on a nail.”
Beatrice smiled weakly into the darkness. She could barely make out Mrs. Tidwell’s outline as the other woman waved and walked off, leaving Beatrice with a sense of growing mortification.
“This isn’t amusing. Get away from me.” She pushed at him. “How could you humiliate—”
Blythe took her wrist. “Beatrice, stop. All the things which you are thinking have no place between us.Stop.”
“The pathetic Duchess of Castlemare,” she hissed. “So desperate for companionship, scarred and unwanted. Will you boast of this, my lord?” The words tumbled out of her, every fear she had about Blythe, every bit of pain she still experienced for being exiled from her previous life, came rushing out. “You’ve always despised me—now you pity me. I’m not sure which is worse.”
“I haven’t an ounce of pity for you,” Blythe stated.
Beatrice slapped at him before jumping up from the bench, sick to the very depth of her soul. Her heart cracked at such vicious treatment. So well-deserved. No matter how she atoned and—
“You do this out of fear, Beatrice. Nothing you are imagining is the least true.”
“You’ve no idea what I think.” She marched from him, hurrying toward the path through the woods which would take her to Beresford Cottage where she could nurse her wounds in private. Damn Blythe. Damn her for believing, if only for the space of an evening, that she could have something other than—
The moon lit the path before her, thankfully, for she’d been so determined to flee Blythe she hadn’t bothered to grab a lantern or a torch. But Beatrice knew the way well. And no one would dare harm her.
“You snide, spoiled little chit.” Footsteps sounded behind her. “I’m sick to death of you dismissing me.”
18
Beatrice was absolutely,positivelynot dismissing him again. Or whipping herself up into some ridiculous frenzy where she became convinced that he stroked her to climax out of amusement. Ellis had told her how much he wanted her.
He caught up to her easily, taking her by the elbow, refusing to release her no matter how she flailed.
“Leave me alone. I’ll scream.”
