“What?”
Before she could ask him anything else, he held her by her waist and lifted her up onto the horse, only letting go when he was certain that she was balanced.
He watched as she swooned without truly meaning to, her face brightening with a blush. He grinned at her. “See? It worked. I got that from the book.”
Augusta glared at him, biting her lip as she smacked his arm. She held on to the reins and faced forward, her ears turning a bright red much like her face.
He stepped back from her immediately after, distracting himself with making sure everything was as it should be. He did not want to think of the softness of how soft she felt when he lifted her, or the sweet fragrance that emanated from her hair and skin. He doubted he would be able to think of anything else now whenever he smelled oils or flowers.
Although it hadn’t been romantic, her touch had been familiar as well, as though his brain had memorized ever detail of her hand.
He climbed onto the horse behind her and put his arms around her to grab the reins.
“This was also in the books,” he whispered next to her ear. Her cheeks which had cooled slowly began to redden again and he chuckled, unable to stop himself.
Although he wanted to tease her, Benedict was very much affected by what he was doing as well.
He had not thought about how this would affect him when he chose to copy this from her books. He frowned.Can she hear my heart beating so loud and fast?
He had never been much affected by anything else before. By anyone else, for that matter. The people who wrote the book had not been lying after all. The writing had been very descriptive, every single feeling he was experiencing right now had been written down.
Had they studied someone to make sure they got their facts right? Obviously, the person who wrote the book must have experienced something like this.
Did that mean that everything else in the book, the naughtier things written in so much detail was experienced by the author as well? Did that mean it would feel exactly like that when he finally did that too?
Benedict’s face reddened at the thought. He picked up speed to cool himself as his body began to heat up. He needed to stop thinking about the book, and yet, having her so close, it was all he could think of.
“You are very serious about the bet, aren’t you?” she asked him suddenly, looking up at him.
Benedict could not stop his eyes from drifting to her lips. He wanted to kiss her and it didn’t help that she was so close to him. He squinted as he tried to remember what she’d just said and frowned when he finally did, his thoughts momentarily diverted from the books.
“What do you mean?”
“You went as far as reading those womanly books,” she explained.
Benedict shrugged. “I admit I was quite fascinated by them and wanted to understand why you read them, which is why I picked up the first one, however, they turned out to be quite entertaining. I understand why you read them.”
“Hmm…” she faced away from him, her attention on the scenery.
“I was talking to your brother before you joined us. He mentioned that you were such a sweetheart while you were growing up. Strangely, I cannot imagine you being that way,” he said, enjoying talking to her.
“I see,” she said. She remained quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I cannot imagine how you believe that prickling at me instead of enticing me and showing me how wonderful you can be, is the right way to go about winning. Do you always try to make women annoyed or is that strictly limited to me?”
“What did I do now?” Benedict asked, shocked by her outburst.
“You just called me sour. You basically called me a sour old witch. Is that not enough reason to be vexed with you?” she asked him, her voice strong.
Benedict stared at the back of her head in shock.How did she come to this conclusion?
“Those words never left my mouth,” he protested.
“Then what do you mean byyou were such a sweetheart while growing up?Aren’t I sweet now?” she asked, looking back at him.
Benedict smiled, waiting for her to burst into laughter and tell him she was just joking, instead her face remained as it was, confrontational with a slight raise to her brows.
What is going on?
“Please tell me you are messing with me,” he said. “I do not know whether to take you serious or laugh about this.”
