“What indeed,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her again and driving out reason.
When he moved to explore her ear, his tongue sending shivers down her spine, she moaned and tried to pull him closer. “I was so afraid. You’re safe. You’re safe,” she said between kisses to the side of his face.
At her words, he pulled back. “Safe? I think not. Not here, not now.” He dropped a swift kiss to her nose and loosened his hold.
She dropped from her toes, her body sliding down his, rested both hands on his chest, and leaned her forehead against him to hide her heated cheeks.
“A gentleman would apologize. I won’t. I wanted that too badly. A gentleman would—”
Her head still on his chest, she raised her hand to his lips to silence him. “Don’t. Don’t go all honorable now.” He stilled, and she pulled away. “Tell me about Miller.” Her piercing gaze dared him to finish the speech he had begun.
“He got away. Clarion and Gibbons will question the Caulfield tenants tomorrow. The earl plans to send for Spangler, too. Happy?”
She shook her head. “Not if he got away.”
Rob put one knuckle under her chin and drew her face up to look at him. “We need to talk about this.” He didn’t have to clarify “this.” He didn’t mean Miller. They stood like that for several breaths. He tried to hold her eyes, but his gaze dropped to her mouth, and she swallowed convulsively. When he bent to kiss her again, she rose to meet him. His restless hands began to explore her neck, her shoulders, her back—when they reached her derriere, he stilled.
He gripped her shoulders with both hands and set her a few inches away. “We have to stop. We can talk in the morning. Things are clearer in the light.” He dropped one last kiss to the top of her head and stepped back. “I’ll check on the guards and sleep down here.”
She fought the urge to pull his arms around her. “The guest room is ready,” she said.Or mine… The hoarse sound of her voice shocked her.
“Perhaps. Later. Go now.”
She did, driven by the thought that, if they stayed as they were, Rob Benson might feel obliged by honor to offer her marriage. She wouldn’t trap him like that, no matter how badly she wanted him, and Lucy no longer had any doubt that she wanted him.
*
Only a cowardwould keep to her bed to avoid facing a man the morning after—What?Lucy had no name for the encounter.An emotional firestorm? Relief after fear? Let down after trauma?She laughed at her clumsy attempts to batter her raging feelings into something rational with words. She swung her feet to the floor and began to lay out clothing for the day, grateful she didn’t have the intrusive presence of a lady’s maid this particular morning.
The kiss and the feel of his hands on her person—Oh, dear God, his hands!—had been a shattering, life-changing experience. Her hands stilled on the frock pulled from the wardrobe.I will never be the same.
Still, another day awaited, and from the look of the sun in the window, she had overslept greatly. She fastened her stays, amazed her body didn’t vibrate still. Picking up the frock, she considered her situation. She knew enough of men to know most took pleasure when they could. The experience probably meant nothing to him beyond a moment’s pleasure snatched in an opportune moment.
Most mornings—far earlier than this—Lucy went to the kitchen with her dress unfastened and let Agnes do her up. When Old Robert Benson had been in the house, Emma helped some days. She tried to reach the ties and failed, knowing the dress gaped in back. With Rob in her guest room, she had a dilemma. She hadn’t heard him go down, but she may have slept through it.What if he’s in the drawing room? I have to walk past it. Worse, what if he’s in the kitchen and I—
There was nothing for it. She opened her door a crack and peeked down the hall. The guest room door, firmly shut, gave her little information. She was about to withdraw when she saw Molly emerge from the servants’ stairs at the end of the hall.
The little maid smiled up at her and dipped a curtsy. “Mrs. Spears sent me to see if you were awake, Miss Whitaker. Shall I bring you chocolate?”
Lucy smiled.Chocolate! Like I’m some London society matron. Where did the girl get that notion?“No, thank you, Molly, but if you’ll assist me with my dress, I’ll go down and fetch coffee.”
It took but a moment. “You look very fine in that dress, ma’am, if I can say so,” Molly said.
Do I?Lucy had put on her newest dress, the one she wore to Mr. Benson’s birthday party.Foolish chit,she chided herself.Why would you do that?
Most mornings, she might have sped down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen. With Molly staring at her wide-eyed, and her finest gown wrapped around her person, she turned to the main stairway, descending like the lady her sister had wanted her to be.When she cared. Before she became ill.
The drawing room sat empty, and he missed her grand descent. She turned her steps toward the kitchen.
What will I say to him?She thought, leaving the foyer. As she passed her office, she laughed nervously. “Good morning” will do.
She prayed her smile looked steady when she opened the kitchen door. It faltered. He wasn’t there.
Agnes looked up from her kneading and scanned Lucy from toes to top knot. “Take a seat. You can relax and enjoy your breakfast. His nibs rode out when the sun came up to oversee the bridge building. He sent the guards home for some sleep, them being up all night.”
She nibbled a bit of the roll Agnes served her and took two bites of the eggs before picking up her coffee and standing. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
*
