More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (16 page)

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“I will speak daggers to him, but use none,” Evie grumbled in retort. She narrowed her eyes at him in mock anger but could not keep the smile from her lips. She was having fun, and judging by his wide grin, Benedict was as well.

As a matter of fact, she could not recall a single time she had shared such a lighthearted exchange with a gentleman. It was nice—more than nice—bantering with him as if they were close friends and not newly introduced acquaintances. With all the tension with her family about the Season, she needed that right about now.

She glanced behind them to where Jasper followed on Sirius, dutifully avoiding watching them. It was rather annoying having a chaperone tagging along, even if she was the one who had insisted on it. She turned back to Benedict and winked. “Shall we take a little stroll? I should very much like the opportunity to show you around a bit.”

“What a lovely idea,” Benedict replied, pulling back on the reins and dismounting. He patted Brutus’s neck before coming to her side.

Evie looked back at the groom once more. “Jasper, please tend to the horses while Mr. Benedict and I do a bit of exploring.”

He nodded and hopped to the ground, coming forward to take the leads. Evie turned to Benedict so he could help her dismount. “I am sorry to tell you that there is not a block or tree stump in sight. Let us hope I do not knock the both of us to the ground,” she said as she placed her hand on Benedict’s shoulder.

The feel of his taut shoulder, even through the cloth of his jacket and the leather of her glove, was enough to steal the breath right from her lungs. The image of him wearing nothing but those loose-fitting pants came rushing back to her once more. His broad chest, sculpted muscles, lean stomach . . . She sucked in her breath and only just managed to keep from closing her eyes. She knew
exactly
what lay beneath the few layers of clothes he now wore. If only her hand were touching his skin . . .

He abruptly looked up into her eyes.
Oh no!
She averted her gaze as her cheeks flooded with heat. Of course it was ridiculous, but she felt as transparent as a pane of glass. Heavens above, what would he think of her if he knew her thoughts?

A moment later, Benedict reached up and clasped his hands firmly around her waist. His fingers wrapped around her almost possessively, and her eyes flew back to his face, wide with surprise.

What was he doing? A few moments earlier she would have said he was little more than polite to her, but now his expression was so intense, so familiar somehow, she didn’t know what to think. He held her gaze, unblinking and without a polite smile to deflect the intimacy of the moment, and Evie was completely unable to look away. He almost seemed to be challenging her to say something.

She couldn’t have said anything if her life depended on it.

He lifted her then, smoothly and seemingly with ease as if she weighed no more than a child. She reveled in his touch, in the intoxicating sensation of being in his arms. Slowly, gently, he lowered her to the ground, like a feather floating on a breeze. When her feet touched solid earth, she was so close to him that her boots almost touched his. He smelled of sandalwood again, and she was reminded of the feel of his solid chest when they collided that first day. Without conscious thought, she leaned toward him, her eyes settling on his lips. His hands tightened possessively on her waist.

And then Epona shifted beside them.

It was as startling as if someone had discharged a gun. In a rush, Evie became aware of where they were and the groom who stood only a few feet away on the other side of Epona. Benedict blinked and straightened, dropping his hands and stepping back. Her skin felt cold without the heat of his hands, and she had to stop herself from protesting.

He glanced at the groom and took a few more steps away, casually surveying their surroundings. She took the opportunity to make a show of putting herself to rights, all the while concentrating on slowing her racing heart and calming the lingering roar of a thousand butterflies traipsing through her stomach.

So this is what getting swept off your feet feels like
.

Good heavens, a simple touch and she had been completely lost. For the first time in her life, she could imagine how her parents felt when their eyes met all those years ago in a ballroom in Brussels, and the rest of the world had fallen away. Perhaps this was what her friends giggled and blushed about after a single dance with a gentleman they admired. She never could understand their silly reactions, seemingly brought about with little or no encouragement. Evie nearly laughed at herself—apparently all her fevered emotions required was a hand down from her horse! She had known the man for only two days, for heaven’s sake.

Two days. How could she possibly be so drawn to someone within two days? She drew in a slow, steadying breath. Benedict wasn’t for her. He was merely passing through her life, both of them on their way to fulfilling their dreams. And very soon, he would be gone.

When she looked up, her eyes immediately met Benedict’s, and once again awareness rippled through her. Yes, he would be gone soon, but for now it was just the two of them. She glanced to the left, where the path followed the manicured shore and ended at the gazebo. In the opposite direction, it snaked along the waterfront before disappearing into the trees.

The temptation to be alone was just too much. With nervous energy shimmering deep within her, Evie turned to the right. “Shall we?”

Benedict dipped his head, though his chocolate gaze never left hers. “As you wish, my lady.”

Chapter Twelve

More attractive penmanship, yes. Wisdom, we shall see. Speaking of your birthday, did you get everything you hoped for? One wonders what the daughter of a marquis wishes for when she looks to the heavens at night.

—From Hastings to Evie

D
amn it, he had known better. He was well aware that he should have kept his hands off her. He should have been more careful to hold her at a safe distance, but no, at the very first opportunity, he had seized the chance to touch her once more. Now, as they strolled along the sandy path, he had never felt more aware of another person in his entire life. The trees around them could have been props in a play for all the attention he paid them.

Somehow, when she touched him, all of his worries, his circumstances, even his thoughts, had slipped away, and, for a moment in time, he was just a man filling his senses with a woman he cared for. He honestly couldn’t say what would have happened if the horse hadn’t brought him back to his right mind.

Although, in truth, he wasn’t really back to his right mind.

If he were, he wouldn’t be aching to reach out and caress her hand with his. He wouldn’t be wondering at the softness of her lips or imagining the feel of her pressed against him as he kissed her senseless. What would she do if he did? He gave his head a quick shake, trying to shake loose the ridiculous thought. For good measure, he laced his fingers behind his back. Beside him, Evie fiddled with the frog fastenings of her jacket. Was it nervousness, or was she feeling restless as well?

Ahead, the path disappeared into a copse of trees that lined one side of the lake. His body hummed with the knowledge they would soon be out of sight—alone for the first time, out of view of the house, the groom, even the horses. He should be running in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t make himself leave her yet. Just a little more time with her, a few more minutes with the weight lifted from his shoulders as he allowed himself just to be a man, walking alone together with an old friend in the woods—was that so terrible?

Now that they were finally alone together, he couldn’t quite think of what to say to her. With the heightened state of his nerves, though, he had to break the tension or he would go out of his mind. “The lake is nice.” He cringed at the uninspired comment.

She bit her lip and nodded. “Indeed.” The word sounded stilted. After a pause, she added, “It is well stocked, too.”

“How nice.” Good Lord, did he sound like a twitter-brained idiot to her as well or was it just him? The sudden charged awareness between them seemed to rob him of the ability to hold a normal conversation.

“Did you not fish here yesterday with Richard?”

He shook his head. “We went to the stream to fish for trout.”

“Ah.”

This was absurd. Five years of history between them, and this was the conversation they had? He searched for a more stimulating subject, and almost immediately he thought of her favorite topic. He cleared his throat and dove in. “Tell me how you came to be such an important part of your family’s business.”

The question didn’t relax her as much as he had expected, but at least it got her talking. “Riding was always natural to me. My father said he had never seen anything like it, that it was a natural talent that would be a crime not to encourage. It started innocently enough, a few rides with him through the estate, the occasional race with Richard, even the odd chance to accompany Papa to inspect potential purchases. It built slowly enough that Mama was never unduly alarmed.”

“So your father was your champion?”

She nodded, brushing aside a branch as they passed the first of the trees. The air was noticeably cooler in the shade. “Yes. I started working at Papa’s side in earnest when I was sixteen. Over the years, I think he finally came to the realization that Richard would always be merely an average horseman. And I was, well, not.”

“No, I don’t imagine you were.” He grinned, keeping his eyes on the trail as he stepped over a protruding root. She had never been average at anything a day in her life, as far as he knew. “So, really, you have Richard to thank for your father’s support.”

“No, I—” She paused midsentence, an odd look on her face. “Actually, I suppose you are right. Good heavens, I never thought of it that way before.” She wrinkled her nose. “You mustn’t tell him that. His ego is already big enough for the both of us.”

He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “My lips are sealed, my lady.”

She sighed and shook her head. “It seems you are doing a lot of that for me of late. I should thank you again for holding your peace about finding the book.”

“Of course. I’m a gentleman, after all.” She didn’t look as assured as he hoped. What troubling thoughts had crossed her mind to cause the small vee of tension between her brows? He allowed the distance between them to close slightly. “You’ve nothing to fear, Evie. As far as I know, the book could have been left behind by a specter.”

She offered a halfhearted smile and paused before a fallen tree. “I know it seems a silly thing to you, but it is very important to me. I must be absolutely above reproach before my family leaves for London.”

What an odd thing to say. “Come now, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. And anyway, wouldn’t they be more concerned about your behavior
after
you arrived?” he asked, offering a small, teasing smile.

She ran a gloved finger over the tree’s bark, chipping away a small piece. “It is my intention not to go to London this Season.”

“Not to go to London?” Was her family planning to bypass the Season this year? No, that couldn’t be—he’d heard them mention the trip several times since their arrival. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. What exactly is your intention, then?”

She didn’t say anything at first but just looked up at him with those huge blue eyes. He had the distinct impression she was appraising him and his trustworthiness. He found himself standing a little straighter beneath her scrutiny. Finally, she took a deep breath. “I have convinced my father to allow me to stay at the Hall this Season, so I may avoid the tedious posturing of the marriage mart altogether. Now I’ve only to convince my mother to agree to my plans, and I will be free to do the work I love. In the meantime, I cannot give her any reason to become upset with me.”

Benedict stood there slack-jawed as the implications of her statement sank in. Shock did not begin to describe the way he felt. She was giving up on finding a husband? Did she plan to bury herself in the stables, never to love and be loved? “Your father agreed to this? Accolades to you and your exceptional powers of persuasion, my lady. You must be very pleased.”

He clenched his teeth at the sarcastic tone of his voice. He should have kept his damned mouth shut—it was none of his business, after all.

Some of the joy faded from her eyes, replaced by something akin to wariness. “Exceedingly. It is not every day, sir, that one rises above the expectations of others and accomplishes that which has previously seemed impossible.”

She was speaking nonsense. She was the most passionate, entertaining, intelligent woman he knew, and she wanted to cut herself off from the world like some dried-up old spinster? She wasn’t giving herself a chance. “I agree. Of course, one must ask oneself, did one rise above, or fall below?”

She gasped and backed up a step. “What a ridiculous thing to say, Mr. Benedict! You don’t know anything about me, and you presume to make such a statement? What does it even matter to you?”

Oh, how wrong she was. He
did
know her. He knew her well enough to know that she deserved to find happiness in love. She was voluntarily shortchanging her future by closing herself off from the possibility.
He
no longer had the luxury of such a choice. His prospects had been destroyed, no matter what happened when he left this place. Through no fault of his own, he would either spend the rest of his life as a shamed outcast, or burdened by the knowledge that he had betrayed his own moral code for the good of others. Either way, he would never subject a woman to his fate, and therefore marriage would never be in the cards. And here she was, the world at her feet, and she was turning her back on it.