More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (20 page)

“My teeth were doing no such thing, and if you had a duty to do anything, it was to alert me to your presence,” she replied peevishly, all the while trying to recall if she had done anything embarrassing when she thought herself unobserved. Thankfully, nothing came to mind.

Benedict chuckled. “Touché, my lady. I suppose I was enjoying some of my own alone time as well. May I join you?”

Evie looked down beside her to the spot on the bench he had gestured to. Why did he have to bring it to her attention that she was shivering? Now the coldness of the stone bench seeped through her gown with a vengeance, and she became aware of how cold her own ungloved hands had become. How very irritating the man was proving to be.

Feeling contrary, she said, “No.”

The answer had the perverse effect of making him smile. “Come now; don’t be that way. I am sorry for the fun Richard and I had at your expense today. I promise I won’t do anything like that again. Please may I join you?”

Did he just say please? Evie’s eyebrows hitched up in surprise. She made a mental note to thank Morgan for the extra work the maid had done on Evie’s hair tonight. As she considered his request, Evie realized there was something in his manner that seemed somewhat resigned. She couldn’t really put her finger on what exactly made her think so; it was just a mood she sensed.

Benedict and his moods—changeable did not even begin to describe the man. In the short amount of time she had known him, it seemed as though she had already seen a dozen different sides of him. She looked up at him and wished she had not—for all of his less desirable traits, Benedict was absurdly handsome. Really, it almost made one feel inadequate.

Evie sighed. It’d be petty to send him away. Besides, he didn’t look as though he planned to leave any time soon, and she did not want to go to the house just yet. She shrugged and scooted over a bit. “Oh, very well—suit yourself. We shall have to go to supper in a minute in any event.”

Benedict flipped out the tails of his jacket and sat beside her. “Time is not passing as quickly as that. We still have more than half an hour before we must return.”

The bench was on the small side, and Benedict was seated only inches away. In a matter of moments she could actually feel his warmth—how completely remarkable. She made a conscious effort to keep her body from leaning into the heat, even just an inch or two. Instead, she gripped the edge on the bench on either side of her skirts and looked up to the heavens again. The faint scent of sandalwood drifted toward her. She discreetly inhaled the spicy aroma—delicious.

“Do you have a favorite?” Benedict’s breath hung visibly in the chilly air as he asked the question.

She blinked. Scent? No, of course not. “A favorite what?”

He tipped his head back and pointed to the skies.

“Constellation?” she asked. He nodded, and she thought about it a minute. “I suppose it depends. Tonight I was particularly happy to see Canes Venatici.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his raised eyebrows. “You really do know your constellations. Impressive, I must say. So why has Canes Venatici caught your fancy this evening?”

“Why, good luck for the coming hunt, of course. What else would the Hunting Dogs symbolize?” She looked at him ruefully. “It is quite the least distinct constellation in the sky, but tonight it seems appropriate. Normally I suppose I might say Leo, or perhaps Canis Major.”

“I am fond of Leo myself. Not only is the mighty lion something to behold, but it is possibly the easiest thing to see in the whole jumble, which is helpful to a layman such as myself.”

Evie laughed at his observation. “That jumble, as you call it, is very neatly laid out, if you but pay a bit of attention. How else have sailors guided their ships to safety all these years?”

“Men don’t need guidance. Every male is born with an innate sense of direction. A pity you women must depend on outside cues such as the stars.” His tone was perfectly sober.

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I thought at dinner the other evening you mentioned you were a student of astronomy. Surely you must respect the field.”

“No, I said I had been visiting the observatory, and you
assumed
I was a student. You never asked, and therefore I never confirmed or denied. Alas, I am not.” Adopting an air of self-importance, he said, “I do, however, have
great
respect for the field.”

“Well, I am certain astronomers will be much assured to learn you have given their work your seal of approval.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Anyone who can stare at those tiny bits of light, string together three of them, and somehow have an entire bear or scorpion must, at the very least, have a very active imagination.”

She chuckled, thoroughly enjoying their banter. When he was like this, he felt so . . . familiar somehow. There was a certain ease between them that seemed so natural. His other moods seemed more like an ill-fitting piece of clothing.

“Yes, you know all those fanciful astronomers out there, what with their telescopes and quadrants and other silly little instruments.” She cut her eyes toward him. “I’ll bet you don’t see shapes in clouds, either.”

“That is not true. I regularly see cloud-shaped clouds. Some of them even look like clotted cream.”

At this she laughed out loud, her breath crystallizing between them before vanishing into the night. She placed her hands on either side of her cheeks and shook her head. If only he could be like this all the time. He was deuced annoying when he clammed up, but when she saw the other side of him, well, she thoroughly enjoyed
that
Benedict. Her laughter trailed off, and she dropped her hands back down on the bench.

Only her right hand didn’t touch the bench.

It settled on Benedict’s bare hand by mistake, and she gasped at the contact. His skin was deliciously warm against her cold fingers, and she hesitated for the barest of moments before jerking her hand away. The butterflies came flooding back, wreaking havoc in her stomach again. She suddenly wished she had not let him sit so close to her. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the words fell right out of her head when he reached out and grasped her hand in his.

“Your fingers are like ice.” He said the statement simply, with complete nonchalance. He pulled her hand into both of his, chafing her skin between his palms.

It felt like absolute
heaven
.

Her eyes had gone round as saucers, her gaze riveted on their joined hands. Belatedly, she realized her mouth was still hanging open, and she snapped her jaw shut with an audible click. She didn’t know what to do, what to say, so she simply was still. The intimacy of his deliberate touch was overwhelming, unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

With her heart thumping in her chest, she couldn’t seem to draw a proper breath. What was more, the cold night air hid nothing, each shallow puff of air a visible testament to her reaction to him.

She watched, mesmerized as he raised her hand, still enveloped in both of his, with excruciating slowness toward his lips. When she realized what he intended, her eyes flashed to his, and she saw that he was watching her face intently. Their eyes locked, and her mouth went dry. He brought her fingers achingly close to his mouth, pausing only a fraction of an inch away. She held her breath, suspended in time while her whole being waited to see what would happen next.

Good heavens, was he really going to kiss her this time?

Through parted lips he slowly drew in a deep breath; she could see his chest rising with the action. He paused for the space of a second, though her anticipation was so great that it felt like minutes. Unconsciously she leaned forward, her own lips parting slightly.

And then he exhaled.

His breath, deliciously hot, flowed over her fingertips, down her palm, and across her wrist. Somehow, the warmth seemed to race through her entire body before settling low in her belly. She had never felt a more delectable sensation in her life, so pleasurable her toes curled within her thin slippers. If only time would stand still so she could really savor the feeling. Gooseflesh immediately peppered her arms, and she shivered involuntarily.

His lips curled into the slightest of smiles. Into the silence, he murmured mere inches from her skin, “I intended to warm you, not chill you further.”

She swallowed thickly, trying to find her voice. Taking a deep breath, she said hoarsely, “I rather think you succeeded. I—I feel much warmer now.”

His smile grew, and he lowered her hand. Disappointment instantly coursed through her body.
No!
She wasn’t ready for it to end.

* * *

Benedict took one look at the pleading expression on her face and was lost. He couldn’t think—didn’t want to think. His heart hammered against his ribs, drowning out whatever protests his brain tried to make.

He had to have more.

Without conscious thought, he pressed her palm to his knee with one hand and reached out to cup her neck with the other. It was like holding the forbidden fruit, grasping that which he was never meant to have. He caressed the smooth, supple skin of the hollow of her cheek with his thumb, giving her time to protest. Instead, she turned slightly into his touch.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Tugging her toward him, he slowly tilted his head and leaned forward until their lips were so close, he could smell her sweet breath. It was the most intoxicating scent he had ever known. He knew he should stop, should leave her now and escape before things progressed any more. But he couldn’t. Damn it all, he couldn’t. He wanted her, needed her, and nothing could make him walk away now.

With a groan, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers as gently as he could. The kiss was soft, and sweet, and utterly perfect. If everything went to hell tomorrow—and it probably would—he could be content in having experienced one perfect moment in time. Only . . . it wasn’t enough. Her kiss was perfect, but it only made him want her that much more.

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, and he tightened his hold, pressing his lips more firmly to hers. He turned her head with a slight pressure of his thumb and lightly kissed the corner of her mouth. She smelled delicious, but she tasted even better. He dipped his head and trailed kisses along her exquisitely formed jawline, sliding his hand farther back so he could press his lips to the sensitive skin directly below her ear where his thumb had just been.

She shivered at the contact, her hand flexing under his palm, lightly squeezing his knee. It was almost more than he could take. He returned to her mouth, and this time her lips were eager as she pressed against him. He deepened the kiss, parting his lips and experiencing a flash of satisfaction when she did the same. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she responded tentatively at first, but in moments their tongues danced together.

They fit as if they were made for each other. His Evie, his most treasured friend, tasted of hope and trust—too much trust.

At last he broke the kiss. Panting for breath, he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Why couldn’t this moment last forever? To stay here, holding the woman he had known so well but still hardly at all, surrounded by gentle darkness and thousands of pinpricks of light above.

Evie blinked, her eyes unfocused as he gently pulled his hands from her and came to his feet. The moment he stepped away, reality washed over him like a rogue wave, swamping his senses. Good Lord, what had he done? How had he managed to lose himself so completely with her? He clenched his jaw against the self-recrimination that flayed him from the inside out. He had lost his mind.

All the upheaval that had happened in his life recently—which was continuing to happen—and he went and did something like this? There could never be anything between them, no matter how much he wished otherwise. And after that kiss, Benedict was
really
wishing otherwise.

As things stood now, only one thing in his life was certain: No matter which decision he made regarding the life-changing moment near the cliffs of Folkestone, the result would be a life without her. If he followed his heart, then he would never be allowed in polite society again. But if he did not stand up for what was right, then he could never live with himself.

Benedict gave his head a little shake. In all his life, he had never dreamed Evie would be the one to captivate not only his mind and his soul, but somehow even his heart. Why couldn’t he have found her earlier? Perhaps things could have been different then.

She looked up to him, confusion written all over her face. It broke his heart to see her looking so uncertain.

He took a deep, bracing breath and said, “Evie, I am so sorry for kissing you. I don’t know what came over me, but I promise it will never happen again. Please say you will forgive me.”

Her forehead wrinkled as he spoke, and he felt his stomach drop. She wasn’t going to forgive him. How could she? The liberties he had taken with her were appalling, to say the least.

He braced himself for her anger as she narrowed her eyes. “You swain.”

“I know,” he said miserably.

“I can’t believe you are apologizing for kissing me. How completely ridiculous.”

Ridiculous? That wasn’t at all the reaction he had expected from her. “Whatever do you mean?”

“For heaven’s sake, Benedict, didn’t anyone ever tell you if you kiss a lady, it is customary to compliment her, or at the very least smile afterward? I do believe you have just insulted me.” She stood and brushed her dress out.

“Insulted—how on earth did I
insult
you?”

“By apologizing, you just indicated you regretted your actions. You might as well have told me I am a poor kisser.”

“Evie, now
you
are being ridiculous. I implied no such thing,” he exclaimed. What was he supposed to say to a statement such as that? “I promise you, you are not a poor kisser.”

“Well, that is high praise indeed. Thank you for clearing that up.”

How had he managed to botch things so thoroughly? He was
trying
to make things right, and all he accomplished was angering her further. Grasping her shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye. “Listen to me, Evie. You are a wonderful kisser. I am merely trying to apologize for taking such liberties with you in the first place. As much as I enjoyed your kiss, it was not very gentlemanly of me.”