Much Ado about the Shrew (8 page)

           
The object of his
non-
affection swallowed, but did not
take a step back, nor did her gaze upon his falter. "My lord," she
said, her voice barely audible.
 
Ben
noticed she had forgotten to call him by his Christian name, and he found he
missed it.

           
"So, after fifteen years, you
have finally learned to address me correctly?"

           
Bee stiffened further and dropped
her gaze to his shoulder. "It no longer seems to annoy you to call you by
your first name.
 
As that was the
purpose, it seems unnecessary to continue the practice."
 
There was a forced iciness in her words that
Ben had not noticed before, as if she put too much effort in ensuring their chill.

           
"If I tell you it still annoys
me, will you continue to call me Ben?"

           
"I, well..." Bee stumbled
on her words, then paused, and her eyes turned back up to his. "What are
you getting at?
 
You are trying to muddle
my head. Why?"
 
Her eyes flashed a
darker green, Ben noticed. Amazing.

           
"It seems to me," murmured
Ben, "that since you have acquiesced to me, then it seems only fair that I
give you something in return."

           
Bee furrowed her eyebrows, glancing
at Ben's hooded eyelids. Had she more experience, Ben would realize later, she
would have recognized the signs and probably would have hit him then. Instead,
she merely shrugged and said, "There's no need."

           
"But I want to," Ben said
softly, placing a finger under her chin. He shocked himself at his statement,
and realized that he
did
want to
touch her, to kiss her. Where did that come from? Warning bells should have
gone off in his head, but he was overwhelmed with her.
 
Who knew that her skin was so soft? What
other parts of her were that soft... or softer?
What in the bloody hell are you doing, man?
part of his brain
yelled at him. But Bee's eyes were on him again, and she stared at him with
such curiosity that he almost felt he had no choice but to continue.
 
Ignoring any contrary statements his brain might
send his way, he leaned in closer, tilting her chin up towards him, drawing her
towards him.
 
He drew a shallow breath,
taking in her sweet scent.
 
"Close
your eyes," he whispered.
 
It was
difficult to get the words out, and his voice seemed rougher than usual to his
ears.

           
"Why?" Bee asked, her
breath shallow. She kept her eyes open and on him, but did not try to draw out
of his embrace. Instead, she drew closer.

           
"I want to give you
something," Ben continued to murmur in a low, gentle voice.
 
His lips hovered over hers, but still he did
not close the distance.
 

           
"What do you want to give
me?" Bee tried to keep her voice level, but instead it came out breathy,
and innocently seductive.
 
Her tongue
darted out to lick her lips.
 
Ben felt
his insides tighten, and squelched the desire to grab her and have his way with
her right there on the settee. He knew his entire body should be repulsed
merely by the thought, but he could not get over how full and ripe her lips
were. How could she not be kissed? They were just waiting for him, the first
man to ever touch them.

           
"Your first kiss," he
whispered.

           
"I don't want it," Bee
said breathlessly, but did not turn her head.

           
"You're sure?" Ben
murmured.

           
"Yes, I... yes," she
answered, but still she did not move.

           
"Yes, as in you're sure, or
yes, as in kiss you?" Ben pulled her closer, ignoring every alarm that was
blaring in his brain. All he could do was touch her and smell her and... Lord,
how he wanted to taste her.

           
"What?" Bee breathed.
"Kiss you?"

           
"I thought you'd never
ask," Ben whispered, and finally,
finally
,
brought his lips gently to hers. He had thought at first only to give her a
chaste kiss; it would provide her with the kiss she sought, and it would end
his curiosity as to how she tasted.
 
But
the kiss quickly escalated when Bee opened her mouth to give a small surprised
cry. Instead of a shriek, however, it came out as a low moan, and Ben was lost.
His tongue lightly caressed Bee's lips, which opened even more, and she stepped
into him.
 

           
At once, Ben enveloped her small
body within his arms, deepening the kiss. He teased her tongue with his until
she began to kiss him back, and he felt something deep and thrilling pass
through him. He felt her arms gently come around him, and he was certain she would
push him away, and his heart perished at the thought.
 
Instead, her fingers tightened around his
jacket and she drew minutely closer to him.
 
Oh, sweet Jesus was there ever a
more lovely woman born?
Her mouth was sweet and ripe, and her tongue,
Lord
, she was starting to touch her
tongue to his as she learned how to love him with her mouth.
 
Ben drew in a steadying breath and focused on
the kiss.
 
It had raged far out of
control, but he didn't care. There was no sense in his mind of time, or
deadlines, or responsibility; the only thing that made sense at that moment
was
 
his intense overwhelming desire to
be with Bee; to hold her, to kiss her and to make love to her.

           
That final thought brought him back
to heel.
 
What in the hell was he doing,
kissing Bee only a few minutes after admonishing her for sneaking out in order
to do the same? What a hypocrite he was! He drew back lightly, and as he opened
his eyes he searched Bee's face for anger, hatred or disappointment. Instead,
Bee blinked several times and licked her lips, clearly tasting him still on
there. Ben felt his groin tighten, and he slackened his grip on her, lest she
discover just how base he truly was.

           
Bee took a slight step back,
although Ben still held her lightly in his arms.
 
She studied his face, and Ben felt guilt wash
through him, replacing the desire.
 
Her
eyes were still the same deep green-grey, and that gave him some relief.

           
"Why did you do that?" she
asked, her eyes darting back and forth, trying to register something in his.

           
Because
you have a ridiculously kissable mouth, which I want to taste again. You don't
mind, do you?
 
No, no that would not
do. Ben searched for a flippant answer, one which might satisfy Bee.
 
"Tit-for-tat," Ben smiled. "I
took a kiss, or at least, a potential kiss, from you. So it seemed only fair to
recompense."
 
He held his breath,
hoping that this was an acceptable answer.

           
Bee stiffened. "So that was
all?" she asked, "Just 'tit-for-tat'?"

           
"Of course," Ben said.
And the fact that you look so delicious I want
to eat you up.

           
But Bee was already pushing herself
out of his grasp. "Consider me paid in full, then," she frowned.
"And since one can only have a first kiss once, you need not bother
yourself again."

           
No, he understood, his had
definitely
not
been an acceptable
answer, but it was too late now.
 
He
wanted to tell her that it was not a bother, although he was not sure how he
could say such a thing without it being misconstrued.
 
Bee continued to wriggle out of his grasp,
however, and he loosened his hold, letting her free to stride across the room
to the door.

           
"Bee-" he started, and
moved to follow her.

           
"No, my Lord," Bee stayed
him with her hand. "You have done quite enough already." And,
breathless, she flew out of the room, leaving Ben to ponder just exactly what
else it was he was supposed to have done, and what the hell the problem was
with women, anyway.

           
"You
know, you will eventually need to marry," Ben heard his mother's voice
drone on next to him. How he had been talked into escorting her to Lady
Sotheby's garden party, he would never know.

           
He
saw the reason across the room from him.
Ah
yes, Bee.

           
Bee was dressed in a light
green silk confection that drew out her eyes. Although, now that he was a bit
closer, he noticed that there were circles under her eyes. Ben's chest
tightened at the thought that perhaps he was the reason she had not slept well.
But it wasn't as if he took her virtue; it was just a kiss after all.

           
A
perfectly lovely kiss.
 
One that he
wouldn't mind repeating.

           
What the hell was wrong with him?

           
Ben
shook his head and tried to listen to his mother again, although in truth she
didn't need much encouragement to continue to talk incessantly in his ear.

           
"What
was that again, Mother?"

           
"I
said, isn't that Lady Beatrice?" his mother asked. "Come along, I'm
sure she is waiting for you to greet her."

           
Highly doubtful.

           
 
"Lady Beatrice, it is a pleasure,"
Ben said, giving her a slight bow as his mother took her hands and gushed over
her.
 
Bee smiled with her entire face at
her deceased mother's oldest friend. "Oh, Lady Kendal," she said,
"it is good to see you."

           
Ben
did not miss that he was not included in that sentiment. Not that he should
expect to be. Or care to be. Or be bothered that he wasn't.
 

           
"Lord
Kendal?" Beatrice said, and Ben snapped to attention. "Where is the
rest of your menagerie?"

           
Ben
smiled. "Lord Welles and Lord Milford had to decline," he said.
"They were going to look at curricles this morning."

           
Beatrice
raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? And you allowed them off leash?"

           
Ben's
mother cleared his throat and stared pointedly at Beatrice. "My
dear," she admonished, then changed her tone, "you must come over for
dinner next week with your aunt and cousins.
Benedick
here says you have your youngest cousin out this Season as well?"

           
Beatrice
colored slightly. "Yes, this is her first Season."

           
Ben
knew Beatrice was embarrassed by the fact that she was still unmarried at 24,
although it wasn't as if it were her fault, as she had been in mourning for so long.
"Have you had any good prospects yet?" he heard his mother say.

           
Bee
opened her mouth to speak when Lennox came up behind her and interrupted them.

           
"Lady
Kendal," Lennox said, taking his mother's hand. "Lord Kendal,
excellent to see you again." He smiled widely, and Ben wondered if he had
ever been so carefree. Perhaps, before his brother's death, and he had to
assume the mantle of Earl. No, perhaps then the war. No, before
Everill's
death. Ben frowned; how had his life been
measured solely by death?

           
"Lord
Kendal, are you feeling well?"

           
Ben
looked up and blinked into large, grey eyes. Bee's grey eyes. They were grey
today. He wondered what made them change.

           
"Kendal,
stop wool gathering," his mother admonished. "Now, Lady Beatrice, you
were saying about your prospects?"

           
"She's
had three marriage proposals so far!" Lennox said, moving up behind
Beatrice. "We have been beating the men off with a stick."

           
"Lennox,"
Beatrice frowned, looking around uncomfortably.

           
"Three?"
Ben raised an eyebrow, becoming instantly aware of the conversation.

           
Beatrice
leveled her eyes at him.

           
He
shouldn't ask; it wasn't any of his business.
 
He asked anyway.

"Who?" Ben
questioned, abandoning his mother and moving closer to Beatrice.

           
Beatrice
shrugged. "No one important," she said.

           
"Tell
me," Ben cajoled.

           
"You'll
make fun," she frowned.

           
"I
promise I will not," Ben said. "Come, let's walk around the garden a
bit. That's the point of a garden party, is it not? To see the garden."

           
"That's
not the point at all," Beatrice sighed.

           
Ben
excused himself and Beatrice from his mother and Lennox, and they strolled
along a neat little path along the lawn.

           
"This
is quite charming," Beatrice sighed. "It reminds me of the
country."

           
"Do
you miss it?" Ben asked.

           
"The
country?" Beatrice asked. "I miss riding every day. I know I'll soon
get tired of the endless amusements of the Season, but for now... for now I'm
actually enjoying them."
 
She smiled
and tucked a stray curl behind her ear that had gotten loose from its
pins.
 
"And you? Are you glad you're
back in England?"

           
Ben
blew out a breath. "That... is a complicated question," he said.

           
Beatrice
stopped and faced him, tilting her head. "How so?"

           
Ben
sighed and directed them to a small bench nestled along the lane. Beatrice sat
and arranged her skirts while Ben took the opposite edge of the bench and
leaned back, listening to the small sounds of birds and the light drone of
voices from the party.

           
"It
seems... odd to be back," Ben finally said, breaking the silence.

           
"Odd?
How so?"

           
"Well,
for one, everyone keeps calling me Kendal."

           
Bee
tried to smother laugh. "That is your title now," she said gently,
lightly patting Ben's knee comfortingly.

           
Ben
put his hand around her gloved hand and squeezed. "I know. It just seems
that I left England a few months ago as one person, and came back as
another."

           
"Because
you're now Kendal, or you’re now no longer a soldier?"

           
Ben
nodded, gazing out over the park. "That's it exactly. Both, I
suppose."

           
Bee
smiled but didn't say anything.

           
"I
know the war is over, obviously," Ben continued, coming back to the
present. He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts, and shifted
slightly.
 
Bee pulled her hand back to
her lap when he shifted and he felt its absence, but pretended not to.
"But it still somehow feels like I'm on leave, as if any day now I'll be
called back to report to duty."

           
"That
will fade with time, I would think," Beatrice said.

           
Ben
nodded. "I know. I just need to concentrate on this one thing, and then I
can relax, I think."

           
"What
thing?"

           
Getting you a husband.

           
He
probably shouldn't say that.

           
"Uh,
just getting through the Season," Ben stammered.

           
"Oh,"
Beatrice said, looking down at her dress.

           
"So,
three marriage proposals?"

           
Beatrice
sat up straight and rolled her eyes. "They're not
real
proposals."

           
"They
were fictitious proposals?" Ben leaned forward, interested.

           
"No,
of course not," Beatrice frowned. "They just weren't
sincere
."

           
"You
were offered insincere proposals?" Ben's eyebrows drew up and he felt
anger course through him.

           
"No,"
Beatrice huffed. "They just weren't acceptable, is all."

           
Unacceptable?
"Who were they
from?" Ben asked.

           
"The
Duke of Beaufort, the Duke of Leeds, and Viscount Lisle," Beatrice sighed.

           
"Beaufort
and Leeds..." Ben began.

           
"I
know," Beatrice shuddered. "They're older than my own father would be
if he were still alive."

           
"Lisle?"
Ben asked.

           
"I
danced with him once," she said. "He stepped on my feet four times.
Four!"

           
"I
didn't realize that was a precursor to a proposal," Ben chuckled.

           
"It's
not funny," Beatrice said. "But Lisle's a fortune hunter, according
to my aunt. He is only interested in me for my dowry."

           
Ben
frowned. "That is an issue you have to acknowledge. And why you cannot go
out into gardens at night with any young upstart who might ruin you."

           
"But
it's perfectly acceptable to go into a dark library with you?"

           
Ben
swallowed. "Um..." He looked over at Beatrice and saw her inquisitive
gaze bored right at him, and he could only think about how her eyes softened
last night right before he held her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers.
What color had her eyes been then? He strained his memory for the color.

           
"That's
what I thought," Beatrice said, standing and breaking the connection.

           
"I
should apologize," Ben said hastily.

           
"Well,
are you?"

           
Ben
stared at her. Was he sorry for rescuing her? Definitely not; she had no idea
what she was getting into. But was he sorry for kissing her himself?
 

           
"No,"
he said slowly. "No, I'm not."

           
Beatrice
shook her head and Ben heard her call him a name under her breath. "I am
going back to the house now. Are you coming?"

           
Ben
did not answer, but merely stood and offered Beatrice his arm. She looked at it
for several seconds before hesitantly placing her arm on his. Ben covered her
small one with his larger one, entrapping it in his embrace. He thought he
heard her breath catch, but he wasn't sure, over the pounding of his own heart.
Without a word said between them, they walked back to the party, where Ben
deposited her at her aunt's side and left the party. He knew his mother would
disapprove, but he could not face any further female censure that day.