Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) (20 page)

Genevieve sighed. ‘No, I believe you would enjoy nothing more than the excuse to beat William within an inch of his life.’

‘I should.’ He gave a grim and arrogant inclination of his dark head in acknowledgement of that fact.

‘And I appreciate your offer. I truly do. Know it is inborn in you to protect those you
consider less able than you to take care of themselves. But—’

‘I could never think of you as being less able than I, Genevieve.’ He gave a pained frown at the suggestion. ‘Than anyone,’ he added grimly. ‘You are, I believe, the strongest, most courageous woman I have ever known.’

‘How can you possibly say that?’ she groaned self-disgustedly. ‘When for six years I allowed myself to be abused, not only by my husband, but also by his son?’

Benedict stood up abruptly. ‘And what else should you have done?’ he bit out harshly. ‘The important thing is that you survived. Not only survived, but now flourish.’ He took a step towards her, only to halt again as she instinctively took a step back. ‘I will not harm you, Genevieve. I will never harm you. Nor will I allow anyone else to do so. Which is why William Forster must be dealt with, so that he can no longer continue to bully and hurt you, or anyone else, in this cruel way.’

Genevieve eyed him warily. ‘Dealt with …?’

Benedict gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘I will start by suggesting he remove himself permanently from London and all polite society.’

‘And if that fails …?’

His eyes narrowed grimly. ‘Then it will be my pleasure to ensure that he does so.’

‘How?’

His mouth thinned with hard, uncompromising humour. ‘I believe I will find a way.’

‘Not without bringing a scandal down upon your own head and mine.’

‘It will be achieved without involving you in any way,’ Benedict assured grimly.

Genevieve gave a shake of her head. ‘I do not see how, when William’s only sin has been to beat his father’s wife on that father’s instructions—’

‘And for that alone he will be thoroughly thrashed himself before he is allowed to depart for ever to his country estates!’ Benedict bit out harshly.

‘Whilst I appreciate your concern, Benedict, I do not believe—do not dare to believe …’ she gave a helpless shake of her head ‘… that even you will succeed in permanently ridding me of William’s threats.’

He gave another humourless smile. ‘Then you do not know me as well as I had hoped that you might.’

She looked at Benedict searchingly, easily noting the grimness of purpose in his expression
and the hard and angry glitter of his eyes. ‘I know you well enough to realise that you are not at all the cold and remote gentleman that you allow the
ton
to believe you to be.’

His expression softened. ‘Then I ask that you also have a little faith in both me and my ability to protect you.’

Tears welled up in her expressive eyes. ‘I could not bear it if—if you were to come to harm because of me.’

Benedict shook his head. ‘I shall come to no harm, I assure you, Genevieve. I do not consider men like Forster, either father or son, to be men at all. They are worms. Lower than worms, when they choose to bully and abuse a woman as you have been bullied and abused.’ His eyes gleamed darkly. ‘The father is beyond my reach, but William Forster, at least, shall pay, and pay dearly, for his sins against you.’

He sounded so confident, so sure of himself, that Genevieve could do no other than believe him. Believe in him. If any man could rid her of William’s oppressive presence in her life, then she now believed that man to be Benedict.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘If you succeed, then how shall I ever repay you?’

Benedict eyed her ruefully. ‘A lesser man would be insulted that you might ever consider I should require repayment.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, I meant you no insult, Benedict—’ She broke off as he began to chuckle softly. ‘I fail to see anything in the least funny about this situation, Benedict.’

Nor, in truth, did Benedict. But these past few minutes had been harrowing ones for Genevieve, as she relived the pain and fear she had suffered this past seven years. Seven years …! Damn it—No, he must not allow his anger to get the better of him now; that he intended saving until he was able to see and deal with William Forster as he deserved to be dealt with. And the sooner the better, as far as Benedict was concerned.

He reached out to take both Genevieve’s hands in his before lifting one of those hands to his lips. ‘Before you ask,’ he murmured indulgently as he saw the question in her expressive blue eyes, ‘I am saluting the bravery of a fellow soldier.’

She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘I do not understand …’

‘If we had a dozen as brave as you during our battle against the Corsican then I have no
doubts that war would have been over years earlier than it was!’ Benedict assured ruefully.

A delicate blush coloured her otherwise pale cheeks. ‘It is not brave merely to have survived the battle.’

Benedict touched the warmth of her cheek. ‘It is the way in which you have survived, Genevieve!’ He looked down at her admiringly. ‘There is no bitterness inside you. No drive for revenge against the people who harmed you.’ He gave a disbelieving shake of his head that this should be the case.

Genevieve knew, as surely as if Benedict had spoken the words out loud, that he referred now to the bitterness and drive for revenge he still felt against whoever had murdered his parents all those years ago. That same bitterness and need for revenge which had driven Benedict, moulded his character, for these past ten years.

‘Such destructive emotions only damage those who feel them,’ she chided gently.

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘And yet I find it impossible not to feel those emotions when I know that a murderer still walks free whilst my parents are both dead.’

Genevieve gave a pained frown. ‘I do not mean to interfere, Benedict, but—you said
that your godfather carried out the initial investigation?’

‘Yes.’

‘And do you know if he questioned all of the servants?’

‘I am sure that he will have done so. Yes, I know that he did.’ Benedict nodded grimly. ‘As I recall, there were two of them that I was unable to question when I carried out my own investigation some months later.’

‘And why was that?’

‘They had moved on to another household.’ He shrugged. ‘And who can blame them? Two people had been murdered in their present household.’

‘You are sure they went to another household?’

‘Genevieve, what are you implying?’

‘I know, from personal experience, that the household servants are usually privy to much more than we give them credit for.’ She grimaced. ‘For example, whenever I had been locked in my bedchamber, cook would help my maid to bring me food and water to drink.’

‘When were you locked away in your bedchamber—?’

‘Please do not let us become distracted from this conversation again, Benedict—’

‘I will know who locked you away in your bedchamber!’ A nerve pulsed in Benedict’s jaw. ‘No, do not bother answering; I can see by your expression exactly who is to blame for that!’ His eyes glittered darkly as he envisaged all of the things he would do to William Forster when he saw him next.

Which he intended to be very soon indeed …

‘I
do not wish to make a fuss, but—I am afraid you are crushing my fingers, Benedict!’

Benedict brought his tormented thoughts under control as he focused on Genevieve, realising as he did so that he was indeed crushing her tiny fingers in his much larger ones. His eyes widened in horror as he immediately released her to mutter, ‘Your poor wrist!’ He inspected it for further damage.

‘It is unharmed, Benedict,’ she assured softly. ‘But I do think that you should look further into where those two servants went after they left your employ.’

‘You believe they may have seen something they should not?’ Benedict frowned.

‘I believe it is worth investigating further,’
Genevieve answered cautiously. ‘If only so that you might ask if they have remembered anything of import since—since leaving.’

His expression softened as he looked down and saw Genevieve’s anxiety of expression. ‘Do not look so troubled, Genevieve,’ he murmured ruefully. ‘I assure you, I am grateful for any help you may give me in this matter.’

‘There may be no reason for your gratitude.’ She sighed. ‘I may be completely wrong about these two servants.’

‘And you may not.’ Benedict smiled at her. ‘And as a reward for your caring—’

‘Of course I care, Benedict!’ Her cheeks became warm as she realised what she had said. ‘I cannot imagine how awful it must have been for you these past ten years,’ she added. ‘To have lost your parents so tragically, and then not to know who had killed them …’

‘—as a reward for your caring,’ Benedict repeated firmly, ‘I intend to indulge you in something else you would consider “fun and adventure”.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You do?’

‘I do.’ He nodded. ‘God help me!’

She chuckled. ‘There is something I should like so very much …’

‘Yes …?’ Benedict answered warily as he
saw the return of that familiar reckless gleam in her eyes.

She smiled eagerly. ‘I would so like to go for a ride in the park in your carriage tomorrow afternoon!’

He frowned slightly. ‘I never ride my carriage in the park.’

‘Which is exactly the reason I should like to accompany you the first time that you do so!’ Genevieve grinned her satisfaction.

‘Minx!’ Benedict gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘In that case, we will make the arrangements for the outing when I join you for dinner this evening.’

Her smile faltered slightly. ‘You intend dining here, with me, this evening?’

‘It is what lovers do, is it not?’

Genevieve’s gaze lowered from meeting Benedict’s as she felt the warmth of colour in her cheeks. ‘I believe this afternoon has shown that I—I am not capable of taking a lover—’

‘All this afternoon has shown is that you are a very warm and responsive woman.’

‘But—’ She looked up shyly beneath her long lashes as Benedict placed his fingers against her lips in order to silence her.

‘You are a very warm and responsive woman, Genevieve,’ he repeated firmly. ‘And
it will be my pleasure at some time in the future—and I hope, your own—to enable you to see that physical pleasure is not meant to be painful.’ His jaw hardened.

The colour deepened in Genevieve’s cheeks at discussing such a delicate subject. Which was slightly ridiculous, after all she had already confided in Benedict this afternoon!

It still disappointed her that she had reacted in the way that she had earlier. She had so wanted—hoped—that she would feel differently with Benedict. And up to a point she had, having once again enjoyed his caresses until she climaxed. It was only thoughts of penetration which had sent her into a panic.

She gave a slow shake of her head. ‘I am not sure that any amount of patience on your part, in—in this regard, will make the slightest difference to my own … aversion to—to such a depth of intimacy.’

Benedict tapped her playfully on the tip of her nose. ‘But you will allow me the privilege of trying?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Only if I can be completely sure that you do not offer out of pity?’

‘Does this feel like pity to you, Genevieve?’ Benedict’s gaze held hers as he slowly guided her hand to the front of his pantaloons, allowing
her to feel the once again hardness of his pulsing arousal.

Her cheeks felt fevered. ‘You desire me still, after all—after all I have told you?’

‘Why should I not?’ His brows lowered to a glower. ‘You had no choice in the matter—how could you have, when you were completely at the mercy of the two Forster men!’

‘Benedict, you will not—I could not bear it if you came to any harm on my behalf,’ she amended as she knew by Benedict’s harsh expression that he would not be persuaded out of his decision to pay William Forster a visit.

‘And risk being unable to join you later this evening?’ he teased huskily.

Her cheeks warmed at the seductive note she detected in his tone. ‘In that case, I will organise a delicious dinner for us both. Would eight-thirty suit?’

He nodded distractedly. ‘Admirably. And now I should like to kiss you goodbye until later, if that is agreeable to you?’

Genevieve’s heart leapt, her breasts tingling, just at thoughts of being kissed again by Benedict. And surely, if she liked and enjoyed Benedict’s kisses so much, then all was not lost to her after all? Maybe even, with time, she might be able to—

‘You seem to be taking an unflattering amount of time deciding, pet?’ Benedict teased gruffly, hoping he was not pushing Genevieve too far too quickly. It was not his intention to do so, but neither did he feel they should take a single step backwards in their relationship—to do so would only lead to Genevieve becoming even more nervous and shy in regard to physical intimacy.

The glow of anticipation in Genevieve’s eyes was neither nervous nor shy. ‘On condition that you do not kiss me any less passionately than you have done before today.’

‘I would not dream of doing so,’ Benedict murmured huskily, his arms moving assuredly about her waist and pulling her against him even as his head lowered and his lips claimed hers.

It was a different sort of kiss, though, he very quickly realised. More intense, sweeter, as he tasted and sipped from those full and delectable lips and Genevieve curled her luscious curves against his much harder ones, her arms up about his shoulders as she returned the heat of those kisses.

‘Enough for now, love.’ Benedict finally broke the kiss with a groan, his arousal throbbing even more painfully against the welcoming
softness of her thighs. ‘We will continue this when I return later this evening,’ he promised gruffly.

But before then, Benedict had two visits to make.

Firstly, to Eric Cargill, to ask that gentleman to see if he could locate the two servants who had left his parents’ employ soon after the shooting; Eric, besides being a spymaster for the Crown and so having the means at his disposal to make such enquiries, was also one of his parents’ oldest friends, hence his having been chosen as one of Benedict’s godfathers. The older man’s interest, in finding the person responsible for their deaths, was as intense as Benedict’s own.