Chapter 28
28
A rush of affection surged as Inga returned to Alton House. For as long as she lived, she’d probably associate the scents of woodsmoke and lemon oil with Alton House and the challenging years of her life there.
Mrs. Barnes insisted on a celebratory dinner in honor of Inga’s brand-new citizenship papers and even opened the formal dining room for the occasion. She made Inga’s favorite chicken pie recipe, along with bowls of ice cream swimming in brandied cherries for dessert. Inga had the place of honor at the head of the table, and Benedict sat at the opposite end.
She liked sitting across from him. Ever since resolving to return to Berlin, she looked forward to the prospect of advancing her relationship with Benedict. Sitting opposite him at the table made it feel as though they were a real married couple. It gave her a perfect view of him as he cradled the goblet of wine when he drank, then slowly rotated the stem with his long, slim hand. He looked stern and sexy at the same time. She especially liked the way he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Benedict had gone back to his taciturn ways during dinner, but everybody else chatted with abandon. Larry couldn’t stop complaining about a new carpet at the embassy that gave him a headache, and Nellie recounted every guest they’d hosted in the six weeks since Inga had been gone.
One name came up over and over: Fr?ulein Zinnia von Eschenbach. Inga vaguely remembered the pretty young woman who came to the embassy for help after her father had been arrested in London.
Apparently, the baron’s daughter visited the embassy several times over the past few weeks, and Benedict escorted her all over the city. Last weekend the two of them went rowing on Lake Tegel. Baron von Eschenbach had been released last month, so there was no reason for Benedict to keep meeting with his daughter.
Was she allowed to feel jealous? She and Benedict didn’t yet have that sort of marriage. She tried to sound nonchalant as she prodded for more information. “I’ve heard that the rowing on Lake Tegel is lovely,” Inga said to Benedict. “What was it like?”
“Tedious,” he replied. “It rained.”
He must be very enraptured with Zinnia if he would go boating during such poor weather. “Why did you go rowing on a rainy day?”
Instead of answering her, Benedict glanced at his watch and pushed away from the table. “Forgive me, I have more letters to complete.” He stacked his silverware atop his plate and carried it toward the kitchen, but then paused when he came to her chair.
He touched her shoulder. “It’s nice to have you home, Inga.”
Well, that was unexpected. Benedict almost never touched her when they were in Alton House. The light brush of his hand sent a shiver down her entire body.
Did he care for her or not? She couldn’t let Benedict go on thinking she was happy with a completely platonic marriage, especially if he’d started squiring other women around town.
It was time for her to act.
Benedict needed to keep his distance from Inga. Although the flirtation in the carriage this afternoon had been delightful, he needed to quit playing with forbidden fruit if they were to maintain their marriage of convenience. He’d managed to tamp down his feelings for her when she’d been four thousand miles away, but now she was back. Everything about her was alluring, from her sense of humor to her curvaceous figure and kissable mouth and flirtatious gaze. The troublesome attraction came roaring back the moment he saw her at the train station, and it had grown every hour since.
He turned his attention back to the list of British prisoners still held at Ruhleben. They’d been penned up for two years, and only a few had been successfully exchanged. He’d finally managed to get Baron von Eschenbach traded for a British viscount held in Austria, but thousands of others had little hope for release from the bleak, muddy racetrack.
A tap on the library door broke his concentration. “Come in.”
Inga stepped inside, holding two volumes of his set of Encyclopedia Britannica . “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”
She’d been disturbing him since the hour they met. “Not at all.”
“Thank you for these,” she said, setting the two oversized volumes on the desk.
“Did they help?”
“Oh yes! Although, I must confess, I spent far more time reading your notes than studying American history.”
Heat gathered beneath his collar. He hadn’t said she couldn’t read his notations, but it struck him as an intrusion, like someone peeking at one’s diary. He pulled the two volumes a little closer to himself.
“Thank you for returning them,” he said, hoping she would leave now. Instead, she propped a hip on the edge of his desk and toyed with the edge of an encyclopedia. Inga clearly wanted something.
“Yes, Miss Klein. What else can I do for you?”
She flushed a little. “About that time you went rowing on Lake Tegel...”
What a miserable day it had been. He needed to be alone with Zinnia to discuss what she’d learned on her trip to London regarding the German civilians still imprisoned in England, and rowing in the middle of a lake ensured they couldn’t be overheard. He and Zinnia both got soaked that dismal afternoon, but that couldn’t account for why Inga should look so uneasy.
“Just say it,” he prompted. “Whatever is worrying you, just say it.”
“Why were you rowing with Zinnia von Eschenbach? It seems out of character for you.”
Could Inga be jealous? Or was it merely her pride talking? Since they’d presented themselves as a married couple to the outside world, perhaps she didn’t wish to be seen as a woman whose husband was stepping out on her.
“Zinnia went to London to check up on detained German civilians and was reporting back to me.”
“In the middle of Lake Tegel?”
Inga was definitely jealous, and for some absurd reason that pleased him. “Yes, in the middle of the lake. Spies, you know. Zinnia is betrothed to a colonel, who is serving on the Western Front. Our only interest in each other is in facilitating prisoner exchanges.”
“Ah,” she replied, still tracing the edge of his encyclopedia. The silence lengthened, becoming uncomfortable.
“So the encyclopedias helped?” he asked.
A slow smile curved her lips, the gleam of it reaching all the way to her pretty blue eyes that sparkled with guilty amusement. “Not really,” she said, moving to perch more firmly on the desktop. “But I learned a lot about Abelard and Heloise. Why do you like them so much?”
He quirked a brow. “How do you know that I do?”
“You wrote more notes about the entry on Abelard and Heloise than anywhere else in the book.”
She must have spent a lot of time flipping through that volume because, yes, she was correct. And she looked extraordinarily fetching the way she perched on the desk. Her knee brushed against his arm, but he didn’t back away.
“I’ve always found the forbidden nature of their relationship intriguing.”
“You wrote things in the entry on Bavaria too.”
That was a little more awkward. He couldn’t precisely recall everything he’d written, but he knew it was all about Inga. Her look told him she wanted an answer. “Once again the forbidden nature of Miss Inga Klein is intriguing to me.”
The gleam in her eye deepened. The scent of apples came from her skin, arousing memories of their embrace in the train station. She seemed to be enjoying this moment as much as he was. What would she do if he...
Without breaking eye contact, he rested his hand on her knee. She didn’t back away, just kept her gaze locked with his.
“Come closer,” he prompted. He wasn’t sure what to expect when she twisted off the desk and moved directly onto his lap. Surprise flooded Benedict as he placed his hands around her hips, settling her more comfortably on his lap.
“You’ve read my thoughts on Abelard and Heloise,” he said. “What are yours?”
She laid a hand along the back of his neck, triggering a tingle that ran across his shoulders and down his arms. “I don’t like sad love stories, you know that,” she teased. “I have a theory that elite people like you distrust romance and want to punish lovers. Romeo and Juliet ... Lancelot and Guinevere.”
He battled a smile because, yes, there were dozens of tragic love stories to choose from. “Tristan and Isolde. Anna Karenina. Madame Bovary.”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Inga said, jabbing him with her finger with each word. “I think all those high-flown authors are afraid of feelings and give everyone a sad ending.”
He ran his hands to the small of her back, amazed she was allowing such intimacy. “You may be right, Miss Klein, but Abelard and Heloise were real people, and they had a sad ending too. It’s why I am glad they were at least buried together.”
“I never thought of you as someone with a romantic soul,” she said.
It was impossible to look away from her deep blue gaze. “Now you know my secret, Miss Klein.”
Rather than pulling away, she looped her arms around his shoulders, then tilted her head and leaned down to him. Her kiss barely brushed his mouth, but he cupped the back of her head and drew her more firmly down.
She met him kiss for kiss, returning everything he gave and more. This was no clumsy, impulsive kiss. He’d been thinking about a long, leisurely kiss with Inga for months. He cupped her face in his hands, nibbled and drank her in, growing breathless in the process.
At last she lifted her head, and she beamed down at him. “That was nice,” she said, looking every bit as ecstatic and breathless as he felt. He settled his hands back on her hips. Everything about having her here was oddly thrilling and natural at the same time.
Yet they shouldn’t be doing this, not if they were going to get an annulment. He and Inga were as different as sweet and sour, and yet they had learned to rub along okay.
More than okay. He’d been thinking that ever since he saw her in the train station this afternoon, holding her citizenship certificate out as if it were a gold medal. It wasn’t so much the way she looked as how she made him feel, as if the world brimmed with love and hope and accomplishment. It was becoming impossible not to smile when she was near. She had the unique ability to remain joyful even during the darkest hours.
“Inga, have you ever considered keeping things between us permanent?” He slid his hands further around her hips, and he held his breath.
“You mean, stay married?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She glanced away, and a little light dimmed in her eyes as an array of expressions flashed across her face. “Sometimes,” she said. “It seems rather daunting, though. I’m already homesick for New York, and you’d probably want to live all over the world. Right?”
That was the life of a diplomat. It was what he was trained to be, and he was good at it. As war threatened to drag civilization into chaos, the world needed diplomats more than another cannon or battleship.
And yet he wanted this marriage. He wanted Inga and intended to fight for her.
“Stand up,” he said impulsively, and she hopped off his lap. Then he stood and scooped her up, carrying her draped in his arms as he took her to the window overlooking the front yard. She’d instinctively looped her arms around his shoulders, and he tilted her to look outside. Lampposts illuminated the tree-lined avenue where diplomatic staff from all over the world made their homes.
“Look out there,” he said. “The Argentinian staff lives across the street, and almost all those men have their wives here with them. Children too. Next door are the Bulgarians, and they brought their families. It’s a normal street where people live and make love and raise their children. It can be a good life.”
Having her in his arms felt amazing. He wanted to hold her, support her, linger long into the night wrapped around her.
“Benedict, this is all too new,” she said. “What if we tried it out first?”
He practically dropped her in shock. “Share a bedroom?” There’d be no chance of an annulment in such a case.
“No,” Inga said, twisting a little bit, a sign she wanted to get down. Her heels clicked on the floor, and she turned to face him. “What if we just toy around with the idea of it? We hold hands, flirt, pretend to like each other.”
It was a battle, but he stopped himself from laughing. “You want me to pretend that I like you?”
“Yes,” she said, a little excitement coming back into her eyes. “I know it may be challenging for you, Cold Oats, but let’s try. Can we?”
It would be flirting with danger. Cracking open the veneer of reserve and letting Inga in was tempting fate, and yet he was willing to risk it.
“Excellent idea, Miss Klein. We shall begin tomorrow.”