Chapter Six
“Are we going to get to know each other at all or shall I just attempt reading your mind?” Benedict hadn’t waited more than five minutes before asking his question.
Amelia sat ramrod straight, staring at the dark cushions in front of her. Only a small sliver of light had broken into the carriage as they started their journey.
“You don’t need to know me. You only need to know my sister.”
“I beg to differ—”
“You would.”
“I do. And as I was saying, if we’re about to be family, I think it prudent to know you a little better.
” Could it be that Damien was rubbing off on him?
If it had been anyone else, Benedict would have been fine to sit on a quiet ride for a few hours.
But since it was her, the one whose skin he wanted to get under, he wasn’t going to sit in silence.
Even if it was only his voice the entire trip.
“If you’re planning to talk my ear off, go ahead. I’m the elder sister, remember? I’m used to a younger sibling’s best attempts to annoy me.”
“Are you comfortable?” The sudden change in topic had her twisting her head to throw him a dubious look.
“Yes. Quite.”
“You don’t look comfortable.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s going to be a couple of hours. You don’t want to take your slippers off and curl up under a blanket? I’m sure you have one in here.” He looked around, lifting the cushions in front of him to reveal a hidden storage space along with a well-worn blanket.
“It wouldn’t be proper.”
Yes. Exactly. That was it, wasn’t it?
“And that’s what it’s all about for you?”
“Yes.”
“Except that you’re here. Buying me. Ensconced in scandal.”
“Not by choice.”
“Everything is a choice, Amelia.”
He set the blanket over her lap softly, watching her shoulders relax at the warmth it provided. It was summer, but nights still grew a little chilly.
It might have been his imagination, but he thought she mumbled a thank you.
Nope. It was definitely his imagination because in a second, she was leaning forward grabbing a second blanket.
“And this,” she turned toward him, tucking the blanket around his thighs in a most patronizing fashion, “is for you.”
He had a couple of options here.
Say thank you.
Throw the blanket off.
Laugh.
Growl at her for being so defiant.
He opted for the golden rule. “Thank you, Amelia. How very provisional of you. See? I’m learning about you already.”
Upon returning to her sitting position, she may have harrumphed, but she did wrap the blanket back around herself.
“You’re the responsible one. The caretaker. You wear the world on your shoulders—”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know more than you think.” And he did. He could see her because she was like him.
Silence filled the carriage for a while, and the bumps of the road lulled them into a dozing state. Until they lurched to a stop. A small burst of commotion and yelling could be heard from outside.
And for some reason, the worst possible scenario flooded Benedict’s mind.
“Quick.” He stood, hauling Amelia to her feet. “Crawl into this space and don’t say a word.”
“I will do no such thing.” Her blanket pooled at her feet.
“Amelia, this is your life we’re talking about. Hide,” he growled. “Now.”
Fury and fear flashed across her eyes, but he watched as she obediently folded her small frame to hide under the cushions.
The strangest thought followed as he took in her actions.
He wondered in what other ways she might be obedient with him.
There was no time for such a thought. He shoved it aside.
The light thump of the cushions closing triggered him to sit down and wrap himself in the blankets. Two blankets for one man? But he didn’t have time to think about how foolish that might make him look.
The door swung open.
More than half expecting to hear the phrase, Stand and Deliver, Benedict was preparing his reply. First and foremost the explanation for the blankets.
But instead of the warning pronouncement he heard, “Might bit cold, Your Grace?”
The driver gave him an odd look. Then glanced around. “Where’s the lady?”
Benedict watched as the cushions began to move and sat atop them, just in case there were highwaymen out there and this was all a ploy. “What’s the problem? Is there any danger?”
“Just had to stop suddenly at a drunkard coming out of the bushes. Took some yelling and then the rascal cleared out. Just came back here to make sure you two were alright.” He wiped his forehead as he looked around the dark space.
“Are you two alright?” There was no doubt that his tone was riddled with doubt.
“I’d feel better if I saw the lady, you know, so I don’t have to put a fist in your face. Your Grace.” He tagged on.
“I’m fine,” came a muffled sound. “Oomph.”
Since it seemed as though there was no danger, Benedict lifted himself off the storage space and returned to his seat, thus freeing Amelia.
She rose from the cushions, swiping at her face to clear the hair. “I’m fine,” she grumbled, but flashed a polite—if not sweet—smile at the driver. “I’m happy to hear someone is here to protect me.”
The driver nodded, closed the door, and left.
Amelia teetered as the driver pulled on the carriage to climb aboard. She grasped at the curtains before she begrudgingly squeaked out a strained, “Help.”
Benedict was on his feet in a flash, hands around her waist. Well, he had meant to reach for her waist, but in the chaos his hands had slid quite a bit higher than her waist. In fact, his thumbs could feel the sides of her breasts as he heard her breath catch in her throat.
“I’ve got you, Amelia.” His voice was raspy.
When had that happened? His fingers burned into her ribs as his grip tightened.
And he was in a state of turmoil for he wanted to keep his hands exactly where they were, yet at the same time he wanted to brush back the lock of hair that was currently caught between her lips.
He swore a small whimper escaped her mouth at his words. Or was it his touch?
But then she rolled her lips together and repeated her earlier declaration. “I’m fine.”
“Yes. You are.” With the slow withdrawal of his hands, he guided her back toward her seat.
Fine was one thing. And she may be it, but in that moment Benedict felt anything but fine.