Chapter Seven
She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but slumber hit her as hard and as swift as a tree falling in the forest.
The emotional whirlwind of showing up at the Lyon’s Den, purchasing a husband—who happened to be the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on and who apparently had no known flaw except arrogance—and almost being shaken down by highwaymen had caught up to her.
So when she let her head momentarily relax back against the squabs, her eyes closed for but a second before she was out.
And if she had known the dreams she would have, she would have fought a little more to stay awake. Surely she wouldn’t have leaned her head back. Without a doubt, she would not have closed her eyes. And with the utmost certainty she would never—upon her life—let her body relax into slumber.
No.
No. She would not have. Because in her dreams, the most alarming events occurred. That handsome face appeared. Cocky as ever. With a smug look on his face that heated her from the inside out.
They were back in the room where they had met. Only…he wasn’t keeping his distance. Like a predator, he approached. Cautiously. Yet with great intention. Nay. Not great intentions. Salacious intentions.
She could see the fire in his eyes. Black. Smoldering.
Even from where she stood, two feet away, her skin prickled. No man of her choosing had ever returned her affections.
Yet here was the man destined to be her sister’s husband, and he was eyeing her as if she were an edible available for consumption.
“Amelia,” he drawled, “do you really think that I would let you take me home to marry your sister when you’re the one I want.”
Her chest heaved. Shook. Rattled. While her fingers trembled at her side, she mustered her will to resist him. “It’s not meant to be between us.”
“I was never one to be fond of fate.”
“But you can’t—”
“I can do whatever I want. So can you. You’re a free person, Amelia. Right here with me. Alone. You can do whatever you want.”
She knew it wasn’t true. She was a lady. An elder sister. She had responsibilities. She had duties. She had gales of winds worth of expectations that drove the ship she sailed. And try as she might to fight the wind, at some point, it was futile.
“I can’t,” she mumbled.
Hope flickered in Benedict’s face. “Can’t what? Tell me.”
Why was this happening? Right. This was a dream.
Her dream. He was fulfilling her deepest desires, yet at the most inopportune time.
For the first time in her life, the man she was attracted to was seemingly attracted to her.
Desired her. But she couldn’t act on it.
He had to marry her sister to save her from the scandal she was in.
It would do no good for Amelia to have spent all this money on a duke to save them, only for her to take him as her own.
But…
This was a dream.
And it was her dream.
And it would never become a reality.
So…was there any harm in just thinking about it?
“I can’t have you, Benedict.”
“Ah…so you do want me?”
At her lack of response, Benedict continued. “I thought perhaps I had seen a woman with a backbone. The determined type who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.”
“You thought wrong. Though I am determined, I’ll stop at nothing to save the ones I love.”
“And what about you?” He stepped closer, drew a finger up to her cheek, and let it trail down her neck. “Shouldn’t you love yourself as well?”
“I-I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” His hand snaked around her back. “Hmmm?”
Her head tilted back to gaze up at him as she felt herself losing against her will.
“I think I know the real problem. Perhaps you simply don’t know how to take what you want.”
Well…that much was true, but she wasn’t about to say that.
“Just let yourself feel.” He stepped closer, pressing himself against her, and tingles rose up along her limbs.
“Feel the warmth? The heat?”
In an attempt to answer in the affirmative, she whimpered. Yes. She could feel it. It was practically singeing her skin. The juncture between her legs was hotter than it had ever been before.
“How does it feel?”
“It feels…achy.” With how breathy she sounded, she hardly recognized her voice.
“What do you want to do about it, Amelia?” His voice was soft in her ear.
“I don’t know.” Confusion reigned in her mind. Of course she wanted him. She wanted him to show her everything he knew about taking care of this ache. It was a dream. There were no consequences.
But.
At the thought of consequences, she paused in her dream. Of course there were consequences. She would have to live with this man for the foreseeable future. Holidays. Visits. Social gatherings. And more. She couldn’t be dreaming about him.
“I have to stop, Benedict.” Five of the most painful words to leave her lips. “I have to.”
“Stop.”
“Have to.”
“Stop—”
“Amelia?” A clear voice rang through the haze of her dreams. A warm hand was shaking her shoulder. And not from a distance. From being wrapped around her.
“Amelia, wake up. The carriage has stopped. We’ve arrived.”
And that was the moment she lifted her head. Not from the leather squabs upon which she had first fallen asleep.
No.
Instead, she had lifted her head from the warm cedarwood and spice scented shoulder belonging to none other than her sister’s soon-to-be betrothed.