Chapter 20 #2
As he climbed to his feet, she realised he was nursing a brandy of his own. Her heart gave its customary thud as she took in his shirt, opened at the collar, the sleeves rolled back, his chestnut hair mussed up where he’d run his fingers through it. It felt almost as if she’d caught him in bed.
He gave a belated nod of his head, murmuring, ‘Arabella,’ which to her overheated imagination sounded almost like a caress on his lips.
‘I…I’m sorry,’ she stuttered, ‘I couldn’t sleep and thought a small quantity of brandy might help.’ She backed away, adding, ‘I will leave you to your contemplations… Benedict.’
She quickly spun on her heel towards the door, only to stop at the sound of his voice, hoarse with… need? ‘Don’t go.’
For a few seconds, she remained still, her heart now beating a staccato against her ribs.
Then, slowly, she turned back to find him staring at her as though committing her face to memory.
It was too dark to see the expression in his green eyes, but his sudden indrawn breath as her robe slipped open couldn’t be mistaken.
With a gasp, she sought to close the robe with her free hand, fumbling with the ties.
She didn’t hear him move, but suddenly warm fingers took over, tying the laces with practised ease. Face afire, she stared at his chest as his hands drifted from the last ribbon to skim lightly over her shoulders. His grip was loose, making it clear she could free herself at any time if she wished.
She didn’t wish. Instead, she slowly raised her head, and this time the expression in his green eyes had her biting her bottom lip to prevent a wanton moan escaping.
Her nipples underneath the nightgown hardened to points, seemingly of their own accord, and she could feel a sudden trickle of liquid in that secret place between her legs.
All from a look.
Her breathing was reduced to short, jerky gasps as he lifted one hand to take the candlestick from her and stand it on a conveniently placed card table.
Then, after returning his hand to her shoulder, he slowly bent his head, his eyes never leaving hers, until his lips hovered less than an inch away.
She knew that the last was up to her. If she wanted to step away, he wouldn’t stop her.
Instead, she lifted her fingers and touched his cheek.
His nostrils flared slightly, then with a groan, his mouth came down the rest of the way, his lips plundering hers like a man desperate for water.
One arm snaked round the back of her head, holding her in place for his questing tongue, while the other slid down to cup her bottom, pressing her against him.
Gone were the tentative overtures, and Bella welcomed his lack of control, sliding her own arms up around his neck, her tongue meeting his, stroke for stroke, her lips opening, sliding against his.
Instinctively, she rubbed her core against the hardness between his legs, his hands helping her, manoeuvring her exactly where she needed to be.
As she writhed against him, whimpering in bewildered frustration, he slipped one hand between them and jerked up the front of her nightdress, his fingers quickly meeting bare skin.
At the feel of his fingers on her thighs, she dragged her mouth from his and stared into his face, panting, hardly daring to imagine his intention.
But her body knew, and without thinking she parted her legs, and seconds later, he slid a finger slowly, deep into her wetness while his thumb circled the small nub at the entrance to her core.
It was almost immediate. His mouth took hers again to muffle her cries as she instinctively rode out her pleasure against his fingers, until at long last, the tremors subsided and Bella jerked her mouth free, resting her head against his chest, sated and…
mortified. Especially when he slid his hand from her bare skin and smoothed down her nightgown.
She didn’t know how long they stood there. She was aware that whatever had happened to her had not happened to him – indeed, she could still feel the hardness between her thighs.
At length, she gathered her courage and lifted her head, expecting to see derision in his gaze. Instead, his expression was one of rueful tenderness. Slowly he lifted his hand and brushed a damp curl away from her face. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, ‘I should not have taken such liberties.’
Arabella’s stomach churned at the regret in his tone. She wanted to scream. He regretted what had just happened. Was that because she hadn’t satisfied him the way a woman should? Or because he didn’t want her to read anything into what he likely considered a quick tumble?
Fighting the urge to cry, she stepped back. ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she answered brightly, hating the brittleness of her voice. ‘It’s not as if anything actually happened.’ She gave a shrug, adding, ‘I’m hardly ruined after all.’
She barely registered his frown, intent as she was on ensuring she was fully covered up. She just wanted to get out. To run back to her own bedchamber and cry herself to sleep.
‘Arabella… Bella.’ She finally looked up as he repeated her name. Her eyes were smarting with tears, and her throat was tight with the effort of preventing a deluge. His gaze this time was more than simple regret, and her heart thudded in response.
She didn’t resist as he took hold of her hands. ‘I cannot in good conscience offer for you now,’ he murmured, gripping her hands tightly so she couldn’t pull them free. ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.’
For a second she didn’t register his words, then she looked at him in confusion as he took a deep breath.
‘We must see this thing through,’ he continued huskily, ‘and to plan a wedding during such a treacherous time would be foolish in the extreme - especially when there are no guarantees that I’ll be alive at the end of it.
’ Her eyes went wide before narrowing, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Ben held up his hand to stall her.
‘Please let me finish, Arabella.’ He took a deep breath.
‘How can I ask you to wait for me? I have no right to your affections. I…’
‘Ask me,’ Bella interrupted, cutting him off mid-flow.
‘Pardon?’
‘Ask me to wait for you.’
‘I cannot. It wouldn’t be fair… I am...’
‘…You are what? Affianced already?’
He shook his head emphatically.
‘So, do you actually want me to wait for you, or are you just trying to let me down gently?’ Bella's voice was blunt, rough with unshed tears. She was barely holding herself together and was actually fighting the urge to scream.
He didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, his voice was equally rough, but with anger instead of tears.
‘Yes, I want you to wait,’ he bit out. ‘Forever, if need be. But it would be unfair of me to ask it of you.’
‘Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?’ Bella whispered, no longer trying to stop the tears. ‘Ask me to wait for you.’
Ben stared at her, his heart suddenly, inexplicably filled with hope. He didn’t know what the future held, or whether he’d survive the coming months, but with Arabella Shackleford at his side, for the first time in his life, he felt that anything was possible.
‘I love you,’ he said simply, huskily.
Tears ran down her face as she smiled. ‘I love you too.’
The End
The Shacklefords will return in Beatrix – Book Three of Shackleford and Daughters