Chapter Twenty
El’s fingers dug into his flanks as he moved inside her, her breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts, each one forcing a whine from her. She thrashed her head against the pillow, her thighs squeezing him and her heels digging into his thighs.
She was hot and wet and tight, and he was about to lose his mind. She’d already come once and he was desperate to work her to another. He wanted to feel her tighten around him again, wanted again the way she squeezed and rippled around him when she came.
He shoved her leg higher on his hip, and the change in angle as he fucked up into her made her keen. “That’s it, love. Give me another,” he growled.
“Benedict,” she screamed, her body bowing as she seized beneath him, her core clenching him as she came. His own orgasm stormed through him and he wrenched himself from her, a roar bellowing from him as he came, shuddering against her as she wrung him dry.
Collapsing on his stomach beside her, he gathered his breath, his heart racing and his body languid. Christ, she did this to him every time. He felt her fingers trailing up his back and, turning his head, he gave her an exhausted grin. “Best ever, El.”
She smiled back. “You say that every time.”
“That’s because every time it’s true.” Leaning over, he kissed her lips and then collapsed again by her side.
Rising above him, she leant so her hair formed a cage around them. “Perhaps we can improve upon that.”
He closed his eyes as her lips brushed his temple.
She kissed his eyelids next, and then his cheek, murmuring wordlessly as her mouth traced his jaw, the chord of his neck.
Flattening her hand over his heart, she placed a kiss on his breastbone, the organ racing beneath her touch. And then she went lower.
His cock, so recently sated, stirred. He could not believe he was ready to go again, however it was El. Of course he wanted her. Always. “Where are you going?” he said thickly.
The grin he got was so very wicked. Her head moved lower, her hair trailing over his overheated flesh. Gathering the bedclothes in his fist, he prepared for sweet torture.
The sound of a door closing echoed through the house.
El’s head shot up, her expression frozen.
Footsteps sounded, abnormally loud in the stillness of the empty house.
A horrified look on her face, El leapt from the bed, taking the sheet with her and leaving him exposed. “Who is that?” she hissed, wrapping the sheet about her.
He pulled a pillow over his groin, uncomfortable with being nude in this circumstance. Usually, he loved her eyes upon him when he was naked, however the wildness in them now negated that. “I do not know. No one should come here.”
“Someone has, Benedict!” she said, her voice on the edge of hysteria.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “It must be my brother. Or a servant. Or my brother.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’ll…investigate.”
“You cannot go like that.” She gesticulated frantically at his nakedness.
“Yes. Of course.” Locating his breeches, he pulled them and then dropped his shirt over his head for good measure. He hesitated. “Maybe he will not come up here. ”
“And maybe he will.”
“Right. Right.” He forced his brain to work. He couldn’t let whoever it was discover El. “Stay here.”
Her look stated clearly he was insane if he thought she would do anything other than that.
Shoving his hands through his hair to give it some semblance of order—El loved gripping his hair when they made love—he made his way down the stairs.
The sounds of another person in the house led him to the drawing room.
His step faltered. It was his brother. He cursed under his breath.
This was going to be awful. It had been years since he had been caught by the Earl doing something he ought not and here he was, thirty years of age and about to be subjected to condescension and a lecture.
Only for El would he humble himself before his brother.
Entering the room, he announced, “Walking into someone else’s house without announcing oneself is rude, brother.’
The Earl started, surprise written all over his face. “Benedict? What are you doing there?” Taking in Benedict’s dishevelment, he raised a brow. “Or do I even need to ask?”
“I am in my house, where I had an expectation of privacy. However, it appears my brother feels he can enter whenever he likes.”
“I was under the impression you had not accepted this house, as you still reside in mine and remain unwed.”
He refused to cow before his brother. He was a grown man, and what he and El did here was no one’s business but theirs. “Was there a reason you are come to Caraney House?”
“I had a report of trespassing, but it seems my brother is the one loitering.” He raised a brow. “Care to explain? Although judging by your lack of dress, I can surmise why you are here.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, if you’ve surmised such, you can see for yourself there is no trespassing and can be on your way.”
The Earl ignored him. “I had not heard you had taken a mistress. Does she know you are to marry?”
“I am not to marry, and it is no business of yours if I have a mistress or not.”
“Does Lady Eleanor know of your activities?”
Benedict froze. “What do you mean?” he said as evenly as he could.
His brother regarded him steadily. “You are not fucking it up with her, are you?”
The shock of his brother swearing momentarily robbed him of words. “How would I be fucking it up with her? Fucking what up? El knows I put her above all others.” She did know that, did she not? Christ. Maybe he should tell her, just to be certain.
“God save me from those who wilfully will not see,” the Earl muttered. “Rebecca better bloody appreciate what I am enduring.” Sighing, his brother rubbed his forehead. “Benedict, I will turn a blind eye to this, however I expect you to end this liaison and focus fully on finding a bride.”
“You cannot demand—”
“You will end this, Benedict. I will not have this house used in such a manner. It is for your future bride, not for whoever you are currently fucking.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” he growled.
The Earl lifted a brow. “I do not know this woman, Benedict. I shall speak of her as I wish. Unless she means more to you than a bedmate? Perhaps she will be your bride?”
He didn’t know how to answer that.
The Earl nodded. “I have previously turned a blind eye to my siblings’ romantic entanglements—I do recall what it is like to be unmarried and unencumbered—but there is only so much I will tolerate.
I shall expect you to being courting in earnest at our next event.
I will send servants to clean up after you. We will see you at dinner tonight?”
Setting his jaw, he nodded sharply. What else was he to say?
The Earl returned his nod. “Excellent. I shall see you then.” Turning on his heel, he left.
As soon as he heard the front door close, he rushed from the room. Taking the stairs two at a time, he strode for the bedchamber only to stop dead once he shoved the door open.
El had disappeared.
Christ, where was she? “El?” Frantic, he strode through the room toward the door to the dressing room. “El?”
Before he could reach it, she emerged from the room, dressed in the gown he’d stripped from her. Her hair had been shoved into a haphazard knot, though it threatened to fall at any moment. Her face was pale.
Wordlessly, she presented her back. The bodice gaped open, her chemise and stays on display.
Just as wordlessly, he stepped forward to fasten the line of buttons running down her back.
He did this for her after each one of their trysts, just as she would tie his cravat, teasing that she could hire out as a valet with such skill.
Usually, he would place a kiss at her nape and she would smile, turning to drape her arms over his shoulders and kiss him.
This time, he did not place a kiss at her nape.
The moment he was done, she walked across the room toward her reticule and pelisse.
“It was the Earl. He is gone now,” he said as she picked up her pelisse.
“Yes. I heard the entrance door close,” she said tonelessly.
He watched as she donned the garment, fastened the buttons.
She had not looked at him, not once. With each layer she became the El everyone else saw and not the El he now knew, her dark hair a tangle about him and her, her pale skin flushed in the golden sunlight.
“El, you do not need to worry, he does not know—”
“He knows you were here. He knows you were undressed and he knows this house should be empty.”
“Well, yes, but…” he trailed off. What could he say? All of that was true.
She placed the bonnet on her head, shoving her hair out of sight. Now she looked completely the El everyone else saw. “Are you well?” he asked as she tied the ribbons.
She picked up her reticule. “Of course.”
Nothing about that short, flat statement was remotely convincing. “El, you do not—”
“I must now away, Benedict,” she interrupted. “Thank you for your time.”
“My time? El—” He bit off whatever it was he was going to say. She looked as if she desperately wanted to leave and he wasn’t going to keep her where she didn’t want to be. “May I call on you tomorrow?”
“Perhaps. I will send you a note.”
A note? He shoved his hand through his hair. “El—”
“I cannot,” she said, her voice high. “I cannot, Benedict. I must—” With a panicked bob, she fled the room.
Shoving his hands through his hair, he tried to make sense of what had just occurred. Christ, what had happened? Not moments ago they had been in bed, her grin wicked as she looked up at him from between his legs, and then his damned brother had clomped through the house and ruined it all to hell.
He laced his fingers at the back of his head. And now El had fled him, taking with her all the light. He had little hope she would send him a note. He knew El too well. He would be lucky if she let him see her at all over the next few days.
Bloody hell. Well, he would give her space to process what had happened. He himself felt rattled—he could only imagine how El felt. They had dodged a bullet and they would have to be more circumspect in the future.
Gathering his remaining clothing, he started to dress himself properly. These last few weeks he was well used to dressing himself without his valet, but his cravat would be a disaster. He didn’t have El to do it for him.
Fucking hell. His brother always ruined things.