Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Do you suppose Penny and Inspector Logan will find some suspects on that guest list?” Amity asked.
Benedict assisted her into the carriage. He liked the feel of her delicate, elegantly gloved fingers resting trustfully in his hand, he realized.
“There is no knowing the answer to that question yet,” he said. “As Logan pointed out, that list is merely a starting point. The sooner we conclude this visit to my uncle, the sooner we can come back here and see what your sister and Logan have discovered.”
Amity stepped quickly into the shadowed interior. When she twitched the cloak and the green skirts of her gown out of the way, he caught a glimpse of her dainty high-heeled boots. The prospect of being alone with her in the intimate confines of the carriage heated his blood.
With an effort he suppressed the stirring hunger and spoke to the driver.
“Ashwick Square, please.”
“Aye, sir.”
Benedict climbed up into the cab, sat down across from Amity and pulled the door closed.
The lamps were turned down low. The soft light gleamed on Amity’s hair and created inviting shadows.
He wondered if she knew how tantalizing she looked sitting there in the warm darkness.
It was, he reflected, extremely unfortunate that they were on the way to Ashwick Square and what would no doubt be a lengthy interview.
He would have preferred some other destination tonight—any other destination—provided it would give him some privacy with Amity.
Also a bed, he thought. A bed would certainly be nice.
It had been far too long since that kiss on board the Northern Star. The memory of the embrace had sustained him for the past few weeks. But now that he was with her again memories were no longer sufficient to quell the urgent, reckless need that she aroused in him.
“Did you miss me these past weeks, Amity?” he asked.
Because he had to know, he thought. He had to know that their time together had been important to her, not just a passing flirtation. He realized that everything inside him had gone still waiting for the answer.
She looked at him, flustered. He knew he had caught her off guard.
“I was naturally concerned about your well-being,” she said.
“I missed you.”
She stared at him. In the shadows it was impossible to read her expression.
“Did you?” she asked.
Her voice was as unreadable as her eyes.
“While I was away from you I frequently thought about our time together on the ship,” he said. “I enjoyed it very much.” He paused. “Well, perhaps not those first few days when I was recovering from a gunshot wound. But aside from that—”
“I found our time together quite pleasant, as well,” she said quickly. “After I was assured that your wound would not become infected, of course.”
“I recovered from my wound because of you. I will never forget that.”
She clasped her gloved hands together very tightly and gave him a sharp, decidedly cross look.
“I do wish you would stop saying that,” she said. “Really, sir, things are bad enough as they are. If it’s all the same to you, I would prefer that you don’t add your sense of gratitude to the list of things I have to worry about. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”
Her flash of anger stunned him.
“You fault me for feeling grateful?” he asked.
“Yes. No. Oh, never mind.” She unlinked her fingers and waved the entire matter aside with a single, sweeping motion of one hand.
“There is no point trying to explain things. At the moment we are caught up together in this tangle and we must contrive to get through it.” She sighed.
“We do seem to be making a habit of jumping from one complicated situation to another, don’t we? ”
“Yes.”
She cleared her throat. “I do apologize for sticking you with this temporary engagement of ours. It was quite generous of you to suggest it, to say nothing of your determination to protect me from the Bridegroom. If you feel that you owe me anything at all for my assistance on St. Clare—which you don’t, I hasten to add—then rest assured you have repaid the debt.
Assuming there was a debt. Which there was not. ”
Anger slammed through him. A chill gripped his insides. He leaned forward and flattened both hands on the seat cushion behind her head, caging her.
“Let me make one thing very clear,” he said. “I do not want your gratitude, just as you aren’t keen on mine.”
There was a short, startled silence. But she made no move to escape him. Instead, she watched him closely for a moment and then she gave him a misty smile.
“I suppose we had better cease thanking each other for past and current favors or we shall both grow increasingly irritable and out of sorts,” she said. “That would not be helpful for our investigation. Strong emotions always cloud one’s thinking.”
He suddenly felt warm again.
“We are agreed, on that one point,” he said.
“There will be no more expressions of gratitude. But I’m not so sure that I can promise not to experience some strong emotions when it comes to you.
Every time I remember that kiss the last night on board, for example, I am unable to focus on anything else. ”
“Benedict,” she whispered. She sounded breathless.
“Please tell me that you remember it, too.”
Her lips parted. For a moment she appeared bereft of speech. But he was not surprised when she recovered with relative speed. This was Amity, after all. She was never at a loss for words for long.
“I think of it often,” she assured him. “But I was not certain that you would also contemplate it from time to time.”
“I have relived that kiss every day and every night for the past month and a half. And every time I recall it, I want nothing more than to repeat the experience.”
Her eyes were as warm and sultry as the tropical nights in the Caribbean. She did not move.
“I have absolutely no objection to a second kiss,” she said.
“I cannot tell you how I have longed to hear you say that.”
With his hands still planted on either side of her head he leaned forward and brushed his mouth across hers. She parted her lips a little.
“Benedict,” she whispered.
He took his hands away from the seat cushion and shifted to sit beside her. Very deliberately he pulled her into his arms.
She came to him with a tiny, half-stifled gasp and a sweet enthusiasm that was more than gratifying—it reassured him as no words could have done. Her heated response made it clear that she had not forgotten the passion that had flared between them that last night.
“I was so worried about you these past weeks,” she said against his mouth.
He groaned. “As it turns out, I am the one who had cause to worry. All that time away from you I told myself that at least you were safe here in London. Little did I know.”
He took her mouth, savoring the warmth and softness he found there.
She was shivering ever so slightly. He knew it was not because she was cold.
An answering shudder of need swept through him.
The world and the night narrowed until all that mattered was what was happening in the intimate sphere of reality that existed inside the carriage.
But he was also aware that his time with Amity tonight was limited.
They would arrive at their destination too soon.
“I wish we were back on the Northern Star,” he said against her throat. “I would give anything to have the entire night with you.”
“I dearly miss the freedom I know when I travel abroad,” she said. She speared her fingers through his hair. “I vow, London is worse than any corset. It constricts and binds and confines until it is difficult to breathe.”
“You were meant to be out in the world, not trapped in the prison that is London Society.”
“Yes,” she said. She sounded pleased that he understood. “I am, indeed, a woman of the world. I cannot live my life by Society’s rules.”
He breathed in her unique, intoxicating scent and then took her earlobe gently between his teeth. She gripped his shoulders and kissed his throat. The low-burning fire that had been smoldering inside him for weeks flashed into flames.
He took her mouth again, savoring the taste of her, and slipped one hand inside her cloak. He wrapped his fingers around her sleek rib cage and edged upward, seeking the soft weight of her breast. But all he could feel was the rigid armor of the stays that shaped the bodice of her gown.
“Damnation,” he muttered. “You did not wear clothes like this when you were on board the ship.”
“Of course not.” She laughed and pressed her face against his shoulder. “When I travel I wear practical gowns. However, my sister’s dressmaker insisted on the stays in this dress.”
“She may as well have appointed herself your invisible chaperone.”
“Dressmakers can be astonishingly tyrannical, especially those who are known for being fashionable. They have reputations to uphold and Penny tells me one defies them at one’s peril.”
“I admit a man’s tailor can be equally dictatorial.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I do not think that either of us was intended to live by Society’s rules.”
The sweet laughter faded from her eyes.
“Nevertheless, we seem to be bound by them,” she said. “It is because of those rules that you find yourself engaged to me.”
He smiled slowly. “The thing about rules is that they are made to be broken. And very often they even provide a means to do just that.”
“You are starting to sound like an engineer again.”
“It strikes me that the very rule that has made it necessary for us to announce our engagement is the same one that allows us certain liberties that we would not otherwise enjoy—at least not without paying a price.”
She started to smile again. “For example?”
“For example, you could not be alone with me in this carriage without enduring severe damage to your reputation if it were not for the fact that we are engaged to be married.”
“Ah, yes, I understand.”