Chapter Sixteen #2
“But there could be any number of reasons why so much time passed between the first murder and the others,” Amity said. “Maybe the killer was simply not in London. Perhaps he was at his estates in the country. Or traveling somewhere in the Far East or America.”
“Yes.” Benedict tightened his grip on her.
“Yes, maybe there is a very good reason why he did not commit any murders for several months. That is a very important piece of the puzzle, one that should not be too difficult to investigate. We are looking for male friends and relatives of the people on the Channing guest list who were out of town for approximately eight months this past year.”
“Do you really think we can discover that information?”
“We will need some additional assistance from my uncle and my brother, but it can be done.” Benedict turned her in his arms. “We will find the killer, Amity. I will not rest until I know you are safe.”
She smiled. “I know.” She put her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to brush her mouth against his. “I know.”
He framed her face with his hands and kissed her with such fierce urgency that she felt as if he had literally stolen her breath away.
Very deliberately he set her aside and tried the door of the stable. Amity was surprised when it opened easily. Warm air flowed out of the opening, carrying the scents of hay and horses. Moonlight poured down through the windows that lined the walls.
“Definitely finer accommodations than many that I have enjoyed in my travels,” Amity said.
Benedict laughed.
There was some rustling in the stalls. Several horses put their heads over the top of the half doors and nickered softly. Amity smiled. She stripped off her gloves and went forward to stroke the nose of one of the beasts.
“These are very beautiful animals,” she said. “They must have cost Gilmore a fortune.”
“He can afford it.” Benedict inspected the moonlit scene with evident interest. “He prides himself not only on his horses but also on the architecture of his stables. Very modern in design. I understand this place is heated with hot water pipes embedded in the floor.”
She hid a smile. She had been thinking that the elegant stables offered a rather intimate, even romantic setting. Trust an engineer to look at things somewhat differently.
“It is pleasantly warm in here,” she said. “It reminds me a bit of St. Clare. Without the waves crashing on the shore, of course.”
“Or the damn insects.”
She laughed and moved down the row of stalls to pat the next horse in line. “I expect your memories of St. Clare are somewhat affected by the fact that you took a bullet on the island.”
Benedict came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her back against his chest and put his mouth very close to her left ear.
“You may be right,” he said, his voice low and excitingly rough around the edges. “All I know is that I don’t care if I never step foot on another tropical island. But the prospect of not being able to kiss you again? Now, that would crush my spirits forever.”
She shivered but not because she was cold. A delicious heat was stirring deep inside her.
“I would not want to be responsible for flattening anything about you, Mr. Stanbridge, least of all your spirits,” she said.
He turned her slowly around to face him. His eyes were darkly brilliant in the moonlit shadows.
“I am very grateful to hear that, Miss Doncaster. More grateful than you can possibly imagine.”
He folded her close and kissed her again.
He went about it slowly this time, carefully, as if he was afraid of trampling her delicate sensibilities.
But she was no stranger to his kisses now and she had been dreaming about them for too long.
Curiosity and a rush of recklessness were driving her tonight.
From the first moment she had seen him in the alley on St. Clare she had been very certain that she would never meet another man like Benedict Stanbridge.
If she did not drink from the sparkling spring of desire with him, she might never taste those forbidden waters.
She put her arms around his waist and gave herself up to the embrace with the sense of exhilaration and excitement she always experienced when he touched her.
He must have felt the heat of the flames that were sweeping through her because his mouth was suddenly, devastatingly hot on hers.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the far end of the aisle of horse stalls.
There he stood her on her feet. He removed the coat from her shoulders.
She watched him take a pristine white handkerchief out of one pocket.
Then he took out another object and set it aside.
She heard the soft clink of metal and caught a glimpse of moonlight glinting on the barrel of a gun.
No wonder the coat had felt so heavy. He spread it across a pile of straw.
She was about to ask him if he needed the handkerchief because he feared the hay might cause him to sneeze, but then he wrapped his arms around her again and kissed her, silencing the question.
She was fascinated and enthralled by the electric currents that swirled and roiled just beneath the surface of the man. They aroused her in ways she had never dreamed possible.
His hands moved on her, following the shape of her from breasts to waist. She felt his fingers searching for the hooks that closed the front of the gown.
A moment later the stiff bodice fell open revealing the thin lawn camisole beneath.
When he touched her breasts through the light fabric, everything inside her tightened.
“Benedict,” she whispered.
He eased the gown downward until it tumbled into a sea of satin and silk around her ankles. He untied the petticoat with its small bustle and let both undergarments fall away. She was left clad in the filmy camisole, stockings and drawers.
“You are so lovely,” Benedict said. He drew his hands up her arms until he reached her throat. He framed her face between his palms and kissed her with reverent hunger.
Shaken, she clutched at his shoulders to steady herself. His black bow tie appeared in stark contrast to his crisp white shirt. She fumbled with the tie until she got it undone. The ends trailed around his neck.
She went to work on the fastenings of his shirt.
When she finally got it open, she slid her hands inside.
Her fingers brushed lightly across his chest. She thrilled to the feel of his sleek muscles and warm skin.
She had not touched him so intimately since the days and nights on the ship when she had nursed him through the fever and changed the bloody bandages.
It was so good to find him strong and healthy once again, she thought.
But when her questing fingers discovered the raised, scarred skin that marked the now-healed wound, Benedict sucked in a sharp breath.
She flinched and swiftly moved her hand away from the scar. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
“No.” He caught one of her hands and flattened her palm against his chest again.
“No, it’s all right. The wound is still a little tender but you did not hurt me.
When you touched me there, I was reminded of the night I awoke from the fever to see you curled up in a chair, watching over me.
I knew then that you had saved my life.”
She smiled. “The first thing you wanted to know after you concluded that you were not dead was if the letter was safe.”
“And you assured me that it was still hidden in your satchel.”
He drew her down onto the bed of straw. They lay together on his coat. In the moonlight she could see the dark heat of sexual desire in his eyes.
“I am not in the grip of a fever tonight.” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she tumbled across his chest. “And the only pain I am experiencing at the moment is the sort caused by desire. Tonight I know exactly what I am doing. I want you, Amity, more than I have ever wanted any woman in my life.”
A thrilling awareness flashed through her. She clutched his shoulders and met his eyes, letting him know that she was ready for the adventure that awaited her.
“I want you, as well,” she said. “More than anything or anyone.”
He pulled her head down to his and kissed her again, a heavy, drugging kiss that ignited her senses.
She felt his hands glide up her thighs under the hem of the camisole.
When he touched her intimately between her legs it was her turn to take a sharp, astonished breath, but she did not relax her grip on his shoulders.
Everything inside her seemed to be melting.
He stroked her in places where no man had ever touched her, eliciting sensations that she had sensed existed but had never really known.
She was an experienced traveler but this was one journey she had never undertaken, perhaps because she had never encountered the right travel companion, she thought.
But tonight everything felt right. This was the man, the place and the time.
Those factors might never come together again.
She must seize the moment or forever regret her failure of nerve.
An unfamiliar tension was building inside her. She knew Benedict’s hand was wet from the damp heat he had drawn forth with his touch. Part of her was embarrassed, but he certainly did not seem to mind and she was too excited to pull away.
He turned her onto her back and leaned over her, probing her gently. His mouth closed over one breast and she found herself arching against him in a silent plea for more.
He released her to open the front of his trousers. A shock of uncertainty went through her when she saw the hard, rigid length of him revealed in the silver light.
“I’m not sure—” she began.
He loomed over her again, blocking out the moonlight, and silenced her with a kiss.
“Touch me,” he said against her mouth. “You don’t know how I have longed to feel your hand on me.”
Cautiously she encircled him with her fingers. He groaned. She started to move her hand slowly, experimentally. His breathing grew harsh in her ears, as if he was having to exert enormous control. His brow was as damp with sweat as it had been when he was in the grip of the fever.
He raised his head. In the deep shadows his face was stark and intense. His eyes gleamed with a dark desire. Knowing that he wanted her so badly was all it took to overcome the last vestiges of her uncertainty.
He stroked her until she was breathless. Until the tension inside her was wound so tight she thought she could not bear it any longer. She sank her nails into his shoulders.
Her release blindsided her. Without warning the tight, heavy, throbbing sensation inside her burst forth in a series of pulsing waves. A rush of euphoric surprise took her by storm and suddenly she was flying.
Benedict braced himself above her and used one hand to guide himself to her core. He thrust into her in one long, relentless stroke.
The invasion brought her crashing back to earth. She gave a small, choked shriek and instinctively tried to pull away. Her nails became claws on the front of Benedict’s shirt.
Benedict gripped her hips tightly, anchoring her.
“Relax,” he urged. He rested his damp forehead on hers. “Just relax.”
For a moment she dared not move. Neither did he.
She could feel the fierce knots of the muscles of his back beneath her hands.
He was struggling for control of his passions while he waited for her to get over the initial shock.
The knowledge that he was forced to work so hard to restrain himself reassured her.
Slowly her body adjusted to him. Taking a quick breath, she dared to wriggle a little in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.
Benedict groaned and started to move, cautiously at first and then with increasing confidence.
She found the sensation strange and uncomfortable but no longer intolerable.
“Are you all right?” he said into her ear.
“I think so,” she said. “It is certainly no worse than riding a camel.”
He uttered an exclamation that sounded like a cross between a growl and a laugh. And then he began to move more rapidly, increasing the speed and power of each thrust until she was once again breathless, once again clinging to him for dear life.
He drove into her one last time. Everything about him went taut, his sleek back bowed. And then he stunned her by wrenching free of her tightly stretched body. He spent himself into the handkerchief, his climax raging through him in powerful waves that seemed to go on forever.
When it was over Benedict collapsed beside her. His eyes were closed. In spite of the discomfort and the uncertainty of the future, the sheer wonder of the moment thrilled her.
She had just made one of life’s most mysterious journeys and discovered what lay at the end of the adventure. She knew now what it was like to take a lover.