Chapter Twenty-One
“How did I ever resist you?” Benedict murmured against her neck, loving the soft silky feel of her skin.
“I’m sure it was just like every other man on the planet. Quite easy to do.”
He squeezed his arms around her waist. “Resisting you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I thought…I…well, I misjudged you. I thought you were going to be something else.
That’s the only way I could resist. But once I started to see the real you, I knew I couldn’t hold out. I knew I would break.”
“I suppose I wasn’t much better. I also misjudged you. The first time I saw you, despite thinking immediately that you were handsome, I was searching for a flaw. I thought you were rude and arrogant.”
“I do come across that way.”’
“Especially when you dismiss a man without speaking to him.”
“What?”
“At the Lyon’s Den. I watched various men approach you, but you wouldn’t give them the time of day.”
“Those men were not worth my time.” He took a deep sigh and raked his hand through his hair. “In fact, they were—”
The loud and unexpected sound of horses outside pulled Amelia off of his lap. Together they walked toward the window to see Arabella standing up looking at a man on horseback riding like the wind.
Promptly forgetting their current conversation, Benedict listened as Amelia pondered aloud, “That’s not my father…nor would it be. He’s not returning for a few days.”
The man looked awfully familiar. Almost like—
Benedict rushed out the door. What the hell was he doing here? It couldn’t be.
The loud rustling of Amelia’s crumpled skirts told him that she wasn’t far behind him.
Crossed between curiosity and panic, Benedict dashed down the front steps onto the gravel to stand next to Arabella.
“She’s coming!” The man on horseback shouted, desperate. Out of breath. He threw himself off of his horse and landed in a clump on the ground.
“Who’s coming?” Amelia asked.
“Who are you?” Arabella’s question, though voiced, was lost in the chaos.
“Damien,” Benedict dropped to his knees to assist his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s coming,” he repeated on shallow breaths. “Benedict.” His friend gripped his shoulder tightly. A warning. “I tried.” He gasped for breath. “To stop her.”
“Just breathe, Damien.” But his friend only shook his head.
“You have less than an hour before she arrives.”
“What? Here?” Incredulity had never taken over his voice so triumphantly.
“Yes. She knows. About the Lyon’s Den.” Damien’s breath was returning, thus lengthening his sentences. “I don’t know how she found out, but she knows.”
It should have been impossible, but somehow she knew. He could only think of the one connection. “Her brothers.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop her.”
“No one can,” he murmured.
“What’s going on Benedict?”
For the first time in the last few minutes he realized that the two sisters had been privy to their exchange. Though, undoubtedly, they still knew nothing.
“Who’s coming?” Amelia’s eyes were wide with concern and her hand had a tight grip on her forearm.
This wasn’t how he had intended to tell his future wife about his past secrets. About the dark cloud that had been hanging over his head for far too long. The dark clouds that had only recently dispersed.
Since meeting Amelia, he had finally given himself over to the sun again. But now he had to face this. There was no other way.
And it wasn’t going to be easy. It was never easy with her. Susannah. He shuddered at the mere thought of her.
“Benedict, I’m worried.”
Yes. She had every right to be worried. This was the worst thing that could happen to them both right now.
He watched as Amelia shifted on her feet. Concern sketched on her face. “Who’s coming?”
Much as it pained him, he had to tell her the truth.
“My ex-wife.”