Chapter 8
When Bennet opened his eyes the next morning, he had two immediate thoughts. First, the woman with whom he was entwined was a singular gift. He’d always counted himself unlucky—there were usually bad surprises, rarely good. But this time, he’d found true good fortune, however fleeting.
Second, the sun was shining quite brilliantly, indicating it was indeed time for them to say goodbye.
She stirred in his arms, nuzzling his chest, then pressing her lips to his neck. That surprised him. She’d been wonderfully curious in her innocence, but not necessarily bold. At least not as bold as she was in other aspects.
“Do we have to get up?” she murmured against his skin, tickling him in the most marvelous way.
“Yes. Though I daresay we can delay it a bit.” He rolled to his back, and she pushed herself up to look down at him. Her blond hair fell in waves, caressing her face and his chest.
“And what shall we do with that delay?” She moved her leg over his, bringing her mound flush with his thigh. Her hips moved gently against him.
There was her boldness. Not that he’d doubted its existence.
His cock, already hard, lengthened against her thigh. “You must be sore from last night. We really shouldn’t.”
“We’ll never have the chance again,” she said, her voice a low rasp.
Why did she have to remind him? As if they had any sort of future.
He needed an heiress. And she didn’t even want to wed—he couldn’t very well ask her to conduct an endless liaison with him.
The truth was he didn’t want to wed either.
He had to in order to keep his family safe and secure.
If not for them, he’d let the estate crumble to the ground and the title die with him.
He didn’t want to subject anyone to his family—more specifically, their affliction—least of all her.
“Pru, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I should refuse, just as I should have last night, but I am utterly at your command.” He cupped her nape and pulled her down for a kiss.
She kissed him with blood-heating skill, and he bemoaned the fact that they hadn’t done this at the start. How they could have spent the last six days…and nights.
Grinding her pelvis against him with slow, enticing movements, she trailed her lips along his jaw and down his neck, demonstrating how much she’d learned. Her hand caressed his shoulder and then his chest, her fingers exploring his flesh.
Bennet closed his eyes and surrendered to her touch. Her hand moved lower over his abdomen, stroking his hip and then grazing his cock.
“Prudence,” he croaked as lust streaked through him.
“Mmm?” She kissed his chest and closed her hand around his shaft.
He moaned, his hips arching.
“You like that?” she asked.
“Move your hand—from the base to the tip.” He gritted his teeth as she did what he said. The urge to ask her to go faster, to bring him to release was overwhelming. Instead, he flipped her to her back and positioned himself between her legs.
She did not let go of him. In fact, her grip was a bit tight, and he loved it.
Bennet lowered his head to her breast, taking her nipple between his teeth before suckling her. She was so responsive, so unabashedly demonstrative that it took his breath away. He stroked between her legs and found her wet.
“Guide me into you,” he said, thumbing her clitoris.
Her breathing sped as her body began to quiver beneath him. She bent her legs and put his cock to her sheath. Unable to resist, Bennet wrapped his hand around hers, and together, they positioned him to slide inside.
He thrust into her, moving his hand to her hip and then her backside.
She gasped, and he paused. “All right?” he asked, thinking she had to be too tender.
“Wonderful,” she said on an exhale, her body tightening around him as she wrapped her legs about his hips. “Just move. Please.”
“Happily.” He kissed her as he withdrew and thrust again, starting a slow but steady pace.
She moved with him, her body rising from the bed while her legs squeezed him. She dug her fingers into his back. “Faster.”
He readily complied, his hips snapping as he drove into her, mindless until he remembered that he needed to pull out of her. Not that he would have forgotten. He hadn’t in years.
Straightening, he watched her face as she moved toward climax.
Eyes closed, lips parted, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
What he wouldn’t have given for a portrait of her looking just like this.
No, eyes open with that enigmatic spark she possessed, lips curled in a near smile.
He saw her a hundred different ways in his mind’s eye and clung to every one of them.
He stroked her clitoris, bringing her swiftly to orgasm. Her muscles clenched around him, and she cried out, her neck extending as she cast her head back.
Just a few more thrusts, and his orgasm came crashing down. He withdrew rather inelegantly, his seed spurting as he fought to turn to the side.
“My apologies,” he said. “It’s rather untidy.”
“But effective and necessary.” She touched his thigh. “I appreciate it.”
He smiled faintly. “Of course.” It was as much for him as for her. Neither of them wanted a child.
Bennet left the bed and went to clean up and dress. Reluctantly. This really was the end of an idyllic time.
“It’s hard to believe how this started,” she said. “Compared to now.”
He glanced toward her. She’d also left the bed and was pulling on her stockings. He swallowed, his fingers itching with the desire to stroke her calves once more.
Wearing a shirt and breeches, he went to stoke the fire. She continued with her toilet, braiding and pinning her hair up.
When he sat to don his boots, she came to stand nearby. “I want to give you something.”
He looked up at her. “You’ve given me far too much.”
A blush rose in her cheeks, and she looked toward the fire. She cleared her throat and blinked before returning her attention to him.
He finished with his boots and stood. “You look rather serious now.”
“You’re going to refuse this, but I want you to have it.” She held out her hand. A gold ring sat in her palm.
“What’s this?” He picked it up gingerly. It bore a crest—a fox and a dagger with a laurel.
“Just a ring that belonged to my mother.”
“It looks like a family crest.” Not one he recognized, however.
She shrugged. “It isn’t ours—we don’t have one. It didn’t mean anything to her, nor does it to me. It’s the only thing of value she left behind, but I won’t ever wear it.”
“Why didn’t you sell it?” Bennet turned it over, acknowledging that it was very finely made. It also seemed rather old.
“You can sell it.” She’d gone back to avoiding his questions. He tamped down his disappointment. “I think it would benefit you far more than me. You’re in need of a coach, in case you’ve forgotten.”
He laughed softly. “How could I?” The ring wouldn’t pay for a coach, but it would fetch a decent sum, and Bennet could use any amount of funds that came his way. Still, he doubted he could bring himself to part with it, not even for money. “You should keep this.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Would you please stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t do? I’ve been managing myself and my decisions for twenty-four years.”
He grinned. “That’s how old you are.”
“You may also stop interrupting me. As I was saying, I don’t need your instruction or advice. Please take the ring. I don’t want it and you need it.”
Seeing her agitation, he softened his expression and his tone. “All right. I’ll take it. But I’ll pay you back someday. I promise.”
She smiled then and touched his face. “Let’s not make promises we can’t keep. I want you to have the ring. Truly. Now, I suppose we must break our fast so we may be on our way.”
“Yes, I suppose it is that time.” His feet felt rooted to the floor. “I’m tempted to kidnap you a second time. Only this time, it would be wholly on purpose.”
Lights danced in her eyes, and he prayed he’d have occasion to see them again some time.
He held out his arm, and they left the room.
An hour later, he stood in the yard watching as the neighbor’s cart left. Prudence sat beside the man wrapped in her—rather Lady Cassandra’s—purple cloak.
Bennet had decided not to leave with her.
She should arrive in London without him.
If even one person saw them together, all their planning would be for naught.
Furthermore, Logan had found a coach nearby that could be had for a reasonable price.
Perhaps not too much more than the ring in Bennet’s pocket.
He pulled it out. The gold glinted in the morning sunlight. He slipped it onto his left pinky where it fit perfectly, as if that was where it belonged.
She looked back over her shoulder, and he lifted his hand in farewell.
While riding in a cart made for a rather sore posterior, Prudence was glad to be back in London.
The equipage looked odd in Mayfair, so she made haste with her departure, thanking Mr. Logan’s neighbor before toting her bag down the stairs to the employees’ entrance of the Phoenix Club.
She couldn’t very well march into one of the front doors since she wasn’t a member.
She’d entered this way on many occasions—to meet with Lucien when he’d first offered to help her and to see her dearest friend, Ada Treadway, who managed the club’s accounting ledgers.
It was far more than that, really. Ada made sure there was ale, brandy, and port on the men’s side of the club and madeira, sherry, and sack on the ladies’.
That was just a fraction of what she oversaw along with Evangeline Renshaw, one of the ladies’ patronesses who also served as manager of the club.
Going directly to the back stairs, Prudence climbed to the second floor, where Ada’s apartment was located. At this time of day, early afternoon, Ada would almost certainly be at her desk perusing ledgers and drinking tea.
The door was slightly ajar, but Prudence knocked nonetheless.
“Come.” Ada didn’t look up, her dark head bent over her desk.