“I...”
He skated close, taking advantage of her vulnerability. He didn’t wish to make her fall so he took advantage of her surprise at her own behaviour. He took the snowball and pressed it to the back of her neck.
She squealed. “How dare you!” The words had a hint of a laugh. She desperately brushed away the snow and glanced from left to right as though searching for a ready-made pile of snowballs with which to get her revenge.
Benedict lifted a palm in surrender. “You threw the first ball.”
“You started it,” she retorted.
“Ah, but I did not fire the first shot.”
She shook her head, a slight twinkle in her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You’re incredible.”
Angelina’s eyes grew wider than ever. “Pardon?”
He hadn’t meant to let the words slip, hadn’t even known they were there, ready to be released. Yet out they came. Was he brave enough to repeat them?
“You’re i—”
“There you are!”
Benedict peered around Angelina and bit back a groan. “Mr Sutherland.”
“We thought you’d fallen through the ice or something.” Oliver grinned and held the arm of the girl he’d been talking to previously. They exchanged a smile. Benedict couldn’t remember which Carlton daughter she was seeing as there were three of them and they all looked and sounded exactly the same to him. They were vacuous creatures as far as he was concerned and of little interest to him.
“Miss Ashdown, it is a pleasure to see you. I’m afraid I missed you at breakfast.”
“Yes, I was just, uh, running a little late unfortunately.”
His grin expanded. “Now what would Miss Manners say about that?”
Angelina’s face brightened. “You read my column?”
“Of course. I’m interested in everything you do.”
Benedict gritted his teeth, and if he’d been able to bore a hole in the man’s head with just a look, he would have done so.
Sutherland offered her an arm and she moved forward to take it. Benedict could hardly believe what he was seeing as they skated off. Oliver Sutherland of all people with a woman either side of him. With Angelina.
That prickly heat was upon him again, grating against his gut. He bunched his hands and went to skate after them. Angelina leaned into Oliver to say something and Benedict was so fixated on watching their every movement that he didn’t see the large groove in the ice until his skate had caught upon it.
He spilled forward and instinctively put his hand out to protect himself from harm. A crack seemed to split the air and pain jarred up his arm. The ice greeted his head with a smack and he slid for some distance before coming to a stop.
Pain rattled through his skull and throbbed up his arm. He closed his eyes and groaned before opening them again. Blue and white filled his vision. Ice. Snow. Wait...her. Slowly, he became aware of people coming to his side.
Angelina.
She dropped to her knees beside him and somehow moved him onto his back. At least he thought she had, though surely she could not be strong enough? It better not have been that damned Sutherland helping him. He didn’t need his assistance.
But then...soft fingertips brushing his brow. His annoyance slipped away. Even the pain seemed to dull. Angelina had tugged off her glove. Her bare fingers smoothed his hair from his face and her features hovered over him, etched with concern.
“He’s bleeding,” she declared to someone.
Benedict couldn’t bring himself to care, not now that her hands were upon him. They locked gazes the next time she ran a soothing hand down his cheek and in spite of the greyness around the edge of his vision, the moment seared through to his soul. There was no hatred in her eyes for the first time, no anger or frustration with him. Simply tender concern and maybe a little something more. Or was that his addled brain turning things into something they were not?
He didn’t much care. Her hand retreated and he gripped it in his good hand. “Don’t go.” His voice came out coarse.
She stared at him for a moment and nodded. “I won’t,” she promised.
Part of him wished she meant she’d stay by his side forever but even his clouded brain knew that would never happen. Angelina Ashdown would never be his and he’d always known that.
Chapter Five
Miss Manners said...
One should never be alone with a man. I cannot emphasise this enough. There will be times, my dears, when you might find yourself in such a situation no matter how hard you have tried. The opposite sex can be a persuasive and wily bunch. But whatever you do, stand firm and remove yourself from such a vulnerable position. It only takes the smallest whiff of scandal to ruin even the most innocent of women.
Angelina paused outside the bedroom door. Judging by the rattle echoing through the door, Benedict slept on. He’d been in and out of sleep since the previous day when the doctor had finally come through the snow and attended him. With a broken wrist and a rather large cut to his head, Benedict had done a fair bit of damage to himself.
How on earth had it happened? He’d already proved himself to still be a wonderful skater. It didn’t seem possible he could take such a tumble. She sincerely regretted taking Oliver’s arm and leaving him to his own devices.
Don’t go.
Those two words etched into her mind. She wasn’t sure she would ever forget them. Never before had Benedict Britton sounded so vulnerable, so like he needed her. Even now, her heart gave a little pang. To be needed and wanted was more than she could dream of. If she married Oliver—something she had not even had the chance to even hint at—she would be none of those. He would let her do her own thing, she knew that much. Aside from perhaps bearing a few children, they would be nothing else but friends.
Friendship was enough surely? It was more than many married couples had.
Drawing in a breath and holding it in her chest, she turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.
What a way to spend Christmas day. She didn’t much mind for herself but for Benedict it had to be a bore. He’d always been centre of attention. The first ball she’d ever attended he had drawn her attention—how could he not? Everyone flocked to him. But it had become clear he had no interest in her so she’d quickly turned her attention elsewhere. Robert had been handsome, funny and pleasant. Whether their relationship would have been any better than the one she and Oliver could have, she had little idea, but she’d certainly have chosen it over ruination at the time.
Angelina allowed herself a little frown as she circled the large bed. At the time? Did that mean she no longer regretted that she hadn’t married Robert? She ran her finger down the flocked silk bedding. Somehow even the pale blue colour suited Benedict.
His black hair stood out in a mussed contrast. A white bandage circled his head, giving him a ridiculous hairstyle while he slept on, open-mouthed. Her heart softened. With his eyes shut and his lashes fanned across his cheeks, those dangerous eyes hidden away and that wicked tongue silenced, he appeared vulnerable. She couldn’t resist touching his cheek lightly.
She glanced down the thick bedding to where his arm rested, splinted and bandaged.
“Poor Benedict,” she murmured. “What a way to spend Christmas day.”
Angelina glanced at the ornamental clock on the mantelpiece, the golden trim of it highlighted by the fire in the grate. They had already eaten the main meal of the day and the rest of it would be spent drinking brandy and playing games. Many had already retreated for a nap and she suspected they wouldn’t emerge until suppertime. The younger members of the party were currently engaged in a rowdy game of charades so she’d murmured about taking a nap too.
But really she’d wanted to check on Benedict. After all, she had vowed not to leave him. It was nothing to do with how handsome he was when asleep or how watching him absolutely fascinated her.
She settled onto the padded chair beside his bed and rested her hands in he
r lap. Outside, snow fell heavily, clouding the sky and turning it dark. The curtains were drawn but she could see it all through the tiny gap in them. The dancing firelight and the glow of lamps kept the room warm and cosy. The golden light slipped through the room and touched Benedict’s skin, warming it to perfection.
He wore a loose sleep shirt, the cuffs rolled up to make room for the bandaging. Open at the collar, she saw a hint of dark hair, crisp against the whiteness of the shirt. What would it feel like?
Angelina found herself almost sighing. Damn the man for being so ridiculously handsome. It wasn’t fair that such an odious, aggravating man should be so beautiful.
A large rumble broke through the crackle of the fire and the patter of snow on the windowpane. She pressed a hand to her mouth as another snore followed. Beautiful he might be but there was nothing elegant about how he snored. She imagined whatever the doctor had given him was responsible but it still amused her.
She wriggled in her chair to find a comfortable spot and regretted it when the seat creaked. Frozen, she eyed Benedict as his snoring quietened and he shifted. What would she say if he awoke? I did not wish for you to be alone? I’m trying to keep a promise you’ve probably already forgotten? The chances were he would not want her by his side anyway. Why would he? If he didn’t like her when he was well, he certainly wouldn’t whilst he was ill.
He moaned and the sound jabbed her insides a little. It didn’t matter what he’d done to her, she would not wish a broken bone on anyone. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Angelina held her breath while he stared at the ornate ceiling above for some time. Perhaps he wouldn’t even notice her and she could slip—
“Angie?”
His voice sounded as though it had been run through a mill wheel. She moved into action, pouring him a glass of water and hastening to his bedside.
“I’m here,” she said reassuringly, with little idea as to whether her presence offered him any assurance anyway.
He blinked at her several times and tried to move but could only release another groan.
“Careful, you broke your wrist, remember?”
He peered down at it. “Bloody hurts,” he grumbled.
“Well, you will go falling on ice.”
“Head hurts too.”
“No doubt.”
She pressed a hand under his head and urged him up enough to give him a few sips of water. It seemed to exhaust him, and he flopped back down with a huff of relief. His eyes weren’t their usual clear, sharp colour and his skin was pale. She suspected whatever the doctor had given him lingered—which was no bad thing—but it seemed to her he had dosed him heavily.
“Don’t go.” He didn’t grab her this time. It was likely he did not have the strength. But he might as well have looped his arms around her waist and pinned her to him. She couldn’t leave, not after a second plea.
“I can’t imagine why you should want me around but I will not leave.”
“Have I slept long?”
“Most of the night and morning. It is—” she glanced at the clock “—four ‘o clock now.”
“Christmas Day,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“Time for forgiveness and all that.”
“I suppose.”
A lock of hair dropped over the bandage on his forehead and she pushed it back before she considered her actions. His gaze shot to hers. Though his eyes were still clouded, she felt the power there. Her chest constricted and for the life of her, she couldn’t look away.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she admitted.
She was not quite sure why, not when she should be playing charades with Oliver and proving what a good wife she could be. Not when her whole future depended on such an act. And not when she was in the company of a man who had ruined her.
And yet, she could not bring herself to hate him. No matter how hard she tried, that usual fire failed to materialise. Perhaps it was because he was so vulnerable rather than her having forgiven him. Either way, it was almost a relief not to feel that deep-seated anger that usually burned her when she thought of him.
“I always liked being with you.”
Angelina released an unbidden laugh. Yes, her thoughts had been slowly changing toward him but she wasn’t going to be convinced the man actually liked her. “I think you have had a little too much laudanum.”
“No,” he said gruffly with a shake of his head that was so slow it belied his words. “Being with you...it was like magic. You lit up everything.” He lifted his good hand and stroked a finger down her cheek. “What happened to you, Angie?”
She raised a brow. “Have you forgotten?”
His hand dropped. “Robert.”
“Yes. Ruination tends to change a girl.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” she asked, and waited. Would he admit what he’d done?
Benedict closed his eyes and released a weary breath. She waited still but nothing more came. A deep well of disappointment bubbled up inside her. Shaking her head, she eased back from the bed and took up her position in the chair once more. Before long, snores echoed off the high ceilings once more.
Angelina watched over him for another hour before he awoke. She grimaced as she arched her back and when he looked at her, she saw the clouded look to his eyes had vanished.
“Still here?”
She reached around and rubbed the base of her spine. “Yes.”
“You needn’t have stayed.”
“You asked me not to leave, remember?”
“You do not owe me anything.”
“No, I don’t, but it is Christmas Day and it hardly seems fair to leave you alone.”
He gave a grim smile. “I should get up. I don’t want to spoil your day and I need to talk to Fairfax.”
“Lord Fairfax is likely abed. He drank a fair amount of brandy during dinner and retreated to bed fairly quickly. Not that you are even in a fit state to leave your bed.”
“Blast.”
Taking the glass of water over to his bedside, she helped him take a sip again, noting that he seemed stronger already. He let slip a wicked smile.
“I could get used to this.”
Angelina helped him take a few more gulps before realising what he was referring to. The position in which she had him meant his head pressed against her bosom. She rolled her eyes and put the water back.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“You’re incredible.”
“You said that before.” Angelina placed down the water on the table and lifted up his bandage to inspect his head wound. “You’ll probably scar.”
“It’s true. You always were.”
“I imagine the ladies shall like it anyway.”
“There’s something about you, Angie. You draw people to you. I could never quite take my eyes off you.”
“We should probably get you some more laudanum,” she said, trying hard to ignore him and his ridiculous words. Yes, he had always watched her but she wasn’t fooled. He’d disapproved of her back then, that was why he couldn’t help but watch her. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not now you’re here.”
It was a lie. She had to stop him. How much longer could she listen to these teasing words without beginning to believe them? Whatever game he was playing she wanted no part of it.
“Why do you need to speak to Lord Fairfax?” she blurted, clinging to the first distraction she could think of.
“Business,” he murmured, voice low and still terribly dangerous and enticing.
Angelina rearranged the bandage and retreated to the chair. Part of her longed to escape but she couldn’t leave him alone, not today of all days. She’d only spend the rest of the day feeling awful because he was on his own in pain.
“What sort of business?” Settling into the chair, she eased into what she hoped was a more comfortable position than before. Hopefully she could steer him away from all this nonsens
e talk.
Benedict let out a long breath and studied the ceiling. “My invention. I need an investor.”
“You’ve invented something?”
“Yes.” His gaze turned her way, though he appeared to have trouble focusing on her. “Is that so surprising?”
Angelina considered this. Yes, Benedict was rakish, flirtatious and far too likely to jump into bed with a woman, but he was not stupid. Intelligence shone out of him—something that she had no doubt often drew women to him.
“No.”
A half-smile graced his lips at her response.
“So you need money for your invention? It must be impressive indeed.”
“I intend to revolutionise central heating as we know it. But it is not so much the money I need but the backing. Lord Fairfax is well-known for his—” Benedict yawned “—his savvy...” Another yawn.
She couldn’t help feel a pang of sympathy for him. Never before had she seen Benedict so sleepy and helpless. There was something ridiculously charming about it.
“I think you should rest. We can talk more on it later.”
“You shall be here?”
She nodded. “I said I would not leave you, did I not?”
“I find myself...” he closed his eyes “...quite grateful for your company.”
“Rest now,” she told him gently. “I’ll be here.”
A long breath escaped him. “Excellent. Glad to have my Angie...” A snore rumbled from him, making Angelina’s lips quirk in amusement.
For several breaths, she watched his chest rise and fall. His words echoed with that movement. My Angie, my Angie. Whatever did he mean? She wasn’t his and she had doubts he’d ever considered her anything other than an annoyance. Yet his words had inferred otherwise.
Shaking her head, she settled into the chair, rested her head against the back of it and closed her eyes. There was no sense in pondering these things. She had far bigger problems to worry about. Like the gaining of a proposal in a week. Honestly, how did she end up in these messes?
Chapter Six
Miss Manners says...
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 61