Beatrice sighed and wanted bury her head in her hands. “If we cannot find the answer until we look through it all then we are never going to get to the bottom of this mystery.”
“I know darling.” Ben yawned and kissed the top of her head.
Beatrice immediately felt the atmosphere between them shift. What was once casual and relaxed suddenly became electrified with heightened awareness. She knew that he was looking at her when the warmth of his breath brushed gently across her cheek. As though drawn to the magnetic pull of his masculinity, she turned to face him.
His lips immediately captured hers in a drugging kiss that left them both gasping for breath, and unable to break away from the sensual web of desire that had woven around them.
She leaned back to look up at him and shivered at the molten desire in his eyes. She clung to him and moaned as delicious warmth began to unfurl deep in her belly when he began to slowly ease her back against the sofa.
He didn’t give her the time to stop and think before his head dipped once more. His fingers teased the long strands of her hair out of the tight bun at the nape of her neck, and combed through the riotous tumble of curls until they lay in a silken mass around her shoulders as he deepened the kiss.
She was his; the woman he was meant to spend his life with. Now all he had to do was prove it to her. He physically shook with the need that raged through him. It was a fierce battle between the need not to scare her, and the desire to plunder and take, seduce and consume, until she too was carried away by the depth of passion that surged between them.
When the barrier of their clothing became too much to bear, Ben tried to ease back on the kiss. His head lifted so that he could look down at her, but she was not prepared to release him. When his head didn’t lower as she wanted him to, Beatrice reluctantly opened her eyes to gaze up at him. The firelight lit the angles of his face and cast his defined features in shadow but, rather than appear dark and sinister, it only emphasised the rich masculinity of his face and increased her need for him. She had no idea what she was asking for, and daren’t look at the emotions coursing through her too closely, but she resolutely drew his head back down to hers anyway and copied the way he had kissed her only moments earlier.
Her lips sipped and nipped before drawing him deeper into an embrace that robbed him of all thought. His body immediately responded to her feminine lure and he settled over her more fully while he gauged her reaction to their intimate positions.
“God Beatrice, if we don’t stop this now, we won’t be stopping at all,” he warned her.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped and tugged his head back up to hers when he began to plant tiny kisses along her shoulder. “Please don’t stop.”
“Be sure of what you are asking for, Beatrice. There is no going back if I share your bed tonight.”
“I know,” she replied honestly. “I don’t think that we can go back. Not now. Not after everything that has happened between us. I won’t. I can’t.” Her eyes locked with his and she knew that he felt the same even before he seared her with one last, hard kiss before he lifted his weight off her and stood beside the sofa.
She gazed up at him for a moment and studied the hand he held out to her for several long moments before she returned her gaze to his. The warmth of his hand chased away any lingering doubts she might have had, and she smiled at him when he laced their fingers together and drew her around the room with him while he extinguished all of the candles.
They paused long enough to put the fire guard in place before they made their way upstairs.
Beatrice sighed in contentment and listen to Ben’s heavy breathing beside her. In all of her life she had never expected to share such wonderful intimacy with anyone, especially someone like Ben. He had taught her so much in such a short space of time that she still trembled with the force of the wonderful sensations their love making had brought her. It was inconceivable that she could ever regret sharing her bed, and her body, with him. In fact, what had transpired between them had chased away any lingering doubts she might have had that her future lay anywhere other than with him.
Last night had been stupendous; wonderful; shockingly wanton, and something she wanted to repeat over and over again. When he had woken her just before dawn, she had more than willingly followed his lead. They had savoured the passion that had roared to life between them with an enthusiasm that had left them both trembling with emotion, but she didn’t regret a single second of it. Life didn’t get any better than this. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she loved him. From the bottom of her heart to the very depths of her soul, he was now a part of her in a way that nobody ever had been before and she knew that whatever happened, however he felt for her, he was meant to be a part of her life forevermore.
She yawned and felt his arm tighten around her waist as he stirred sleepily. A soft smile curved her lips, but she didn’t move again for fear of waking him. It was a delicious feeling to wake up in his arms and wondered if this is what it was going to feel like when they were married, and suddenly couldn’t wait to get the mystery of the plant out of the way so that they could move on with their lives, and start to get their relationship moving on a little so she could fulfil that dream of being his wife.
The sudden scuff of footfall outside the window was immediately followed by loud thumps on the back door which echoed hollowly around the silence of the house.
Ben’s eyes shot open as he listened to the heavy thuds that just didn’t stop. His scowl was deep and he threw Beatrice a warning look that told her to stay right where she was. Oblivious to his unclothed state, Ben hurried to the window and drew the shutter back. His lips twisted as he looked down at the top of the head he didn’t recognise. He heard Maud slide the bolts back on the kitchen door, and the low murmur of voices. Unfortunately though, they were too far away for him to hear what was being said.
“Who is it?” Beatrice asked, aware of her own well tousled state. She drew the sheet up to cover her nakedness and watched Ben quickly tug his clothes on with a sigh of dismay. She had hoped that they could have at least one last kiss before they had to leave the warmth of the bed, but it appeared that Ben had other ideas.
To her dismay, he seemed to have completely forgotten about what they had shared that night and now seemed more hell-bent on getting downstairs than saying ‘good morning’ to her.
“Maud shouldn’t have opened the door, damn it,” he swore and stomped out of the bedroom without a backward look. He stopped only briefly on the stairs to tug his boots on before he stormed into the kitchen.
Maud was just closing the door when he slammed to a stop behind her. He saw the stranger move past the kitchen window, and opened his mouth to lambast the housekeeper, only to freeze the look of sorrow on her face. His stomach dropped to his toes and he knew instinctively that the news wasn’t good.
“Ben, you need to hurry. That was Billy Green. He was sent by Fred. Apparently your house is on fire,” the housekeeper gasped tearfully.
“What?” Ben stared at her in horror. “Are you sure? Who told him?”
“Fred Dinage sent him to fetch you. Your house is on fire. He said to get over there right now.”
Ben didn’t need telling again and reached around her to yank the door open. He paused when he realised that Beatrice was standing in the kitchen doorway, and threw her a dark look of warning. “Stay here. Keep the door locked and don’t answer it to anyone.”
“I am coming with you. I can help,” Beatrice argued.
“No, you stay here,” Ben sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He didn’t have the time to argue and knew that his words had come out too sharply, but he just had to go and see how bad the damage to his house was.
“But I cannot sit here and do nothing, Ben. I have to be with you.”
“Stay here,” Ben ordered harshly. “I will be back as soon as I can.”
He didn’t stop to hear any further argument, and slammed the door behind him.
By the time Beatrice moved to stare after him out of the kitchen window, he had vanished into the trees.
Tears filled her eyes as she watched him go. Hurt flooded her. Why didn’t he want her help? Alright, so she wouldn’t be much use in putting a fire out, but she could at least help to get his personal belongings out of the house, or at least look after the things that could be saved. She wasn’t completely useless. After everything he had done for her, helping him in time of crisis was the very least she could do. Yet he had quite forcefully made it clear that he didn’t want, or need, her help. Why?
“He is worried dear, that’s all,” Maud assured her and patted her arm as she passed. “He needs to rescue his house.”
“But I could do something. He needs someone to be there for him. Why won’t he let me help him? He has done so much for me.”
“Don’t read too much into it dear. The man cares deeply about you, that much is plain to see. Caroline Smethwick might be a lunatic, but she was right in what she said about him staring longingly at you across the aisle in church on Sunday. He is just worried about his house right now, that’s all. You can hardly blame him.”
“I know, but I should be there just to offer support if nothing else.” Although she tried to stop herself from taking his actions too personally, she couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that simply refused to be ignored. It left her to wonder if she should have waited until he had declared some deeper feelings for her before she had allowed him into her bed.
It was too late now though. What was done was done. They couldn’t go back and simply forget what they had shared last night. However, as much as she tried to tell herself that he was facing a crisis at home, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she should be the one who was right beside him. Rather than voice her fears to an unsympathetic Maud though, she merely sighed and left the room.
She stood in the sitting room doorway for several moments, but had no interest in merely staring at the fire. It reminded her too much of what she and Ben had shared last night.
Instead of going into the room, she moved to the study doorway and turned her thoughts toward the plant. Whatever issues lay unresolved between her and Ben, it was quite clear that they couldn’t move their relationship on until they had resolved the mystery surrounding the plant, and removed the threat of danger which seemed to lurk around every corner.
She felt herself go cold at the thought that someone might have already stolen it, and set fire to Ben’s house to hide the fact that the plant was missing. It was a sickening to think that Ben’s kindness had resulted in his house being burned to the ground. She wanted to sit down and weep.
“I am going to peg the washing out, Beatrice. I won’t be a minute,” Maud called.
“Fine,” she replied listlessly as she made her way into her uncle’s study. She stared blankly at the shelves and took a deep breath. She had yet to touch any of it, mainly because there was so much to work through. She knew that when she started, it was going to take days to get the room emptied. Now, however, she rather wished that instead of moaning that she was bored a couple of weeks ago, she had waded in and made a start on clearing it all out. If she had, then maybe she would have found the answers they needed about who owned the blasted plant, and why people were lying and dying for it.
She sat at the table and picked up a sheaf of papers. With the door open there was barely enough light to see, but she thumbed listlessly through the array of personal notes, bills and lecture notes anyway.
It was only when she was about half way down the pile that she came to something that looked horribly familiar. She lifted it out and, once she was assured that the papers beneath were bills and nothing to do with the cultivation notes, she put the paper on the top of the pile and looked at it a bit more closely.
A dark frown settled over her face as she read the declaration that had been carefully penned in block letters. It was dated one month prior to her uncle’s death, and had been signed by Jules Sanders, Brian Mottram and Bernard Murray.
“Declaration of ownership and process,” she murmured as she read the title at the top of the page.
She read the words beneath it over and over, and felt her stomach began to churn. She skimmed over most of the descriptive text, but read enough to learn that two of the men were responsible for the cultivation of the plant, and her uncle had acted as advisor. Jules Sanders had owned one of the mother plants, having purchased it from Richard Browning several months previously. Richard Browning had sold Brian Mottram the second mother plant a few weeks later. Together, Sanders and Mottram had cultivated the rare orchid, the colour and rarity of which was so unique, so improbable, that there was only one of it in existence in the entire world.
Ownership of the plant had been split equally between Jules Sanders and Brian Mottram. However, in the weeks prior to the document’s creation, they had been subjected to increasingly sinister threats from Richard Browning, who was attempting to claim ownership given that he had originally found the plants in far off foreign countries. Mottram and Sanders had agreed to make an official declaration of their part in the plant’s creation, and had gotten Matthew Northolt and Bernard Murray to witness it. The document stated that both Sanders and Mottram wanted ownership of the plant to be taken over by Matthew Northolt in the event of the sinister threats actually being turned into a reality. Upon his demise, Matthew’s relatives should inherit the plant, along with both mother plants, which were apparently already in Matthew’s conservatory somewhere, along the cultivation notes. The names and addresses of each of the men, along with the witnesses, were written at the bottom of the document besides the men’s signatures. Beside that was Richard Browning’s name and address, should the police ever need it.
“Good Lord. The four men on the list I found,” Beatrice whispered, and felt a headache start to develop behind her eyes as she tried to read the note her uncle had written on the bottom, but it was too dark within the room to see clearly. She sighed and shook her head and stepped and stumbled over the piles of papers and books on the floor in order to get to the window.
Her gasp was loud when she drew the shutters back, and looked up straight into the face of Archibald Harrington/Richard Browning, who was mere inches away on the other side of the glass. Her eyes met and held his for a moment. The cold-blooded intent in his dark, feral gaze, matched the sneer on the man’s thin lips and her mind went blank.
Panic took hold. She began to shake. Behind Browning, she could see a lump on the floor, and knew that it was Maud; she recognised the colour of the dress. Whether she was alive or not was impossible to know, but to even consider that something could have happened to her housekeeper and companion brought about a wave of grief that almost brought Beatrice to her knees.
Her thoughts immediately turned to Ben, and she hoped he had made it through the woods safely. Her hand lifted to slam the shutter closed, but then she realised that she could feel a cold draft around her ankles. Maud had left the kitchen door open.
She spun on her heel, and took a moment to drop the papers on the desk and put a couple of books on the top. By the time she reached the hallway, the bang of the kitchen door being slammed open made her scream, and she threw a horrified glance over her shoulder as she raced toward the front door.
Her trembling fingers fumbled with the bolt, but she managed to slide it back and yank the door open. Unfortunately, her flight wasn’t swift enough because cruel hands ensnared her in a tight hold which dragged her relentlessly back into the darkness of the house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ben was panting hard by the time he reached the end of his driveway. His stride faltered at the sight of the house, which lay still and silent in the early dawn. He jogged around to the front door, and scowled when he found nobody there.
“What the hell?” The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he knew immediately that he had
been set up. He stalked around the back of the house and scanned the garden, and surrounding outbuildings as he went. He was so busy studying the low stable block at the end of the driveway that he nearly didn’t see the man suddenly step out from behind the large chestnut tree in the middle of the garden and race toward him with his gun drawn.
Ben barely had time to brace himself before the man reached him. Somehow, he knew instinctively that this was Bernard Murray.
“Give me the plant,” the smaller man demanded.
“I don’t have the damned thing,” Ben growled. He deliberately ignored the wicked looking gun Murray pointed straight at his head, and bitterly cursed his own stupidity. He hadn’t stopped to think about the truth of the claims that his house had been on fire, and had barely given Beatrice a second glance before he had simply abandoned her; and left her vulnerable and alone.
Time was against him. He knew that with each passing moment he was away from Beatrice, the risk to her safety increased. It was difficult to concentrate on how best to get rid of Murray while the woman who mattered to him more than anyone else in the world was in such peril. However, he knew that if he did something foolish and reckless, and got hurt in the process, he was going to be absolutely no use to her whatsoever. He had to stay calm. He had to remain logical. He had to put all of his love for her to one side and focus on staying alive.
“I know you are lying,” Murray challenged as he waved the gun toward the house. “I have had a good look inside, see? I know it is in there. Get the door open. I want what is mine.”
“But it isn’t yours,” Ben replied conversationally and deliberately made no attempt to do as he was told. “I know you are lying because the plant isn’t in that house. I brought it here, but I killed it. The damned thing stinks to high heaven and I didn’t want it making my whole house smell, so threw it into the fire.”
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