Surrender to Scandal

by Kelly Boyce

  But no. She refused to think of that now. Refused to sully this wondrous moment with a past she could not change.

  Benedict’s hand slid over her hip before reaching down and pulling the hem of her chemise upward. Cool air rushed to meet her exposed skin and a familiar ache between her legs begged for relief.

  “Lift your arms, my love.”

  The words skimmed across her skin and she obliged, being undressed before him both exhilarating and frightening. The linen disappeared over her head and dropped onto the floor next to her stays until she was left with nothing covering her save for her stockings and drawers. Benedict’s touch disappeared. She glanced over her shoulder to find he had stepped away.

  “Turn around. Let me see you,” he said softly. She did, modesty forcing her arms across her chest. “Don’t cover yourself. Let me see.”

  She kept her arms in place and tilted her head to one side. “But what of you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” She smiled through her shyness. “I am standing here in my drawers and stockings and you are still fully clothed. It seems rather imbalanced, wouldn’t you say?”

  A slow grin spread across his face, brightening his eyes as the candlelight flickered over him. “I suppose you have me there.” He reached for the buttons on his jacket but stopped before undoing them. “Should I call in my valet to assist me?”

  Judith laughed. Oh, how she loved hearing the ease in his voice, as if he’d sent his worries on holiday and allowed the lighter disposition his sister had attested he once possessed to take center stage. What she wouldn’t give to make all his days like this.

  “I think enlisting your valet at this point would be ill advised.”

  “Very well then, but I may require your assistance.”

  “I’m hardly dressed for it.”

  “You’re hardly dressed at all,” he teased as he undid the buttons of his jacket. “And I find I quite like you this way. But if you are shy, I promise I shall allow you your privacy.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  He closed his eyes. “Like so. Now pull my coat down my arms.”

  She moved to stand in front of him and pushed the superfine wool over his shoulders, her hands brushing the breadth of them, running over the hard muscle beneath. He had spoken to her often about his preference for pursuits that took him out-of-doors and such active living had left him in fine form. A thrill raced through her at seeing him in his full glory and she hurried to push and pull at the jacket until it met the same fate as her own clothing and lay crumpled on the floor at their feet.

  Benedict undid the buttons of his waistcoat and disposed of it, as well as his shirt, with far greater speed than she had his jacket. She took in a swift breath. Saints preserve her, but he was a fine, fine specimen of the male form. Hard planes and sculpted ridges reminded her of the statutes that populated Sheridan Park’s gardens. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to see if he was composed of flesh and blood, or cool marble.

  He continued undressing, undoing the buttons on his trousers and pulling them down, stopping abruptly when he hit the top of his boots. He straightened, his eyes remaining closed and his hands upon his hips. The image both comical and enticing all at once. How was such a thing possible?

  “It appears I have reached a bit of an impasse.”

  The absurdity of her previous shyness struck her as Benedict stood before her, his trousers bunched at his knees and the evidence of his need for her evident in his drawers. Laughter bubbled up inside until it escaped. “I suddenly feel a little silly being shy, given what we are about to do.”

  He opened one eye and his gaze roamed over her. She made no move to cover herself this time. “And what is it that we are about to do?”

  Heat from his gaze burned into her bare skin until the need for his touch upon it became too much to bear. She wanted him. Wanted him with a desire that went beyond anything she had ever experienced.

  She smiled at him, reaching up to pull the pins from her hair. Her heart filled with love and want and a hundred other things she would examine later, when she had less pressing issues to deal with. For now, there was only one thing she wished to do.

  “Perhaps we should wrestle you out of those boots and discover the answer to that question.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Benedict thrilled at how quickly Judith overcame her initial shyness, though the true thrill came when she bent before him to pull his boots off. The gentle sway of her lovely, full breasts was almost more than he could handle. The temptation to say the hell with his boots and pull her onto his lap and let her ride him until they both found their release became overwhelming, but he held himself in check. He did not want to rush this. He wanted to savor every tormenting moment of it. More than that, he wanted her to savor every moment of it as well.

  It took several minutes, and far more laughter than he ever recalled being involved in dispersing of a pair of boots and trousers, before he too was left in nothing but his drawers. He kept them on for now afraid of moving too fast, though the evidence of his need for her had become more than apparent.

  “Shall I remove your stockings, my lady?” How he longed to touch those long, shapely limbs. As beautiful as she was, he had not expected such magnificent curves to be hidden beneath the plain gowns she insisted upon wearing. Such a glorious surprise, she was.

  “I suppose we shall need to, won’t we?” She stepped her feet out of her slippers.

  “Not necessarily.” There was something about the idea of taking her while she wore nothing more than her stockings that was rather appealing. Though not nearly as much as having every inch of her delectable body bared to him. “But for now, let us rid ourselves of any barriers, shall we?”

  She nodded and he knelt before her as if worshipping at an altar. Perhaps, in a sense, that was what he did. She had saved him in a way, taking him away from his worries and creating an oasis where he could escape. She became his safe haven and no matter how hard he’d tried to resist her siren’s call, he had failed.

  Failure had never been so glorious.

  He undid the ties holding up her first stocking and slowly rolled it down, kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh, relishing the catch of her breath as he drew nearer the juncture of her thighs. How tempting to stay there, to lavish such delights upon her. He swallowed. All in good time. She lifted her foot for him to remove the garment and he tossed it aside, then returned to the remaining stocking. Her skin was pure silk and a part of him wished he had more time to cover every inch of her with his mouth. But another part of him pleaded for release.

  He reached for the ribbon holding her drawers in place and slowly pulled it until it gave way. The soft cotton slid over her hips like a tantalizing whisper, revealing her most private parts. Judith lowered her hand to cover herself, but he caught her wrist.

  “No, don’t,” he said and she relented. He kissed the palm of her hand before releasing it to place his hands on the curve of her hips. He leaned in and gently pressed his mouth against the nest of curls between her thighs. She gasped and her fingers threaded through his hair. He waited several heartbeats but she did not pull away and so he kissed her again, sliding his tongue against her moist center.

  Her head dropped back and she groaned, deep and guttural. “Benedict.” She breathed his name. It had never sounded so splendid.

  “Should I stop now?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I do not think you should.”

  And so he didn’t. Nudging her legs apart to allow him better access, he kissed her again. His hands slid to her rounded bottom as he lavished her with slow strokes of his tongue until she writhed in his hold, whimpering as her fingers pulled at his hair for purchase. He brought her to the brink, the taste of her a sweet nectar.

  “Are you ready for me, my love?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes.”

  He stood, tossing aside the last stitch of clothing he’d had on and lifted her against him, her
long legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her in a passionate kiss. Her bottom brushed against his cock until he feared he’d lose his mind if he did not have her. Any hope he’d had of taking this slow tossed out the window the moment he’d touched her. He could not wait and from the way she clung to him, kissed him with such passionate desperation, he sensed she shared his need.

  He carried her to his bed and laid her upon it. She shimmied up the mattress, her hungry gaze never leaving his as he followed, covering her with his body once he reached her. She rained tiny kisses upon his cheeks, eyelids, and edge of his jaw until finally she found his mouth.

  Her kiss stripped him of rational thought. She nibbled at his lips, explored him with her tongue then nipped playfully at him until madness hovered, threatening his sanity. The warmth of her body seeped into him, penetrating all of the dark places where he kept his secrets hidden. She laid him bare and he had no defense against her.

  She enthralled him and the truth of the moment settled deep within him. There was no going back, no other future for them but the one where they were together, come what may. The reality of it hit him all at once. It could destroy him as well as her, liberating her from one ruin only to deliver her into another. Yet he could not let her go. He had tried. God knows, he had tried. But fate kept bringing him back to her as if it was trying to tell him something he was too foolish or blind to see.

  But he saw it now.

  This was what was meant to be. Whatever else befell them, they would get through it. Like his parents had done before them.

  Love will win in the end. It always does. His father’s words, spoken firmly and often. Benedict had never paid them much heed when he was younger, but their meaning hit him full force now. He should have known. He should have seen it. He had seen it. He’d just been too stubborn to acknowledge the truth. Yet now the truth lay beneath him, smiling up at him, her dark hair tumbled around the white sheets much as he had imagined night after night in his dreams.

  Love had won.

  But would it be enough? Because when all was said and done, it may be the only thing Benedict had left to offer Judith.

  He kissed her again, erasing the worry from his mind and losing himself in her. She wrapped herself around him and pressed her hips against him, urging him on. He could not hold back. He needed her, needed to know what it was like to become part of someone else’s body, mind and soul. He pushed inside of her, slowly and with care. She stiffened at the intrusion and he stopped despite his body’s yearning to throw caution to the wind and lose himself inside of her.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She gave a rueful smile. “Perhaps a little, but it’s easing now. It was more surprising than anything else.” She moved against him and he groaned. She would be the death of him. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It felt wonderful,” he said. If wonderful was categorized as a wrestling match between torment and desire. He touched the line of her jaw with his fingertips. How lovely she was. How fortunate he was that he would now be able to gaze upon her loveliness for the rest of his days. “We can stop if you wish.”

  “I wish no such thing.” She lifted enough to capture his mouth with hers and the torment he suffered increased tenfold. Without thinking, he began to move inside of her with slow thrusts until she broke the kiss and let her head fall back against the pillows, her long hair surrounding her like a dark halo. Her breath came in rapid gasps and her hands clenched his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh. He moved quicker, his body taking over and creating its own rhythm, meeting hers until their passion melded together, twisting and tangling them in its clutches until there was no ending or beginning.

  Everything within Benedict became lost in her until his body and mind exploded and she shuddered beneath him, a cry of surprise erupting from somewhere deep within before they collapsed together, entwined, nothing left but breath and wonderment and a fulfillment he had never known or experienced before.

  This was his life now. She was his life now. And a luckier man did not exist.

  Judith’s heartbeat slowly returned to normal as Benedict shifted to rest next to her. He had said nothing since the cataclysmic event that had sent her body reeling, tumbling…soaring. She had never experienced anything more wondrous. It defied all description becoming a hundred different things all at once. Sensory and sensual, physical and emotional. A complete blending of everything she knew and all the things she didn’t until, at its end, she was a different person. How was such a thing possible?

  And what did she do about that now?

  She glanced over at Benedict. His gaze rested firmly upon her, but something about it seemed far away, as if she had lost him to his thoughts.

  “What are you thinking?” She turned to face him, drawing her hand down his cheek, her thumb resting against his lips until their touch brought a smile to them. Such an amazing thing to be able to touch him freely like this.

  “I was thinking of you. Of how many nights I have lain awake imagining you here, just like this.”

  A blush heated her cheeks. “You did not!”

  He chuckled and the sound rumbled deep in his throat. “I did. Repeatedly. It made for some rather uncomfortable nights.”

  “And how did those imaginings compare to this?”

  “They paled in comparison.”

  She smiled, her heart close to bursting. If only she could spend the rest of her life right here, wrapped up in bed with him, the rest of the world held at bay. But such a dream could never come true. Her smile faltered and she searched for a distraction. She would not allow the world to intrude on them, not yet. It would come soon enough.

  “Tell me about the pipe I always see you carry.”

  “My pipe?”

  She nodded. “Your mother told me it belonged to your father. I noticed you carry it with you and often take it out when you are worrying over something. Does it help, having it?”

  Benedict’s brow furrowed and Judith worried perhaps she had chosen the wrong topic of conversation, but she couldn’t help herself. She longed to learn as much about him, about the lingering pain that lived in his blue eyes, about the influences that informed his decisions, the history that made him who he was now. Soon the time to discover all of these things would draw to a close and if she did not learn them now, she would forever wonder.

  “Yes, I suppose it does,” he answered, capturing a lock of her hair in his hand and twirling it loosely about his finger. “It’s a reminder, more than anything.”

  “Of your father?”

  His gaze remained fixed on the lock of hair, his thumb caressing it where it curled about his fingers. She resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the twin lines that had formed between his eyebrows.

  “Of his strength. His dedication to our family above all else. The faith he put in me to continue to do so in his stead.”

  The pain in his eyes intensified as his voice drifted off. The words resounded within Judith, echoing inside of her with the answers she had searched for. Benedict did not believe he had lived up to the faith put in him by his father, the man he idolized above all others. The man he wanted to be.

  “I think your father would be exceptionally proud of who you’ve become and the things you’ve accomplished.”

  Benedict scoffed and let her curl go, rolling over onto his back. “I doubt that. I have let my family down time and again.”

  “In what way have you possibly failed your family?” He had worked diligently to resurrect the family’s finances and reputation after his uncle had all but destroyed both with his scandalous obsession over Madame St. Augustine. The story was legend, and even she had been privy to it, all the way out in the country. Despite his family being ostracized from society shortly thereafter, no one had a bad thing to say about Benedict, from what she’d witnessed. Save perhaps for Lord Pengrin, but she hardly considered him a credible source when it came to judging character, given that he had none of his own.

  Benedict let
out a slow breath. “After Father and Roddy died, I refused to return to school after their funerals. Mother was still quite weak and the loss had hit her hard. I could not leave her and Abigail to fend for themselves. So I stayed and tried to keep a roof over our heads. But eventually what little money we had ran out and I could not find a decent enough job to support us all.”

  Judith turned onto her side and nestled next to Benedict, placing her hand on his chest near his heart, a bandage for the wound she had inadvertently opened. “What did you do?”

  Color stained his cheekbones. “I had no choice but to ask Uncle Henry to take us in.”

  “Was he not happy to do so? You said he ensured your schooling. He must have had an interest in your family’s well-being.”

  Benedict nodded. “Yes, I think so. Uncle Henry had always had a soft spot for my father. Though I had the impression he preferred this affection to be dealt with from afar, for the sake of family harmony. His wife despised us. She considered us interlopers and treated us as such. It did not make for a warm welcome. Uncle Henry did not care to incur her wrath and so we spent years navigating around Aunt Edythe’s anger and resentment. I hated that my inability to provide for them put Mother and Abigail in such a situation. Father would never have allowed such a thing had he survived. Nor would he have allowed Uncle Henry to destroy himself and the family finances over his insane obsession for his mistress.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said. His expectations of himself, given his age and experience at the time, were beyond what he—or anyone else in that position—could accomplish. He had been all of seventeen when his father died. Eighteen when they’d arrived in London to a world he had never experienced. She knew what that was like.