"At home I shoot and hunt. I really don't see why I shouldn't do it here."
"It simply isn't a proper place for a gently bred girl," Benedict said. He looked serious but Rose wanted to laugh at him until he continued talking. "Your home is here now, Rose, so you may as well begin to get used to the idea." Benedict rubbed his chin and then said, "I can see that you are quite the accomplished little colonial girl. You ride, you shoot, you… sing, impressive. Indeed, I wonder what other hidden talents you might possess."
Rose looked down her nose at him, though she had to tilt her head up to do that. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out, won't you, Lord Mortimer?" Benedict scowled at her as she waltzed away from the stall. He tried to accompany her back to the house but she nimbly skipped ahead of him. She flounced her skirts and slammed the door before he arrived at the entrance. Benedict did not miss the insinuation that he was surplus to Miss Rose's requirements.
That evening, Benedict entered the withdrawing room and found that card tables had been set ready for a game of whist. Luckily, Rose's father adored playing cards. He had taught Rose to play and she was quite adept at the game. She seated herself across from Imogene and paired with her. Viscount Charles and Benedict took the other two available seats. Imogene shuffled the cards and looked at Charles, saying, "How did the shoot go this afternoon, gentlemen?"
Charles watched as Imogene dealt. "I did rather well actually, bagged myself a number of birds but unfortunately poor old Mortimer's luck was skewed again. What is it with you and guns, Mortimer? Every year something goes wrong on the shoot for you, damn bad luck old chap!" Imogene, knowing her brother, exchanged a quick look with him that was not missed by the sharp eyed Rose.
Play continued and Benedict was surprised by Rose's adept knowledge of the game. She and Imogene were winning, three tricks ahead of the gentlemen. Was there no end to this beautiful young woman's accomplishments? He was, in fact, delighted with her. When he thought of the milksop English miss who he could have ended up shackled to… well, he thanked God for Frederick Lord North and his most timely interference.
Benedict determined to engineer some time alone with Rose that evening. She looked delectable in her blue silk gown. In fact, she looked adorable in whatever mode of dress she wore. Benedict remembered Rose in the pale green riding habit that she had worn earlier that day. She cut more than a delectable figure. Of course, what he wanted to see her wearing most of all was well, absolutely nothing.
Benedict watched Rose as she dealt the next round of cards, her fingers deft, and her smile enchanting. His eyes fell to her bosom, which swelled prettily but decorously out of the lace from the neck of her gown. Benedict's hands ached to cup each soft pillow. He longed to tweak her nipples and hear her wanton sighs…
"Benedict… Benedict, hey wake up, old chap!" Charles snapped his fingers in front of his friend's eyes and Benedict realized that he had fallen into an erotic day dream, the unfortunate effect of which was sending blood pounding into his shaft. He shuffled his chair further under the table to hide his tell-tale erection from view.
"Whatever the deuce is the matter with you tonight, Mortimer? Your turn to play, come on, we cannot let the ladies win don't y'know!"
The girls did win but the gentlemen were magnanimous in their defeat and fetched the ladies petite fours and punch for a welcome refreshment. Chatter moved on to other things and Benedict took the opportunity to ask Rose if she would like to see the orangery.
"Thank you, Lord Mortimer, but I'd rather not, I find that I am a little fatigued this evening, I shall seek an early night."
Chapter Seven
Benedict leaned across the table. "Perfect then, my dear, for there is nothing like a stroll in the orangery to bolster one's constitution." He rose and grasped his intended's elbow so that Rose was forced to stand and follow him. Pausing to light a candlestick, he led the way through darkened hallways and out to the back of the house.
They faced a set of French glass doors and Benedict directed Rose inside. He pulled the door shut behind them. Inside, the room felt extremely warm and moist and it was scented by subtropical plants collected over many years by Benedict's father and his grandfather before him.
Benedict took Rose's small hand in his and guided her over to where the enormous orange tree grew. Upon the lush foliage there were several large and brightly coloured fruits. They hung heavily suspended from the branches. He reached up, twisted a rounded orange off from a stem and presented it to her. The lady took the proffered fruit and held it to her nose, inhaling the delicious scent.
"Thank you, I shall have this with my breakfast tomorrow." Rose gave a deep sigh. "We have apple trees in Virginia, the harvesters will be picking them about now." She quickly brushed a tear away before it could fall down her cheek.
Benedict reached out and gently drew her into the shelter of his arms. "We too have orchards, dearest. I am here to give you anything that you desire, even if it is only apples! You see, Rose, I only wish to make you happy, you only have to ask me, darling, and it shall be yours." Rose lifted her tremulous face to his.
"I only wish to return to my home in Virginia."
Benedict pulled away from her with frustration. "You are an enigma, Rose Randolph. I have any number of beautiful ladies throwing themselves at my feet, begging matrimony. Mothers even beg me to take their daughters off their hands and yet, you, who I want to marry, refuse me. Why must you be so stubborn?" He crossed to stand and gaze out of the orangery's darkened glass walls. "I had no desire to marry you once upon a time either, Miss high and mighty," Benedict said, turning on her in anger. "Did you know that I am ordered by the Crown to marry you, Rose? In the beginning, I would have gladly sent you packing on your way back to Virginia, had the choice been entirely mine. However, now that you are staying here as my fiancée, then as my wife and as my Countess, I assure you that no amount of sulking, or temper tantrum on your part, will change the inevitable, Miss Randolph." He wagged his finger at her.
"If you persist with this silly and, may I say, quite childish behaviour, it will behove me as your affianced, to put you across my knee and spank your stubborn, hoyden behind. You will do your duty for your country, Rose, just as I will do mine. Do I make myself quite plain, madam?"
Benedict scowled and crossed his arms but quickly unfolded them when a missile in the shape of an orange came whizzing past his head. Rose bolted to the door, wrenched it open and flew out. Benedict could hear the slap of her silk slippers fading away as she ran back down the darkened hallway.
Putting his head in his hands, Benedict berated himself. Bloody hell, he'd handled that badly. He'd spoken out of turn and in anger. He had no desire for Rose to know just how much of a hold she had gained over him. He simply couldn't get the chit out of his mind, her voluptuous form; the swell of her bosom, her intoxicating scent had him in some sort of sexual thrall.
What had started as a compulsory relationship had quickly turned into a chase and Benedict was the one doing the chasing. Perhaps he should change tactics? Rose would soon discover what manner of man her future husband was for he would brook no more sulks and tantrums from her. Any such antics would be met with her upended across his knee and if the little termagant continued to defy him, then his riding crop would soon redden her pert little backside.
Benedict closed up the orangery and strolled determinedly back toward the drawing room. The battle lines had been drawn.
The following day had him searching for his intended. He looked about the house and asked the maids and footman alike if they had seen her but none had. He wanted to invite Rose to ride with him. He thought that if perhaps she saw the beauty of the estate grounds and met some of their tenant farmers, she might feel happier about Merriton Hall becoming her home. After a fruitless search, Benedict remembered that Rose had been out at the stables yesterday. He walked through to the boot room where Pippin and Holly lay curled up together in Holly's basket. He whistled to the dogs and they leapt to their
feet stretching and whining, both excited at the prospect of a walk. Benedict scratched them both behind the ears and patted them as he pulled on his knee-high leather riding boots.
It was a beautiful early autumn day, mist had given way to lemon tinged sunshine and although chilly, it was invigorating, an ideal day to ride. Benedict whistled to the dogs and they followed barking as he made his way down toward the stables as he entered and found Rose standing next to Devil's stall.
His anger pulsed immediately. "By Hades, I thought I told you not to go near that horse." Rose jumped and placed her hands guiltily behind her back.
"What were you doing here, missy?" Benedict strode up to her but could not discern what she had been up to. She gave him her most innocent round-eyed look. He stared into Devil's stall and saw him crunching on something. Knowing he would not get a straight answer from Rose, he pulled her arms from behind her back and found a carrot sticking out of her palm, "Rose, it is not safe to feed Devil, I have warned you that he is of a temperamental nature. You will never do this again and should I find that you have, believe me there will be consequences and I don't refer to the finger you might lose in the process! Stay away from this horse, he is out of bounds to you!"
"I sincerely apologise." Rose looked down at her feet and Benedict sighed. He desperately wanted to lighten the mood. "I thought perhaps you might enjoy a ride around the estate. I actually came down here to look for you."
Rose gave him a smile that would warm even the coldest of hearts. "Oh, sir, I would so love to ride. If you'll show me where the saddle and tack are kept, I'll gladly ready Abby."
"That is the groom's role, dear girl." Benedict called his groom, "Brown, have Abby and Devil readied for riding, we shall return momentarily."
"Aye, sir," Mr. Brown answered, tipping his cloth cap.
Benedict took Rose on a tour of the stables which she found impressive indeed. The coach house was connected to the far side of the building and Rose was amazed by the display of Phaetons and other carriages in Benedict's possession. After looking up at the heavily crested coaches and lighter gigs, she noticed an old building overgrown with bushes and trees set away from the stable block.
"What is that over yonder?" she asked as she pointed.
Benedict looked up and grinned, his dimples giving him a boyish look. "Ah, well now that is my old childhood tree house. However, it looks like there isn't much left of it now. I haven't been down there in years." Rose grabbed him by the hand and took off, dragging Benedict along behind.
"This is exciting, let us go and explore!" Benedict soon found himself surrounded by childhood memories as they sifted through what was left of his old tree house. It had seemed so high off the ground to him as a child. Now, he could look into it by simply standing beside it. No doubt his father had made sure it was built this height to ensure the safety of his son and heir. Rose stood on a tree stump and peered inside.
The wood was rotting and there were the vestiges of wood worm. Here and there lay a broken and dust covered toy. Suddenly Rose gave a cry of joy before saying, "Oh look what I have found!" She held up a several bits of string and leather.
"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Benedict as he gave a joyous shout, "my old slingshots."
"Come along," Rose squealed, "let us go and see if they still work." She handed one to Benedict and he lifted her by the waist down from the stump. She smiled down into his eyes as he held her suspended high above him.
"Don't tell me you know how to use a slingshot too?" he enquired in a teasing tone.
"I most certainly do!" Rose giggled.
"Could you be more perfect? Most young ladies simply sing and dance, which is all very well… but to ride proficiently and use a sling shot? Rose, you are a man's dream companion come true!"
Benedict bent over to pick up a handful of acorns and the two of them walked a few yards away. "You see that broken window, the one without glass, Miss Rose?"
"Yes, I do see that old thing."
"My friends and I used to see who could get the most acorns to go in the window of that old tree house. Want to give it a try?"
"Ah but what prize is mine if I win?" Rose's eyes were sparkling. Benedict gave a huff of laughter.
"What do you want as a prize, miss?"
"If I win," Rose mused, "I wish to go shooting."
Benedict was certainly not worried that Rose was going to win. He had played this game for many years. As long as the old slingshot held out, he had every confidence that he would best her. It was about time too—so far, Rose had thrashed him at cards and he was itching to show her up, naughty minx that she was!
"All right and if I win, Miss Prissy... you have to give me a kiss."
"I just knew you would say something like that," Rose snorted. "Fine, agreed. You have to go first, Mortimer."
"Now I have changed my mind. If I win, you have to call me Benedict from now onward… and, you have to give me a kiss."
"Oh, that is not fair…"
"Those are my terms, my lady, concede them or admit defeat." Rose gruffly agreed and Benedict was overjoyed. There was now far more at stake here than just a game.
Benedict stepped back and set his feet into position. He placed an acorn in the leather pouch and gave the slingshot a spin. Stepping forward he let it fly, the acorn hurled straight and true, right through the old tree house window.
Rose huffed crossly and then she bent over and picked her own acorn and set it into the shot. As she twirling it around, Benedict watched her with a wry smile. Rose had done this before. She gave it a heave and let it fly, the acorn fell with a crack against the side of the tree house.
"Best of three, best of three," Rose called as she jumped up and down excitedly.
Benedict set another acorn up again, and again with the same excellent result. Straight through the window it flew. Rose kicked at the left over acorns lying on the ground.
"I don't like any of these, Mortimer, would you please gather a few more for me? And make them nice and big, I can't win with these scrawny little things."
Benedict groaned, and for a moment he reverted back to his tenth year. "Girls!" he spluttered with an exaggerated eye roll. He walked over to the tree house and bent over to gather several nice fat acorns for Rose. He heard a whir and felt a sharp sting on his left buttock. He jumped up and quickly rubbed the biting sting.
Rose jumped up waving her arms in the air and whooped, "Bulls eye!" Benedict gave her a sharp, narrow-eyed look. He threw the acorns he had gathered down upon the ground and took off after her. Rose shrieked, picked up her skirts and began to run. She was fast this time, wearing her laced up sturdier boots rather than the silly ineffectual silken slippers. Nothing could slow her! She managed to make it to a huge old oak tree, Benedict tried to grab her but she darted around the tree trunk and skittered just beyond his reach. Beginning to run out of breath, she finally took off in the direction of the stables but Benedict caught up with her and lifted Rose with his arms and twirled her about in a circle.
"You are wicked a hoyden as ever I met, Rose Randolph!" he cried and gave a hearty laugh. Rose wrapped her arms about his neck, giddy and giggling. Her hair flew loose about them as he swung her around and around. Benedict's nose nearly touched hers and he could smell her sweet breath as she panted from her exertions. He stopped and stood still as Rose threaded her arms sinuously about his neck. She gazed at the sensual curve of his oh so masculine mouth and then she placed her small hand behind his head and kissed him full upon those firm lips.
"You won, Benedict!" Rose crowed as soon as she pulled back from the kiss. Benedict smiled with surprise as their eyes met. His heart gave a leap when he finally heard her say his given name.
He held her close and refused to put her down. He gently placed his lips back over hers caressing her mouth with his. The tip of Rose's tongue nudged his, causing his pego to stir. Groaning against her lips, he held her tighter. His hand tangled in her soft golden hair and he manoeuvred her head gently to the side at
an angle that enabled him to ravage her mouth. She was a mix of honey and intoxicating wine and he was drunk on her delectable charms.
The feel of her breasts pressed up against his chest had him hard and wanting within seconds. By the time he finished the kiss, Lord Mortimer was in an embarrassing state of arousal. He had to rely upon Rose's innocence when they broke apart as the hardened ridge of his throbbing member left nothing to the imagination to anyone who cared to look.
As they walked arm in arm back toward the stables, Benedict looked down at his little mischief maker beside him. "I'm glad I don't have to take you shooting, Rose. I don't like to hunt. I always miss the target on purpose and would far rather enjoy watching living wildlife than take sport in killing them."
It was Rose's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Ah, now I know why you always let Viscount Weston best you at the shoot. You are certainly a most unusual man, Benedict." He gave her a squeeze as they entered the stables.
Chapter Eight
Rose watched Benedict's back from atop Abby as she followed behind him on Devil's Fire as they toured the estate. He sat a horse better than any man she had ever seen. His long hair fell down his back in a neat que and his broad shoulders complimented his narrow waist.
Rose thought about his kisses which had left her breathless. She watched as Benedict's knees pressed the horse's sides, urging his mount onwards and she nearly groaned out loud. She had discussed the mystery of men with her girlfriends while still in Virginia, but at that point, they were all silly girls and none of them knew anything about mating. How Rose longed to talk to her mother about such things. She knew she couldn't discuss such topics with her maid Eloise or anyone else she knew for that matter. She giggled when thought how red her poor father would turn should she broach such a delicate subject with him!
Benedict turned round at the sound of her tinkling laughter. "Are you perchance laughing at me, Madam?"
His Colonial Rose Page 6