The empty bench outside the needlecraft shop seemed to taunt him as he neared the brightly-lit storefront. He glared down at it momentarily before lowering himself to its hard surface. For a Friday evening, business at the Mall was surprisingly slow as few shoppers made their way through the normally bustling corridors. Even the Tapestry Boutique displayed a lack of customers allowing a woman Ben perceived to be Mrs. Phillips, ample time to work on a knitting project. For the next hour and a half, he watched as she knitted one and purled two. Back and forth from needle to needle, her nimble fingers flew as they fashioned pale lavender yarn into a lovely sweater and, if not for the occasional interruption by a customer, she most likely would have finished the article that evening.
Bored beyond human tolerance and ever mindful of the growing discomfort of the hard, wooden bench, Ben fidgeted in his seat, earnestly hoping Shannon would soon make an appearance. He had just about given up on the prospect of that happening, however, when he caught a glimpse of a petite form with flowing raven hair rushing toward Mrs. Phillips from the rear of the cluttered shop. Blinking his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining things, he refocused his gaze on the interior of the shop--and the love of his life.
Ben couldn't take his eyes off her. He watched her every move, drinking in her smile, her emerald eyes, and the casual way she tossed aside a wayward lock of hair. Everything that was so dear to him. When she took off her coat and sat down beside Mrs. Phillips, it occurred to him that she appeared somewhat thinner than he remembered and it gave him some cause for concern. He continued to watch the two women as they studied a folder-full of papers Shannon had brought with her until it became apparent that his long awaited opportunity to speak to her might never be forthcoming. Another half-hour passed and still they conferred. Finally, several young women entered the shop, interrupting their conversation. Immediately, Shannon rose to greet them, and then quickly began clearing the table as the women seated themselves around it. At first the scene before him puzzled Ben, then it slowly dawned on him that she must be preparing to teach a class. A cold feeling of dread swept over him as he buried his face in his hands and uttered a stream of oaths. With Mrs. Phillips supervising her every move and half a dozen chatterboxes fussing at her, he knew he stood little chance of gaining her attention for even a moment.
The unmistakable clattering sound of approaching high heels abruptly lifted Ben's downcast eyes in time to see Mrs. Phillips, with coat and handbag in tow, exit the shop and head into the corridor, and for the first time that evening a glimmer of hope filled him. Several more moments passed while Shannon aided the women with their stitching. Then he saw her move away from the group and head toward a small ladder propped against the side wall, affording access to a storage shelf. Realizing the opportunity he'd been waiting for was at hand, he flew off the bench and into the store where he stood at the bottom of the small wood climb awaiting her descent.
Shannon retrieved a bolt of fabric one of her students had inquired about and started back down the ladder. Halfway down, her foot slipped off one of the paint-worn rungs, not only throwing her off balance, but also leaving her clinging precariously to the rung above and the large roll of cloth.
"What did I tell you about those shoes?" a gruff yet teasing masculine voice chided, as two strong arms lifted her from the ladder and stood her safely on the floor beside it.
Shannon's eyes lifted to the face of her rescuer. "My, God, Ben! How did you know I'd be here tonight?" she laughed.
Quickly propping the material against the ladder, she flung her arms around his neck in a spontaneous hug. Immediately Ben's arms tightened about her waist, drawing her snug against him.
"I missed you, babe," he murmured, and lowered his lips to hers in a brief, yet all too familiar kiss. Electric charges raced through Shannon's body and a million warning buzzers sounded in her head. It had been nearly two weeks since she'd allowed herself to brood over the similar romantic characteristics of the Marquis and Ben. But those eerie feelings sprung anew, and she jerked away from him, her mouth agape in utter shock.
"Shannon, we have to talk. About us ... about everything." His voice held a note of urgency.
"I-I can't," she gulped, still staring at him. "I mean, not right now." She glanced over her shoulder at her waiting students who were now watching them with great curiosity. "I-I'm almost finished here. Perhaps we could meet at the Mall Grill in about a half hour?" Ben shook his head. "No. We need to talk in private, Shannon. I'll wait for you out there." He pointed toward the bench.
During the next ten minutes, Shannon conducted her class well aware that, from afar, two violet-blue eyes scrutinized her every movement. Every time she glanced up, he was there watching her with such smoldering intensity it made her blush. When her teaching duties finally ended, she tidied up the worktable, and then set about making the necessary preparations to close the shop for the day. As she scurried around straightening items on shelves, she ventured another quick glance into the corridor. To her surprise, the bench where Ben had been sitting was empty, and there appeared to be no sign of him anywhere. Puzzled by his strange disappearance, she activated the steel barricade securing the open storefront and headed for the parking lot, thinking that perhaps he'd decided to wait for her there.
Outside, a chilly breeze that carried the promise of rain, greeted her as she hurried across the nearly vacant lot to her car. Ben was nowhere in sight, and she sadly concluded that he must have changed his mind about meeting with her. Disappointed and slightly irked that he hadn't kept his word, she yanked her keys from her purse and started to unlock the car door when the sickening, sour smell of cheap liquor filled her nostrils. Hardly believing that he would have to get drunk in order to say what was on his mind, she wheeled around and nearly collided with two filthy derelicts leering menacingly down at her.
"Well, would ya lookie what we found!" the taller one mumbled with a thick tongue.
"I'm lookin'! I'm lookin'!" the other exclaimed excitedly.
"Yes, sir. A fine lookin' woman, wouldn't ya say, Bubba?"
"Oh, lordy, yeah," his scrawny companion guffawed, picking at Shannon's hair with grimy fingers.
"Please! Let me alone!" Shannon implored, moving back against her car.
"Aw, come on, sweetie, we're not gonna hurt ya. We just wanna have a li'l fun."
"Yeah," Bubba grinned, revealing a mouthful of black, rotting teeth. "We never had us such a fine lady 'afor 'an we's aimin' to have our fill!"
Both men descended on Shannon like vultures after a fresh kill, one groping for her breasts while the other planted slobbery kisses up and down her neck.
Galvanized with fear, she struck out with fist and foot, but her frantic attempt to fend them off was met with a howl of laughter and served only to spur their ardor. All of a sudden, both vagrants were pulled off her and a flurry of well-placed fists sent them running and screaming into the darkness. An instant later, two strong arms encircled her trembling body and drew her against a warm, solid chest.
"My God, Shannon! Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"
Tears of relief flowed down Shannon's cheeks as she stood clinging to Ben's denim jacket. "I-I thought you left," she sobbed into the coarse material. "You weren't at the bench when I closed the shop, and I didn't see you when I came out here."
"I didn't leave, sweetheart," he whispered soothingly. "I wanted to get you a little welcome home gift, so I ran down to the florist for this." He leaned over and picked up the tissue-wrapped, long-stemmed rose he'd tossed on the hood of her car before wading in on the drunks. "By the time I got back to the Boutique, you'd already gone. That's when I came out here looking for you."
"I'm sure glad you did," she said, half laughing and half crying. "Otherwise I was about to become their main course for the evening."
"Oh God, Shannon. I'm so sorry. If I'd known those two creeps were hanging around, I'd never left that bench for a second. Are sure you're really all right?" He hugged her tighter.
"I-I think so," she nodded, smiling up at him with tear-filled eyes. "But I could use another one of those hugs just to make sure."
Drawing her back into the snug embrace of his arms, he gently rocked her against him. "Any time, darlin' ... any time." Ben allowed a few moments of silence to pass between them, and then softly reiterated the reason for wanting to see her. "Shannon, we really do need to talk. Oh, hell! What am I thinking?" he growled, pulling out of her embrace as he raked agitated fingers through his hair. "I can't do this. Not here. Not this way."
Startled by his sudden mood change, Shannon watched with wary eyes as he paced back and forth beside her car before coming to stand in front of her.
"Look, Shannon. There's something I've got to do. Why don't you go home ... get out of this weather," he gestured at the rain, which was just beginning to fall. "I'll meet you there in say ... an hour." He glanced at his watch. "We'll have the rest of the night to ourselves then. Okay?"
Shannon swallowed nervously as she met his questioning eyes. "Sure. That's fine," she nodded.
"Good," Ben breathed as he opened her car door. "I'll see you soon then. I promise."
A feeling of despair crept into Shannon's heart as she watched him sprint to his car parked at the other side of the lot. She had never seen him so agitated. He was always so easy-going, so in control. This sudden change of temperament was almost dramatic enough to give Jekyll and Hyde a run for their money, and she had to admit it bothered her more that a just a little.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
What began as a shower back at the Mall parking lot was fast approaching an all out deluge as Shannon scampered up the walkway to her back door. Grateful that it had waited to pour until she was beneath the roof, she let herself in and tossed her belongings on the kitchen counter. The dewy petals of the rose caught in the pale glow of the orange night-light, and for a moment she stared at it in bewilderment before flipping on the overhead light for a closer inspection. Because of the chaos in the parking lot, she'd barely given it a glance, let alone thanked Ben for his kind deed, but now she saw it all too clearly. It was exactly the same as the ones the Marquis had given her! Oh, hell! He knows! a derisive voice inside her wailed. He somehow found out about her affair with the Marquis and gave her the rose in jest--just to rub her nose in it.
Tears welled in Shannon's eyes as she wearily sank down on a kitchen chair. Now she knew why he had acted so strangely in the parking lot. He wanted to confront her about her dirty little secret, but lost his nerve at the last minute. And his sudden remembrance of a previous engagement was just a convenient way to dump her without having to come right out and say it was over between them. No, Ben wasn't coming back tonight. Or any other night. Her stupid infatuation with the Marquis had cost her the one man with whom she might have found love and happiness, and now it was far too late for second chances. With a heavy heart, she rose from the chair and after switching off the light, slowly made her way down the hall to the bathroom. Going to bed early was not the way she'd planned to spend the rest of the evening, but all things considered, she could think of nothing else to do.
The glow of a strange light reflecting on the walls of the hallway greeted Shannon's startled eyes when she emerged from the bathroom, and for a split second, her heart leaped with the hope that perhaps Ben had come back after all. Rationality soon disposed of that deduction, however, and in its place came a horrible foreboding. She must have forgotten to lock her back door again, and now someone had entered her home and was rummaging around in her bedroom! With her heart pounding like a sledgehammer, she scooted back into the bathroom and frantically scanned the pale-blue tiled room for a suitable weapon. Finally pulling a large toilet plunger from its place beneath her vanity sink, she tiptoed back into the hallway. Slowly, cautiously, on trembling legs, she inched her way to the bedroom door and, after swallowing a giant lump that suddenly formed in her throat, she peeked around the doorjamb. Immediately her eyes were drawn to the flickering flames of the small pillar candles she kept on the dresser and within the dancing shadows, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar, darkly dressed form moving about the room.
Snatching herself away from the door, she withdrew into the safety of the hallway and muffled an anguished shriek. It wasn't a burglar at all. It was the Marquis!
"Damn him," she swore under her breath. He had the gall of a rattlesnake and apparently the same brain capacity because he didn't know when to quit. Well, she'd had it with his infuriating arrogance, and it was time she put a stop to him "slithering" around in her life.
With an angry toss of her hair, she took a deep breath and stormed into the room. "You!" she seethed, slamming the door behind her. "You really are hell-bent on ruining my life, a-aren't y-you...?" The last two words died on her lips as the leather-clad being turned and fixed her with a coquettish grin.
"My dear lady," he quipped, struggling to keep a straight face despite the comical picture she presented wielding the plunger, "ruining your life is the very last thing I would ever desire to do. Would you mind elaborating on what it is I have done? Surely, you haven't discovered a chink in my plumbing?"
Slowly, the color drained from Shannon's face and the wooden-handled object slipped from her hand. Her mind had to be playing those weird tricks on her again or else she'd finally gone completely mad. Was that really Ben standing there dressed as the Marquis? Or did the Marquis just appear to have Ben's face? Maybe if she just closed her eyes...
"Don't you dare faint on me again!" a hollow-sounding voice rumbled in her ears as two hands gently shook her.
Shannon's eyes shot open and settled on a brawny chest clad in a black leather jerkin, then slowly lifted to disheveled chestnut-colored locks and the rest of the ruggedly handsome face grinning down at her. "B-Ben?" she ventured in a wary tone. "What...? Wh-why are you dressed like ... like that?"
"Oh, God, Shannon." He took a step toward her. "Can't you see? Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm the Marquis! I have been all along. Right from the very first night we met at the Chateau."
"Nooooo!" she wailed, backing away from him. "This is some kind of cruel trick you're playing on me!"
"Shannon, look at me!" He grabbed her to him, pinning her against his leather-clad chest with one arm as he lifted her chin with his free hand. "Take a long, hard look and tell me if you still think I'm playing a trick on you!"
Shannon studied the humorless expression on Ben's face and swallowed nervously. His words were beginning to sink in, and she realized he was telling the truth. He and the Marquis were one and the same, but understanding the how and why of it still eluded her. "I-I don't understand ... I thought you were an actor," she stammered in a small, thin voice.
"You know that I am," he laughed, loosening his grip on her. "Working in television and doing an occasional play is truly my life's passion ... but so is the Marquis."
"Oh, I get it," she snapped, wrenching away from him. "Screwing lonely women for money is just what you do in your free time."
Ben stared at her indignant face, unable to believe she'd used that kind of language. "You've got it all wrong, Shannon," he shook his head forlornly. "I worked at the Chateau because I love women and enjoy giving them pleasure. Whatever that may be. If you want to condemn me for that, then that's your prerogative."
Shannon glanced about the room unable to focus on a single object as her mind sought to find some shred of comfort in his words. He reached to take her in his arms, but she shied away from him.
"Don't touch me," she snarled, beginning to sob again as she ran to the window refusing to look at him.
Ben moved to where she stood and gently placed his hands on her jerking shoulders. "Please don't cry, sweetheart. I never meant for this to hurt you..."
"Sweetheart!" She wheeled around, her tear-filled eyes blazing at him. "Do you really mean that or do you call all your patrons by such endearing names?"
"Now, Shannon, you know better than that." The muscles flexed in his jaw despite
his effort to remain patient.
"Do I?" she railed. "What makes me so different from any of the others you sleep with?"
"What makes you...? Oh, God, Shannon. You know what! I told you before. I love you! That makes all the difference in the world!"
Shannon raked him with a surly stare as tears brimmed anew in her eyes. "You love me? Ha! More like covet, you mean. What fun you must have had playing the rutting stud on one hand and the gentleman actor on the other just so you could get me into bed."
"I wasn't playing anything!" Ben retorted. "I hated the deceptive circumstances of our first encounter, and was determined to make amends. You captured my heart that night, Shannon, and I wanted you in my life anyway I could get you. I feared you'd never voluntarily come back to the Chateau and, since I couldn't stand the thought of never seeing you again, I decided the only plausible thing to do was introduce Ben Tate into your life."
"So ... so the birthday gift for your sister was just a ruse to see me?"
"Yeah," he tossed her a boyish grin. "But don't worry. It didn't go to waste. Mattie was delighted with it."
More tears blurred her vision, and she wiped at them angrily as the trails of wetness streamed down her cheeks. "Why didn't you just tell me who you were the night of the Ball ... the night we first made love?"
Ben expelled a beleaguered sigh. "Because I was afraid of losing you. I finally succeeded in proving to you that the Marquis wasn't the monster you thought him to be, but in doing so, I became firmly ensnared in a trap of my own making. If I had revealed my identity to you then, you would have surely reacted just as you're doing now ... hating me all over again."
"And why shouldn't I hate you?" she cried. "Do you have any idea how much I suffered because of this ... this game of yours?"
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