‘I didn’t have to marry you to get away from Papa,’ she murmured, almost provocatively. ‘Aunt Sarah in Bath has been sending me increasingly urgent invitations to visit her for nearly a year. She’s a very high-spirited old lady, Harry’s devoted to her. It was a difficult decision to make, but…’
Benoît turned round and slipped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him a little diffidently and saw a gleam of wry amusement in his dark, still shadowed eyes.
‘That has to be the most long-winded, roundabout apology I have ever received, mon aimée,’ he said, a hint of familiar humour in his voice.
Angelica was overwhelmed by a strange mixture of relief and nervousness; but she was too shy to reveal her feelings. She tried to hide them behind mock indignation.
‘You knew, and you let me keep talking—!’ she exclaimed.
‘I was waiting to see if you’d ever manage to come straight out with the words, “I’m sorry. I love you”,’ he said softly. ‘They stick a bit in that graceful throat, don’t they, ma chérie?’ He stroked it gently with sensitive fingers. ‘I can’t remember ever hearing your say them.’
Tears sparkled in Angelica’s eyes.
‘I do love you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I love you with all my heart and soul, and nothing will ever change that. I’m sorry I said such a horrible thing to you. I know—’
His arms tightened around her and he stifled the rest of her apology with a kiss. She clung to him, trying to show him in her response to him how truly she meant what she’d said.
‘I’m sorry too, mon amour,’ he murmured a few moments later, his cheek resting against her hair as he held her against him. ‘I know you didn’t set out to trick me into marriage— I knew it even when I said it. It was just…’
Angelica lifted her head to meet his eyes and laid her fingers gently on his lips. Tears dampened her cheeks, but she didn’t try to hide them. She smiled a little unsteadily.
‘I gave you good reason to be angry,’ she said softly, distress in her eyes. ‘I’ve been so cross with Papa—yet the moment I felt hurt and confused I acted in exactly the same way. I lashed out at someone who loves me and wanted to help me.’
A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed, trying to suppress her tears.
‘I’m not really as brazen as a h-harlot, am I?’ she whispered anxiously, unable to conceal her own pain at the things he’d said to her.
‘No!’ Benoît exclaimed. ‘No. I’m sorry, mon aimée! It was a cruel, unkind thing to suggest. Don’t ever worry about it again.’
He smiled crookedly and stroked her cheek, brushing away her tears with infinitely tender fingers.
‘Almost the first thing I noticed about you was the way your actions are guided by your heart,’ he said softly. ‘I think perhaps I am a little daunted, as well as captivated, by your openness. By nature I’m far more cautious and secretive. You will have to teach me to be less guarded, mon amour.’
Angelica gazed up at him, seeing his lean, dark face through a haze of tears.
She was remembering the inherent honesty with which Benoît had always treated her. Occasionally he had obscured facts, but only once had he deliberately misled her—and that had been about Adam’s arrival. She didn’t deserve his praise.
She bit her lip, struggling to control her overtaxed emotions.
Benoît smiled faintly, a quietly understanding expression in his brown eyes. He stroked the nape of her neck with gentle fingers.
‘Ever since we left Sussex you have been so determined not to admit to any doubts—or reveal how upset you are,’ he murmured. ‘I do know, ma chérie, however insensitive I may have seemed. You won’t have to face Lord Ellewood alone, I promise. I’ll be with you. And we won’t go to him until you’re ready.’
Angelica gave a little gasp, and then the pent-up feelings of the past few days finally found release in a flood of tears.
Benoît held her comfortingly, stroking her hair and speaking softly to her until the first storm of emotion had passed.
Angelica let him support her, profoundly reassured and moved by his response to her. She could feel the firm texture of his coat beneath her cheek, and the relaxed vigour of his strong body against hers. His arms provided her with a haven and a source of strength. She knew with absolute conviction that from now on home was not a place, it was a person. Benoît was the only home she needed.
When the worst paroxysm of tears had passed, he guided her over to the bed and sat down beside her, one arm supporting her as she rested her head on his broad shoulder. She felt drained and exhausted, but so much better than she had done earlier. A crushing burden had finally become lighter.
She sighed, and accepted the handkerchief he offered her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, blowing her nose. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added a moment later with the first hint of humour she’d shown all day. ‘A damp and overwrought bride is probably not what a man hopes for on his wedding night!’
Benoît chuckled and brushed her curls with his lips.
‘I can think of worse things,’ he said reflectively. ‘And you are safely in my arms, mon aimée, even if you have just wept all over my best coat!’
Angelica smiled with weary contentment as she nestled within the circle of his arm. The nervous energy which had propelled her through the past twenty-four hours had finally burnt itself out. She was grateful for the interlude of quiet, gentle good humour.
‘Adam’s right,’ she teased Benoît softly. ‘You are a dandy! I thought so the first time we met. All you need is a gold earring…!’
‘You had me cast in the role of pirate from the first!’ Benoît retorted. ‘I’ve told you before—I’m a respectable businessman.’
‘Who gets woken up by smugglers in the middle of the night,’ Angelica reminded him, lifting her head to look at him. ‘Where did you go that first night I stayed at Holly House?’
‘What a long memory you have!’ Benoît remarked, grinning. ‘One of Tody’s old friends broke his arm escaping from Sir William,’ he continued matter-of-factly. ‘I learnt a lot from my father before I went to sea. They wanted me to set the bone for him. Being the trustworthy fellow that I am, you understand!’
‘Respectable…trustworthy…I’ve married a paragon of virtue,’ Angelica mused, a twinkle in her tired blue eyes.
Benoît smiled, but didn’t rise to the bait.
‘You look worn out, and pale as a ghost,’ he said softly, stroking her dishevelled curls. ‘Did you sleep much last night?’
‘No,’ Angelica confessed ruefully.
‘I thought not. You must rest tonight.’ Benoît kissed her lightly and stood up. ‘I’ll send Martha to you.’
‘Benoît…Ben.’ Angelica paused, gazing up at him with wide, dark-circled eyes.
He reached down to take her hand in his, lifting it to his lips.
‘We’ve the rest of our lives together,’ he said quietly. ‘I know you’re my wife, Angelica. I don’t have to prove it at the first opportunity. Besides,’ he added wickedly, ‘as I recall, you find being jolted about in a carriage extremely traumatic. That was the reason you gave for staying at Holly House an extra day, wasn’t it? I’m sure you need a good night’s sleep just to recover from the journey up to London!’
Angelica woke slowly in the early hours of the morning. The room was shrouded in silky darkness, and at first she could see nothing when she opened her eyes. For a moment she felt confused, but then she heard Benoît’s unhurried breathing and remembered they were married.
She hardly dared to move for fear of waking him, but she eased carefully over until she could look at him. He had opened the curtains before getting into bed—she thought perhaps he disliked being cocooned away from the sky—and she studied him in the dim light.
She could see his firm, slightly aquiline profile, and hear his slow, steady breathing. He had always been so alert and so forceful. It was strange to see him exposed and vulnerable in sleep. She could hardly believe
that all she had to do was reach out to touch him. And he wouldn’t even know.
She sighed soundlessly, and cautiously propped herself up on her elbow, scarcely daring to breathe in case she woke him. He was brother to the wolf; she could not imagine her actions wouldn’t disturb him, but his breathing continued slow and sure.
She couldn’t help herself. She stretched out a single, tentative finger to touch the curve of his shoulder. He wasn’t wearing a nightshirt, and she suddenly wondered if he was completely naked beneath the sheets. A tiny thrill of excitement tingled through her body.
His flesh was warm and firm beneath her delicate, questing fingers. She couldn’t resist letting her hand glide gently over his collarbone. Her heart began to beat faster. She felt guiltily that she was stealing an illicit pleasure, but the temptation was irresistible.
A sunburst glow of joy flooded through her as she finally realised that she was, irretrievably, Benoît’s wife. He was her husband, and she had a perfect right to reach out to him in the night.
Her touch was no less imperceptible, but considerably more confident, as she began to trace the contour of his muscular chest. She was so absorbed in her task that she was completely taken by surprise when he caught her hand in his.
‘Ma douce séductrice,’ he murmured softly, without opening his eyes.
‘I thought you were asleep!’ Angelica exclaimed, disconcerted. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he tightened his hold on it.
‘I was. But you could rouse a carved stone knight from his tomb!’ he retorted, a smile in his voice as he turned his head to look at her.
‘Oh.’ Angelica blushed in the darkness.
‘Oh?’ Benoît slipped an arm beneath her waist and drew her to lie alongside him. ‘Were you hoping I wouldn’t wake up?’ he enquired teasingly.
‘Yes…No!’ Angelica replied, feeling flustered. ‘I mean—’
She was acutely conscious of the feel of Benoît’s lean, vigorous body through her thin nightgown. Her weariness of the previous evening had vanished. A warm, anticipatory excitement began to flow through her veins.
Benoît chuckled and lifted his hand to slip it beneath her heavy golden hair as she looked down at him. His fingers gently caressed the nape of her neck, and a quiver of pleasure rippled through her.
‘I thought it was usually the Prince who was supposed to wake the Princess,’ he murmured provocatively, ‘and you haven’t completed the spell, mon amour. If you really want to be sure…’
Angelica hesitated for a fraction of a second.
‘You’ve tricked me like that before,’ she reminded him huskily.
‘The circumstances are not entirely similar,’ Benoît said softly. ‘You weren’t my wife then.’
‘And you never intended to tell me how you’re going to rescue Harry, whether I kissed you or not!’ Angelica exclaimed, with remembered indignation. ‘It was an underhand, dastardly…!’
Her protests faded as Benoît allowed his hand to trace the curve of her back. She was still propped up on her elbow, half leaning, half lying against him, and she could feel the play of muscles in his arms and chest as he explored her warm, vibrant body.
‘I thought the action provided its own reward,’ Benoît teased her gently. ‘I certainly found it more satisfying to kiss you than to discuss tedious rescue plans.’
‘Because you have a…secretive nature,’ Angelica gasped, as his fingers investigated the soft, sensitive skin of her throat, just below the neckline of her nightgown. She was finding it increasingly difficult to think coherently.
Benoît chuckled softly.
‘I don’t think that’s why,’ he murmured, and drew her head down until her lips met his.
She melted against him, her hair falling around them like a curtain in the darkness. She was lost in a world of delicious sensations. Her hand still rested against his chest and she could feel the firm, rapid beat of his heart. His mouth was warm and almost languid against hers. She realised they had all the time in the world.
When at last she lifted her head, her lips were swollen with tender passion and her whole body glowed with fiery anticipation. She could hear his quickened breathing, and feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand. The desire to touch him more intimately was irresistible, and she let her hand drift inquisitively across his torso. She was in no doubt now about the lean strength in his virile body. She bent and pressed a kiss against his chest.
Benoît caught his breath, uttering a soft, wordless exclamation, and rolled her onto her back.
Her heart leapt in sudden surprise, but then she was overwhelmed by new sensations of pleasure. She slipped her arms around his neck and lost herself in another long, deep, infinitely satisfying kiss.
There were dark shadows all around them. She was excitingly aware of the gentle weight of Benoît’s upper body pressing her firmly into the bed. She ran her hand down his arm, feeling his biceps tense at her touch. She felt utterly secure in his embrace.
He kissed her throat and she let her head fall back against the pillow, arching her body towards him. His hand rested lightly on her waist, burning through the fabric of her nightgown as his lips explored the hollow at the base of her throat.
Then he reached down and began to ease up the hem of her nightdress.
A wave of intense, almost heart-stopping expectation swept over her. She gasped, hardly daring to breathe at the first, electrifying touch of his hand on her naked leg. He let his fingers slip sensuously across the tingling flesh of her outer thigh; trailing them over her hip until his hand came to rest lightly on her stomach.
Her heart raced. Her world had shrunk until it was contained within the murmuring shadows of the sturdy four-poster bed; yet at the same time she felt as if she were soaring in a lofty, star-filled sky.
She murmured incoherently. She was full of wonder at the glorious sensations which consumed her, yet she was hungry for even greater fulfilment.
She rolled slightly towards him, her fingers pressing convulsively into the muscles of his shoulders. She felt his hand move against her burning, excited flesh, curving around her side as he continued his upward exploration. The soft material of her nightgown seemed almost harsh when it brushed against her sensitised skin as Benoît pushed it aside.
She lifted her hips instinctively to make it easier for him, then caught her breath as his hand cupped her throbbing breast. She closed her eyes, surrendering entirely to the glorious sensations he was arousing within her.
His strong fingers teased her taut nipple gently, stimulating currents of desire which seemed to spring from deep within the centre of her body. She breathed in quick, erratic gasps, conscious only of Benoît.
He moved against her, gently nudging her legs apart with his knee. The pressure of anticipation within Angelica became almost unbearable in its intensity. She hesitated, a brief, last-minute nervousness tightening her muscles. She could sense the wild, fierce energy in his lean body, and it half frightened her, half exhilarated her.
‘Je t’aime,’ he murmured and waited, softly kissing the corner of her swollen mouth and stroking her breast almost soothingly.
She realised he was holding his desire in check with ruthless self-control and she was overcome with a rush of tenderness as well as love towards him.
She relaxed, no longer resisting him. He lifted himself until he was poised above her, his elbows braced on either side of her body. Her heart pounded with excitement. She was intimately conscious of the arousal in his lean, taut body. She wrapped her arms around him, delighting in the play of muscles in his strong back.
She felt a few moments of gentle questing, and then a sharp pain which almost made her cry out. She clung to Benoît, digging her fingers into his shoulders, turning her head briefly aside. He kissed her cheek softly, almost reassuringly. She sighed as an entirely new and seductive warmth began to radiate through her body, and turned her head to meet his kiss with eager, responsive lips.
Her whole world was fi
lled with the feel, taste and scent of her husband. She was aware of nothing but her love for him, and the infinite joy and pleasure it gave her to be in his arms, completely united with him.
The tempo of his movements began to quicken. She was borne away on a rhythm of almost primal intensity. Golden fire pulsated through her body, exploding the shadows around them with glorious flashes of light. She seemed to hover breathtakingly on the edge of a precipice, gazing up at the bright stars in the dark void above, not knowing what lay beyond—and then the morning sun rose, enveloping her in swirling, glowing colours and warm, vivid, deep satisfaction.
It seemed a long time later when she sighed contentedly and stirred in Benoît’s arms.
‘Mon aimée?’ he murmured softly.
‘Mmm.’ She pulled herself up to press a kiss against his cheek.
Then she relaxed to lie half across him, her fingers laced together so that she could rest her chin on the backs of her hands as she looked at him. The first pale light of dawn was creeping in through the uncurtained window, and she could see him quite clearly.
His black hair was dishevelled, but his lean, hawklike face was more relaxed and contented than she had ever seen it. He was watching her quietly as he stroked her hair. There was a hint of humour, as well as a question in his brown eyes, but the wolf-wariness she was so used to was completely absent from his expression.
She smiled, luminous happiness and profound satisfaction glowing in her blue eyes.
‘So this is married life,’ she said musingly.
‘Does it meet with your approval, ma chérie?’ Benoît enquired softly, winding a lock of her hair around his finger.
Angelica hesitated, a teasing reply on her lips. Then her expression sobered as she realised her answer was more important to Benoît than his light-hearted manner made it seem.
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, with heartfelt sincerity. ‘Yes, my love, you know it does.’
She drew herself up so that she could kiss his lips, her hair falling around them like a cascade of gold in the morning light.
Claire Thornton Page 21