Reunited with His Long-Lost Cinderella

by Laura Martin

  Frantically he pushed at her dress, trying to expose a little more skin, but it was laced up tightly and refused to budge.

  ‘Poor choice of clothing,’ he murmured into her ear as he spun her round to fight with the fastenings. A giggle turned into a groan as he caught her earlobe in his mouth, nipping it as he fiddled with her dress.

  ‘I didn’t dress for ease this morning,’ Francesca said as she caught her breath. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’

  Neither had he been, although he’d fantasized about this moment long enough. Every night he’d woken up hard with desire after dreaming of this.

  With a swell of triumph the dress came loose and he managed to push it down to her hips. Francesca did a little wiggle to help the garment on its way and soon it was pooled around her feet. Carefully he lifted her over it, his hands encircling her waist and feeling the warmth of her skin through the cotton chemise she wore.

  Ben took a moment to look at her, still far from naked with a collection of petticoats, a cotton chemise and legs clad in white stockings, and he could begin to catch glimpses of her body underneath. Forcing himself not to rush, he ran his hands over her body, loving how she inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed over her more sensitive areas.

  As he kissed her again he felt her hands tugging at his jacket, pulling it off over his shoulders before untucking his shirt from his waistband.

  ‘I’m not finished with you yet,’ he said, lifting her gently on to the bed, taking his time to rid her of the petticoats before he got to work on her stockings. Slowly he rolled them down her leg, marvelling at the creamy skin underneath. She’d always been tall and her legs were long and slender, just begging to be kissed.

  Underneath him Francesca sighed as his mouth met the skin of her legs and she clutched at his shoulders as he worked his way from calf to thigh. Unable to resist, he pushed her chemise higher, revealing the skin all the way to her abdomen, and carried on planting kisses as her hips writhed beneath him.

  As his lips skimmed the very top of her thighs he felt her gasp in surprise as he brushed against her most sensitive place. Instinctively he knew that she had never been worshipped as she should, that her husband had never focused on her pleasure, and he felt inordinately pleased that he would be the one to give that to her.

  Slowly at first he kissed her, his fingers circling and dipping as her body writhed beneath him. He could feel her hips coming up to meet him, the movement instinctive and natural, and as her breathing quickened he felt her tense, clutch hold of his shoulders before letting out a deep moan of pleasure.

  Only once her hips had fallen still did he move, manoeuvring himself so he was above her, looking down into her flushed and beautiful face.

  ‘What...?’ she started to say, but couldn’t seem to put her question into words.

  ‘You deserve to be worshipped,’ he whispered in her ear, kissing along the angle of her jaw and down her neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin. Quickly he pulled off his shirt and in one swift movement rid Francesca of her chemise, too, taking a moment to memorise every wonderful inch of her body.

  He felt her hands on his chest, fingers dancing across his skin and delving lower to the waistband of his trousers. Deftly she unclasped them, pushing them down and looking up into Ben’s eyes at the same time.

  She was beautiful, with her hair escaping in rebellious tendrils around her face, her cheeks flushed from desire and her lips rosy from being kissed.

  ‘I want you, Ben,’ she said quietly but firmly, pulling him down towards her. He loved her determination, her certainty.

  Unable to hold himself back any longer, he pushed inside her, groaning at how wonderful it felt. Francesca’s hands encircled his back, pulling him in further, and together their bodies began to move in rhythm. It was as though they were made for each other, they fitted together perfectly.

  Again and again their bodies came together until he felt Francesca clutch at his back and tighten, a quiet moan escaping from her lips. That was enough to send Ben over the edge and for a long minute he knew nothing but pleasure.

  Slowly, as his breathing started to return to normal, he lay down beside Francesca. Normally he made it a rule never to fall asleep with a woman after making love. It complicated things, gave people unrealistic expectations, but today he couldn’t have done anything differently even if he wanted to. There was no way he could get up and leave Francesca alone in his bed, he had an overwhelming urge to gather her to him, to spend the rest of the day baring his very soul to her, letting her see every vulnerable part of him.

  ‘Ben,’ she said, resting her head on his chest and tracing a lazy pattern on his abdomen. ‘Is it often like that?’

  He kissed her head before answering.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not quite like that.’

  As he lay there with Francesca on his chest he felt as though his whole world had shifted. It would be difficult when he had to walk away from this woman.

  * * *

  Francesca must have dozed for she felt heavy and unwilling to move when she woke up.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Ben said from his position at the end of the bed. He was dressed and had a sheaf of papers in his hand as if he’d been reading them while he waited for her to wake.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked, feeling the panic rising up inside her.

  ‘Only two.’

  She’d slept for nearly three hours. Self-consciously she pulled the sheets up a bit higher, aware that she was completely naked under the bedclothes while Ben was sitting there with his dignity intact.

  ‘I should be getting back home soon. I said I was going shopping with an old friend.’

  Ben nodded and she felt a stab of disappointment. Part of her imagined him gathering her up in his arms, promising they’d never be parted again and whispering his undying affection in her ear. Quietly she snorted. That was never going to happen. Ben had made it quite clear over their short acquaintance that his relationships with women were short-lived only. He would give them affection and share pleasure, but he didn’t get emotionally attached, not in a lasting way. Eight days, that was what he suggested they spend together, and after that they would disappear from one another’s lives again.

  As she shuffled off the bed, pulling the sheets closely around her, she wondered at the direction of her thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking of a future with Ben, her path was already decided. When she’d kissed him she’d known exactly how things were going to end up, and it wasn’t with a walk down the aisle—at least not with him.

  ‘I have seen you naked,’ Ben remarked mildly, ‘so if you’d prefer not to break your neck hopping around in that sheet, that would be acceptable.’

  Looking at him with her best haughty expression, she said nothing. He was enjoying this—she could tell by the barely repressed grin on his face. Deciding to shock him, she stood straight, dropped the sheet and looked him in the eye, challenging him to hold her gaze.

  He couldn’t. Within three seconds his eyes had dropped to her body. She refused to blush, despite the heat already creeping into her cheeks, and waited for his eyes to come back up to meet hers.

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have done that, Frannie,’ he murmured, dropping the papers he was holding on to the floor and moving towards her.

  ‘In your own words, you have seen me naked,’ she said, finding it difficult not to sink into him as soon as he came close. ‘There should be nothing surprising for you here.’

  ‘Not surprising,’ he said. ‘Awe-inspiring, desire-inducing, but not surprising.’

  Gently he ran his fingers over her shoulders, making her skin feel on fire and before she knew what was happening he’d tumbled her back on the bed, his mouth seeking hers.

  * * *

  An hour later Francesca got up again, this time dodging the hand that tried to pull her back to bed.

  ‘I have
to go,’ she said with a giggle.

  ‘Don’t. Spend the whole night here with me.’

  ‘They’ll send out a search party,’ she said, trying to sound stern as she struggled into her layers of clothing.

  ‘You could send a note,’ Ben suggested.

  ‘What would it say? Don’t worry, I’m spending the night with a man of questionable morals and giving him my virtue?’

  ‘That would just about cover it,’ Ben said, rolling over on to his back and grinning. ‘Will anyone have missed you?’

  Francesca considered and shook her head. As a widow she had a little more freedom than she had when she was a debutante. It was perfectly acceptable for her to lead her own life without informing her father of her every last move. Of course it wasn’t perfectly acceptable to spend the day naked in a man’s rooms, but no one would ever need to know that.

  Finally dressed, she perched down on the edge of the bed, letting her head drop back as Ben came up behind her and kissed her neck.

  ‘Do you regret this, Frannie?’ he asked softly.

  ‘No.’ The word came out quickly, but she realised it was the truth.

  Never before had she considered an affair, not throughout her marriage and not since her husband had passed away. It just hadn’t been something she did. Although she hadn’t loved her husband, she did believe in the marriage vows she’d uttered and they’d included being faithful until death.

  What she didn’t feel was any regret about their intimacies today. One day soon she would be married again, but until then, or more precisely until she had given her promise to another man, there was nothing wrong in enjoying herself a little.

  ‘Do you?’ she asked.

  ‘Never.’ He kissed her again on the neck and she felt the heat beginning to rise in her body. It was almost too difficult to pull away.

  ‘I should go,’ she said, standing reluctantly.

  ‘When shall I see you again?’ Ben asked.

  Feeling elated that he didn’t want to get rid of her as fast as possible and then never see her again, she considered.

  ‘Felicity has persuaded Father to let her host a dinner party tomorrow night. Lord Huntley has sent his apologies so will not be there. Would you like to attend?’ Too late she realised the foolishness of the invite. It was her father who had lied and condemned Ben to eight years’ hard labour and transportation for theft, there was no way he would ever want to be in the same room as the man.

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ Ben said.

  As she turned to look at him she noticed a steely expression on his face and wondered what she had just done.

  ‘Father might not even be there...’ she said, trying to work out why he had accepted. It wasn’t as though she could withdraw the invite now.

  ‘All the better,’ he said serenely. ‘Until tomorrow, my dear Frannie.’

  She rose and moved to the door, pausing as she heard his footsteps behind her. With her hand on the doorknob she turned to find him right behind her, completely naked and completely unabashed.

  ‘Goodbye,’ he said, kissing her until she forgot what she was meant to be doing.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she said once he’d released her and quickly slipped out through the door, pausing on the landing to compose herself before she made her way down to the street.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With great interest, Ben stood for a moment and regarded the façade of Francesca’s father’s house. It was a little shabby looking, with the door needing a coat of paint and the railings peeling and starting to rust. Certainly not up to the standards of the other houses in the street.

  He had not hesitated in accepting the invitation to dinner, even though it would mean spending an evening in the company of the man responsible for sending him to Australia as a convict. Eighteen years ago Francesca’s father had accused him of stealing a large stash of valuables from the country estate. Of course Ben had been innocent and the only item found when he’d been searched was the small locket Francesca had given him the summer before as a token of her affection, but it had been enough for the magistrate who had uprooted the twelve-year-old Ben from the family home and thrown him in jail.

  Ben had begged the magistrate to ask Francesca, to hear that the locket had been given as a gift and not stolen. The magistrate had refused, but a few days later Francesca had broken free from her father’s imprisonment and made her way to the jail. She’d told anyone who would listen that Ben was innocent, that the locket had been a gift, but it hadn’t been enough. Francesca had been dismissed—after all, she was just a girl and it was her word against the word of a viscount.

  Ben would never forget the moment Francesca was dragged away. It had been the last time he’d seen her and the moment that had sealed his fate. A week later he’d been found guilty of theft and sent first to the hulk ships on the Thames and finally to Australia.

  His father had tirelessly continued to dig into the case after Ben had been sent away and in one of his letters years later he told Ben he thought it was all a scam on the part of Lord Pottersdown who, it would appear, had taken out some sort of insurance against the valuable items in his home and claimed when they had gone missing, no doubt also selling the items quietly at the same time to get double their worth.

  Over the years he’d thought about Francesca’s father rather a lot. At first he’d been bitter, swearing he would get his revenge on the older man, but after a while the bitterness had seeped out of him. Once Mr Fitzgerald had taken him in Ben had realised the anger he felt towards Lord Pottersdown was slowly draining away and, as he’d built himself into a success, he found he was thinking about the old Viscount less and less. It had only been Francesca who had haunted his thoughts, the girl he’d left behind.

  Quickly he mounted the steps, trying to push away the entirely inappropriate memory of Francesca standing in his bedroom, looking him rebelliously in the eye and dropping the bedsheet she had wrapped around her body. That image would never leave him.

  ‘Mr Crawford,’ he said to the footman who opened the door. He was shown in to the drawing room where he’d visited previously and wasn’t surprised to find the small room was already almost full to bursting.

  ‘Mr Crawford,’ Felicity gushed as she spotted him, ‘What a delight to see you again. I was so happy when Francesca told me you would be attending our humble dinner party this evening.’ Felicity paused, took his arm and lowered her voice. ‘Has she forgiven you yet?’

  Ben remembered their morning spent in his bed and grinned, ‘I think she’s getting there,’ he said.

  ‘Good. I’d hate to see you out of favour because of me. Now, who should I introduce you to?’

  Ben surveyed the room, finding nine other people besides Felicity and himself. Some he knew, some he only recognised, but he had eyes for only one. She was standing amid a small group, listening intently to what one young woman was saying, nodding her head in an animated fashion.

  ‘Will your parents be in attendance?’ he asked, noting their absence from the drawing room.

  ‘Father will, although I doubt he will appear before dinner. Mother is indisposed.’ She spoke the words without any hint of frustration. Ben had learned Lady Pottersdown hadn’t been seen at a social event since Francesca had married and it seemed Felicity had just accepted her mother’s withdrawal from society graciously. ‘Of course,’ Felicity said, turning to Ben, ‘you must know my parents if you were acquainted with Francesca in childhood.’

  ‘We have met,’ Ben said, trying to keep any hint of emotion from his voice, ‘but only once so I doubt they would remember me.’

  It was a white lie. He had met Francesca’s parents on more than one occasion, fleeting glimpses of annoyed faces as he was chased from the house by the footmen or reprimanded by Francesca’s governesses for leading her astray.

  ‘Good evening,’ Lord Pottersdown said as he
appeared in the doorway, face ruddied by too much drink both today and in the past few decades. Felicity had been wrong about him waiting to make an appearance until dinner was served. On his arm he felt Francesca’s sister stiffen and wondered if the older man knew how much embarrassment and suffering he brought to his children, or if he just didn’t care.

  ‘Father,’ Francesca said, breaking away from her little group with a smile of apology, ‘I didn’t think you were joining us until later.’

  Everyone was focused on the interaction between Lord Pottersdown and his eldest daughter so Ben took the opportunity to look over the man who had condemned him to transportation for the sake of a couple of hundred pounds.

  Lord Pottersdown looked much older than his fifty-odd years, his face lined and sallow in complexion with the bulbous nose that gave away his habit for over-imbibing. His mid-section had long ago run to fat and his clothes bulged across his stomach. Today there was a smile on his face, but an air of panic in his eyes.

  Calm, Ben told himself. He had spent years working on the feelings of hatred and resentment he had towards those who had wronged him. When he’d first been taken in by Mr Fitzgerald he had been bitter and the feelings of hatred had eaten him up every day. Slowly, with a lot of love and patience, the older man had helped Ben to see that the only person these feelings were hurting was himself. Over time he’d shown Ben how to let go of the past and look to the future, to see everything he had been blessed with and even appreciate how his difficult interlude had shaped him into the man he was today.

  Still, seeing Lord Pottersdown in the flesh again brought back some of feelings of anger and hatred.

  ‘I must go and introduce myself,’ Ben said, noting Felicity’s surprise, but deciding to ignore it.

  Quickly he moved over to where Francesca was unsuccessfully trying to manoeuvre her father from the room without making a scene. She glanced at him with a frown and seemed to try to signal with her eyes for him to keep away. Ben couldn’t do that, something was pushing him to step closer, to finally look the man who’d caused him so much pain in the eye.