by Wendy Vella
“Yes, I’ve seen how well that worked for you.”
“Y-you cannot carry me!” Primrose had never been held like this before. Perhaps by her father when she was young, but not in a great many years.
“Yes, I remember now from the last time I carried you how heavy you are. My back will be uncomfortable for days.”
Was he laughing at her? She couldn’t tell, as his face was calm. Primrose had her arms around his neck and a perfect view of his side profile. His jaw was strong, cheekbones pronounced. The man should be carved in ivory from this particular angle.
“What are you looking at?”
They were walking down the side of the road, close enough to a group of trees should they hear a carriage.
“You have a large mole with several long hairs sticking out from it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It must be a trick of light, then.”
He turned then, and his face was suddenly there. Good Lord, the man is disturbing.
“I see somewhere we can hide, and very likely a place we can get horses. You do ride, I hope?”
“Not really… and definitely not in this dress.”
His eyes ran over her body, and even in the weak dawn light she felt where they landed.
“What does ‘not really’ mean?”
“It means not really, but I will do my best considering our situation is dire.”
“How extremely brave of you.”
“Was that mockery?”
“Yes. You’ve jumped recklessly into water, and climbed out a window to win a game of hide and seek. But horse riding in a dress is beyond you?”
“I don’t like horses.”
“Which means what exactly?”
“I can’t ride, and have never learned!” Primrose did not like admitting such a weakness, but now was a time for honesty only.
“Good Lord, there is actually something you can’t do. I must remember this moment.”
“Sarcasm is beneath you.”
“Come, I see a barn. We can hide in there,” he said, ignoring her. Leaving the road, he walked through the grass.
“Please put me down, I’m sure my legs are working now.”
He did; she staggered a few steps, then landed on her bottom again.
“Happy now?”
“Of course I’m not happy!”
He bent to pick her up.
“I just don’t want you to tire yourself.”
“Have some faith in my stamina.”
“You don’t seem to be breathing hard. Are you hiding that in some way?”
“I do plenty of things that ensure I can cope with carrying damsels in distress should it be required.”
“Like what?”
“Boxing.”
“Really? I have always wanted to see that.”
Benjamin moaned. “Not another one.”
“Another what?”
“I know a lady of noble birth who is rather enamored with boxing and even has her own punching bag hanging in her rooms.”
“Really? Do you think I—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“I’m sure Herbert will be more lenient,” she said.
“He’s a clergyman; how have you come to that conclusion?”
Primrose sighed, because nothing else really fit the moment.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben walked into the small barn. It smelled of the usual scents: hay, horse, and manure, but the new scent now mingling in the air was Primrose.
It wasn’t exactly sweet or spicy, but a mixture of both and exactly right for a woman like her.
Contrary to what he’d said to Primrose, his arms were tired, but he wasn’t showing her that. His pride could not take the knock she’d give him.
He found a pile of hay and lowered her onto it.
“How is it you are here, Benjamin? I-I had thought I would need to extricate myself from this mess alone.”
And she’d been frightened, even though he knew she would never admit that to anyone.
“I couldn’t sleep and was out walking. I came across the carriage and heard them saying you and the book were inside. I jumped on the back.”
“Did you really? That was extraordinarily brave of you.”
Why did those words make him feel ten feet tall?
“But how did you manage to get me out of the room in that inn?”
“When everyone was asleep, I crept into the inn. The man who’d been stationed outside your door to watch over you was snoring and had fallen sideways.”
“That was a very good deduction, knowing that I would be inside that room.”
Her eyes were clearer now, lacking the slightly unfocused gaze she’d had before.
“I think it was a fairly simple leap to make, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. Go on with your story.” She waved a hand at him.
“The man was snoring. I walked over him, unlocked the door, and strolled in. You were also snoring—”
“I was not!”
She looked like someone who had taken a tumble in the hay, sitting there with her hair down, clothes wrinkled, deliciously rumpled.
“Thankfully, when I roused you, you didn’t shriek, and even managed to keep quiet as we left.”
“I am quite capable of being quiet should I need to be.”
“Really? I have not seen much evidence of this, but if you say so,” Ben teased her.
“I need to say thank you again, Benjamin.”
“If you must.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But seriously, thank you. Not many people would have done as you did, and I am extremely grateful that I am out of Mr. Sanders clutches. You do know it was he who was behind this entire thing, don’t you?”
“I do. I saw him when the carriage stopped. As to not many doing as I did, I’m sure your family would have wanted to rescue you.”
“No, probably not.”
“You’re not serious?” Ben didn’t believe her. “You are of their blood.”
“And a burden to them.” The words were spoken softly.
“You are not a burden.”
Her smile was sad.
“I am, actually, but thank you for saying otherwise. My family… well, they don’t need me, you see. I am not easy to…” Her words fell away. “Never mind.”
“What were you going to say?” He stood over her, looking down at her now lowered head. “Tell me what you were going to say, Primrose.”
“Nothing. I am tired, and therefore my tongue has loosened.”
He thought about pressing her, but then remembered that he didn’t need to know more details about this woman.
“All right. Now you stay here while I go and find us some transport.”
“Promise you’ll come back!” She lunged for his hand as he turned to leave, gripping it hard.
“You think I’d leave you here?” He dropped to his knees at the fear in her voice. “I would never leave you alone, and I had hoped you would understand that about me by now.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbled. “Perhaps what has happened has upset me more than I realized.”
The last few hours were taking their toll on her. Her spirit had dimmed, but Ben knew it would not be for long.
“Which is completely understandable. It’s not every day young ladies are snatched from house parties and whisked away in the middle of the night.”
“At least you saw. My hero,” she said around another yawn.
“You are safe now, Primrose.” He gathered her into his arms and held her tight. She didn’t resist, but burrowed into him, her hands gripping his shirt, holding him close. He felt her tremors then.
“You are such a brave girl, Primrose. Not many women of my acquaintance would have endured what you have and not dissolved into a puddle of tears.”
She sniffed, then eased back.
“Thank you for following me, Benjamin.”
He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe her tears. So beautiful and full of life. She would never be anything to him, but if he were to choose a mate, it would be someone like her.
“You’re welcome.” He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now rest, and I shall return soon. I promise.”
She didn’t answer, just lay down on the hay and let him cover her with his jacket.
Ben made himself walk away. He’d promised her he’d follow that carriage when it left with the book. He’d lied. He was getting her out of here as fast as he could. An investigation of the barn left him empty-handed, so he headed to the house and knocked on the front door. It was soon answered by an elderly man.
“Good morning, sir. I have need of a horse. I am willing to pay handsomely for it.”
The man had faded blue eyes and wore a shirt that had seen many washes.
“I have no horses save one, and it’s a pony I attach to my cart.”
“Well, thank you all the same. If my wife and I may rest in your barn, we shall be gone in shortly.”
The man nodded, and Ben handed him several coins. The old man was curious, and who wouldn’t be considering there was a perfectly respectable inn that would offer them a bed and food only a few minutes away. But he didn’t question Ben, and for that he was grateful.
He would have to go back to the inn, but to do that he had to ensure the carriage holding Sanders had gone, or they’d recognize him. Ben had no issue going a few rounds with the man one-on-one, or even taking on a second should it be required, but he knew Sanders had three men keeping him company, and doubted he’d come out on the right side of the ledger with four men in a fight.
Keeping to the fields and out of sight hidden in the trees, he retraced the path to the inn. Daylight was slowly creeping in, and the courtyard now had people wandering about seeing to the chores.
Ben ran to the stables and around the side. Staying pressed to wood, he moved as close as he could to the inn.
The front door burst open, and out strode Sanders.
“She’s gone!” He was roaring at the man accompanying him. “How the hell can that be when you were guarding her door!”
Sanders looked different. No more the amiable gentleman, his stride was aggressive, as was his voice.
“I want her found!”
Not while I’m still breathing.
“Search everywhere. She cannot have gone far considering the sleeping draft I forced down her throat!”
The man at his side ran into the stables, presumably to speak with the other henchmen. Ben waited and watched; a few minutes later, he had his break. If he could get that damn book, Primrose would not be quite so incensed when they left.
“The carriage! One of the wheels is loose!” The men ran back out of the stables.
“What?” Sanders roared, following them back in.
When they had disappeared, Ben slipped unnoticed into the inn, and headed upstairs. After searching the room Primrose had been in, he checked the ones on either side. None had the book.
Making his way back downstairs undetected, he slipped into the kitchens. He found two staff there, a young boy and a woman.
“Good morning.”
The woman looked up from the pastry she was rolling. Her eyes ran over Ben, noting his necktie was mussed and he wore no jacket.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I am in need of food for my journey, please.”
“Of course. If you’ll step outside and wait in one of the rooms, I’ll parcel you up something and have it brought right out.”
“I have something of a sore head, do you mind if I step outside the kitchen doors briefly to take some air while I wait?”
She chuckled.
“Mr. Henry’s ale can affect a man in that way.”
“That it can.”
The food was handed to him minutes later, along with a flask filled with ale.
Slipping around the stables, he ran back to Primrose, eating a large wedge of pie on the way. The pastry melted in his mouth, and was a close second to the pies he’d eaten in the pint and pie run.
Entering the barn, he found her still nestled in the hay. She looked almost angelic with her mouth closed. Dropping down, he settled beside her and closed his eyes. Just a few minutes and he’d wake her, and they’d leave for Rossetter .
He woke slowly, as he always did. Alex said it was like watching a bear come out of hibernation. Slowly orientating himself, Ben opened his eyes.
Primrose.
Turning his head, he found her still sleeping, curled toward him, hands under her cheek. Sweet, he thought. At least, she was when she wasn’t awake and taking him to task.
He ran a finger down her cheek, and her nose wrinkled. Touching her plump lower lip, he traced the contour, then down to her chin. Unlike him, she didn’t wake slowly.
Her eyes shot open and locked onto his.
“Dear Lord, what is the time?”
He envied that. Alex woke alert.
“I’m not sure, as I slept myself.”
“The carriage!” She bolted upright. “We must stop it.”
“It may already have been repaired and left the inn, Primrose.”
She fell back into the hay.
“Drat.”
“Drat?”
“It seemed to fit the moment.”
“No flowery curses?”
“I don’t have one to fit the occasion.”
“How about Lupin?”
She laughed, a soft, husky chuckle.
“Why are you and your family not close, Primrose?”
The thought bothered him. He was sure earlier that she’d been about to say she was not easy to love.
“Because they have no time for anything but what they see as their vocation.”
“So therefore there is no room in their lives for anything or anyone else? That sounds unfair.”
“Life is not fair, Benjamin. You are extremely lucky if you have not worked that out yet.” Her eyes were on the roof above her head.
“I have been treated unfairly in my lifetime, Primrose.”
“By your mother when you were just a boy?”
He managed a nod. Even the reference to his mother made him tense. “But surely you and your brother—”
“My brother and I were once close,” she interrupted him.
“What happened?”
“My parents infected him with their obsession for botany. They tried with me, but every time we went away, I would get sick. Homesick, travel sick, or seasick. It was a weakness in me, and therefore I was no longer welcome. Weakness is not welcome in the Ainsley family.”
“It’s not a weakness, Primrose. It’s something that is inside you and has been since birth. Just like your annoying clicky jaw.”
“It only annoys you.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are more people, they’re just too polite to mention it.”
She snuffled. Not exactly a laugh, but not a sad sigh either.
“Benjamin.”
“Yes, Primrose.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t understand the question,” Ben said to give himself time. But he did, only too clearly. He just didn’t want to answer it because he couldn’t lie to her.
“What is deep inside you that frightens you?” Her words were nearly a whisper, but as he was only inches away he heard them.
“Pineapple makes me shudder. And moths, I’ve always had an abhorrence for them. They fly about your head, and I’m sure once I swallowed one.”
“That’s not what I mean as you very well know.”
“Tell me your fears first, Primrose.”
“It’s not really a fear, it’s the truth.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“I have a character flaw—”
“Just the one,” he scoffed.
“I’m unlovable.” She said the words so calmly, it took Ben a second to take in their full meaning. He’d been right abo
ut what she was going to say earlier.
“No, you’re not!”
“The statistics prove it, and I’m all right with that. I’ve accepted it. Hence, I wish to wed Herbert, as he and I will never love each other.”
“Wait.” Ben rolled onto his side to face her. “You don’t actually believe that nonsense, do you? You are totally loveable.”
“It’s all right, Benjamin, it doesn’t hurt me, and like I said, the statistics prove me right.”
“Of course it bloody hurts!”
“There is no need to roar at me. You asked, and I told you.”
“What statistics do you have to back up this ridiculous statement?”
“My family don’t love me, and neither does Herbert.” She spoke in that prim little voice that he loved.
“Four people is not an accurate set of statistics.”
“Yes, it is, and as I’ve had exposure to those people for many years, the data is more than accurate.”
“Lord save me from a woman who actually thinks she knows how to use her brain,” Ben scoffed.
“That’s insulting. My intelligence is equal, if not greater, to any man’s.”
“Yes, it is, so how about using it.”
She harrumphed. “Now you need to share your fear, Benjamin.”
Not bloody likely. Ben knew that his fear would sound as ridiculous as hers had. His, however, would never change, and he would never allow a woman to have the ability to hurt him again.
She turned her head to look at him. Their eyes held for long seconds.
“Primrose, some man will love you one day, I promise.”
“No, that’s not for me.”
He moved closer. “Yes, it is. You are kind and giving and have a lovely personality. Please promise me you will not give up on love?”
“Benjamin, there is no need for this. My understanding is based on fact. I like facts, they make life simple.”
“Rubbish.” He leaned over her until their eyes met and held. “Admit to me you are loveable.”
“I’m not.” She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. Just a brief brush of one finger, and Ben gave in to the inevitable and kissed her.
“We shouldn’t do that.”
“No, we shouldn’t.” He kissed her again, this time taking it deeper. “But we will, as no one is here to see us.”
“Benjamin.” She sighed his name into his mouth.