Indiscreet Part 11

"Cousin Bertram acts like a fool, but he's actually quite smart. If he does know you, I am sure that he will come up with it. You never worked for him, did you?"

Benedict shook his head.

"Or stole anything from him?"

"Why do you persist in this belief that I am a thief?" Benedict asked, exasperated.

"I don't know. Perhaps it is because you stole my carriage."

"I did not steal it. I merely drove it."

"Without my permission."

He shrugged off this minor point. "I could have met him when I was younger. I don't remember him. I have been out of the country the last few years, so-"

Camilla drew in a breath, her eyes rounding. "You mean you had to leave the country?"

He frowned. "Your opinion of me is gratifying. No, I did not have to leave the country. I was in the army. As I told your grandfather. So whatever this 'affecting' history is that you have given me, you had better work that into it."

"Oh, dear, this is getting complicated. Well, if it comes up, I shall just tell Lydia that you joined the military after you thought I no longer loved you. Why do you look at me like that?" Camilla stepped away from him uneasily.

"Like what?"

"As if you might put your hands around my throat and squeeze."

"Don't be absurd. I just wondered what possessed you to say such a thing."

"Well, I had to come up with some explanation for why we married so quickly and why Aunt Lydia had never even heard of you."

He sighed, opening the door for her, and they stepped outside. "All right. Tell me what sort of a sorry past you have given me. I am sure I no doubt played the fool in it."

"No-although you were duped, of course."

"Of course."

"So was I." They started along the graveled path leading into the formal flower garden. "I told Aunt Lydia that we met in Bath many years ago, when I went there with the Barringtons. Those are some cousins of my father's, and Aunt Lydia never sees them, for they are dead bores. So I knew that they were perfect, for Lydia will never check out the story, and I was seventeen at the time I went there with them, which is a perfect age to fall madly, hopelessly, in love, don't you think?"

"Ideal," he replied dryly.

"I thought so. Anyway, we met there, and we fell in love. But you could not ask for my hand, you see, because you had to stay with your mother, who had consumption."

"Good Gad."

"I was too young, anyway. So we said we would wait. But in our hearts we felt as if we were engaged. Only then your uncle-"

"Ah, the wicked uncle."

"Yes. He did not want you to marry me, so he intercepted our letters and concealed them from us. We each came to believe that the other one no longer loved us, since we never got any letters, and of course I was heartbroken. I refused to marry, because no other man ever measured up."

Benedict chuckled. "How could they?"

Camilla made a face at his quip. "Only, unknown to me, you, too, did not marry, still carrying the flame of pa.s.sion for me in your heart."

"I was such a nodc.o.c.k that this whole time I never thought to come to London and check with you? Ask you why you stopped writing and whether you no longer loved me?"

"Of course not. You could not have, obviously, for that would have ruined my whole story."

"So I am not only lovesick, but a fool?"

"No! You were very n.o.ble. You knew that your fortune was not grand and you had no t.i.tle, so you felt you were not truly worthy of me, although, of course, none of that mattered to me."

"Ah, better and better. Foolish, tied to my mother's ap.r.o.n strings, and now penniless and baseborn, as well."

"No, not baseborn. I never said that. Nor penniless, either. Aunt Lydia would not really approve of my marrying you if our stations were that disparate. She is romantic, but not completely impractical."

"I am relieved. Tell me, if we were at such a standstill, no longer communicating and never seeing each other, how did we ever get married?"

"Oh, that is because I moved to Bath last year. You see, when I turned twenty-four, I knew that I was quite old enough that, being unmarried, I would be considered a spinster. And, having my inheritance, I could live on my own, with a companion, of course. So I hired a companion, an in-law of my father's sister."

"Not one of the boring Barringtons."

"Oh, no. They, unfortunately, are blood relatives. Drucilla is much nicer and only related to me through my aunt's husband. We took up residence in a sweet little house in Bath."

"This part of the tale, I a.s.sume, is true?"

"Yes."

"I am surprised your grandfather allowed you to do such a thing."

"He did not like it, I a.s.sure you. But I am a grown woman, and it was all perfectly respectable. And since I Was living in London with Aunt Lydia at the time, he really could not stop me. He wrote me letters, of course, threatening to come up and bodily move me back here, but Aunt Lydia and I were able to soothe him enough in our letters that he did not do so. Of course, he continued to write and tell me I was a terrible influence on Anthony, who was now wanting to come up and live with me, to provide safety for me. As if it would have been respectable for my cousin and me to be living there together with no older relatives! Otherwise, I would have begged Grandpapa to let him, for he is so terribly bored here. I worry about him."

"I worry about you. I do not think I have ever met such a female in my life."

"Probably not," Camilla agreed judiciously.

"I don't think you would know the truth if you met it driving to Newcastle. You have told so many falsehoods since I've met you that I have no idea how you even keep them all straight."

"It is getting difficult," Camilla admitted. "But you were the one who wanted me to develop another lie to tell Aunt Lydia about our marriage. I had intended to tell her the truth."

"Then there's the way you went off and lived by yourself, as if you were a widow or something! Twenty-five is not an established spinster, my dear girl, and even if it were, you should hardly be living on your own, with only a hired companion. One would think you have no relatives, instead of quite a few loving ones."

"But loving relatives can be the worst. They can make you feel simply smothered, you know."

"No. I am afraid I don't I, you see, have only the wicked uncle."

A little gurgle of laughter escaped her lips. "Do you really have an uncle?"

"I did have. But he is dead now-and when he was alive, he was a good fellow who would never have dreamed of interfering with my love life."

Benedict stopped, pulling Camilla to a halt with him. Putting his hands on her arms, he turned her to face him and smiled down at her as if they were having an ordinary conversation. No, not quite that. He was looking at her as if...as if he were hungry.

"Don't pull away," he told her quietly, all the while gazing at her in that odd, unnerving way. "Your aunt Beryl is in the bay window, watching us. No! Don't look. Keep looking at me."

"Why?"

"And smile at me, as if I had told you you are beautiful."

She could not keep from softening into a smile at his words.

"Good. That's it. Now...we are going to put on a little show for your aunt."

"To convince her that we are married?"

"Quick girl. Yes. So please don't pull away or slap my face."

His face was lowering to hers. Camilla felt her breath coming faster in her throat. She knew that he was going to kiss her, yet still she asked, "Why?"

"I am going to kiss you." His lips brushed lightly over hers, soft as a hummingbird's wings. "Kiss you as if I had lain between your legs."

She gasped at his words, and then his mouth covered hers.

His lips were gentler than they had been last night in the coach, but still firm and insistent. They moved on hers, digging deeper, pressing her own lips apart. Then his tongue flicked out, teasing at her lips, and it slipped inside her mouth, moving with velvet softness around her own tongue. His arms went around her tightly, pulling her hard against his body. Camilla trembled, glad for the support, yet even more unsettled by the feel of his hard body against hers. Her fingers curled unconsciously into his jacket, clinging to him in the maelstrom of sensations that enveloped her.

Finally he raised his head and looked down at her. Camilla, aware of a deep pulsation within her abdomen, hoped that he would not release her now, or she might fall. Breathlessly she asked, "Is that enough, do you think? To convince her?"

A sensual smile curved his lips, and he answered huskily, "No, I think she should see at least one more."

He bent his head toward hers once more, and this time Camilla went up on tiptoe to meet him. He let out a low groan at this evidence of her eagerness, and his lips sank into hers hungrily. He kissed her deeply, fully, as if he would consume her, but Camilla, a little to her surprise, was not at all frightened by his hunger, only stirred in a most delightful way. Every nerve in her body was suddenly alive and sizzling, and heat blossomed low in her abdomen. She had never felt this way, never even guessed that such feelings existed. Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him back, her tongue twining around his.

Benedict's hands moved down her back, curving over her hips and pressing her up into him. Camilla was aware of something hard against her, pus.h.i.+ng urgently. He lifted her almost off her feet, rubbing her abdomen against him. Moisture flooded between her legs, thick and hot, and there was a deep, pulsing ache there. She realized with some amazement that what she yearned for was to feel him there. She was flooded with heat at the thought, embarra.s.sed and excited all at the same time. She wondered if he knew what she was feeling, what she was thinking. It would be humiliating for him to realize that he had such power over her, and yet...there was such need pouring through him, so much so that she felt a tremor pa.s.s through his arms, that she knew she had this heady power over him, as well.

He tore his mouth away from hers and trailed hot, greedy kisses down her throat. Camilla s.h.i.+vered at the delightful sensation, and she lolled her head back, offering up her soft white throat to him. He made an inarticulate noise, and his hand slid up and around her body to cup her breast. A fierce white heat speared through her at the intimate touch, and she moved against him unconsciously. He mumbled something against her skin, his hot breath tickling her. Camilla let out a soft sigh, melting against him as his hand caressed her breast. His mouth moved lower, onto the quivering top of her breast. Camilla's hand slid up and into his hair. Heat enveloped her, and she found it hard to think. She felt as if she were slipping away, sliding down into a red-hot maelstrom of desire, and she had no idea where it would end.

Chapter 9.

"Camilla! Where are you?" A male voice came booming across the yard, plunging Camilla and Benedict back into stark reality.

Camilla gasped, stiffening. Benedict's head came up, his dark eyes glittering.

"I'll kill him." He grated out the words. "Who the devil is it?"

"Cousin Harold," Camilla said with a groan, pulling away and smoothing her dress back into place.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! How many cousins do you have?"

"Too many. There is only one more of the Elliots, but he is in the army, so hopefully we shan't see him."

"With our luck, his regiment will come to town tomorrow." Benedict turned aside, combing his fingers back through his hair in an impatient gesture.

"Halloo!" came the booming voice again, and now a tall man came around the corner of the box hedge. He was dressed in severe black and wore a low-crowned hat. Around his neck was a white clerical band.

"Good G.o.d! Your cousin's a clergyman?"

Camilla nodded. "Grandpapa gave him the living at Edgecombe." She raised her hand and waved toward her cousin, forcing a smile to her face.

Benedict drew a deep breath and released it slowly, tugging on the lapels of his jacket to straighten it He turned back to her, his face under control, and cast an a.s.sessing glance down her. He stepped forward and, with a proprietary air, retied the ribbon adorning her neckline, which had come loose during their heated embrace. His eyes for a moment glowed with their earlier heat, and his mouth softened sensually. His gaze went to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the nipples still pointed with arousal. As his hand pulled away from the ribbon, he brushed his knuckles across one nipple.

Camilla drew in her breath sharply. He glanced back up at her face. Her lips were rosy and faintly swollen, and just looking at them sent desire spearing through his gut again. "There's no hiding that you have been well and thoroughly kissed."

"Benedict!"

There was no time to say anything else, for by this time me vicar of Edgecombe was upon them. He swept his hat from his head, executing a creditable, if somewhat stiff, bow. "My dear cousin!"

He came forward, ignoring Benedict, and grabbed Camilla's hands.

"h.e.l.lo, Cousin Harold." Camilla tugged vainly at her hands. "It is so nice to see you. May I introduce my husband, Mr. Benedict La.s.siter?"

Harold looked shocked and, to Camilla's relief, dropped her hands as if they had burned him. "Your what?" He turned toward Benedict.

"Husband," Benedict supplied helpfully. "How do you do?"

"But- I thought-"

"Didn't your mother tell you?" Camilla asked.

"Why, yes, she did say something about it, but, frankly, I thought it was all one of Aunt Lydia's little faradiddles."

"Oh, no. Benedict is quite real," Camilla a.s.sured him.

"This is so-so surprising." He looked at Camilla, saying earnestly, "You know that I had always cherished the hope..."

"Ah, Cousin Harold." Camilla smiled winningly. "Don't try to pretend you meant any of those blandishments you were always giving me. Why, everyone knew you were merely being gallant. The two of us would never have suited. I am far too frivolous."

"Only because you are still young. I am convinced that in time you would have settled down and..." His eyes dropped down to her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then skittered away. He cleared his throat. "Um, well, become a proper wife and loving mother."

"Indeed, I am sure she will be," Benedict interjected, taking Camilla's hand and tucking it into his arm possessively. His hard eyes bored into the other man's. "Why don't we return to the house, where we can have a more comfortable visit?"

"Oh, yes," Camilla agreed quickly as they started to walk back into the house. She was a little surprised by Benedict's obvious antagonism toward the other man. "I am sure everyone else wants to see you, as well. Indeed, I am quite surprised that Aunt Beryl allowed you out of her presence so soon after your arriving."

"She did not know I was here. As soon as Purdle told me you were in the garden, I rushed out to see you." He paused, considering. "It would have been more dutiful of me, no doubt, to have gone first to visit my mother. However, since she has been living here for some months now, we see each other several times a week, and I do not think it is slighting her to go to you first."

"No, I am sure it is not," Camilla agreed, for her cousin's always sober face was set in even grimmer lines than usual. "I know that your mother would say that you are her most dutiful son."