Page 16 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
“A decade. Not a lifetime, but certainly long enough to give one the benefit of hindsight… But I don’t wish to talk about Anne or what my marriage to her might have been. Not anymore.”
“Then what do you wish to talk about?”
His hand shot out, closing around her wrist and pulling her to him. “I think, Benny, that I’d prefer not to talk at all. I want to kiss you again. I want to see if it’s as intoxicating as I remember.”
Benny didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Instead, she stepped closer to him, feeling the heat and strength of him envelope her. Even as his arms closed about her, he was already lowering his mouth to hers. That first brush was like striking a match to tinder. That same heat she’d felt the night before suddenly roared to life inside her.
She didn’t need to go to Vauxhall to see fireworks. Apparently she only needed to let this man, Payne Asher, Baron Davenport, kiss her and the entire world was lost behind a veil of shimmering sparks. Everything else simply vanished. Worry, fear, the threat of scandal—even her aunt’s dire warnings to permit nothing but a kiss.
Lifting her hands, she slid them over his shoulders, around his neck, and locked them together. She could feel the crispness of his short dark hair, the warm skin of his neck. The scents of bay and sandalwood surrounded her and Benny, if she’d had the option, would have wrapped herself up in him at that moment.
Somehow, they wound up moving across the terrace, toward a small bench that nestled against the back wall of the house, just beyond the double doors that provided access to the terrace from the drawing room. And somehow, they wound up on that bench, Payne seated there, leaned back against the wall of the house while she sprawled across his lap. It never entered her head that she was behaving indecently. That they both were. If she’d had to be entirely honest, she could only say that no thought had entered her head at all. Feeling. Sensation. She seemed to be comprised of that and nothing else.
His lips left hers, dragging over her skin, pressing kisses to her jawline, to her throat. But when his teeth scraped lightly over the skin where her neck and shoulder met, Benny was simply lost. And so was he. His hands were suddenly everywhere, roaming over her with an insatiable need. Even when he tugged at the sleeves of her gown, the bodice slipping down to reveal the upper swells of her breasts and the stays that did nothing to give her even the hint of décolleté. And yet he did not seem to mind. He did not suddenly push her away, repulsed by the fact that her breasts were comically small. There was no laughter or jeering insults. Instead, he touched her reverently. His hand cupping the small mound and teasing the peak of it with his thumb until she shuddered with pleasure… and with anticipation of something she could not name.
When his other hand slid into the precarious coiffure, so painstakingly created by her aunt’s maid, pins scattered over the stones of the terrace and the curls tumbled over her shoulders. She had never thought of her hair as being something sensual and seductive. But he certainly seemed to think so. And when she felt the silken strands moving tantalizingly over her skin—in tandem with the scorching kisses he peppered her with and the veritable magic in his fingertips as he teased her breast to a sensitivity she had never anticipated— she had to reconsider. It was if every part of her had been sleeping and suddenly come to life. She could feel everything, taste everything, hear and see everything. And touch… she could touch everything.
* * *
He had not intended for things to go so far. He had not intended to be swept away by the need to taste her, to feel her. If they’d been anywhere else, if it had not been so terribly cold and the stones so hard beneath them, he would have made love to her right there on the terrace. Consequences be damned.
With her gown pulled from her shoulders and her small, perfect breasts gleaming in the moonlight, he was half mad with wanting her. It happened so suddenly. Instantaneously. But there was no denying the intensity of his desire for her or the fact that her own desires were just as engaged. She might have been innocent, but Benedicta Wylde was living up to her name. This was no shy, terrified virgin in his arms, but a woman with a passionate nature too long denied.
Then the creaking of the garden gate brought everything crashing to a halt. He knew that sound. Had he not heard it only a short time earlier when he had climbed that gate himself?
Quickly tugging her dress back up, he lifted her off his lap. “Go inside,” he hissed. “Go inside, close that blasted window and lock it. I’ll return in a moment.”
“Do not! You cannot go out there unarmed,” she insisted. Clearly, based upon her response, she had heard the sound of the intruder, as well.
“I am not unarmed,” he replied. “Go! Hurry.”
When she had slipped in through the window, he took off along the path that wound through the small garden and led to the wooden gate separating it from the mews. But he didn’t open that noisy gate. Instead, he hoisted himself up to the top of the garden wall to scan the area. The sound of carriage wheels alerted him and he swiveled his head to see.Wainwright’s carriage.
It was distinctive. Elaborately painted and gilded to the point of poor taste, it was impossible to miss. Wainwright had not given up on capturing his kitten, it seemed.
Climbing back down, he didn’t bother trying to pursue Wainwright. The man was too far ahead, his carriage already leaving the mews behind. It would better serve him just to set someone to watching the man. In the meantime, he needed to warn Benny not to be out alone and to be very cautious if she glimpsed even a hint of Wainwright’s person or equipage.
Taking the path back to the terrace, he could see the pale oval of Benny’s face peering out from the window. Approaching it, he squatted down and immediately she opened it for him. But he didn’t go inside. They’d taken enough chances already.
“Did you see someone?”
Should he tell her? It would work her. Possibly, it would frighten her. But then if she were frightened, perhaps she would be cautious. Torn, he compromised. “I saw a carriage pulling away, but could not say who was in it. It could, possibly, be one of the gentlemen from Vauxhall.” He hadn’t lied. He hadn’t identified Wainwright whose villainy she was familiar with, but it might at least move her to caution.
“Oh, dear. What could they possibly have wanted?”
“You, Benny. They wanted you.”
“But why? Well, I knowwhy,” she said. “Or rather, I understand what for. But why me? It isn’t as if I am a great beauty or terribly desirable.”
He didn’t trust himself to tell her just how wrong she was on that score. But he did attempt to answer at least part of her question. “Men like this are so jaded, so debauched, that anything resembling goodness or innocence is a novelty to them. And like so many men, they feel entitled to have what they want… Now that they have seen you, now that they know of your existence—I will obtain the license first thing. If I have to pull the Archbishop from his bed myself, I will have it and we will be married tomorrow afternoon. That is the best way for me to keep you safe and to mitigate the ramifications of all of this.”
He waited for the argument. But it never came. She remained quiet for a moment. When she did finally speak, there was a slight tremor in her voice. “My sister, Delia, sleeps like the dead. But Charity is more like me. She is often up late and will sometimes walk in the garden at night to ease her mind and help her sleep. If she had been—I can’t bear to think of what might have happened to her. If we marry, will they leave me alone?”
“Some of them. Others, will not. But they will be dealt with… And if you are residing in my home, rather than here, then your sister and cousin will not be in the path of these scoundrels.”
“Send word where I should meet you,” she replied. “I will be there. No doubt Aunt Marguerite and the entire household will be with me. It will hardly make for a discreet elopement.”
“We do not want to be discreet. We want gossip to spread far and wide about what we have done. It will help to deter those with nefarious intent.”
