Page 28 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
If he played his cards right, it might even prove enjoyable. Kissing her had been indulgence he’d denied himself for far too long.
Damn it, he could not allow his instincts to get the better of him again. He’d done no harm in kissing her, but it could go no further. He’d no intention of seducing her to win her trust. She deserved better than that. God knew he’d hurt her before. He didn’t want to wound her again. With any luck, she’d keep her head about her, and he would rein in the traitorous hunger that had faded but had never been truly extinguished.
The impulsive kiss had offered insight into her feelings. Deep inside, she still harbored desire for him. She’d responded to the caress without shyness. Without reservation. With the delicious passion that had drawn him in all those years before and made it so damned hard to walk away from her the first time.
She’d welcomed his touch.
Until her good sense had taken hold and she’d remembered he was a cad.
Thank God she had better sense than he did.
“Good God, you look as if you retired to the gutter last night.” Roderick’s gruff voice was a welcome diversion from his thoughts.
The butler’s appraisal was not surprising. Benedict had slept in his clothes the night before. Now, he needed a bath and a meal before he set out again to convince Alexandra to join him in his quest.
He gave a shrug in reply. “I found him—the bounder I pursued from Egypt.”
“Did you now?” Roderick cocked a bushy brow. “I trust you took care of the problem.”
“In a manner of speaking. The bloke is in custody.”
“And Miss Quinn—she is safe?”
“Yes. No one will threaten her with Colton Agency guards watching over her residence.”
“The Colton Agency is involved? Well, it’s quite a serious matter then, isn’t it?” The deep lines on Roderick’s face drew tight with concern. “If the villain has been apprehended and Miss Quinn is safe, why do you look as if you’re headed to your own funeral? What in bloody hell is going on?”
Benedict shot him a wry glance. “You know, Roderick, few members of the peerage are privileged to employ a man such as yourself. I can well imagine Lord Partridge’s butler speaking to him in such…deferential tones.”
“Lord Partridge doesn’t spend his life roaming deserts and the stinking alleys of London trying to get himself killed.”
“And I am to infer that my conduct concerns you?”
Roderick’s expression was appropriately somber. “Of course it does. If something were to happen to you, I am not likely to find an employer who pays as well and doesn’t live under his own roof for fifty weeks out of the year.”
“A touching sentiment, indeed.” Benedict bit back a grin. “I sense you will not leave me in peace until I disclose what is on my mind.”
“It has something to do with Miss Quinn, doesn’t it?”
Resting his elbows on his knees, Benedict stared up at the butler. “What in blazes would give you that idea?”
“Call it a hunch.”
Benedict shrugged. He damned well wasn’t going to reveal to his impertinent butler that he’d kissed his former fiancée, and he certainly had no intention of mentioning how much he’d enjoyed it.
“Roderick, tell me this—how did you manage to stay in my father’s good graces all those years? He had little patience for…directness.”
“I found it far easier to hold my tongue. Truth be told, I did not give a farthing if that man lived or died,” Roderick said, ever blunt. “I cannot say the same of you.”
Benedict pondered the butler’s words. “If I were a better man, I would take offense at an affront to my father’s memory.”
Roderick hiked a brow. “Consider yourself lucky you’ve got an honest man working for you.”
“Honesty, eh? Is that what they call it now?”
“You’re not going to tell me what’s troubling you, are you?”
“No.” Benedict slowly shook his head. “Not yet, at least. A butler worth his salt would see to it that I had some food in my belly before launching into an interrogation.”
