Page 38 of Love in the Time of Scandal
Penelope blinked, her slipping opinion of Samantha arrested. That didn’t sound terrible. “So why didn’t you want me?” The wretched words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.
He shrugged. “Because I wanted a peaceful marriage. Because I didn’t want a wife who would bedevil me and torment me and turn me inside out. A sensible, pleasant, pretty girl with a dowry: those were my hopes.”
She swallowed. Why did it hurt so much that he didn’t think she was any of those things? She ought to be enraged that he’d labeled her sister so slightly, but instead she felt as though he’d slapped her. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted.”
He looked up at her without moving. “Don’t be so sure of that. Come here.”
She recoiled. “Of course I won’t, Atherton.”
His moody gaze dropped to her mouth. “My name is Benedict. You should use it, Penelope. Now, come here.”
Again the sound of her name in his voice sent a little shiver of delight through her. “Don’t be ridiculous. We hardly know each other, marriage notwithstanding, and we both know you don’t care for me, nor I for you.”
“We have a lifetime for that to develop.” Without warning he turned his dazzling smile on her, the one that always made her feel weak in the knees. Although perhaps that was the brandy this time; she had drunk an awful lot of it, now that she looked at the bottle and saw how low the level of amber liquid was.
Penelope took a step backward, until she almost tripped on her chair and had to steady herself on it. The floor seemed to be tilted. “You must be very drunk if you think that. Good night, sir. I’m going to bed.” She turned toward the bedroom door, but the damned chair was in her way and she had some trouble getting around it.
“Come here, Penelope,” said her husband. She started when she realized he was right beside her; how had he done that? “You can barely walk.” He caught her as she wobbled precariously.
“I can walk!” She pushed at him, but that only sent her staggering away. He was much bigger and heavier and immovable, and she had to put one hand on the wall to brace herself.
“So I see.” He strolled after her, propping one hand above her head. “Not much used to brandy, are you?”
“Did you think I was?”
“No. I was astonished when you sat down and took a drink.”
She gaped at him. “Then why did you offer it, you rotten blighter?”
He burst out laughing. For some reason, so did she. That upset her equilibrium even more, and she ended up leaning against the wall, holding her sides as the laughter wouldn’t stop.
“I have no idea,” said her husband, still laughing. “It seemed like a fine idea at the time.”
“We’re both going to regret it in the morning,” she gasped, wiping at her eyes. “Brandy gives people terrible headaches...”
“I’m sure it will,” he agreed, his voice low and amused, and then he kissed her.
Chapter 13
There was still a smile on her lips, and her brain seemed to have been scrambled—by the brandy, no doubt—and that was surely why Penelope kissed him back. This time his kiss was neither gentle nor soft; this time it was insistent and compelling, and somehow the feel of his tongue stroking hers sheared away all her inhibition. She pressed against him, clinging to his shoulders. His arm was around her waist, dragging her off her toes and into his kiss. Before she knew it her back was against the wall, her arms were around his neck, and he was kissing the side of her jaw as his hands roamed over her body with shocking assurance.
“Don’t kiss me,” she whispered even as she tipped her head to let him do just that.
“Only if you don’t kiss me.” His breath was hot on her skin.
Penelope threaded her fingers through his hair, ostensibly to pull his head away, but she got distracted by the feel of his hair around her fingers. How many times had she wondered what it felt like, and now here she was, plowing both hands into the silky, coal-black strands as he sank to his knees, his head bent over her bosom. His hands slid around her ribs, right beneath her arms, arching her back while his thumbs stroked the sides of her breasts and his mouth whispered wicked things over the low-cut neckline of her gown. “You should stop,” she said weakly.
He glanced up, eyes gleaming like lightning. “If you want that, you’ll have to say so with more conviction.” His thumbs traced maddening whorls over her skin. His hands slid, until he was nearly cupping both her breasts in his palms. As she stared at him, speechless from the brandy and the intense craving of her body finally slipping its leash, he hooked one thumb inside the neckline of her dress and tugged, just until her nipple popped free. Penelope’s whole body went rigid as he languidly touched his tongue to the pink pearl of flesh and then took it between his lips. Just the sight of his mouth on her breast was arousing, and when he began to suckle—
She would have fallen over if not for his weight bearing her against the wall. She turned her head away and closed her eyes, unable to meet his glittering, knowing gaze as he made short work of her resistance. Not that anyone would suspect she was resisting; her hands were still tangled in his hair, and the word “no” had never crossed her lips. And really, what reason did she have to resist? She’d dreamt of a man—ofthisman—looking at her as if he would go mad without her. She’d wished he would kiss her. She’d wondered, with equal parts fascination and disgust, what it would be like to make love to him. Now it looked like she was about to get all three wishes at once, and really, what motivation was that to protest anything?
Her gown loosened even more under the inexorable tugging of his thumb. Dimly she realized his other hand had gone behind her back and worked free the buttons. He released her nipple after one last strong pull, leaving it glistening and engorged, and Penelope seized the momentary respite. “Stop,” she gasped, shocked to realize that she was panting and her heart was racing. “For a moment.Benedict.”
He raised his eyes, although his thumb continued rolling idly over her breast, sending little shocks through her nerves. “Yes?”
What had she meant to say? It took her a moment to remember. Oh yes. “If you mean to make love to me, there are a few things you should know.”
His lips quirked. “Such as?”
