More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (18 page)

“Well, let’s see,” she said, raising her hand and pointing to her pinky. “First I saw you arguing with him in the garden.” She moved on to the ring finger. “Then I saw you making cow eyes at him. Next you spent ages in the barn with him and Richard. Then the two of you rode to heaven knows where with Jasper trailing behind you. Last of all,” she said, wiggling her thumb, “the two of you were hardly speaking when you returned two hours later.”

Evie just stared at her, almost as impressed as she was annoyed—almost. “I’m certain you can find work as a spy if the whole ‘finding a husband’ endeavor doesn’t work out. That is uncanny. And ridiculous.”

Bea’s face fell. Apparently she’d expected accolades for her trouble. “It’s not ridiculous! I’m concerned about you. You seem . . . unsettled. Is Benedict bothering you?”

Actually, unsettled seemed exactly the word to describe the way Evie was feeling. Drat her sister for reading her so effectively. But honestly, she hated not knowing where she stood with the man. It was all the more galling since she had been so awakened to him. From the moment he had lifted her from her horse, her entire world had tilted. She felt like nothing so much as a newborn colt, wobbly and unsure in its new surroundings. Out of nowhere, the memory of his scent assaulted her, bringing with it the unfamiliar passion that had heated her blood when his lips had been so achingly close to hers. She rubbed her arms as gooseflesh tickled her skin once more. She
really
shouldn’t be thinking of such things with her sister’s keen eyes watching her.

Leaning back in her chair, Evie waved a dismissive hand. “Mr. Benedict is not bothering me in the least. We shared a nice ride through the country and returned when we grew weary. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Except for the shockingly intimate feel of his hands on her waist. Or the exhilarating weightlessness of being held in his arms. Or the enlightening discussion behind the sheltering limbs of the massive oak trees lining the trail. Or that heart-stopping moment when she thought he was going to kiss her—and the abrupt departure shortly after.

Beatrice looked completely unconvinced. “Has he done anything . . . untoward?”

Untoward?
“Good heavens, Beatrice, what kind of thing is that to say? Of course not.” Evie fought valiantly against the blush rising up her neck, but still her cheeks burned—not because Benedict had been untoward in the least, but because of how badly she had
wanted
him to be.

Her sister’s eyes widened slightly—the blasted girl didn’t miss a thing. “Evie, something happened that you aren’t telling me.”

Evie ground her teeth together in annoyance. She was feeling raw enough about what had happened—or
hadn’t
happened—with Benedict without discussing the matter with her meddling sister. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Bea. And truly, if he had done anything improper, you’d probably know before I did, the way you’re snooping.”

Her sister didn’t leap to her defense as Evie had expected. Instead, Beatrice scooted to the end of her chair and whispered, “Actually, I do know something about him you should know.”

Of course she did. She probably knew the man’s life story by now. Evie crossed her arms over her chest and fixed her sister with a glare. “Was this knowledge gained by polite, acceptable means?”

“No, but—”

“Then I don’t want to hear it. Now, you must stop this spying. I won’t have my every move being watched by my little sister.”

“But Benedict—”

“Is our guest, and he deserves privacy,” Evie interrupted firmly, completely ignoring the fact that she herself had spied on the man not twenty-four hours earlier. “As do I.”

“Yes, I know, but he—”

“I mean it, Bea. Not another word.”

“Evie,” Beatrice exclaimed, slapping a hand on the desk. “
Listen
to me. It’s for your own good.”

Oh, so now her sister thought she knew what was best for Evie? That was really too much, especially since Evie was so unsure of where things stood between Benedict and her. Abruptly she stood. “That is enough. You’re behaving like a nosy child, and it has to stop.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Beatrice glared at her. “A nosy child? Fine, if you don’t wish for me to tell you what I know, then I won’t. But don’t blame me when you discover all is not as it seems.”

Evie rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics. “Duly noted. Now leave me be, please. I have work to do before supper.”

Her sister rose to her feet and started for the door. She paused by the window, the pink light of evening slanting across the right side of her body. “Just be careful, Evie. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Without waiting for a response, she slipped through the door and was gone. Evie shook her head slowly. What had
that
been about? Whatever Beatrice’s intention, she had only served to make Evie think on Benedict that much more.

By the time Evie settled into bed that night, she was precariously close to obsessing about the man. He failed to show up for either dinner or the duet pianoforte recital the twins performed, sending a note begging off in his place. In the latter she was not alone in her disappointment—the girls had balked at giving a concert without the guest of honor, but their mother had insisted the show must go on. Beatrice was the only one who seemed relieved at his absence.

Evie pulled the heavy counterpane up to her chin and rolled to her side on the soft mattress. She had to see him again. Alone. If he wouldn’t talk to her, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She was so on edge, her skin felt too tight for her body. Oh, who was she fooling? She didn’t just need to talk to him again; she needed to feel his touch on her skin. For the first time in her life, she
wanted
a man to touch her.

She still could hardly believe the strange pull between them. A near perfect stranger, and every fiber of her being seemed attuned to him, drawn to him as a honeybee to nectar. She hardly knew herself, the way she was feeling.

In a few days he would be on to his new life, and she would immerse herself in hers. There was no future between them, and she had no desire for one. She knew better than to put her trust in a man expecting loyalty in the long run. But in between now and when he departed . . .

Alone in her darkened chamber, with naught but the silvery threads of moonlight slipping through her drapes as witness, she considered the possibilities.

She had never kissed a man before. Benedict presented the perfect opportunity. He wouldn’t expect anything from her, and he wouldn’t endanger her dreams. They had come so close to it, so unbearably close that she almost protested aloud when he stepped away from her.

His voice murmured in the back of her mind, and she pressed her eyes closed.
Nothing you would wish for?
A few days ago she would have said no. Now, there was something she desired. She wanted him to kiss her more than anything in her whole life.

She had to talk to him; to somehow get him alone again. She didn’t think she could actually tell him what she wanted, but if she could catch him in the right mood—and that was really key, given his swings of mood—then maybe . . .

Maybe she could entice him to share one, perfect, unforgettable kiss with her. She shivered and pressed her eyes closed. She only hoped it would be enough.

Chapter Fourteen

I have a few ideas as to what might make you happy. More time in the stables with your father, to be sure, as well as less time sitting at the pianoforte pounding out mangled versions of the great classics. Richard has described these in great detail, you should know. Perhaps more opportunities to meet new people? I can think of at least one who would like to meet you.

—From Hastings to Evie

A
s the carriage bumped along the rutted road leading to the village, Benedict resolutely kept his eyes trained out the window on the passing countryside and off the beautiful—and devious—little minx across from him. He could feel Evie watching him, her gaze flitting back to him every third pass: first to Richard, then to the window, then to Benedict. Each time she landed on him, it was as if the sun licked across his skin, burning a hot, delicious path wherever it touched.

This was
exactly
why he had tried to avoid her this morning.

At breakfast it had been clear that she wished to see him today. After yesterday, he knew his willpower couldn’t hold up to resist her should they find themselves alone again. When Richard had asked their plans for the gloomy, rainy day, Benedict held silent until she reluctantly admitted she had a new book she wished to read. He suggested a trip to town for the two men, and she had triumphantly announced that the book she wished to read was a newly arrived order she needed to pick up from the village bookseller.

One look at her face and he
knew
she knew she had him.

“It is really quite lovely here in the spring, when the trees are all in bloom.” Evie’s statement was softy spoken and sounded conciliatory.

Benedict stubbornly continued to stare out the window, though he barely saw the soggy, verdant scenery rolling by. The damned trees had nothing on her. “I can see that.”

“I’ll never understand how Richard can spend so much time in the city. All of the congestion, and bad air, and noise—I just don’t see the lure. To me, this is paradise.”

Richard let out a small laugh. “And I will never understand how you can prefer so much isolation, emptiness, and lack of socialization. It’s downright unreasonable to expect a man to thrive. Don’t you agree, Benedict?”

Benedict shrugged and said, “I prefer to think of myself as balanced. Time among each extreme will prevent one from becoming too narrow-minded.”

Richard snorted. “Right. You are the most broad-minded chap I know. Why do I keep forgetting that?”

“I can’t imagine. You should follow my example, Richard. We wouldn’t want you turning into a congested, foul-smelling, sooty city-dweller, now would we?”

“Too late, I’m afraid,” Evie quipped with a smile.

Benedict briefly met her eyes and found himself reluctantly smiling as well. He quickly broke their eye contact and returned his gaze to the passing scenery.

Out the window he saw the approaching town. Grass gave way to pavement, trees to buildings. It was not unlike any other that dotted the English countryside—an inn, a pub, a bakery, and a few clothing and accessory shops. They rumbled through the main street, the well-sprung carriage absorbing most of the jostling from the cobblestones, before turning down a smaller street and slowing to a stop.

They filed out, Richard first, with him assisting Evie before Benedict climbed down last. The rain at least had stopped, but the streets were still dotted with puddles and water dripped from nearly every surface. Only a handful of people milled about, though each seemed to have taken interest in the grand carriage’s arrival. Before them was a quaint, wooden building with small shuttered windows and a weathered green sign hanging over the door proclaiming
DARCY’S BOOKSELLERS
.

He was
not
about to get stuck spending the entire day at Evie’s side like some lapdog. Benedict turned to Richard and offered a carefree smile. “Shall we wander about town a bit? I’m sure we’ll only be in your sister’s way.”

He started to veer in the opposite direction, when he felt a small tug on his sleeve.

“Won’t you accompany me? Being the academic you are, I am sure you must appreciate a well-stocked bookshop.”

He looked down to see her smiling up at him. She was clearly trying to manipulate him; he was surprised she was not batting those ridiculously long eyelashes at him.

“I am set for literature, my lady. Pray, enjoy your shopping.”

She did bat her eyelashes then. “Well, perhaps you can put your schooling to work and help me to select something new.”

Richard grinned and nodded toward the shop. “By all means, Benedict, go. I would love to see what you would suggest for my dear sister’s reading.”

Staring meaningfully at Richard, Benedict answered Evie. “If it is your wish. After you.” He swept his arm with an exaggerated gesture while continuing to glare at his friend.

Richard’s grin grew even more. “Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll pop into Tuttle’s shop and see what they have in the way of new gloves.”

“Be sure to tell them I said hello,” Evie said with a syrupy sweet waggle of her fingers.

Benedict swallowed a curse. Once again, she knew she had him. Of course, she wasn’t the only one testing his patience. Richard was an amazing friend, but he was far and away too flippant. If pressed, Benedict could probably come up with something Richard took seriously, but at the moment he couldn’t think of a thing. The man could not seem to help but have a bit of fun at Benedict’s expense.

Scowling, Benedict trailed after Evie into the shop, careful to keep his eyes on the building and off the tempting sway of her hips. As soon as they opened the door, the proprietor immediately rushed forward to greet them. The thin, willowy man was obviously well acquainted with Evie. As they chatted about some new arrivals, Benedict wasted no time in escaping.

The place was a labyrinth of narrow aisles winding around the cramped shop. Books of every subject, age, and condition overflowed from the dusty shelves. He had to step around the stacks of books that extended almost to the ceiling in several places. He wrinkled his nose at the slightly musty scent that seemed to get stronger the farther he ventured into the poorly lit shop.

“Please don’t be cross with me, Benedict.”