Page 18

Chapter

Eighteen

T he Darnley ball was in full swing by the time Benedict arrived the following evening. He entered the ballroom and moved through the throng of guests, none of which paid any particular interest in his attendance.

Just as he preferred it. Especially since his reasoning for being here was…

questionable. After yesterday afternoon with Angelica in the confessional.

The small space that was once filled with prayer and was replaced with panting, with gasps of delight, of moans of need, he doubted he’d ever look at the location in the same light.

And with that interaction, something inside of him had snapped.

As a young man, maybe he ought to have sought out the attentions of the fairer sex, seen and experienced what it would be like to lie with a woman, even if she was one who was paid for her services—at least then he would have known for certain if his path into the Catholic church was the correct one.

But he had not. And now, after meeting Angelica, after tasting her lips, holding her to him, feeling her body yield and ignite beneath his hands—damn it all to hell, he could not think straight.

He did not want to go another hour without being in her presence.

He was besotted. And there was nothing he could do about that, other than throw himself at her slippered feet and beg that she give him more of her time.

As terrible as that was—and it went against all that he'd worked toward—he really only had himself to blame. A lifetime commitment as a Catholic priest was not his only choice. He could have joined the Church of England, where marriage was allowed.

He did not have to give up his direction, and yet, because of his shyness, his inability to outrageously flirt like his brother, always a shadow walking a step behind his older sibling, he'd chosen the easier way out.

A way that allowed him to disappear.

Until Lady Angelica saw him.

He spied her standing alone beside a potted plant, her small smile lifting her pretty lips as she watched couples take part in a minuet. She rocked slightly with the music and he did not think he'd ever seen anyone more beautiful.

She quite literally took his breath away.

He started toward her and bowed when coming to her side. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him before she dipped into a curtsy.

"Lady Angelica, you are simply stunning this evening. I must demand the next dance with you," he said, proud that he was being bold and forward. Not his usual nature, but with her, he wanted to try.

"And I would be willing to give you that dance, Lord Benedict," she replied, an amused smile on her face.

He came and stood beside her, and shock ran through him at the touch of Angelica's hand slipping into his, their contact hidden by the many folds of her gown.

Her fingers linked with his and a jolt of heat went straight to his chest.

"I have missed you today,” she stated without looking at him. “I do believe I may come to church more often and take confessional. Repent my sins and those that occupy my mind more than they ought."

He swallowed.

Hard.

Only too well did he know what would happen if she did and what she meant by sins.

He’d sinned later that night in his home, quiet in his room where he imagined her touch, her hands on him once more, but this time he came.

His orgasm ripping through him so violently it took all of his strength not to call out.

His cock twitched at the memory. "You should not say that here. My self-control is holding on by a knife’s edge, and your words are not helping, Angelica." He dropped the honorific again. He wanted to say her name, plain and unadorned.

She smiled and slipped her arm about his as the current dance came to an end and another began.

"Shall we dance, my lord?"

"Of course, my lady. It would be an honor."

He led her out onto the floor and pulled her into his arms, closer than he ought—not just as a man, but as a man soon to be a priest. Still, he did not care what others might say. He had not taken his orders yet, and every time he held Angelica in his arms, he doubted he ever would.

The music began. A waltz.

Perfect.

She fit flawlessly in his arms. His body no longer felt like his own when she was near, and it was a sensation he could grow addicted to.

"Seeing you at balls and parties is not enough. When can we see each other—alone and without interruption?" She smiled up at him, all innocence that went against what she was saying. “I still need you.”

Oh dear. Benedict could not trust himself should they be alone entirely. At least in public there were others to keep them in check. "You know what would occur if we were unaccompanied without interruption, Lady Angelica."

She tipped her head, exposing the soft skin of her neck. The urge to lean down and kiss her softness, to tease the lobe of her ear, burned within him.

"But that is the point, Lord Benedict. I must get my fill of you before you leave me to marry the church. However shall I survive knowing you're lost to me forever?"

The thought pierced him. He never wished to be lost to her. But that was exactly what would happen. "You make me question all that I've ever known or planned for. What am I going to do with you?"

"Well," she said, leaning closer—scandalously close. Her scent, a soft floral perfume, teased him. "More of what you did yesterday may be nice. And anything else that couples find enjoyable."

Hell. He wanted to kiss her breasts, see if she liked it. He wanted to fall to his knees and kiss her mons where his fingers had delved yesterday and see if she liked it. He wanted to do everything wicked he could think of and see if it made her sing.

Everything was new and unknown, and he wanted to experience it all with her.

"What do you think other couples find enjoyable?" he asked, desperate for insight. His inexperience a hindrance for the first time in his life.

"We have a book at home in Hampshire, filled with drawings that I studied one day. You know my father would not visit for months, and I often wandered the library. I happened to come across this book and it piqued my interest."

"And you read it?" His heart pounded. He would give a month's stipend to find that book in his brother's library and read it thoroughly if the book was, in fact, what he thought she was alluding to.

"I did. I took it to my room, and the images—well, they were quite scandalous." Her fingers danced near the back of his neck. "The images that are sketched into my mind make me want to do those things with you. Positions that lovers do together when alone."

Everything within him stilled. Hunger stirred—deep and unfamiliar. He closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just to find some calm. "Angelica, there's something you must know. I'm not ashamed to admit it, but you ought to be aware."

She frowned slightly. "What is it?"

He looked around, ensured they were far enough from the other revelers.

"You're the first woman I've ever kissed.

The first I've ever touched, as we did yesterday afternoon. I've never been with a woman before, not in any way. And I fear I won’t be enough for you. That I won’t know what to do to satisfy you. "

Her mouth gaped a little and for the life of him he could not read her expression.

"I think you don’t give yourself enough credit, Benedict.

I believe, from what I know of nature, things progress naturally.

I think if anything were to happen between us, and I dearly hope it does, we shall manage just fine.

" Her fingers stroked across his nape and a shiver ran down his spine.

“We muddled through well enough yesterday I thought. I want you so much that even now I want to crawl into your lap and rub against you like cat.”

Hunger tore through him again, hot and wild. What was he doing? What was he becoming? Could he abandon his faith? His calling? Or had he merely misheard it all along?

"You feel all discombobulated like I do?

That you do not know what to do with yourself, or how to act?

" He pulled her close as they spun through the waltz.

"You do not know how to mask the undeniable attraction we have for each other, for I do not. Nor do I think I wish to pretend anymore,” he admitted.

"I do not know how to do any of those things, not when I’m around you."

A shiver traced down Benedict’s spine and he tightened his grip on her hand.

They needed a quiet moment.

Alone.