A Most Scandalous Proposal (22 page)

She caught her breath. No gentleman ought to appear in front of a lady in such a state of undress, and now she understood why. The sight set her heart fluttering and made drawing in air a suddenly difficult proposition. It did more to warm her than any fire.

As she stood gaping, he pushed himself away from the doorframe and advanced on her. His buckskin breeches hugged his powerful thighs like a second skin. Julia caught her lower lip between her teeth. Why had she never before noticed the play of muscles when he prowled toward her?

“Are you going to answer me, or shall I assume you’ve come to stare?”

She had to swallow before she could reply. “Perhaps I’d be a bit more willing to answer your question if it were phrased more politely.”

“You want politesse?” His crack of derisive laughter sent a chill through her. “Yes, I suppose you do. As I recall, your parting words to me were nothing if not de rigueur.”

“Are you foxed?”

He stalked closer. “Not yet, no matter how much I’d like to be.”

A tuft of hair peeked from the placket of his shirt. She closed her fingers into a fist as her wayward mind urged her to raise her hand and sample its texture. “Have you just got out of bed then?”

He sketched her a mocking bow. “Quite perceptive of you. Yes, the past few days I’ve found myself keeping rather interesting hours.”

A rattle in the corridor announced the tea cart’s arrival. The maid cast a fleeting glance at her employer
and wheeled it toward the settee, before withdrawing with a quick bob of her mobcapped head.

Benedict raised an eyebrow and strolled to a side table where a cut glass decanter reflected the firelight. Taking a snifter, he poured a measure of deep amber liquid and sipped at it. Julia watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

The glass halfway to his lips, he paused and regarded her over the rim. “No need to look so disapproving. Or perhaps you’d rather drink this than tea. Quite good, but strong if you’re not used to it.”

Julia slogged to the tea cart. “No, thank you.”

“Are you certain? It might help you feel less bedraggled.”

She poured a cup of tea, added sugar, and took a bracing swallow. “I did not come here to drink with you.”

“Pity. I intend to drink, at any rate.” To prove it, he downed his brandy. “But now we’ve got to the point. Why have you come? More to the point, why have you come unchaperoned to the residence of a confirmed bachelor? Won’t your betrothed have something to say about that?”

She tightened her grip on the teacup. “So you’ve heard.”

“Upperton could not wait to tell me. He seemed to think I’d be happy to come rushing to your rescue.” Benedict shrugged. “He was quite disappointed to discover otherwise.”

Julia’s heart plummeted toward her feet. “I do not suppose you’ll want to hear why I’ve come then.”

He poured another measure and tipped back his glass. “Indulge me. I’ve got a few minutes before it’s worth heading to my club.”

She squared her shoulders and took in a lungful of smoke-tinged air. Part of her recognized that his aloofness was an act. While his posture indicated disinterest,
a subtle tension radiated about the set of his shoulders. As earlier with the butler, Julia could thank long acquaintance for allowing her to see past the façade.

“I’ve a proposition for you.”

He studied the olive-and-cross pattern on the crystal. “Do you, now? What is it?”

“I need you to compromise me.”

His spine went rigid for a moment, but then he tipped the decanter and a swirl of rich liquid filled the glass, at least two fingers high. “Indeed?” Throwing back his head, he downed the portion. “Ah, wonderful stuff. Are you certain you’d not like any? It’s got more of a kick than you’re used to, of course, but I highly recommend it.”

She lifted her cup. “I’ll stick to tea, thanks. And perhaps you’d like to go a bit easier.”

“Why? I’m nowhere near the condition I’d like. But perhaps you’re concerned about your proposition. Afraid I might get myself into such a state I cannot perform?”

Her mouth dropped open. What on earth was he talking about? “You must be farther gone than I realized if you’re going to talk such nonsense.”

He set his empty glass aside with a sharp click. In a matter of strides, he closed the distance between them to loom over her. He traced the back of a forefinger along her cheekbone, trailing fire in its wake. At the sensation, she let out a gasp, but his expression remained hard, immovable.

“I assure you I am most definitely not too far gone. Pity I will not be taking you up on your offer.”

“What?”

“The answer is no. I will not compromise you.”

“If you’re concerned for your honor—”

“That is the least of it.” He turned away and strode to the window. “Not a week ago, you dismissed me for attentions that, should we have been discovered, would
have left you quite thoroughly compromised. That same evening you claim to have turned down Clivesden’s proposal. Now I hear you not only accepted that idiot’s suit, you’ve changed your mind about me, as well.”

With a sigh, he turned back, coming to stand in front of her. “You are the last person I expected to play fickle female games, and yet, here you are, doing exactly that.”

She stepped forward, holding out a placating hand. “You do not understand. I never agreed to his suit.”

He thrust her hand aside. “Then why announce it in front of the entire crowd at the Pendleton ball?”

“He worked the arrangement out as a deal with my father. I had no inkling of our engagement until Papa saw fit to announce it.”

“And by all accounts, you went along with it.”

“I was in shock. They blindsided me, the pair of them. Please—”

His eyes glittered, hard as sapphire. “I find myself singularly unmoved by your pleas.”

Julia opened her mouth and closed it again. A sob rose in her throat, but she refused to give it voice. Benedict, her dependable Benedict, refused his assistance when she most needed it. Unbelievable. And yet—it was unbelievable the way he claimed not to care and ranted on at length. He’d clearly cared enough to listen to more than one account of the evening.

Poking up her chin, she drew a steadying breath. “Fine. If you will not help me, I shall find someone who will. Perhaps Upperton will oblige me.”

Before she could draw away, his fingers clamped about her wrist, burning into her skin like brands. “You will not offer yourself to the likes of Upperton.”

“The likes of Upperton? I thought he was your friend.”

“I do not expect you to understand. Let’s just say I know more than I’d like about his views on … females. Although as a gentleman, he ought to refuse.”

Perhaps, but a slight waver in his tone betrayed an uncertainty. She tugged at her wrist, but he held fast. “You leave me with no choice. And if Upperton refuses, I shall have to find a more willing gentleman. Lord Chuddleigh might be interested.”

His fingers tightened until she was sure she’d find five parallel bruises the next morning. “You would not dare.”

A smile threatened to curl her lips. Ruthlessly, she composed her features. No need to warn him of her imminent victory, or he might dig in his heels. Time, once again, to change tack.

“Revelstoke.” She stepped closer and laid her fingers against his forearm. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt, strong muscles shifted. Tightened. “Benedict, I need you to compromise me.”

Tension radiated through the linen. Muscles clenched beneath her touch. The glance he slanted at her was laced with caution—or wariness. Julia’s heart gave a painful throb. He would refuse her again, for what she’d just asked of him was more than he was willing to give.

Without warning, he released her wrist. “Have you stopped to consider the consequences of such an action?”

“Of course I have.”

“All of them?”

“Of—”

“Stop and think for a moment.” He broke away from her grasp and strode to the large mullioned window that overlooked his back garden. Rain lashed against the pane, driven by a harsh wind. Julia shivered. “If I should do this thing, as a gentleman I shall be required to offer for you. Had you thought that far?”

“If I must marry …” She swallowed. There. She could no longer deny the fact she would have to wed. “If I must marry, I would prefer it to be to someone I get on with.”

He tore his gaze from the scene outside and looked over at her. Framed against the window, he appeared larger than life. “Is that what you believe marriage to be? A matter of people getting on together?”

“Better than a matter of business or a means to a higher position in society. That’s all it is to my parents.”

He pushed away from the window and came to stand before her. “More to the point, is that how it would be between us?”

His voice had dropped to a lower register than she was used to hearing from him. She’d heard it from the lips of other men, all would-be suitors, and she recognized it for what it was—seduction. An unaccountable shiver raised gooseflesh along her arms, and she wrapped them about herself—a shield.

Never once had she imagined having such a discussion with Benedict, but then she’d never imagined kissing him, either. She thrust aside the memory of his lips sliding over hers, of his tongue pushing into her mouth, of the heat his touch aroused …

Two fingers tipped her chin upward. “Answer me, Julia. Is that how it would be?”

Under the force of his gaze, she squared her shoulders. “I do not see why we should not get on together. We always have.”

“Have we? Is that why you dismissed me so summarily the other night?”

“I thought a little distance was for the best, under the circumstances.”

“Then we are at an impasse, I’m afraid.”

“Impasse? I do not understand.”

“You and I do not have the same expectations with regard to marriage. Quite plainly, Julia, should you become my wife, I would expect you to perform all the usual duties associated with the role.”

Her throat went dry, but she’d long since set aside her teacup. “Duties,” she whispered.

He tipped his head to hold her gaze. “You do know which duties I’m referring to?”

Weakly, she nodded. “I—”

“I want you to warm my bed. Willingly, regularly.” He leaned closer until she could almost taste the brandy on his lips. “Passionately.”

Passionately
. The word sent a streak of heat searing straight to the pit of her belly.

“Consider carefully, now,” he went on, “whether you truly want me to compromise you or not, because this is the outcome you must live with.”

Pulling away, she crossed her arms and tried to make sense of her whirling thoughts. She had no more than a vague notion of what warming his bed entailed. She knew it involved kissing and touching, but beyond that, all she knew was that, under the wrong circumstances, such relations were scandalous. If her experience with kissing him was any indication, they evoked intense feelings.

She closed her eyes and recalled that night in her father’s study. Benedict’s lips on hers demanded a response, awakened feelings fraught with the promise of pleasure. Dark feelings, overwhelming feelings—like nothing she’d experienced with any other man.

He would demand such a response from her on a regular basis. Could she give him what he wished and yet guard her heart?

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, his gaze intense and alert, as if he hadn’t touched a drop of brandy. His expression was unreadable as he awaited her reply, a reply she suddenly could not bring herself to voice.

“Did I frighten you so much when I kissed you?” he murmured.

“The kiss did not frighten me, no.” The truth, that. The kiss was the least of it.

“But it was your first, was it not?”

She nodded.

“I thought so. I should have been gentler.” In one stride, he closed the gap between them and set his hand at the base of her throat. His fingertips tickled her jawline. He would claim her now. Her lips parted in expectation.

“My God,” he murmured, “you’re soaked through to the skin. Whatever possessed you to venture out in such weather, and alone?”

“Desperation, I suppose.” Her voice croaked the reply. “I walked all the way here because I could not find a hackney.”

He growled a string of foul oaths that sent a wave of heat creeping up her cheeks and along her nape. “Do you realize what a risk you took?”

“I imagine all the footpads had enough sense to stay inside.”

He shifted his grip until the tips of his fingers bit into the back of her neck. “You will not ever do anything so foolish again. Do you understand me?”

“Then you will agree to compromise me. If you do not, I must find someone who will, for I refuse to marry Clivesden.”

“You understand, don’t you, that your mere presence here alone with me already compromises you?”

“Only should the matter become known.”

“It will become known. How long before you’re missed?”

“But who will think to look for me here?”

“Who indeed?” He pulled at a sodden lock of her hair. “You need to get out of those clothes and into a hot bath before you fall ill.”

A bolt of liquid heat shot through her at the sudden darkening in his eyes. Without a doubt, he was imagining her naked in her bath.

“I shall have nothing to wear once I’ve finished.” Her cheeks flamed further at the admission.

A ghost of a smile flitted over his features. “I’m afraid I’ve nothing proper to lend you. I shan’t be able to send you back home until your clothes have dried.”

He might have been teasing but for the lowered timbre in his voice. It awakened a boldness within her that pushed her to move close enough for her breasts to graze his chest. At the contact, her nipples puckered.

His Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow.

She held his gaze. “Perhaps I do not want to go home.”

“Julia—”

Her name on his lips in that low tone caused a frisson of awareness to pass through her. So little separated them—only the fine linen of his shirt and the thin layers of her gown, chemise, and stays, reduced to almost nothing by their recent soaking. The heat of his skin penetrated her and made her crave more, made her crave closer contact.