Raven McAllan - The Scandalous Proposal Of Lord Bennett

Ben was amazed. Here they were, speaking together like sensible, non-antagonistic people and having a proper conversation. He made a note to find out more about a soap that smelt of sunlight and long summer evenings in the garden. He recollected the rest of her statement.

‘All the gardens were my mama’s favourites when she was alive.’ Stupid. After all, how could they be if she were dead? ‘She would have said exactly the same with regard to the staff. I’ll make a note to let them know.’ He experienced the usual sharp pang of loss that hit him whenever he thought of his long-gone mama. She had passed when he was at Eton, and Ben still experienced the loss, as if it were the day before. ‘I feel they may be neglected somewhat. I’m sure she – I – would be happy for your input.’

Her sigh stirred the hairs on his neck.

‘You don’t like the idea?’ He’d thought she’d be pleased. Truly the way a woman’s mind worked could be a mystery. For one fleeting moment Ben had a vision of his last mistress. Her mind worked in one way only – calculating what was in it for her. He had parted company with the fair lady when her demands began to be inappropriate. Right from the start he’d told her it was a temporary liaison and, whatever she’d thought, he’d had no intention of altering the status quo. And now he was married? Ben had an uneasy feeling life might not be the same, even though he thought he and his wife had come to an understanding.

‘The gardens?’ he prompted Clarissa when it seemed she wasn’t going to answer.

‘Oh yes, the gardens. Perhaps.’ Her offhand, indifferent tone of voice irritated him. The knock on the door came as a welcome relief. Ben was out of his depth, and he didn’t like the sensation.

He liked the news even less.

‘What do you mean, some idiot’s driven into my coach?’ He roared the words, and blinked rapidly, as if the gesture would change the declaration uttered by the harried footman in front of him. ‘How the hades did you let that happen?’

Clarissa placed her hand on Ben’s arm. How he stopped himself from shaking it off, he had no idea. He glanced at her impatiently. She stood her ground and returned his perusal.

‘My lord, have you never heard the expression do not shoot the messenger? Scraptoft here is only relaying what’s happened. He is neither responsible for it, nor able to alter the chain of events. He’s told you about the accident, and you need to go and see for yourself what’s to be done.’

The footman flashed a grateful glance in her direction and Ben gritted his teeth. She was right, of course, but he didn’t like to be reminded of it in such a fashion.

‘Of course, my dear, you are, as ever, correct.’ He cursed the defensive tone.

‘I accept your apologies and acknowledgement, my lord.’ The words and intonation were dulcet, the look in her eyes not so. ‘I will arrange for our food to be delayed until your return.’

Ben nodded curtly. ‘Thank you. My apologies, Scraptoft. It is, of course, not your doing. Forgive me – I was somewhat perturbed.’ He gestured to the man to precede him, and turned back to his wife once the other man had left the room.

‘I trust you can entertain yourself while I’m away?’

Her eyes filled with mischief, and he could have sworn she choked back a laugh.

‘Of course, sir. I have a book.’

Chapter Four

Why, oh why, did she feel the need to goad him? Clarissa pulled the bell rope. It was answered by a fresh-faced young girl, who carried a jug of what Clarissa presumed was ale, and another she saw was wine.

‘I’m sorry as you had to wait, M’Lady, but what a commotion outside.’ The girl’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Everyone’s telling each other what ought to be done and only His Lordship seems to have any common sense, my mama says. The food will be along ever so soon.’ She bobbed a curtsey.

As soon as she could get a word in edgeways, Clarissa asked for their soup and pies to be held back, and for a small – she emphasised small – collation to be brought at once. Why Ben had agreed on hot food she had no idea, for the day was warm, and cold meats and salads would have been much more preferable.

Once the girl had returned with glasses, with yet another reiteration that the food was nigh on ready, Clarissa poured herself a goblet of wine, sat in a roomy and remarkably comfortable chair, and picked up her book. She took a sip of wine, and then another before she placed the goblet on a side table, and shuffled around to make herself more comfortable. Then she opened the book and began to read.

The warmth of the sun, which now shone directly through the window, the smooth, rounded taste of the wine, and her lack of sleep the night before began to take their toll. The words blurred on the page in front of her and her eyelids drooped.

‘Well, what have we here? Briar Rose? Should I awaken you with a kiss?’

Clarissa struggled up from her slumber. What was she doing dreaming of fairy tales? Why was Ben in her dreams? Or why did the hazy, attentive, faceless man who had wooed her in them now have a face, and a deep, smooth voice that curled around her like velvet?

The soft pressure on her cheeks made her open her eyes. Ben’s face was only inches away from hers.

‘I knew the kiss would do it? Shall I show you how?’ He moved closer and pressed his lips over hers. Clarissa opened her mouth to protest, as his eyelids closed, and he lifted her out of the chair and sat down with her on his lap.

Something pressed into her buttocks and she wriggled to dislodge it.

‘Stay still woman and kiss me back.’

Before she was able to utter a word, his tongue slid between her teeth and pressed on her tongue.

Her body tingled and goosebumps appeared on her arms as fast as urchins at a farthing scramble. What was he doing?

‘Kiss me back,’ he mumbled the words into her mouth.

Clarissa shut her eyes. How on earth did one kiss a man on the lips?

Easily she found. His hands stroked her neck and her arms as he held her close. Almost of its own volition, her tongue sought his and began to play.

Her skin was on fire and she stirred restlessly.

Why was he holding her fast? She needed to move to assuage the strange feelings that invaded her body. Her feet dangled and she stretched to get a toehold.

Ben lifted his mouth. ‘My dear, do you know what you are doing?’ His breathing was as erratic as Clarissa’s. ‘For a first kiss that was memorable.’

‘If it was our first kiss, no doubt.’

‘If you continue to encourage me so, I’ll take you up on your invitation.’ He slackened his grip, and set her on her feet. ‘What do you mean “if”? Are you saying we’ve kissed before, or it wasn’t a kiss?’

‘Whichever you think fits.’ Me and my big mouth. Clarissa staggered and he shot his arm out to steady her. ‘Ignore it.’ Why didn’t she sound cool, collected and in command? ‘I issued no invitation. You, you plundered and took.’ It was hard to remain calm when her bosom heaved, and her private places stung as if a bee had alighted. No wonder it was known as a woman’s honey pot. However, even in her agitated state she noticed the way he kept glancing at her chest. What was that part of a woman’s anatomy called other than breasts or chest, she wondered? Did men have a private name for those mammaries?

Once, she noticed a secret smile playing around his lips, and she itched to ask him what was funny. Only the thought that he might say ‘you’ stopped her.

‘I did indeed,’ he said at last, just before her temper got the better of her. ‘And believe me I enjoyed every second of it. No …’ He put his finger over her lips. ‘Silence is needed.’