Page 70 of An Innocent Bride for the Duke

“Why do you imagine, Lady Huxley, that the Duke of Northwick is not willing to tell me anything I ask of him?” returned Louisa, her voice thankfully sounding far calmer than the beating of her heart in her ears. “He has never given me any reason to doubt him and I have nothing else to say to you.”

Benedict took the two glasses from her slightly shaking hands and passed them to Damien. Turning his back pointedly on Lady Huxley, he raised and bent over Louisa’s hand.

“I believe this dance is mine, Lady Louisa.”

“Yes,” she replied, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the thought of how soon this man might lawfully claim far more than a dance from her, and how much she longed for it.

Louisa could see Lady Huxley fuming silently as Benedict led her towards the ballroom. Still, with the reassuring strength of the man beside her, the warm, male scent of his cologne in her nostrils, and the joy that his smile sparked in her heart, Louisa found it impossible to dwell on any negativity for long.

Surely that unpleasant woman would leave now that she had done her worst and there would be no more trouble at Rosemere tonight…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Damn Lady Huxley and damn her infernal cousin!

While he had maintained a calm exterior at the time for the sake of Lady Esher and Louisa, Benedict had been sorely provoked on overhearing the accusations openly leveled against him by Lady Huxley.

Murderer…

It was one thing to know what certain people thought, or even to hear the word whispered in corners. It was another entirely to hear such things said out loud in company, intended for the ears of the woman Benedict was soon to marry.

One of the worst things in the world Benedict could imagine was to be a cold-blooded killer like his father. Having Lady Louisa believe this of him would be almost as bad, especially since he could not honestly swear that he knew whether he was a murderer or not…

Benedict and Damian had spotted Lady Huxley intercepting Louisa as soon as they returned indoors after a quick check among outside servants for sightings of Lord Ashbourne.

Overhearing his wife-to-be’s robust defense had been heartening, even if he did not necessarily share Louisa’s stated faith in his character. Benedict had been almost minded to let her continue alone until he saw how she was trembling and then he had snapped.

Now, as Benedict took Louisa into his arms for the waltz, the tension and anger that had gripped him since Lady Huxley’s arrival began to dissipate. A strong sense of protectiveness remained, however.

“Are you well?” he asked Louisa in a low voice as their dance began. “I hope that woman did not upset you. She had no right to speak to you as she did, nor her damned cousin to send you letters.”

“All was well as soon as you came to defend me,” his golden-haired wife-to-be told him very surely and with a smile of such beauty and sweetness that Benedict understood how men talked of women casting spells upon them.

He had also been touched by her calm and certain defense of him before Lady Huxley’s accusations. Unworldly though Louisa was, her mind was sharp, her principles strong and her trust in Benedict was like some tonic that boosted all that was best in him.

Along with her other manifold virtues, Lady Louisa Ascot was a woman of great understanding and Benedict found himself longing to confide in her, almost as much as he longed to claim her.

“Whenever you need me, I will be there,” he told Louisa, swirling and dipping her as they moved through the other dancers.

“As I enjoy your company, I may have need of you very often,” replied Louisa innocently before realizing her words could be taken as a double entendre and dropping her eyes with reddening cheeks.

“If I fulfill my marital duties in the right way, then the more you have me, the more you will need me,” Benedict told her, enjoying her blushes and hoping her words would prove true.

“Benedict,” she sighed, still pink but laughing too, growing more confident around their mutual desire. “I already need you so much that it aches.”

His hand slid from Louisa’s back to her waist and he brought his face even closer as they swirled about, inhaling the scent of woodland violets that she always wore. How lovely she looked tonight in her simple white silk, her breasts curving above the neckline and the luster of antique pearls setting off the pale creaminess of her skin…

Benedict imagined walking with Louisa in a private garden, lowering her gown and fondling those perfect globes with his hands and his kisses as she gasped her desire and enjoyment.

In his fantasy there was now a golden ring on her finger, and as Benedict drew them onto a bench, Louisa let him bring her astride him, his hands beneath her skirts, guiding his shaft into her wet and welcoming folds as she moaned for fulfillment.

“You don’t know yet how much more you could need me, how much more I could tease you, and torment you with my kisses before I…”

“Benedict, Benedict, Benedict,” Louisa repeated breathlessly now, laying her head against his lapel as though overwhelmed by only his words.

He took a deep breath, not wanting her to move but knowing that this was a gesture that would have raised eyebrows in any couple not imminently destined for the altar. Well, they were almost married. In fact, there was a golden ring in his pocket right now, collected from a local jeweler only that afternoon.

“I should be glad to have a name that my wife likes so much,” Benedict remarked, spinning them around again, “even if it first belonged to someone else.”