Page 62 of A Taste of Miss Honey

“As a boy, I fantasied about going home from the moment I learned of Winsham Castle. Since then, I’ve climbed over the ruins and walked through the empty rooms and tried to imagine myself living there, but it never seemed real, it never seemed a possibility. Not until now. Not until you, Izzy. Do you think you’d like to rebuild it with me, to make a life for ourselves there? It might not seem very exciting after the past weeks, but—”

This time it was Ben whose words were cut off as Izzy threw herself at him with such enthusiasm that he staggered backwards onto the arm of a well-padded settee. Down he went, sprawling on his back and taking Izzy with him. They tumbled in a heap upon the cushions, with Izzy’s skirts and petticoats billowing around them as Ben snorted with laughter.

“Good God, Izzy. I’m not going anywhere; there’s no need to ravish me with such violence.”

Izzy struggled to a sitting position, readjusted her spectacles and regarded him as coolly as was possible in the circumstances, which was not cool at all as she discovered the intimacy of the position. Her cheeks burned and her breath caught.

Ben waggled his eyebrows. “Well, now you have me where you want me, what will you do with me?”

Izzy’s heart thumped as she felt the undeniable press of his arousal, positioned snug and firm between her thighs. Liquid heat pooled low inside her, something between an ache and a hot throb of tension focused at the apex of her legs. She swallowed, wishing she could find something clever to say, but she seemed to have used up all her boldness at the card table.

“Nothing to say, Miss Honeywell?” he asked, gently teasing.

“I’m thinking,” she retorted, chin up.

Ben nodded, his expression grave. “Just so. One always needs a plan. Carry on. I shan’t disturb you.”

Oh, but he did disturb her, she thought wildly. He had disturbed her from the very first moment she had laid eyes on him, disrupting her sleep, invading her dreams, until he had stolen her heart along with her peace of mind. Now, as if to underscore all that he’d done, he lifted his hips, pressing himself against her, against the secret place that throbbed and burned, and something like lightning bolted through her, making her breath snag in her throat.

“Izzy,” he murmured, reaching for her. “Kiss me, my wicked girl, before I lose what’s left of my mind. I’m dying here.”

Well, at least it wasn’t just her, she thought with relief, and removed her spectacles, dropping them gently to the floor as she lowered herself down, finding his lips with her own.

He let out a soft moan that set everything inside her alight, the knowledge that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, enough to chase any doubts or anxieties away. She had been so afraid for him, had hated spending time with Alveston so much when she wanted to dance with this man, to look up and see this man’s face, but it was done, and they were free, and he was hers.

“I didn’t get to waltz with you,” she said sadly, a giddy feeling in her heart as his deft fingers slid around her back and undid the fastenings on the bodice of her gown with such speed even Janet could not have matched him.

He glanced up at her, a roguish smile playing at his lips. “This is better than waltzing, my love, but I’ll gladly dance with you whenever you wish. It might not be prudent to stay in town after your little scene this evening, however. I think you’d best let people forget just how exciting you are before stirring them all up again.”

She pushed herself upright again, and her dress sagged as she’d known it would, watching with interest as her stays loosened and went the same way thanks to his clever fingers.

“Exciting?” she repeated, watching the way his eyes glittered in the dim light. She heard his swift intake of breath as he gazed at her breasts. Feeling she ought to live up to such a description, she pressed against the rigid shape nestled between her thighs and he gasped again, the sound mingled with laughter.

“If you were any more exciting, a fellow might die of it, you naughty creature. God, Izzy, but you’re beautiful. Are you really mine?”

There was a wondering quality to the question, as if he really couldn’t believe it, and the knowledge that he too had his moments of vulnerability made her heart ache even as it seemed to expand in her chest. His warm hands closed over her breasts, and she sighed, her head tipping back as he palmed them gently.

“All yours, if you’re sure you want me?” For he was not the only one who wished for assurance. She remembered too vividly how he had hurt her by leaving Little Valentine the way he had.

He paused, reaching up to cup her cheek. “In case I’ve not made things clear, let us have no misunderstandings between us. I want to marry you, Izzy, to share my life with you, but I’m an impatient fellow, so perhaps you might allow me a taste of what’s mine, my delectable Miss Honey, just to stop me from losing my mind before we’re wed.”

“You can have anything you want, Ben,” she said simply, pressing against him again as his hands fell to her hips. He groaned and shook his head.

“Dammit, stop doing that! And stop encouraging me. You’re supposed to be the sensible one.”

“Since when?” she demanded with a snort.

“A fair point, but I’ll not debauch you entirely on a settee in some dingy back parlour where anyone might discover us. I’ll take my time making you mine, Izzy, but I’ll have a taste to whet my appetite for what’s to come.”

Fitting action to words, he pulled her down once more and kissed her and Izzy shivered as her bare breasts pressed against the cool silk of his waistcoat and the icy touch of buttons. His hands slid down her back, reaching for the fabric of her skirts and petticoats, hauling them up until she felt the brush of cold air against her thighs and backside. His hands swiftly followed, gliding over her skin, squeezing the cheeks of her bottom as he pulled her more firmly against him.

Izzy sighed and pressed back, repeating the motion as he encouraged her into a rhythm. His breathing sped as hers did until he moved suddenly, lifting her and setting her down on the settee as he slid to the floor before her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in confusion, gazing down at him.

Again, the swift grin, a soft huff of laughter. “Not a thing, except if you get any more exciting, I’ll be in trouble, yet I’ve spent too long pretending not to be a gentleman to stop entirely. Will you let me pleasure you, love?”

Izzy’s eyebrows lifted as she stared into the face of the man who had come to mean everything to her. “Well, it doesn’t sound like an offer I ought to refuse,” she replied pensively.