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Her eyebrows jumped up in surprise. ‘You’re interested?’
‘I have a cottage in Wales,’ he explained. ‘Down in the Brecons. It’s where I’m headed tomorrow, actually. A good story might get me in the right mood for my rural retreat.’
‘What do you want to know?’
Ben shrugged. ‘Everything.’
The surprised look stayed, but Luce obliged all the same.
‘Um...Princess Nest. She was the daughter of the King of Deheubarth, in South West Wales, and she gave Henry I a son before he married her off to his steward in Wales.’
‘Nice of him,’ Ben murmured.
‘How things worked then. Anyway, the reason she’s remembered, really, is her abduction.’
‘She was kidnapped?’ Letting his fork drop to his plate, Ben started paying real attention. Against the odds, this was actually interesting.
Luce nodded. ‘Owain ap Cadwgan, the head of the Welsh resistance, fell in love with her. He and his men stole into Cilgerran Castle and took her.’
Ben blinked. ‘What happened next?’
‘A lot of things.’ Luce smiled. ‘A whole book’s worth, in fact. Some people say she fell in love with Owain, too. But really, if you want to know the whole story, you’ll have to read my book.’
‘I will,’ Ben promised. If she ever finished writing it, of course.
* * *
Okay, she had to give Ben Hampton this much—he was a better judge of restaurants than she’d expected. And a better conversationalist than she remembered. He’d actually sounded interested when she’d talked about Princess Nest and her book, which was more than anyone in her family had ever managed. Of course he was only doing it to get her into bed—she wasn’t stupid, and he’d all but told her as much—but she had no qualms at all about turning him down at the bedroom door. She couldn’t imagine for a moment that someone with the charm and self-confidence of Ben Hampton would have any trouble shaking off that kind of rejection.
She, on the other hand, had absolutely no desire to be the one being ushered out of the bedroom before breakfast the next morning, when he’d got what he wanted and lost interest in her.
The waiter cleared away their dessert plates and deposited the coffees they’d ordered in front of them, along with two oversized liqueur glasses with a small amount of thick amber liquid pooled at the base.
‘Calvados,’ Ben explained, lifting his glass to his lips. ‘Apple brandy. It’s a traditional Normandy digestif.’
Luce followed suit. The brandy taste she remembered from occasional late nights with her grandfather during university holidays was deepened by the hint of fruit. ‘It’s good.’
Ben shrugged. ‘I like it.’
While she was drinking it he paid the bill. She realised too late to insist on paying her half. ‘Let me give you something for my—’
‘Absolutely not.’
Ben clamped a hand down over hers as she reached for her purse, and she felt the thrill of a shiver running up her wrist to her shoulder. It must be the brandy, she decided, affecting her judgement. Because, however attractive Ben Hampton was, and however intense his focus on her and her conversation made her feel, she was not going to sleep with him tonight.
She couldn’t help but wonder, though, how all that concentration on the moment would feel if he was focusing it on her body. Her pleasure.
Luce shook her head. Too much Calvados. Some fresh air would sort that out.
Ben slipped her coat over her shoulders, and that same frisson ran through her as he stood close behind her. Luce wondered whether her room in the suite had a lock on its door. For keeping him out or her in, she wasn’t entirely sure.
The cold night air bit into the exposed skin of her face and hands. Luce glanced at her watch: nearly midnight. She needed to get some sleep if she was going to make that lecture for Dennis in the morning. She huddled into her coat and felt Ben’s arm settle on her shoulders, holding her close against him again.
‘So, feeling any more relaxed?’ he asked.
‘Lots,’ Luce answered honestly. ‘But that might just be the alcohol.’
‘True.’
They walked a few more steps, and Luce almost thought he might drop the subject.
Then he asked, ‘So, what do you think might relax you a little more?’
Truly great sex, Luce thought, but didn’t say. The sort that made you forget your own name, just for a little while. The sort that let you sleep so deeply you woke refreshed and energised, however much of the night you’d spent exploring each other’s bodies.
Not that she’d ever actually had sex like that herself, of course. But Dolly was adamant that it existed.
