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Ah, so that might be the root of his problems, but now was not the time to pry. “I’m sorry to hear that. War is difficult enough without the full support of the men around you.” It was her turn to squeeze his hand. “It seems Mr. Davies oozes more slime than I originally thought. I’m doubly glad I turned him down now.”
A lopsided grin took hold of his mouth. “So am I.” Confliction filled his expression as if he battled with himself in a silent war she had no part of. Finally, he must have conquered it, for he snaked his free arm about her waist. “Please forgive me the trespass,” he murmured and then brought his lips to hers.
The warm, firm pressure of his mouth sent wild sensation down her spine, and for a second, she stared at him in surprise. When he quirked a dark eyebrow in question, she sighed and rested her free hand on his chest. Her eyes shuddered closed, and he kissed her again, this time moving gently over her lips as he introduced himself to her, exploring, questioning, waiting.
Just when she’d thought to tug him closer and mimic what he did, Benedict pulled away and released her from the impromptu embrace. The lower portion of his spectacle lenses were lightly fogged. “I couldn’t resist. The scenery up here rather called for it.”
As did their sharing of emotional obstacles that had shaped their pasts, but she smiled. At least he hadn’t apologized. “I rather like this sort of companionship.”
He snorted. “Partnership, Anne. If we’re to be flayed alive by the press and shunned by society, and possibly killed, then by Jove, we’ll do it as equal partners.”
“I think you’re on to something.” There was something to be said for that.
