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Chapter Twelve
Anne couldn’t sleep. The air was oppressive no matter how many windows she opened. A storm was in the offing, and it had sucked up any breeze, so she’d need to wait until it arrived. But knowing that didn’t calm her mind or relieve her lingering fears.
Ever since she’d met Benedict, her thoughts had been in a jumble. On the one hand, it was exciting that she hovered on the verge of meeting a dream and making her mark on the history of hot-air ballooning. While on the other hand, spending time with the viscount made her feel that same excitement only in a different way. Both were a means of flying and both were as addicting, but one would fulfil her dreams while the other satisfied her physical needs.
Where did Benedict fit in with her life as it was currently? Did she want him to fill every aspect? And even more to the point, could she do the same to his?
The sound of heavy rain drummed on the roof and beat against the ground. Anne inhaled the petrichor scent and sighed. If only the rain could arrive without the storm. But then, life was much like that. If one wished for more, they had to risk the terror of foul weather.
A jagged flash of lightning lit the skies in the distance followed by the low growl of thunder. The storm was in the distance, and it was doubtful it would come this way. Restless and needing to exercise her legs, Anne left her bedchamber and edged along the corridor. There was a certain freedom in having the dower house to herself, for she’d taken to sleeping in nothing but her fine lawn shift and often wandered the halls in the same.
When she reached the staircase that led to the ground floor, she rested a hand on the highly polished wooden banister. A shadow moved within the darkness. Immediately, her pulse leapt, and her breath caught. An intruder! As she descended another few treads, she recognized that form even in the dark. “Benedict!” She roved her gaze over his body in the gloom. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He met her midway on the staircase, and though he paused, the power of his presence was unmistakable. “Where are you headed?”
“It’s too warm to sleep, and there’s a storm in the offing besides.” Oh, was there ever a more handsome man? Clad only in a loose lawn shirt, brown breeches that hugged his lower half, and his Hessians, he resembled a pirate of old, intent to cause scandal and mischief by plundering a house. “I suppose I’m restless.”
“What difference does it make about the storm?” The rich timbre of his voice reverberated through the heavy air to tickle her insides.
A pulse of need made itself known between her thighs. Merciful heavens, after one coupling, her traitorous body couldn’t have enough of him. “I never did manage to find an affinity for storms.” The hand on the banister shook. Why did she become so weak in his presence, ready to melt into a puddle at his feet if he’d but touch her again?
“Oh? Why?”
“They frighten me, have ever since childhood.” When she shrugged, her shift pulled across her breasts. The nipples tightened, whether from the storm or his presence, she couldn’t say. Had he noticed? If he did, would he want her as much as she did him? “I’d thought to sneak over to the Hall, but it’s too late now. The rain is already here.”
“Why?”
“For company.” The scent of his shaving soap sent awareness sailing over her skin. She craved his touch, his kiss, as if she were a far-gone opiate addict. Could she convince him to come into her bedroom for perhaps an embrace? “I’d hoped you might be awake as well.” Anne moved up one step, and he followed. Oh, but hadn’t he always since they’d met?
The knowledge set her at sixes and sevens.
“How did you combat your fear of storms?” In the next flash of lightning, she caught his gaze. Desire had darkened those depths, and she gasped. Did the oncoming storm charge him with the same erotic energy? And if so, why was the connection between them so demanding and so comforting at the same time?
Why does he make me confused? Never before had she wanted a man as she did with him, and it threatened the very freedom she’d fought hard to attain.
She went up another tread. As did he, and she smiled. Oh, he was hooked; perhaps so was she. How else to explain it? “When my brother was alive, we used to go out into the rain. We’d yell at the clouds, at the thunder whenever we were in the country, to show nature we weren’t afraid.” Would he think those actions silly and frivolous?
His lips twitched into a grin. “I can see partial logic in that. What about while in London?”
At the next flash of lightning, her smile faded slightly. “Aaron would sit in a chair near my bed until the worst of the storm passed. Sometimes he would tell me stories from his time at Cambridge to distract me.” Sadness pinged through her chest. Would she ever stop missing her brother?
“I think I would have liked Aaron.” He mounted the next tread. Only one step separated her from him. “As tribute to him, I’ll sit with you.”
Would he act the gentleman, or could she convince him to indulge in terribly naughty things to pass the time? “Oh, Benedict.” She giggled. The need for him quickened, built, coiled through her lower belly until it had the ability to steal her breath. What is wrong with me? She’d just met this man, yet she already thought she couldn’t exist without him. “Or we can work on beating your fears, which would then help mine. Build up your courage, as it were.” When lightning flashed again, her gaze fell to the front of his breeches. A damning bulge betrayed his carnal interest, and it fed her own.
He frowned while thunder rumbled through the air. “How?”
“Dance with me in the rain.” Oh, what she wouldn’t give to see that shirt plastered to his wide chest.
“It’s folly. You’re not dressed and could catch your death.”
Always the gentleman but denying his impulse. “You’re not dressed either.”
“Touché.” When he grinned once more, she stared at his mouth. Dear God, she needed him on her body, kissing her skin, exploring with those lips! “What should we do?”
At least he’d agreed. Unable to stay parted, Anne caught his hand and tugged him up the remaining stairs. “Come with me.”
“Where?” Urgency rode that one-word answer, the same feeling that propelled her feet.
