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It was a gallant thing to say, even if it was a lie. Coupled with the sparkle of mischief in his eyes, it warmed her further.
‘I don’t remember much about those months. Just that I wanted to be elsewhere. Timidity is the worst way to approach a London ballroom, I’m afraid.’
His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his saddle, his mouth still soft in a smile that was peculiarly intimate.
‘You were never timid, Jo. It would have been better for you if you had been. Knowing you now, I can see you were merely blazingly angry and resentful underneath that icy veneer. I read a travel journal of a man who lived for a year in Naples in the shadow of Vesuvius which was nothing but a still and silent mountain, but all the while he was aware that at any moment the whole of the Pompeian plane could be eradicated in a burst of fire and brimstone. He said the quiet air quivered with sheathed violence. It is intimidating to say the least.’
‘That sounds horrible.’ She tried to speak lightly but her voice shook. His words hurt all the worse for the surge of joy that preceded them. He eased his horse closer and reached out and grasped her gloved hand, engulfing it.
‘It wasn’t meant as an insult, quite the opposite. You are an impressive young woman. Under different circumstances you could have had all those shallow fools eating out of your hand.’
She snorted.
‘Yes, if I had been pretty and wealthy and everything I’m not. This is a foolish conversation.’
‘I thought you were a better judge of people and their motivations. If you had used an ounce of that passion and determination to win people over instead of keeping them at bay, your lack of wealth would have been overlooked, believe me.’
‘But not my lack of looks.’
‘There is nothing amiss with your looks. Everyone wears masks in society. I think you chose the wrong one.’
His hand was still holding hers, another breach of propriety she did not call attention to, but it was his smile, softening as his eyes skimmed over her face, that set her heart thudding fast and hard. She was old enough now to know men would at least consider most all females as physical objects, attractive or not, and there was no reason to assume his assessment meant anything more than that. Alfred had been very open with her and had answered her questions as honestly as possible and shattered quite a few of her foolish notions about love of body and mind.
Benneit’s gaze lingered on her mouth, his lashes lowering to shield the winter-green-and-grey irises, and her heart went into full gallop, heat lashing up her neck and cheeks, pinching at her skin. She felt scalded, but she shivered, clamping her legs tightly about the saddle. The breeze carried his scent to her—clean soap and musk over the coolness of spring water. Her lids felt heavy, her whole body felt heavy, as if she must sink into something, lean on something. Somewhere apart she knew these sensations were utterly out of proportion with Benneit’s mild show of interests—it was no more than what she had seen on Alfred’s face a dozen times at the passing of an attractive woman in the village square. But that little voice of caution was growing fuzzy and weak, and her hand was already beginning to turn under his.
His gaze fell and he withdrew his hand a little abruptly, a faint flush spreading over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He looked over to where Jamie was ambling back towards the grazing pony. ‘Come, I think Jamie has found another treasure. I hope it isn’t a sheep’s jawbone like last time we took the cliff path.’
Chapter Thirteen
Benneit moved between the window and the desk and back again. He should not have sent Angus to summon Jo. Perhaps she was resting. It was foolish to bother her, even if she had made the offer herself. He did not like the thought that she might be comparing him to the Uxmores, who clearly squeezed her until the pips squeaked.
Still, she had offered, and McCreary could use the help while he was occupied with the engineers’ plans.
She had smiled as she offered, too; that soft, unguarded smile that was so sincere and warm it was like a caress. She had not believed him, but he knew his sex well enough to know that had she made use of that smile, of her tumbling laugh, of the non-judgemental understanding that shone occasionally from her grey eyes, she would have had a trail of all-too-willing suitors even without a dowry and the beauty of some of the debutantes.
