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"You're also very dedicated, admirable in a nanny. Most—" He pauses, and a frown starts forming on his lips as he glances toward his niece.
"What?" I ask him, captured by the hitch in his voice. "You're not exactly the kind of man who holds himself back." I don't know why I'm speaking so frankly, but with him, I can. With me, at least, he doesn't stand on protocol. He barely demands it from anyone else in the world. He can talk fancy all he likes, I know that inside he's crying out for something. Real connection, maybe. Truth and tangibility. He's aching for it.
Men of power chase after help for a few reasons. One, to reassert their dominance over the world in some quiet corner, forcing their own feelings of inadequacy on a maid or hall boy depending on their sexual tastes.
But when Benedict pursues me, it doesn't feel like he's doing it because he needs the power.
He reaches out and grabs my wrist, the single touch sending a charge through me so strong I surge forward on my cushion, heels pressing into the metal of the step under me. I gasp, my gaze shooting across the ring.
Jethro and Madeline are still far away, and it looks like he's fixing her stirrup.
"Don't pull away from me," Benedict orders, bowing his head to my ear, his words caressing my skin.
"I am not under your command," I remind him, but my voice is shaky and undetermined. I don't want to pull from him even though I should. My eyes close, and I imagine what would happen if I yanked out of his grip and ran.
If he'd follow. Where I'd go, where I'd hide, until he found me and—
"Most nannies we've had aren't interested in her care," he says, his grip on me iron-tight. "But you are. Didn't you take this job to be in the laps of two eligible noble men?"
My head turns so I can look at him, and I twist my arm, slowly working it out from his fingers.
"Not in the slightest," I reply and he smirks.
"But I'm making it difficult for you to resist," he replies.
"Hardly." I look forward. Jethro's calling to Madeline to canter, and I sit forward, ignoring Benedict entirely.
She comes up in her saddle, bending forward, heel slipping back. The pony is too well-trained to be stubborn, and surges into acanter. Her face lights up immediately.
I feel Benedict's focus shift from me, to his niece.
"That's it," he mutters under his breath, and I flicker a glance to his face. He's staring at her as she comes toward us, riding the rail hard, her cheeks pink. The ring is gently curved, and there's a deep trail dug around it where countless other horses have ridden.
I'm stuck by how intense Benedict looks, completely having forgotten me as Maddie gets to the corner.
"Stay with him," he breathes out, and as she turns, knees tight on her horse, he lets out a sigh, reaching for my hand and holding it tight.
She canters away from us, pony's hooves kicking up puffs of dust from the ring's footing. His chest deflates and he relaxes, turning to glance at me with a wry smile.
"I tumbled on that corner when I was her age," he says, sheepish. His hand is still on mine, fingers twined.
"Could you—" I ask, tugging away from him. He grips tight and pulls me close, forcing my body against his, thigh to thigh.
"I know that your only focus is my niece and her needs, which I find admirable if frustrating," he says, and his eyes are bright and intense, our faces inches from each other. "But I want to know what I would need to do for you to findmeacceptable."
My face is probably already pink from the heat, flushed and warm, but this is so much more. I'm grateful that we are so far away from Madeline and Jethro, at the far end of the ring so they can't hear us or see how close we are. It's beyond inappropriate. Anyone looking closely wouldknow.
And they can't ever know. As soon as someone finds out what you've done, they have that much more power over you and your life.
Just the thought of that sends a shiver through my body. Benedict smiles at me, like warm syrup pouring over pancakes, and I hate that he wakes me up from the fog I've walked in for the last countless months.
He makes me want to forget Paris.
"Your silence only convinces me that your answer will not be no," he murmurs, and inches closer, his mouth close to my cheek. I can feel the slow spread of heat from his body, his hand sure on mine. "I'll chase you as long as you'll let me. But when I catch you?" Thick promise is in his voice, and I shudder.
"I can't, don't you know what I'm risking?" I finally find my words. "It's not you that's going to pay for it." I pull away.
He doesn't follow, and for once it feels like he's actually listening.
