He did not listen. Benjamin knew Miss Hastings yelled words, sometimes screamed words, but the only sound he heard was the loud thrumming of his heart. It beat so loudly, he feared she might hear it over her tirade. How it was possible the little girl he still pictured had grown into such a vivacious, rather beautiful, albeit opinionated woman? No wonder Edward hid her in the country. Already the gentleman wolves–suitors, most of them unsuitable–were beginning to circle. Gentile tongued devils. He glared at them, tightened his grip on Miss Hasting’s waist and spun her deftly into the center of the room. She never missed a step, whirling at the last moment to complete the turn. His grateful feet were never in danger.
Edward’s little sister did not much resemble her brother, except for their shared eye and hair color. Whereas Edward looked like a mirror image of Mr. Hastings, Miss Hastings had grown into a lovely tribute to her mother’s beauty. However, Miss Hasting’s spunky demeanor did not match Benjamin’s gentle memory of Mrs. Hastings. That particular trait seemed to be solely Miss Hastings’.
Benjamin’s mind began to wander, preoccupied with the intriguing way her lips formed around the words which continued to pour uninhibited from her tongue. Her ire flushed her cheeks. Much prettier, he reflected, than the pale color most ladies favored. He thought of other things he could do that would cause her to blush this delightful shade of pink. His eyes flicked to her mouth, still moving incessantly. Benjamin ached to taste her sweet lips, plump and innocent, just out of his reach. He wanted to cover her mouth with his, to tickle the corners with his tongue, and to make her moan his name with complete abandon.
“Lord Westwood,” she demanded, breaking through his wayward thoughts.
“Yes,” he answered. Not quite the way he imagined her calling his name.
“Lord Westwood,” persisted Miss Hastings. “You are not listening to me.”
“My dear, Miss Hastings,” he replied as he gestured around them. “Of course, I am listening to you. The whole ballroom is listening to you.”
She glanced around, suddenly shy. The beautiful pink color traveled down her neck, past her bodice. He wanted to trace the path with his lips, certain it would lead straight to her center. For the second time that evening, he felt the discomforting tightness begging for release.
He realized what he needed was a cold bath and a night with a woman, any woman, except the one currently standing directly in front of him. Just as long as she had reddish tinges in her curls and glittering sapphire eyes, he added silently, picturing how soft her skin might look bathed in flickering candlelight while she lay shivering beneath him. No, he reprimanded himself sternly, not him, he was her guardian… beneath some other man. The thought made him want to put his fist through a wall. A dark expression crossed his face.
“My Lord,” Miss Hastings asked with concern. “Is anything wrong?”
Benjamin stared at her blankly as the fantasy faded around him, replaced by the intrusion of the crowded ballroom. Realizing she had addressed him, he forced himself to focus. Taking a deep breath, his features softened dramatically as his displeasure ebbed.
“Not at all,” he stated politely after regaining control. “I was thinking about which suitors I might approve.”
Miss Hastings rolled her eyes. “I have just finished explaining to you I am perfectly capable of choosing a suitable husband.”
“Really,” Benjamin murmured, his eyes flickering over the young men roving hungrily on the sidelines. “I do not think you know the first thing about men.”
“I do,” insisted Miss Hastings. She stopped dancing to place her hands firmly on her hips. The childish pose brought a smile to Benjamin’s lips.
“Let me show you how much you do not know. Shall we retire to the terrace? It is such a lovely night.” Without waiting for a response, he grasped her wrist lightly and tugged her toward the open glass doors. Miss Hastings followed reluctantly.
The balcony, bathed in light from the ballroom, provided shadowy corners for couples seeking a little more privacy. It was into one of these dim corners that Benjamin pulled Miss Hastings, pushing her back against the ivy-covered bricks. Both his hands rested on the greenery, sufficiently trapping Miss Hastings between his body and the wall. He inhaled her scent, sweet like honeysuckle.
He moved closer, the heat from her body licked flames onto his skin. Their breath intermingled, caressing two pairs of lips before escaping into the star-spattered sky. His hips slid nearer, pressing into her with his unreleased desire. One finger tipped her chin until she was forced to stare into his eyes. The other hand moved behind her head, clasping her neck, and drawing her closer.
“This,” he rumbled softly, their lips separated by mere centimeters, “is how a potential suitor might behave. Can you handle this?”
“Yes,” she answered defiantly, her voice wavering. She placed her hands on his vest as if she were planning to shove him away. However, she did not exert any pressure, nor did she move them; her hands remained splayed across his broad chest.
“And this?” He inched closer, his lips brushing hers in the barest of kisses.
“Yes,” Miss Hastings managed to squeak out.
Benjamin kissed her again, lightly at first, then with increasing urgency. He deepened the kiss, his body pressed against the full length of her. His hands slid down her back, wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush. His lips nibbled the corners of her mouth, his tongue pushing urgently past her lips, tasting her sweet breath.
“Mmmm,” her protest died under his assault. Attempting to mirror his actions, she kissed him back, not as forcefully but with the same passion and intensity he felt. He wanted more of her. He wanted to take her right here, on the balcony, in full view of every guest in attendance. He needed to claim her as his—forever.
Edward’s disappointed face swam into his mind. Reason washed over him, dousing him in an icy bath. Reluctantly, he pulled away, acutely aware of another couple entering the terrace. This was not the circumstances Edward had in mind when he appointed Benjamin to act as Miss Hasting’s guardian. Although Edward had taught her some questionable things as well, Benjamin thought wryly, his finger brushing over the scar on his left hand. He was certain this particular lesson was not on Edward’s approved curriculum.
Miss Hastings looked faint, the fire behind her eyes dying like embers. Suddenly conscious of their ill-concealed location, she glanced around, pressing back into the shadowy bricks. She quickly lowered her hands, fussing over her dress, smoothing invisible wrinkles nervously. Benjamin blocked her body from meddling eyes to allow her a few extra moments of privacy.
“That,” he said languidly, trying to slow his own breathing, “is how a possible suitor would act.”
“That,” she replied, her eyebrow arched so sharply, he felt it would slice him, “is how a cad would act.”
Benjamin threw back his head and laughed. Considering how soundly she had been kissed, Miss Hastings lost no time in regaining her powers of speech. Her severe tongue flung a torrid of insults. Her current outburst grew much more animated than the last. People on the terrace began to investigate the disturbance.
“Be quiet, or I’ll kiss you again,” he threatened in a low voice.
Miss Hasting’s delightful mouth dropped open in surprise. “You wouldn’t dare.” she gasped,
“Of course, I would.” Benjamin wiggled his eyebrows. “I am the World’s Most Wicked Rake as you so sweetly dubbed me.” He exaggerated a bow, tipping an imaginary hat, making a grand sweeping gesture with his arm.
“I said notorious,” mumbled Miss Hastings, staring at her shoes.
“Why yes you did, Miss Hastings,” he agreed jovially. “Edward found the situation entirely too amusing. He could not wait to share the details of your fine estimation with our friends. I had to bribe him for silence.”
“I was ten,” answered Miss Hastings petulantly, peeking up at him. “You reminded me of the villain in a book I was reading.”
“I recall that afternoon very well,” chuckled Benjamin. “It was shortly after your lake accident. You came dashing down the stairs, swinging that foil like you were going to take my head off.”
“I would have too if Edward had not warned you,” Miss Hastings’ laughed. The delightful sound wrapped around him.
Benjamin deliberately rubbed his finger over a faint scar on his left hand, a small smile pulling on his lips. “You did leave me with a tiny memento of your good opinion of me though.”
“It was just a little cut, you only bled for a couple of minutes,” Miss Hastings replied timidly as if waiting for him to chastise her.
Amused, Benjamin cocked his head to the side, reminiscing on the afternoon. “What exactly did you yell before you attacked me?”
Miss Hastings blushed, her skin glowing a delectable pink, and looked away. “I do not remember.”
“Yes, you do,” whispered Benjamin, moving closer until her delicious aroma assaulted him again.
“Death to all bastards,” Miss Hastings answered, staring at his chin.
He lifted her face up again until she stared into his deep eyes, his thumb caressing her tantalizing plump lips. “Do you still feel that way?”
“Yes,” murmured Miss Hastings, visibly shivering from his touch.
Benjamin chuckled again, dropping his wayward hand. He stepped back to allow the evening air to cool his skin; it danced through the gap between them. The breeze did nothing to quell the inferno raging inside him.
“Bad form to attack a man when his back is turned.” Benjamin clucked his tongue softly.
“A woman needs every advantage she can obtain; Edward taught me that.”
“Luckily, I was able to disarm you, before you thrust that tip through my heart.”
“Villains do not have hearts,” Miss Hastings muttered through clenched teeth.
“I believe Edward also forced you to write me an apology.”
Miss Hastings glared at him. “Which I did,” she ground out.
“Yes, you certainly did.” Benjamin smiled. “The first sentence of the letter caused me to burst out laughing. Do you remember what you wrote?” He paused, watching her intently.
Miss Hastings looked skyward, fighting back the embarrassment. With a sigh, she leveled her gaze at Benjamin and recited, “I do not want to, but Edward is making me apologize to you.”
Benjamin chuckled again. “Such prose.”
“Then you did something unexpected,” Miss Hastings continued, ignoring his jab, the memory lighting her eyes.
“I wrote back.”
“You wrote back,” repeated Miss Hastings. “I always wondered why you took the time.”
“Frankly I wondered myself. Your apology was so amusing, I could not help responding. Then your second letter came, less amusing than the first.” Benjamin paused again.
“You will never know how much I appreciated having someone to confide in,” mumbled Miss Hastings, strolling a couple of steps along the balcony before taking a seat on a nearby bench.
Benjamin sat next to her, keeping a respectable distance. “You lost both your parents within less than twenty-four hours of each other; less than one year later you had your own near-death experience. Yet you never spoke of it to anyone. Edward’s voice still haunts me. Normal children should cry. He used to repeat that over and over.”
“I spoke to you,” replied Miss Hastings, twisting her fingers together in her lap.
“Yes, you did,” nodded Benjamin. He offered her a lopsided smile. “Pages and pages of words.”
A flicker danced through Miss Hastings’ eyes. Benjamin already knew the next question before she asked it aloud. It was the only question in the final letter he received from Miss Hastings, all those years ago, the one he never answered.
“You wrote to me for nearly two years. Why did you stop so suddenly?”
Benjamin glanced away. He studied the ivy wrapped over the balcony railing, wrapping a leaf around his finger, wondering briefly if the ivy would support his weight as well. Too many memories to dredge up in one evening; he sighed heavily.
“We thought it was best.” His grave voice barely carried across the distance between them.
“We?” Miss Hastings raised her eyebrows.
“Your great-uncle Ephraim, Edward, and I,” explained Benjamin. “We decided my exploits were not appropriate for you to read about.”
Confusion crossed her face. “You never wrote about anything unsuitable.”
“It was more of a preventative measure.”
“You were my friend,” whispered Miss Hastings, her accusing eyes boring into his soul. “You abandoned me.”
Benjamin looked away again, running his hand through his hair, unsure how to explain. “You were twelve, it was inappropriate.”
“Franklin is older than you and has been writing to me since I was twelve,” snarled Miss Hastings.
“Mr. Franklin Morris is your cousin and a very dear friend of both your parents,” Benjamin retorted. “The circumstances were different.”
Miss Hastings glared at him, biting her tongue. Benjamin swallowed a bitter laugh as he watched her struggle to contain the outburst which bubbled below the surface. Apparently, Mrs. Hastings had been working diligently to stamp out Miss Hastings’ fiery personality with society’s strict rules.
“Samantha,” Benjamin used her intimate nickname to disarm her. She glanced at him. “I was there for you at a time when you needed someone. When it became apparent you no longer needed me, I removed myself from your life. Now, I must be there for you again.”
“I do not need assistance from anyone,” She growled in a very unladylike manner. “Especially villainous rakes like you.”
“You would do best to look out for villains like me,” replied Benjamin without a trace of humor.
“I do not intend to marry a rake. I do not intend to marry at all as I have already explained in great detail, several times this evening. Once Wilhelmina is remarried, I plan to return to Hastings Manor,” she shot back, her blue eyes flashing.
“As your guardian, it is my duty to find you a husband.” Benjamin folded his arms across his chest, adding finality to the argument.
Miss Hastings paused and closed her mouth. She smiled sweetly in response. “But how will you find an appropriate husband, dear guardian, when every man you know is a scoundrel?”
Benjamin edged into her personal space again, inhaling her sweet scent one last time before driving the final wedge between them. “I promised your brother I would see you married, and you shall be. We will not discuss this further. However, for your peace of mind, I will never permit any scoundrel to court you.”
“Well, I will leave the scoundrel hunting to you, my Lord,” her irate words flew like poisoned darts. “After all, you are their leader.”
“Miss Hastings, you wound me.” Benjamin placed a hand over his chest in mock injury. Underneath his fingers, his heart gave a very real–strangely painful–throb.
“I would do more if I was a man.” She stamped on his foot, fleeing his company in favor of the stuffy ballroom.