The candles burned low, casting a dreary gloom across the bedchamber. Benjamin, his large frame folded uncomfortably into a tiny wooden chair stationed beside a rumpled bed, slumped snoring. His head, heavy from exhaustion, rested carelessly on the bed, while an arm dangled, forgotten, on the floor. Miss Hastings mumbled a nonsensical word or two and fitfully thrashed in the bed of tangled sheets. At the first sound, Benjamin sat straight up and stretched, pain radiating through his cramped muscles. Standing slowly, he moved in front of a fire crackling in the nearby grate, both eyes focused on the girl sleeping restlessly next to him.
For two days, she slept, her fever bringing nightmares of the past. Occasionally, she whimpered; a soul-baring sound that nearly brought tears to Benjamin’s eyes. He wanted to comfort her, but thus far his efforts were ineffectual. Helplessly he watched Miss Hastings’ internal struggle and prayed she would awaken soon. Edward would never forgive him if she died. One promise, Benjamin thought ruefully, one simple promise to a friend. Of course, Benjamin had never thought Edward’s ship would be lost at sea—no one did. It was a short voyage to France, nobody ever died sailing to France. Now he was burdened with a promise that tormented his very essence.
“Edward,” Miss Hastings whispered from the blackness of her mind.
Benjamin rushed over, placing a cool cloth on her forehead. A bead of water trickled down her cheek. Within moments, the blistering fever burned the towel dry. He sighed, dipping the towel again in a nearby bowl of water, placing it once more over her burning skin. No sign of recovery. The doctors–Benjamin asked more than one to assess her condition–stated they must wait for the fever to break. The fire would either consume her, or it would burn out, they concurred. Considering her experience with fever, the doctors were positive she would recover. Dissatisfied, Benjamin had thrown them all out. He sat diligently beside her bed, through the day and night, begging Samantha to wake up.
“Edward,” Miss Hastings screamed, her body suddenly flying forward as she sat up. Her hand stretched out for her brother’s fingers, groping the sheets. Benjamin grasped her hand tightly and squeezed. She blinked several times and gazed around the unfamiliar dim room. Her eyes remained cloudy.
He removed the cold cloth–already bone dry–to study her face, concern etched in the deep lines across his forehead. She gazed at Benjamin, her blue eyes focusing on him. As the confusion cleared, her eyes widened in surprise. She suddenly scooted back against the mahogany headboard, pulling the sweaty sheets to her chin.
“Where am I?” she rasped, her cracked voice gravelly and deep.
“I am glad to see you are finally awake,” Benjamin smiled politely, his hand still clamped on her burning fingers. “We were all very worried.”
“I am certain you were,” Miss Hastings replied, the words grating her throat. Benjamin noted she continued to clasp the sheets over her nightdress. Her voice sounded a little stronger, but her eyes still possessed a worrisome dimness. She ripped her hand from his grasp. “So concerned, you kidnapped me and hid me away in your private lodgings?”
“You are in my mother’s house,” Benjamin answered in amusement.
“Oh.”
“I expect your sister-in-law will be relieved to talk to you,” he continued, ignoring her sheepish tone.
“Wilhelmina is here?” Miss Hastings asked, craning her neck to search the chamber again.
He smiled. “They are occupying the adjoining room.”
“They?”
“Mrs. Hastings brought all three of her daughters,” sighed Benjamin. “I am surprised the din did not rouse you.”
Miss Hastings managed a tiny grin. “They are quite a handful.”
“Yes, they are,” Benjamin agreed. “But my mother is enjoying the company. She likes having grandchildren to spoil. I daresay she has started on Thomas and me anew. She will not rest until both of us provide her with her own grandchildren.”
“That should not be too difficult for a rake like you,” Miss Hastings murmured. A flush crept into her cheeks when Benjamin raised his eyebrows.
Benjamin placed a hand over his heart in mock pain. “Your accusations are unfounded.”
“With all your wanderings, how can you not have children?” Miss Hastings retorted, looking extremely uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
“I can assure you, I have no children.” Benjamin leaned closer. “If I did, I would marry the woman straight away.”
“So, you are a rake, but not a cad. Thank you for making that distinction,” Miss Hastings muttered. She glanced at her fingers, somehow trapped under his hand again.
“Hmm,” Benjamin mused, his eyes following the movement of her head. He wondered himself how his hand had taken possession of hers again. He tapped absently on the back of her hand, pondering the actions of his wayward appendage. The tips of his fingers trailed up her arm to the crook of her elbow. A visible shiver traveled through her body. His fingers moved slowly back to her hand, which he lifted leisurely to his lips. Placing a searing kiss on her wrist, he saw the growing passion ignite behind her sapphire eyes, despite her delicate condition. She quickly looked down.
“Miss Hastings, I may be a rake, but I am an honorable one.”
He continued his assault on her hand, his lips nibbling at the soft part of her wrist. A slight moan escaped her lips before she regained her senses. Snatching back her hand, she stared scathingly at Benjamin.
“Sir, I am wrong. You are a cad too.”
“Why do you suddenly accuse me of this title again?” he smirked, his fingers inching toward her wrist again. He found himself desiring another taste of her skin.
“Because you tried to take advantage of a woman not completely in control of her senses,” Miss Hastings growled, rubbing the spot on her wrist where his lips caressed her a moment before.
“I like you better when you are not in control of your senses.”
“Why is that?” she demanded, her eyes flashing.
“Because your tongue is not so sharp,” Benjamin replied smoothly, a smile playing across his lips.
Miss Hastings tried to smile too. The corners of her mouth tilted slightly upward as if the effort itself was exhausting. Her face paled noticeably. With a sigh, she leaned back against the pillows, nestling in them with her shoulder blades until she felt comfortable. Running her palm lightly over the sheets, she smoothed out the wrinkles, and–catching Benjamin watching her–flushed again.
“Are you comfortable?” Benjamin asked lightly, enjoying a private joke.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied. “I like the bed, it is both hard and soft in just the right places.”
Benjamin physically bit his tongue until he tasted blood to prevent an ungentlemanly comment from slipping past his lips. He settled for teasing her, unwilling to completely ignore the innuendo in her innocent sentence.
“I am glad you like it,” he murmured, leaning close again, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “It’s my bed.”
“Hell.” The word traveled the distance of the bed before Miss Hastings realized she swore. She swore again. The word sounded even less ladylike than the one she had uttered a few moments before. Her hands flew quickly to her mouth to stifle any more improper comments.
“Surely a lady would never use such language,” Benjamin teased, enjoying this surprising side. “Who taught you these terrible blasphemies?”
“My brother,” she stated defiantly, her chin jutting out as if challenging him to chastise her behavior.
Benjamin threw his head back and laughed. He laughed a full five minutes before catching his breath. He enjoyed having this woman in his bed, a shock considering they were both clothed, well, mostly clothed.
“Of course, he did. Edward always insisted on teaching you the most inappropriate things. In fact, if I remember correctly, he had been teaching you to fence right about the first time I met you.”
“My governess had a fit,” reminisced Miss Hastings with a small smile. “She nagged him every time he brought out the foils. She said it was improper for a lady to learn anything aside from tea and embroidery.”
“Indeed,” replied Benjamin. “Even you must admit it was a little inappropriate.”
She shrugged. “You stayed for a fortnight. It helped brighten Edward’s attitude immeasurably, even Uncle Ephraim noticed the change. Edward blamed himself for the near drowning incident.” Her eyes dropped to the bed.
“I know. He was my best friend, we talked at length about you,” Benjamin replied. He moved his hand to cover hers in a comforting gesture.
The warmth from her hand sent shivers through his body. Improper images began tumbling into his head—images of Miss Hastings, her ivory skin, glowing underneath his touch. He became aware the sheet had moved over the course of their conversation, partially exposing the enticing skin of her upper thigh, which distracted him immensely each time she shifted underneath the covers. He fleetingly wondered how he could move close enough for a taste of her silky, smooth skin, his tongue twitching impatiently.
“Edward was a good brother,” she said, interrupting his fantasy, causing Edward’s face to swim in his mind. Benjamin’s entire body felt as though it had been plunged into ice. Memories flooded the room, causing a brief silence between the two occupants.
“Yes, he was,” Benjamin finally said after a few minutes passed. His voice contained the lump he had been unable to swallow. “He was a very good friend as well. My father passed away just a couple of years after yours. Edward helped me enormously through an extremely difficult time.”
Benjamin rose suddenly, crossing to the fireplace. He counted the bricks, six up from the bottom. On the side of the fireplace, he pulled the sixth brick. After some tugging, it came loose from the other bricks, revealing a hollow space in the wall of the fireplace. Reaching in, he plucked a dingy handkerchief from the hole and replaced the brick.
“Wow,” breathed Miss Hastings. “That is a fantastic hiding place.”
“It was the only place Thomas never found,” Benjamin responded wryly.
He regarded her for a long moment, his mind jumbling with yellowed recollections, flashes of the past, tinged with sadness. He crossed the room and handed the handkerchief to her with a heavy sigh. Looking into her sapphire eyes, he wondered how much of the past she remembered. Perhaps the real reason Edward kept her in the country was to protect her from his own actions.
“Your brother lost this in a game of cards shortly after your mother’s funeral. Later, I purchased the watch from the winner of the hand. I never wanted it, but Edward refused to take it back. I think you should have it.”
Miss Hastings stared at him with questions in her eyes, but Benjamin shook his head. The lump rose in his throat as he thought of his heartbroken friend. Benjamin had to look away. He had never noticed just how much Miss Hastings resembled her brother. When he finally composed himself, he turned back toward her.
The handkerchief, carefully unwrapped, lay in Miss Hastings’ lap. Inside the handkerchief, a gold pocket watch sparkled in the firelight. He noted she held her breath as she studied the watch, turning it cautiously in her hands. Her fingers traced the engraved letters, M.H., carved on the back.
“This was my father’s watch,” she stated in a small voice.
Benjamin nodded, unsure he could keep his voice from cracking.
“Why did Edward refuse it back?”
"I do not know. At that time, he was not in his right mind.”
“Edward loved Father very much,” she said, her hand still caressing the watch.
“I hid it in the fireplace until the time came when he would appreciate its true value.”
Miss Hastings studied the watch, tracing her finger around the golden edges, abruptly glancing up at Benjamin. “Why did you wait so long to try to return it?”
“I had forgotten it was hidden there. Edward never asked me about it again.” He glanced around the chamber with a tight smile. “It has been a long time since I have visited my old room.”
“I cannot keep it,” said Miss Hastings, holding out the watch.
“Please,” begged Benjamin softly, closing her hand around the watch. “Take it. Edward would have wanted you to have it.”
“Thank you,” murmured Miss Hastings, regarding him briefly before wrapping it carefully in the handkerchief again and tucking it under her pillow for safekeeping.
Benjamin shook his head, rousing himself from the past. He stood quickly and stumbled toward the door. “I must inform Mrs. Hastings and my mother you are awake,” he stated without turning around and disappeared out the door.
Benjamin left Miss Hastings alone for several minutes, pausing just outside the door as he collected his wayward thoughts. He was sure Edward would not mind that he passed the watch on to his sister. Surely, Edward would never deny her a memento of their father. Benjamin never understood why Edward would allow such a beautiful gift to fall to someone outside the family. It seemed fate wanted him to guard more than just Miss Hastings.
Moonlight pooled on his boots, shining brightly from a nearby window. The rain had eased, allowing the full moon to peek through some errant clouds. Realizing the time of night, Benjamin decided against waking the house. Only three more hours until morning, three more hours he could spend alone with Miss Hastings before he relinquished her back to Mrs. Hastings’ watchful eye. Just talking, he instructed himself sternly, ignoring his mounting desire. Sighing, he quietly reopened the door to his bedchamber.
Miss Hastings did not notice his entry. He decided to watch her furtively from the shadows of the doorway. Carefully, she pulled the blanket off and slid out from under the sheets. She gasped as her feet touched the cold ground. She fell back onto the bed where she laid for some moments, cursing the floor.
Benjamin struggled not to laugh. He clamped his hand over his mouth, inching into the room further. Softly, he closed the door behind him. The door made a tiny click, but she did not hear the sound.
Struggling up again, Miss Hastings leaned forward, supporting her weight on the nearby chair. Inching toward the window, she grabbed a heavy drape and attempted to pull it to the side. She wrestled with it a few moments before pausing to catch her breath. She hung onto the drape tightly, blowing wayward tendrils of hair out of her face, before yanking on the material again.
“What are you doing?” Benjamin’s voice startled her.
She lost her grip on the drape and wobbled, collapsing on the floor. Her nightdress rode high around her thighs as she sprawled gracelessly, showing more skin than she ever intended. Clearly embarrassed, she tore at the cloth while trying to sit up, the telltale flush coloring her features.
A very ungentlemanly thought took hold of him as he stared at her thighs, desire pouring through his body. This may not have been the best decision.
“A gentleman would turn his back at this point,” she accused, still wrestling with her nightdress, “or at least attempt to help me out of this position.”
“I thought we already established I am not a gentleman.” His eyes hungrily roved over her bare legs. His hand gripped the door handle to prevent himself from moving closer to temptation. Mentally, he drew an invisible line between them, vowing to remain safely on his side.
“You are my guardian,” Miss Hastings sputtered.
“Even guardians have their limits,” Benjamin grimaced, keeping his distance from her. His knuckles turned white from the force with which he gripped the door handle.
Miss Hastings stretched the fabric over her legs and glared at him. “You could at least help me up.”
“True, but I fear my rakish manner might cause me to take advantage of your current position, and since I am a cad, your virtue is best served if I remain over here.” That was good, keep teasing her. Now if only he could get her back into the bed without doing something they both would regret. “However, you still have not answered my original question. What are you doing?”
“I wanted to open the drapes,” she replied from her seated position, her legs tucked awkwardly under her.
“In the middle of the night?” he questioned, his burning eyes finally rising to her face. His fingers lost their hold. He grabbed blindly behind him but could not regain his grip—now only his resolve was standing between them, and that was melting fast.
“I did not know what time it was,” she huffed, moving to her knees. One thick chestnut curl fell across her face.
That one tiny movement destroyed his resolution. He could no longer fight his attraction to her; nor could he remember any reason why he should. In one movement, Benjamin crossed the room and gathered her into his arms. Her soft hair caressed his arms, sending shivers down his spine. He nestled her against his chest and flung open the curtains with one hand. The moonlight lit up the room, framing the bed in an ethereal light.
Benjamin turned and carried her back to the bed—his bed, he thought with delight. A sinful pleasure rippled in his gut. She seemed unaware of the torment she inflicted on him. Benjamin gently placed her among the down pillows, brushing the aggravating curl out of her eyes. She stared at him, naivety seeping from her blue pools, and he longed to answer her question of wonder. Her hands fluttered to his chest as he leaned over to adjust the pillows behind her head. Shuddering, Benjamin pulled back quickly as if burned, his skin searing from where her fingers had touched him.
He wanted to leave. He needed to leave, but he could not. Her skin called to him, an intoxication begging for fulfillment. Benjamin leaned forward slowly, allowing her ample time to protest. He inched forward, his lips aching to taste her sweetness. Closer and closer he moved until his breath brushed her fevered skin. Finding no resistance, he descended, attacking her lips with all the pent-up frustration he had felt over the last few days. His unplanned assault began softly, suckling on her lip softly before his need demanded all her attention. He nibbled on the corners of her mouth, and she allowed his tongue to push roughly past her lips. With a groan, he tasted strawberries, so sweet and juicy.
It was not enough, his mind raged—not enough just to kiss her. He wanted to taste her, every part. He wanted to possess her and claim her. His pants bulged uncomfortably. Without thinking, he moved on top of her, his hands wandering in sensuous circles under her nightdress. He heard her moans and felt her raise her hips against his, innocently and unknowingly. She kissed him with the same intense urgency he felt coursing through his blood. He pulled at the sash of her nightdress, revealing her soft breasts. A cry tore from his lips, and he lowered his head to her nipples, capturing one between his teeth. Gently tugging, his caressing hand dragged an insensible groan from her lips.
Her nightdress now rested around her waist, a pool of silk. While one hand cupped and rubbed the breast he suckled, the other slid down to her knee, caressing the uncovered skin. That hand moved painstakingly slow up her thigh, resting just before the entrance to her mound. He kissed her again, feeling her passion growing with each stroke. With one quick movement, he flicked his finger over the exposed bud. She writhed with pleasure, thrusting her hips against his hand with abandon.
“More,” she whimpered in a strained voice. “I want more.”
“Samantha,” Benjamin answered gruffly, her voice sent fire burning through his veins. “I want to give you more, so much more.”
His mouth captured hers again, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. His hand performed the most incredible violations, bringing her to a shattering climax. His name tumbled incoherently from her lips like a prayer. He felt himself straining against her for release. His hips crushed against hers, pressing his arousal on her virginity. She laid, panting, her body still shivering from his touch. Her arms wrapped around his heaving chest, asking for something but not knowing what. As her fingers brushed the bulge in his britches, he felt himself implode with pleasure. His mouth clamped unforgivingly against hers, bruising her lips.
“No,” suddenly Benjamin pushed away. “No, I cannot.”
He stood up quickly, his eyes raking over her half-naked body. He dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head, upset by his lack of control, every moral of resolve in his head screamed with loathing. He stared wild-eyed at Miss Hastings who was just returning to her senses. He watched the passion drain from her eyes, and he fled the room, unwilling to see the resentment cross her face.
Racing to the study, he bolted himself behind the heavy door and poured a glass of whiskey. Berating himself, Benjamin called himself every foul name that came to his mind. She was his charge, still inexperienced about love, and he had presumed to destroy her innocence. This innocence, so freely given, was no excuse for his lack of judgment. He could have ruined her reputation and any chance to find a suitable husband. Edward would never forgive him. Benjamin could never forgive himself. Any moment, Mrs. Hastings and his mother would come barging in, demanding he remedy this terrible situation. He readied himself for the barrage of threats, but none came.
Miss Hastings remained ensconced in her sick room the entire day with Mrs. Hastings and his mother sitting patiently at her side. Her nieces’ laughter traveled down the stairs as they galloped back and forth across the landing. Periodically, Miss Hastings’ musical, slightly throaty voice reached his ears. He strained to hear the conversation but could not make out any words.
She must think the worst of him—he thought the worst of himself. Was she really so much better a person as to forgive his horrid behavior? Or in her innocence, did she blame herself for his indiscretion? He needed to fix this, immediately.
Benjamin was halfway up the stairs before he paused, realizing this was not a matter to discuss in front of witnesses. He turned and slowly descended the stairs, his dejected thoughts circling like buzzards. Desire raged through his loins, demanding satisfaction. Never again, he vowed. She needed a husband as soon as he could find one. He needed to be rid of her before his attraction destroyed them both.
Benjamin paced for several hours, contemplating his situation. His obsession spiked with each newly thought of suitor. Not one would do. They were too poor, too old, or too inconsiderate. One, he surmised, might even be too tall. Benjamin shook his head. None of them were right for Miss Hastings. She needed someone special, a man who would appreciate every virtue and every vice. What about you? He paused, listening to the small voice, considering his options.
Perhaps there was a way to get her through the season without ever approving of a suitor. Perhaps there was a way he could make sure she never ended up with another man. He burned with anticipation.
What about him? He needed to get married, and she needed a husband. It would be the perfect arrangement. She could provide him with an heir, and he would allow her to spend the rest of her life happily managing the country estate. He would never have to share her with another man. Maybe one day, she would learn to love him. Plus, he would be fulfilling both his promises to his father and to Edward.
A perfect plan; Benjamin breathed a deep sigh. All his frustration evaporated into the air like wisps of smoke from a fine cigar. He glanced out the window. Somehow, he had lost an entire day debating this prickly situation. His stomach grumbled, protesting a lack of food and he decided to search the kitchens for some late-night provisions.
Humming absently, he wandered down the hallway, the toe of his boot just crossed the kitchen’s threshold when a knock came at the front door. Only tragedy would cause someone to call this late. Benjamin sprinted down the main hall, his hunger forgotten. Ripping open the door, Benjamin gaped in shock.
A ghost hovered on the porch, his pale features shining from a nearby street lamp. It bustled past Benjamin into the hallway, shrugged off a worn coat and crossed into the formal sitting room where a fire still crackled. The corpse of a man, dead two years, stood swaying, dripping raindrops on the hearth, the firelight flickering ominously over his hardened features. The man wrapped a sinewy arm around Benjamin’s broad shoulders and addressed him informally.
“Benjamin, it is good to be back.”
Benjamin stared unbelievingly, watching his perfect plan burn with the logs glowing brightly in the fireplace. After a moment, he regained his speech.
“Edward,” he whispered. “Welcome home.”