He recalled that—no husband, no children. She was perfect, and in that moment, he would have sworn he’d fallen in love with her. “I can manage that,” he said. Did that mean he’d agreed? His cock hardened, proof that it seemed he had.
“That’s a yes, then?” she asked, her gaze sultry and seductive.
“Yes.” Sexual tension spun through him. He gripped the table even harder, then abruptly let it go, willing himself to relax. He couldn’t throw her across the table and ravage her. How delightful that would be, though.
Hell, they still had the trifle to get through.
Plenty of time to come to his senses and change his mind. Or for her to do so.
Mrs. Logan came in a few minutes later and removed their dishes.
“Dinner was delicious,” Prudence said with a warm smile.
“Mr. Logan is quite enamored of your bread,” Mrs. Logan replied. “He’s going to miss it. He hopes he can persuade you to make it next time you come through—as Lady Glastonbury.” She looked from Prudence to Bennet, her expression one of great pleasure, before turning. “I’ll be back with the trifle!”
When she was gone, Prudence pinned him with a probing stare. “What will you tell her when I don’t accompany you again?”
Bennet exhaled. “That you came to your senses and realized you could do better?”
“Stop that,” she said softly. “You’re much too hard on yourself.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Bennet picked up his wineglass.
“It’s too much. I think you should tell them I prefer to stay at Aberforth Place. Then, when you do have a wife along, you’ll have to tell them I died.”
Having just taken a sip of wine, Bennet choked on it.
Distress creased her features. “Oh dear, I’m sorry.”
He held up his hand as he finished coughing and caught his breath. “I am not going to tell them you died.”
“Why not? You suggested I kill my faux betrothed.”
“Apparently we are both rather morbidly minded.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’ll think of something and try not to denigrate myself too badly. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Mrs. Logan brought servings of trifle to the table. “I’ll be back soon with more.” She gave Bennet a pointed look and winked.
Bennet tucked into his trifle, but he was far less enthusiastic about it tonight than the last time they’d eaten it. Because what he craved most was sitting across from him. A forbidden temptation suddenly his for the taking. He ought to have refused her invitation, but he couldn’t regret it. He wouldn’t.
“I find I’m ready to retire.” He set his utensil down.
She paused in spooning a bite toward her lips. “You aren’t having more trifle?”
“I’d rather have something else.”
She froze, her gaze locked with his. He watched her pulse tick faster in her throat. “Should we go up, then?” She put her spoon back onto her plate, her bite uneaten.
“If you’d still like to, yes.”
“Mrs. Logan will wonder where we’ve gone before you had another serving.”
He shook his head. “She won’t.”
Prudence started to rise, and he rushed to hold her chair. When she stood, he leaned close, whispering next to her ear, “You’re certain?”
She turned her head, bringing her lips in close proximity to his. “Never more.”
Chapter 7
The walk upstairs seemed both interminably long and frightfully short. One thing was certain, however: Prudence was wholly aware of Bennet’s presence behind her, of the primal desire that seemed to be arcing between them like some sort of electricity.
At the top of the stairs, she turned right toward the wing where the two guest rooms were located. Theirs was on the left. Before she could reach for the door, Bennet was there, opening it for her and waiting for her to step inside.
She walked to the center of the chamber she’d shared with him for nearly a week now, seeing it in a way she hadn’t before. It seemed smaller, more intimate. Inviting.
The fire had been stoked to a cheery blaze, making the room quite warm. Perhaps too warm. No, Prudence suspected that was entirely due to the anticipation—or anxiety—curling through her. Was she making a mistake?
The door clicked shut, and she turned. Bennet stood with his back pressed against the wood, his blue-green eyes fixed on her with a smoldering intensity. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a mistake.
She took a step toward him, and he did the same toward her. Another two steps, and they were in each other’s arms.
Prudence didn’t know what she was doing, only that she had to kiss him. Now. He seemed to want the same, as he enveloped her in his arms, practically lifting her from the floor.
His mouth slanted over hers, spiking a desperate need within her. She wanted more, but didn’t know what to do or what that meant. Frustrated at her lack of experience and knowledge, she clutched at his coat and pressed herself against him, hoping she was at least conveying the most important thing: she wanted him.
He pulled away abruptly and drew a deep breath. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “I was desperate to hold you, to kiss you. But I shouldn’t rush this. Allow me to kiss you properly.” His lips twisted into a lopsided smile that was far more genuine than the practiced grin of the viscount who gadded about Society.
“Well, not properly. At least some would say it isn’t proper. However, they’d be wrong. A lover’s kiss is given not just with our lips, but with our tongues, our hands, our whole selves. It’s the initial intimate contact.” He brought his hand from her back and held it up between them. “Perhaps the mere touching of hands is the initial intimate contact.”
Prudence put her hand against his, palm to palm. He laced his fingers with hers, and they clasped one another. Then he pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Yes, this,” he murmured, looking into her eyes. “A kiss here and perhaps a kiss there.” He turned their hands and kissed her forearm.
A shiver danced along her flesh. “Tell me about the other kissing—with tongues.” A longing unfurled inside her. She wanted to know everything. And she wanted him to show her.
He released her hand and cupped her face, his gaze holding hers. “Just follow me.”
Prudence let her eyes flutter closed as his lips touched hers. He moved slowly and softly at first. She grasped his coat, holding him tightly, as if he’d leave her. Because everyone left. Sooner or later.
His tongue licked along her lip, and she opened her mouth, somewhat instinctively. Somehow, she knew she should touch her tongue with his. But it was so much more than that. He swept inside, captivating her with lush sensation.
He moved his hand to the back of her head, cradling her, making her feel like the most important person in the world. Or at least in his world.
The feel of him against her and the wicked delight of his kiss teased a host of new anticipation. She knew she wanted him, but this sensation was more visceral. Her body reacted to his with a fervent and immediate need. Stretching her arms up, she encircled them about his neck, holding him as surely as he held her.