The Wolf's Promise (22 page)

Beneath her hand she felt Benoît's tense muscles slowly relax, but he did not alter his position.

‘I remember my first Season,' she said softly, gaining confidence. ‘I had such high hopes, Ben. I thought I was going to find love and life—and perhaps even adventure—in the fashionable drawing-rooms and ballrooms of London.' She sighed, lost briefly in the past.

‘It
was
exciting at first,' she continued wryly, ‘but then I saw my friends get married. Sometimes they found love, but mostly they didn't, and I thought—is this all there is? Will I have to chose between being a lonely spinster or a lonely wife? So I decided years ago I'd never get married unless I found a man I could love—and who loved me. I didn't care whether he was a prince or…or a
smuggler.
'

She slipped her hand through Benoît's arm and leant her cheek against his sleeve. His muscles were no longer rigid with tension and she felt a wave of relief wash over her as she realised he wasn't angry with her any more.

‘I didn't have to marry you to get away from Papa,' she murmured, almost provocatively. ‘Aunt Sarah in Bath has been sending me increasingly urgent invitations to visit her for nearly a year. She's a very high-spirited old lady, Harry's devoted to her. It was a difficult decision to make, but…'

Benoît turned round and slipped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him a little diffidently and saw a gleam of wry amusement in his dark, still shadowed eyes.

‘That has to be the most long-winded, roundabout apology I have ever received,
mon aimée,
' he said, a hint of familiar humour in his voice.

Angelica was overwhelmed by a strange mixture of relief
and nervousness; but she was too shy to reveal her feelings. She tried to hide them behind mock indignation.

‘You
knew,
and you let me keep talking—!' she exclaimed.

‘I was waiting to see if you'd ever manage to come straight out with the words, “I'm sorry. I love you”,' he said softly. ‘They stick a bit in that graceful throat, don't they,
ma chérie?
' He stroked it gently with sensitive fingers. ‘I can't remember ever hearing your say them.'

Tears sparkled in Angelica's eyes.

‘I do love you,' she said breathlessly. ‘I love you with all my heart and soul, and nothing will ever change that. I'm sorry I said such a horrible thing to you. I know—'

His arms tightened around her and he stifled the rest of her apology with a kiss. She clung to him, trying to show him in her response to him how truly she meant what she'd said.

‘I'm sorry too,
mon amour,
' he murmured a few moments later, his cheek resting against her hair as he held her against him. ‘I know you didn't set out to trick me into marriage— I knew it even when I said it. It was just…'

Angelica lifted her head to meet his eyes and laid her fingers gently on his lips. Tears dampened her cheeks, but she didn't try to hide them. She smiled a little unsteadily.

‘I gave you good reason to be angry,' she said softly, distress in her eyes. ‘I've been so cross with Papa—yet the moment
I
felt hurt and confused I acted in exactly the same way. I lashed out at someone who loves me and wanted to help me.'

A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed, trying to suppress her tears.

‘I'm not really as brazen as a h-harlot, am I?' she whispered anxiously, unable to conceal her own pain at the things he'd said to her.

‘No!' Benoît exclaimed. ‘No. I'm sorry,
mon aimée!
It was a cruel, unkind thing to suggest. Don't ever worry about it again.'

He smiled crookedly and stroked her cheek, brushing away her tears with infinitely tender fingers.

‘Almost the first thing I noticed about you was the way your actions are guided by your heart,' he said softly. ‘I think perhaps I am a little daunted, as well as captivated, by your openness. By nature I'm far more cautious and secretive. You will have to teach me to be less guarded,
mon amour.
'

Angelica gazed up at him, seeing his lean, dark face through a haze of tears.

She was remembering the inherent honesty with which Benoît had always treated her. Occasionally he had obscured facts, but only once had he deliberately misled her—and that had been about Adam's arrival. She didn't deserve his praise.

She bit her lip, struggling to control her overtaxed emotions.

Benoît smiled faintly, a quietly understanding expression in his brown eyes. He stroked the nape of her neck with gentle fingers.

‘Ever since we left Sussex you have been so determined not to admit to any doubts—or reveal how upset you are,' he murmured. ‘I do know,
ma chérie,
however insensitive I
may have seemed. You won't have to face Lord Ellewood alone, I promise. I'll be with you. And we won't go to him until you're ready.'

Angelica gave a little gasp, and then the pent-up feelings of the past few days finally found release in a flood of tears.

Benoît held her comfortingly, stroking her hair and speaking softly to her until the first storm of emotion had passed.

Angelica let him support her, profoundly reassured and moved by his response to her. She could feel the firm texture of his coat beneath her cheek, and the relaxed vigour of his strong body against hers. His arms provided her with a haven and a source of strength. She knew with absolute conviction that from now on home was not a place, it was a person. Benoît was the only home she needed.

When the worst paroxysm of tears had passed, he guided her over to the bed and sat down beside her, one arm supporting her as she rested her head on his broad shoulder. She felt drained and exhausted, but so much better than she had done earlier. A crushing burden had finally become lighter.

She sighed, and accepted the handkerchief he offered her.

‘Thank you,' she whispered, blowing her nose. ‘I'm sorry,' she added a moment later with the first hint of humour she'd shown all day. ‘A damp and overwrought bride is probably not what a man hopes for on his wedding night!'

Benoît chuckled and brushed her curls with his lips.

‘I can think of worse things,' he said reflectively. ‘And you are safely in my arms,
mon aimée,
even if you have just wept all over my best coat!'

Angelica smiled with weary contentment as she nestled within the circle of his arm. The nervous energy which had propelled her through the past twenty-four hours had finally burnt itself out. She was grateful for the interlude of quiet, gentle good humour.

‘Adam's right,' she teased Benoît softly. ‘You are a dandy! I thought so the first time we met. All you need is a gold earring…!'

‘You had me cast in the role of pirate from the first!' Benoît retorted. ‘I've told you before—I'm a respectable businessman.'

‘Who gets woken up by smugglers in the middle of the night,' Angelica reminded him, lifting her head to look at him. ‘Where
did
you go that first night I stayed at Holly House?'

‘What a long memory you have!' Benoît remarked, grinning. ‘One of Tody's old friends broke his arm escaping from Sir William,' he continued matter-of-factly. ‘I learnt a lot from my father before I went to sea. They wanted me to set the bone for him. Being the trustworthy fellow that I am, you understand!'

‘Respectable…trustworthy…I've married a paragon of virtue,' Angelica mused, a twinkle in her tired blue eyes.

Benoît smiled, but didn't rise to the bait.

‘You look worn out, and pale as a ghost,' he said softly, stroking her dishevelled curls. ‘Did you sleep much last night?'

‘No,' Angelica confessed ruefully.

‘I thought not. You must rest tonight.' Benoît kissed her lightly and stood up. ‘I'll send Martha to you.'

‘Benoît…Ben.' Angelica paused, gazing up at him with wide, dark-circled eyes.

He reached down to take her hand in his, lifting it to his lips.

‘We've the rest of our lives together,' he said quietly. ‘I know you're my wife, Angelica. I don't have to prove it at the first opportunity. Besides,' he added wickedly, ‘as I recall, you find being jolted about in a carriage extremely traumatic. That was the reason you gave for staying at Holly House an extra day, wasn't it? I'm sure you need a good night's sleep just to recover from the journey up to London!'

Angelica woke slowly in the early hours of the morning. The room was shrouded in silky darkness, and at first she could see nothing when she opened her eyes. For a moment she felt confused, but then she heard Benoît's unhurried breathing and remembered they were married.

She hardly dared to move for fear of waking him, but she eased carefully over until she could look at him. He had opened the curtains before getting into bed—she thought perhaps he disliked being cocooned away from the sky—and she studied him in the dim light.

She could see his firm, slightly aquiline profile, and hear his slow, steady breathing. He had always been so alert and so forceful. It was strange to see him exposed and vulnerable in sleep. She could hardly believe that all she had to do was reach out to touch him. And he wouldn't even know.

She sighed soundlessly, and cautiously propped herself
up on her elbow, scarcely daring to breathe in case she woke him. He was brother to the wolf; she could not imagine her actions wouldn't disturb him, but his breathing continued slow and sure.

She couldn't help herself. She stretched out a single, tentative finger to touch the curve of his shoulder. He wasn't wearing a nightshirt, and she suddenly wondered if he was completely naked beneath the sheets. A tiny thrill of excitement tingled through her body.

His flesh was warm and firm beneath her delicate, questing fingers. She couldn't resist letting her hand glide gently over his collarbone. Her heart began to beat faster. She felt guiltily that she was stealing an illicit pleasure, but the temptation was irresistible.

A sunburst glow of joy flooded through her as she finally realised that she was, irretrievably, Benoît's wife. He was her husband, and she had a perfect right to reach out to him in the night.

Her touch was no less imperceptible, but considerably more confident, as she began to trace the contour of his muscular chest. She was so absorbed in her task that she was completely taken by surprise when he caught her hand in his.

‘Ma douce séductrice,'
he murmured softly, without opening his eyes.

‘I thought you were asleep!' Angelica exclaimed, disconcerted. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he tightened his hold on it.

‘I was. But you could rouse a carved stone knight from his tomb!' he retorted, a smile in his voice as he turned his head to look at her.

‘Oh.' Angelica blushed in the darkness.

‘Oh?' Benoît slipped an arm beneath her waist and drew her to lie alongside him. ‘Were you hoping I wouldn't wake up?' he enquired teasingly.

‘Yes…No!' Angelica replied, feeling flustered. ‘I mean—'

She was acutely conscious of the feel of Benoît's lean, vigorous body through her thin nightgown. Her weariness of the previous evening had vanished. A warm, anticipatory excitement began to flow through her veins.

Benoît chuckled and lifted his hand to slip it beneath her heavy golden hair as she looked down at him. His fingers gently caressed the nape of her neck, and a quiver of pleasure rippled through her.

‘I thought it was usually the Prince who was supposed to wake the Princess,' he murmured provocatively, ‘and you haven't completed the spell,
mon amour.
If you really want to be sure…'

Angelica hesitated for a fraction of a second.

‘You've tricked me like that before,' she reminded him huskily.

‘The circumstances are not entirely similar,' Benoît said softly. ‘You weren't my wife then.'

‘And you never intended to tell me how you're going to rescue Harry, whether I kissed you or not!' Angelica ex
claimed, with remembered indignation. ‘It was an underhand, dastardly…!'

Her protests faded as Benoît allowed his hand to trace the curve of her back. She was still propped up on her elbow, half leaning, half lying against him, and she could feel the play of muscles in his arms and chest as he explored her warm, vibrant body.

‘I thought the action provided its own reward,' Benoît teased her gently. ‘I certainly found it more satisfying to kiss you than to discuss tedious rescue plans.'

‘Because you have a…secretive nature,' Angelica gasped, as his fingers investigated the soft, sensitive skin of her throat, just below the neckline of her nightgown. She was finding it increasingly difficult to think coherently.

Benoît chuckled softly.

‘I don't think that's why,' he murmured, and drew her head down until her lips met his.

She melted against him, her hair falling around them like a curtain in the darkness. She was lost in a world of delicious sensations. Her hand still rested against his chest and she could feel the firm, rapid beat of his heart. His mouth was warm and almost languid against hers. She realised they had all the time in the world.

When at last she lifted her head, her lips were swollen with tender passion and her whole body glowed with fiery anticipation. She could hear his quickened breathing, and feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand. The desire to touch him more intimately was irresistible, and she
let her hand drift inquisitively across his torso. She was in no doubt now about the lean strength in his virile body. She bent and pressed a kiss against his chest.

Benoît caught his breath, uttering a soft, wordless exclamation, and rolled her onto her back.

Her heart leapt in sudden surprise, but then she was overwhelmed by new sensations of pleasure. She slipped her arms around his neck and lost herself in another long, deep, infinitely satisfying kiss.