Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

" Y our Grace, is everything all right?"

Benedict's butler looked stunned and rightly so. The duke was wandering the halls of the manor in the middle of the night, pacing like a madman. Roberts had happened upon him just as Benedict was descending the stairs, a grimace plastered across his face. From the butler's perspective, Benedict knew he must paint a frightening picture. It was no wonder that he thought something was amiss.

Trying to fix his face a little, Benedict nodded. "Everything is fine, Roberts. I apologize. I couldn't sleep." He sighed, passing a hand over his face. It had been a long time since he had been this sleepless.

"Can I get you something, Your Grace?"

Benedict waved him off. "No. Thank you." Then a thought struck him. "How did you know I was awake?"

Roberts looked a little embarrassed. "I heard you pacing. My quarters are beneath your rooms. The boards squeak sometimes."

"I am sorry." Benedict sighed again. How inconsiderate he was. He'd been keeping the poor man awake with his restless pacing. "Please return to bed. I promise I won't wake you up again."

"It is no matter, Your Grace."

As Benedict assured his butler yet again that he needed nothing but, perhaps, some fresh air, he watched Roberts take his leave. Then, realizing that some fresh air might indeed do him some good, he let himself outside and into the darkened gardens.

It was not too dark out, thankfully, and the bright moon overhead sprinkled the ground below in silvery slivers of light.

Benedict closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the night air settle around him. He was hot. He still wore his clothes from this evening. Benedict had not even bothered dressing for bed. He'd known, the moment he retired to his rooms, that he would be unable to sleep tonight. There was a moment, sitting in the chair by the window when he'd dropped off. But then he'd woken up covered in sweat only a short time later. He had been dreaming, but of what, he did not recall.

As soon as he was awake again, the pestering doubts were on him once more. There was one person firmly on his mind and no matter what he did, he could not shake her.

Thalia was haunting him.

In particular, it was her expression from earlier that was grieving him now. He had never seen her look so hurt, so vulnerable. And it had been his fault.

Why had he spoken so harshly to her? He had been in a terrible mood, but it had not been her fault. Indeed, she had not deserved such derision. And Benedict had been wracked with guilt ever since he'd wounded her. She must think him beastly and cruel.

Why should I care what she feels, or indeed what she thinks of me? Benedict sighed. He reminded himself that it was because he needed her approval in order to marry Selina.

And after how he'd behaved this afternoon, he would be lucky if Thalia allowed him to speak another word to Selina.

Groaning, Benedict pressed a hand to his eyes. Thalia could not control him. She could not dictate what he said and did. And she certainly had not "tamed" him as his mother had suggested.

Continuing to be troubled by all this, feeling as if each thought regarding Thalia conflicted with the one before it, Benedict decided to simply let his legs carry him wherever they would go.

He walked like that, mind racing, feet unhindered, for some time. After making a few laps around the manor itself, Benedict found himself headed toward the garden maze.

It was almost laughable that his subconscious had brought him here, the very place where he had pleasured the woman who was now plaguing his mind.

But, as he drew closer, Benedict realized that he was not alone.

A slim figure stood at the opening of the maze, still and somehow forlorn. Loose hair fell down their back, giving way to a robe that covered a modest but slightly sheer nightgown.

The figure was gazing upwards at the moon now directly overhead. It was a stunning picture, the moon, and silhouette practically glowing in contrast to the background: a darkened maze of deep, midnight green.

For a moment, Benedict stayed where he was. His mind raced, trying to distinguish who this strange, entrancing person might be, or why they were out here at so late an hour.

However, there was only one way to find out.

As he drew closer, the figure started and spun around.

"Lady Thalia?" Benedict stopped dead in his tracks. It was as if he had conjured her straight from his thoughts.

There she stood, shivering slightly in the chill of the night, staring up at him with the wide eyes of a deer caught outside the shelter of the forest.

"What are you doing out here?"

Pulling her covering tighter around her, Benedict couldn't help it as his gaze slipped down her bare neck. He realized he was disappointed to find that the front of the nightgown was modest, the fabric buttoning up to the base of her neck. He had hoped to spy the inviting shadow of where her breasts pressed up against one another, her bosom exposed in the moonlight beneath the sheer fabric.

"I could ask you the same thing." Thalia's eyes narrowed, looking up at him with a renewed stoniness.

"Well, it is my estate," he reminded her, his voice taut with warning. "So I believe I have the right to ask that you explain why you are wondering my property in the dead of night."

"And you are the one attempting to court my sister," Thalia snapped, "so I would expect you to speak to me with a little more dignity. Spite does not become you, Your Grace."

"Spite?" he scoffed. "I am not spiteful."

"Oh, yes you are!"

Benedict opened his mouth to protest again and then remembered his words to her only a few hours earlier. "You are angry with me." It was not a question.

"Can you fault me for it?" Thalia bit back. She looked at him with a mixture of frustration and outrage. "You have been extremely unkind to me today. What you said to me this afternoon…how you have spoken to me just now… I do not know what I have done to deserve such harsh words. But I warn you, I do not take kindly to such a display of pride and malice."

"Is that a threat?" Benedict's voice was low, a contrast to Thalia's rising pitch.

"You may take it however you wish."

"I do not take it well. If you are trying to say that you will not allow me to court your sister because of some believed slight, then I will be more than happy to inform you that I need no such approval from you." Benedict took a step closer to her, his irritation growing.

But he was not angry with her. He was angry with himself. Angry and confused by the relief that had coursed through him upon seeing Thalia out here. Even now, his hand twitched with the desire to reach out and touch her despite how disrespectfully she was speaking to him. Benedict was angry because this, here and now, was possible proof that Thalia had done exactly as his mother had said she had. Had she tamed him indeed?

Benedict pressed on, willing himself to be stirred by the insult in her words. "I have had the chance to speak with your father over the past few days and he has all but given me his blessing. Why would I need your approval if I have the support of Lady Selina's father?"

"But when he hears of how rudely you have treated me –" she began, but Benedict cut her off with a laugh.

"You were the first to insult me, were you not?" he pressed, taking another step closer. "The first moment we met, you had some choice words for me. Your sister may not have noticed, but I was fully aware of your meaning. You, Lady Thalia, were certainly the one to strike first."

Thalia's lips were pressed tightly together. Those lips… Benedict fought to keep from reaching out and dragging his thumb across them. Something was drawing him to her even now, despite everything. Despite how rudely she had treated him all this time, despite how she had gotten in his way when trying to court her sister, even in spite of how angrily she glared up at him now. He could not draw away, could not look away from her.

A wicked thought crossed his mind.

Before he knew what he was saying, Benedict gave voice. "Are you angry with me because of how I have spoken? Or are you angry," he added, closing the distance between them, "because I have not touched you since the other night?"

Thalia could not speak. She stared up at the duke as if she were still in a dream.

She had been unable to sleep, tossing and turning with Benedict's insult running through her mind as she stared up helplessly at the ceiling above her bed. Finally - though it was certainly not appropriate - Thalia had wrapped herself up, hurrying down the stairs and out into the gardens.

But, somehow, she had found still herself face to face with Benedict. Only this time, it was not the Benedict in her mind's eye. It was the real thing.

Becoming increasingly aware of how little she was wearing, Thalia shivered slightly. But she was not cold. She shook because she was thoroughly and entirely furious with the man before her.

"How dare you!" Her heart raced as she took a step back from him. "You, you have no right to even ask me that. You do not care what I think or feel!"

Benedict blinked, seeming taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Thalia was about to tell him that he did not care about her because he was disgusted with her and never wished to touch her again. But then she realized that now, all of a sudden, he had begun to toy with her again. He was looking at her with that same hunger that she had seen in his eyes their last time in the maze together.

Thoroughly confused and overwhelmed, Thalia turned away. "You do not care about my sister either," she protested, suddenly wanting to change the subject. "Not really. Love. That is what my sister wants out of such a union. But you do not seem able, or willing, to love her. And if you cannot, then how can you speak of marriage? Why, you know nothing about her. You have never even had a serious conversation with Selina!" she added, turning around to point an accusatory finger at the duke.

"Aside from the fact that you are a rude, infuriating, selfish man," she continued, her ardor building, "there are a multitude more reasons why Selina deserves someone better than you. She deserves someone who truly wants and loves her. She deserves someone who at least cares to get to know her!"

"And whose fault is that, do you think?"

Thalia hesitated. Benedict had spoken but his tone and his words did not seem to match. His words were accusatory, but his voice was low and filled with something else entirely.

It was in his eyes too. A raw honesty. An urgency.

"What?" she breathed. "I, I don't understand."

"Whose fault is it that I can't seem to concentrate on Lady Selina? Who is it that keeps running through my mind, tormenting me with thoughts of her instead of her sister?"

Benedict's hand was on her cheek before she knew what was happening. But still, Thalia could not grasp what he was saying. "You…what are you talking about?"

" You , infuriating woman," he breathed, her name hardly more than a whisper on his lips. "You have been haunting me, driving me out of my mind with thoughts of you. I cannot stop thinking about you."

Unable to breathe, Thalia searched his eyes and realized that he was telling the truth. "Me? That – that cannot be." She struggled against the conflicting messages that this man was giving her. Turning away, she finally forced herself to come out and say it. "You do not find me attractive," she retorted. "You have been using me, trying to soften me up so that I would allow you to court my sister. If you truly found me as desirable as you say I am, then you would not have left so quickly the other night." She shook her head. "No, you forced yourself to seduce me and then fled, disgusted by what you had done."

When Thalia turned back to face Benedict, she was astonished at the heat of the anger in his eyes. She took a step back.

"How dare you?" The statement was low and dangerous, fury ebbing through every syllable. "How dare you presume to know what I think and feel? How dare you insult yourself after I have told you how much I desire you. Do you assume that you know me better than I do?" He drew close, the heat of his anger making Thalia blink.

"Do you think that after tasting you the other night, I would not be going insane wanting more?" he continued. "I withdrew because I could not control myself in your presence. Because I could not hold back from all the things that I wanted to do to you. But you can see as well as I how poorly that turned out: I tried to hold back over the last few days - to keep my distance - and succeeded in doing nothing but behaving like a pompous ass."

Thalia wanted to laugh. She wanted to run away and never speak to this confusing man ever again. But she also could not shake the heat that Benedict's touch drew up in her.

When he leaned closer, his body pressing against hers, Thalia fought off an astonishing desire for the man. She was the one who had been given a taste of what a man could offer a woman. She was the one left wanting more.

And now he was telling her that she had been on his mind ever since then?

Thalia did not know what to believe. But as Benedict gazed down at her, his head haloed in moonlight, Thalia did not care. This was not a time for thought. Not a time for questions or excuses.

The look in Benedict's eyes said it all. It said that he had finally decided to show her just what could be experienced when a man and a woman came together. When they left all thoughts behind and spoke only with their bodies. Spoke only with their need for one another.

And Thalia knew, meeting that intent, fiery gaze, that she would not refuse him. She knew she should not want this. She knew that it was beyond scandalous. But she had been denied so much in her life, so much she had given up for the benefit of others. Was it so wrong that she wanted to experience this intimacy with Benedict here in the cover of night? She had no expectations from him. He would owe her nothing afterward. Nor would she tell anyone of what had transpired between them.

All she wanted was to know a man's body, something she never had nor, after tonight, ever would again. She wanted, for the first and only time in her life, to let her own desires take the lead.

And she was not the only one. Benedict wanted her. Thalia was wanted. Desired. For perhaps the first time in her life. And that was truly an intoxicating sensation.