Chapter 20

Ben woke with empty arms and knew instinctively they should not be empty. His eyes flew open, searching.

Finding. There she stood at the looking glass, tugging her stays up over… his shirt.

"Prudence," he said, voice heavy with sleep. "Wrong article of clothing, love. That's mine, I do believe."

She caught his gaze in the mirror's reflection and scowled. The shirt hung loose on her arms and fell to her knees. "Yes, and you ruined my shift last night, so this will have to do. I assume you have extra shirts here. Or you can borrow from your grandfather. I do not and cannot."

"Excellent point." He pushed to sitting and leaned against the headboard, bending one arm behind his head. "Need help?"

"Dressing?"

"Or undressing."

"No, thank you."

He put a hand over his heart. "You wound."

"It is not that I do not want to, but there is no time. The sun is already promising to rise. You must dress and leave quickly. And I must see about Cora."

He sighed. "Naturally you would put your schedule ahead of your desires. And you are quite right in this instance. I shall attempt to follow your lead."

He threw the blankets back and swung his feet to the floor, stood and stretched nice and long, positioned just so his naked body would appear reflected behind her and to the side. Her gaze snagged just where he wanted it to, and her cheeks burned red. He put his hands on his hips and looked about the room. "Now, where did I put those breeches? Ah, there."

He rescued the pants from their wrinkled pile on the floor and returned his attention to his future wife.

He'd never seen Prudence stare at anything with so much heat. Except, perhaps, a perfectly organized schedule. Good to know he ranked that high. She shook her head, blinked several times, and managed to wrench her gaze away from his image in the looking glass.

"Tighten my stays, please?" she asked.

He did, dropping his breeches and dropping a kiss to the back of her neck, letting his fingers linger everywhere he touched. She remained still as a statue, holding her breath, as if she feared to move. When he stepped away from her and said, "all done," a full-body shudder brought her to life, and she snapped out an arm to grab the gown she'd draped across the back of a nearby chair. She stepped into it and gave him her back once more.

"Tie the tapes? Please?" Her voice a breathless whisper.

He did once more as she bid, but this time he kissed the back of her neck before and after each time, making sure she did not turn to stone once more. Her breath became heavy pants, and when he stroked a line down her neck and nipped at her earlobe, she moaned, letting her head fall to the opposite side to give him more space for exploration.

He turned her around. Eyes glazes, lips slightly parted, gown wrinkled from yesterday, hair plaited and streaming across one shoulder. The most beautiful sight of his entire life. He loved her with his entire soul, his rapidly beating heart, and his quickly hardening cock. He stood before her naked and vulnerable, all hers to do with as she pleased.

"Ben." His name a breath on those pretty pink lips.

"What is it you want, Pretty Prudence?"

"Trousers," she barked. Then she swallowed and spoke more moderately, "You should put trousers on."

"Should I? Does my nudity bother you? You, who've read so many books?"

"That's not it. It's only that I… I like your legs and… and your—ahem—backside. They appear… very strong. Like the rest of you. I find it… quite appealing."

"I see no problem, then."

"It's a distraction." She sat in the chair her gown had been draped across and picked up a pale strip of silk. Her stocking, and beside it a ribbon, pale blue and delicate. She lifted her skirts above her knee and readied the stocking.

"I like your legs and arse, too, love. Those stockings, as well." He knelt before her and took the stocking from her, held it open. "Here you go."

She dipped her toes in, and he slid the stocking up her leg, reached for the ribbon, and used it to fasten the stocking in place. Then he fastened the other, too, and ran his hand up and down her leg, looked up at her. "Pretty Prudence, I want nothing more than to bend you over the bed and thrust deep inside you." He quirked a grin. "But we must hurry and—"

"Do it." Each word a breathy plea.

"Pardon?" He found her other stocking and ribbon, and he dressed her other leg, kissing her knee just above the fabric.

"Curse the schedule. We have time for this. Please, Ben? Don't we have time for this?" Her hands were fists on her skirts. Her eyes were lust-hardened opals.

"For what?"

"I-I can't say."

"Can't or won't?" He pulled her to her feet, wrapping her braid around his hand. "If you want me to do something, you need only ask. But be specific." He tugged her hair, just a bit, arching her neck and opening it enough for him to kiss the curve of it.

"Bend me over," she moaned. "I want you inside me."

"Since I am brilliant at disarranging schedules, I'm happy to grant your request." He reached between her legs, dove his fingers into her curls and parted her sex. "You're ready for me."

She bit her lip. "So very much. Please, Ben."

He whirled her before she'd finished speaking that tiny word. Two large strides brought them to the side of the bed, and she fell against it eagerly, her breasts and belly sinking into the mattress and the lovely, rounded globes of her arse lifting into the air, pressing against his thighs, just below his hips.

He widened his stance as he dragged his fingernails up and down her spine. She shivered. He could make this woman shatter. He could make this woman feel loved. And if he could do that, he could do damn well anything.

The doubts she harbored about herself—all wrong. And if she ever found out why he'd first begun to court her… he couldn't think on that. Only keep it from her. Forever if he must. Because he'd rather die than see his Prudence toppled by doubt.

Last night he'd been soft, desperate to make sure he would not hurt her, desperate to know she wanted what he did. Now he knew. She would not be repulsed by his sudden need to have her hard and fast. Perhaps if he took her often enough, she would not need a ribbon to know how he felt about her.

That ribbon there, now, a dark slash against her skin. Lust tore through him. Her—his to take and his to protect. He slipped his fingers into her first to make sure she was ready, and when he found her wet, he somehow found control, too, control enough to stroke his hands up down her sides, over her arse. He wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her back, bent over her, and whispered into her ear.

"You are wanted, Prudence. I want you. Now. Forever."

She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, as if she could not believe it. A moment of doubt before her eyes popped open, and she thrust her arse back and against him. "Show me."

He released her hair and grasped her hips and thrust deep inside her.

She gasped, a sound that turned into a moan. He should be gentle, go slow. Last night had been her first. But her doubt did not need tenderness. It needed passionate proof. He gave it to her, slow thrust after slow thrust, showing her how he felt.

He put the words on his lips, too. "I love you. I love you." Harder, faster, his own body rushing toward the edge, ready to leap off. He slipped a hand between her and the bed, found that little pearl hidden in her curls, and showed it love, too. When her body arched with a scream, she muffled in the mattress, he found his release too, taking one more hard plunge into her, shivering into ecstasy, and then falling on top of her, stroking the hair away from her face to place a kiss there.

He wanted to hold her as he had all night, but the navy sky lightened to gray, so he pulled from her and found his shirt. As she lay limp on the bed, he cleaned her thighs and between her legs. When he'd wiped away the evidence of their lovemaking, he pulled her to standing and turned her to face him.

"Steady, now love," he said. "Find your legs."

"What legs?" she breathed.

He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. "I must go now."

She sat heavy on the bed and watched him pull his breeches on. Then after one final kiss, he left her. His room was not far from hers, and he let himself in just as the gray sky took on a hint of orange.

"Good morning, Ben."

Ben yelped. "Hell." He clutched his heart, gasped for breath. "You scared the life out of me."

His grandfather sat on the edge of his bed, facing the door, arms crossed, glaring. "I assume you've been in Lady Prudence's room?"

"What are you doing here, Grandfather?" Ben strode to the wardrobe and found a shirt, yanked it over his head.

"I came to see if you wanted an early morning ride, but I see you have already enjoyed one."

"Don't be crass."

"Then don't act crass." His grandfather stood and crossed the room to the window, stood looking out so Ben could see only his profile in the gray gathering light of the coming morning. "And don't compromise a lady. I thought you knew better."

"Are you going to tell anyone?" Ben found a cravat and wound it loosely round his neck.

"No, of course not."

"Then she is not compromised." Ben finished the simple knot at his throat and reached for a waistcoat. "But I will if I have to. She is my Lady Prudence now, and I'll fight any man who says otherwise." Including her brother. Including his own nefarious past actions.

"You're going to do the right thing by her?"

"Do you even have to ask?" He would be insulted if he didn't know his grandfather used every word to protect Prudence.

"Have you asked? For her hand? You were much too unsure last night."

"Entirely sure now."

"Then I suppose I'll forgive you." His grandfather finally turned to view Ben, some of the anger drained from his countenance. "If she said yes."

"She did." Ben couldn't keep a smile from his lips.

"Don't be cocky about it. Why wouldn't she say yes when you have such a delightful family?"

Ben buttoned the waistcoat and stood next to his grandfather. "I've not done things as you would have liked me to. But I'll do things the right way from now on. If that's what she wants."

"Wise man. Would you like to ride out?"

Ben shook his head. "I believe the ladies will wish to leave early today, and even if they don't wish it, they should. I'll make sure they do. We cannot hide here forever. I must talk to Clearford."

"Too true." His grandfather wrapped him in a hug. "I'm happy for you. You'll have your printshop and a lovely wife in the same year."

The printshop. Yes. But only if Clearford bought his lies.

He released his grandfather and guided him toward the door.

"Do be a good boy from here on out, eh," his grandfather said. "I don't want to hear any unsavory rumors about my heir."

When he left, Ben flopped onto his bed. It did not smell like Prudence. A failing, that. So much to do, his mind a cluttered mess only capable of focusing on one thing: Prudence.

Perhaps on the way to her brother's house she'd help him compose a list of things to do. Exchange his tiny apartments for more expansive lodgings befitting his wife, procure a ring, procure a marriage license, have the banns read. Could he add to that list of items obtaining the dream he'd long worked for?

He didn't want to tell the duke a damn thing about Prudence or her friends, but if he didn't, he would have failed once more to honor his parents' memory.