Chapter Seventeen

August 16, 1815

Two weeks had gone by since Benedict had returned to consciousness. During that time, he hadn't seen the ghost of his wife or son, and neither had he contemplated joining them by removing himself from this mortal coil.

During that time, he forced himself to remain in bed so that the wound in his thigh would heal. After the first week, he ventured downstairs to the drawing room, and even though that short trip exhausted him more often than not, he considered it progress. His thigh still hurt. The muscles and nerves were healing deep down beneath the surface, and because of that, he'd been forced to curtail his longer walks. Going around the lawn was what he could manage at the moment, and perhaps some non-rigorous swimming. It was frustrating but there was nothing for it. He was being made to practice patience in more ways than one, and he certainly didn't want to spend the rest of his life hobbled. When he became too fatigued, he made use of a cane, though it grated against everything he believed in.

Marjorie visited often, as did Traverston, who had delayed his trip to the Highlands to help with Benedict's convalescence. They played cards and sometimes she entered into their spirited discussions regarding politics and other inflammatory topics of the day. Slowly, his appetite returned, and he was able to resume enjoying the meals he adored, but his need for anything carnal remained postponed, for he didn't know how to broach the subject of love and a future with her after everything they'd gone through.

From what he'd managed to glean from the earl as well as gossip from his staff, Marjorie filled much of her time by giving reading and writing lessons to any of the maids and footmen who so desired those skills. She'd claimed the stillroom as her own personal sanctuary, and part of her time was spent scouring the countryside for the various herbs and flowers she required to make tinctures and salves. Apparently, she had quite an affinity for such things, for a few of his staff had already utilized her services in treating minor ailments. After sending the useless physician away while he'd been unconscious, she was now taking the art of healing to heart, and he couldn't be prouder of her for showing that initiative.

She was cordial enough when she was alone with him, but there were shadows in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and though she never asked him about the state of his future—their future—it was an unspoken entity that continued to grow between them.

And it pulled at his heart.

When he couldn't endure the estrangement any longer, he went searching for the earl; he needed advice, and beyond that, he needed Marjorie in every aspect of his life. Eventually, he found Traverston in the library.

"I need your advice," he said upon entering the room with the damned cane.

The earl glanced up from the book in his lap with surprise. "Since when?"

"Since we have been friends, but especially now. I thought if you persist in hanging about, you might do me a favor." When he eased himself into a comfortable leather chair near his friend's location, he grimaced at the tightness and tenderness in his thigh.

"Pardon me for caring about your health." The teasing in Traverston's voice negated the words. He closed the book. "Are you here about the widow?"

"How the devil can you know that?" Benedict rested the silver-headed cane against the arm of the chair as he stared at his friend.

"I am not a nodcock. I've seen the glances the two of you have exchanged but neither of you are willing to broach the subject of your relationship. It's become as dull and unappealing as watching a drama play out on a Drury Lane stage."

"Ah." Well damn. "Wanting to secure a future with her isn't something I take lightly."

"Or at all, apparently." The earl shoved a hand through his blond hair. "The change of the seasons on a calendar moves faster than you do in this."

Benedict tried to glower at him, but failed miserably. "There have been things I've needed to work through."

"Which you have. Now you are merely delaying. God knows why." The other man frowned. "I told you before, if you don't marry that woman, I will. Mrs. Stowe deserves more than being installed here in a nether world of sorts where she doesn't truly have a place or a title. Any upstanding woman of class would have left your sorry hide a long time ago after being used like you have done to her."

"I know." Hurt and worry filled his chest as he bowed his head. "I'm afraid I have treated her horribly because of the grief and anger I'd stubbornly clung to. I'd used those things as a crutch or a screen to hide behind. It was folly and wrong, but nearly dying that night of the storm made me see things differently."

The earl grunted. "Meaning?"

Heat rushed up the back of his neck. "I wish to ask her to marry me, but I'm afraid I don't know what the best approach will be after… everything." He forced a hard swallow. "After I have only just decided that marrying again is exactly what I want. And I want Marjorie even more. So much so that I would do anything to keep her."

"That is a rather large step for you, Syn."

"It is, and I never thought I would think that again." He leaned forward in the chair, winced at the slight pain, and sighed. "But how? She isn't a woman in my usual style."

Traverston snorted. "You love her. Does it matter how? Speak from the heart."

"I fear my heart cannot be trusted."

"You are probably correct." The earl frowned as he regarded Benedict. "All of that being said, and knowing you aren't given to flowery language or romantic speeches, what you do will need to be big and flashy, more than she has ever had in her life before." As he warmed to this topic, the more animated he became. "Something with meaning for you both."

"A rather tall order."

"Indeed." Traverston nodded. "Has she confided to you about a secret want or need she has always had? A little dream she's harbored in secret that you could make come true?"

A hundred thoughts streamed through Benedict's mind and then it halted on one that was truly perfect. "As a matter of fact, there is. And I believe there is something in the attics that would help in that endeavor, but I will require your assistance. It is rather a complicated plan."

It took some time to put together the details, but Benedict was adamant that it would work, and that Marjorie's heart would be fully engaged afterward.

Part of that plan involved him squeezing into a suit of armor found at the back of the attics and then being transported over his property in a pony cart driven by the earl, for he was unable to walk in the heavy outfit with his healing injury, and since Marjorie was apparently out at Hummingbird Lake, it was rather a long, uncomfortable, hot ride.

Then Traverston assisted him out of the cart. All Benedict would need to do was walk over the grass toward the lake where the rope swing was located, and then he would need to give her the speech of his life, but it would be worth it to secure her hand.

"I wish you good fortune, my friend," the earl said as he knocked a knuckle against the helmet Benedict had donned. "The two of you are well-matched, and I must admit that I'm jealous of that love you have."

"Once this is over, we will work at finding you a spectacular match." God, it was so incredibly hot inside the suit of armor. He would cook long before he ever got ‘round to offering for her hand. "This will either be the most clever thing I have ever done or the stupidest." With a bit of effort, he removed a basket from the pony cart that contained his clothing as well as a blanket and a few things to snack on if it took a while to convince her.

"Only one way to tell." Traverston chuckled. "I look forward to the stories." Then he left Benedict alone, for the plan was that Benedict would walk home with Marjorie.

It was slow going, but he remained determined. The closer he came to the lake, the more he realized she hadn't come out here merely to think or read. There was a faded quilt spread over the grass with a book waiting nearby, but as soon as he saw the discarded dress and petticoat as well as stockings and slippers, he knew she'd gone for a dip. That served as a testament to her bravery. After setting his basket down near her clothes, he continued toward the shore of the lake as sweat trickled down his spine and plastered his shirt to his torso.

When she saw him, Marjorie immediately came out of the water, and he nearly died more than a few deaths, for her thin lawn shift was drenched and clinging to every curve and charm she had. The dark pink outlines of her hardened nipples were clearly evident. So much so that awareness shivered along his shaft, which caused him to curse, for becoming aroused in this damned suit of armor was not ideal.

"I see you have conquered your fear of the water following the storm."

She nodded. "I decided I wasn't going to live the remainder of my life battling fear, so I have been making myself come out and swim." A shrug lifted her shoulders and pulled the wet shift tighter across her full breasts. "Fear has its place, but I won't live in a prison."

"That is something I have come to believe as well in recent days."

With a bemused grin, she raked her gaze up and down his person. "What are you doing here… dressed like that?" She ran her fingers through her hair, squeezing out the water as she went.

He put up the visor of the helmet as heat crept up the back of his neck. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. "You said you wanted a knight in shining armor, so I squeezed myself into this suit after dusting it off and bringing it out of the attic with Traverston's help. I had to evict a mouse and several spiders, and it's hotter than Hades in here, but I wanted to make an impression on you."

"Haven't you done that already?"

Dear God, how could he be expected to concentrate on his words when he was continuously distracted by her lush body, nearly on display by that sheer fabric? "At this point, I am not so sure. Things between us have become strained."

"Whose fault is that, Your Lordship?" One of her blonde eyebrows rose in question.

"I know, and I take full responsibility, which is why I'm here in this ridiculous suit of armor." In which he would perish due to the heat. "Will you hear what I've come to say?"

"Yes." Marjorie nodded. "Perhaps you should take the armor off. While I'm thrilled you remembered what I said all those weeks ago and I appreciate the romance of the gesture, that can't be comfortable."

Relief shivered down his spine. "It is not. Will you assist?"

"Of course."

Between the two of them, they made short work of removing the armor. Pauldrons, cuirasses, rerebraces, couters, plackarts, vambraces, faulds, gaunlets, cruisses, poleyns, greaves, and sabatons as well as his helmet were discarded to the side of the quilt she'd spread on the grass. When he stood before her in breeches and his lawn shirt and socks, the heat was still affecting him, so he whipped off the socks and the shirt. For two seconds, Benedict contemplated throwing himself into the lake for a few moments, but he didn't want to postpone this conversation any longer.

Thank God for the ever-present breeze. It helped to cool him as he dropped to the quilt merely to rest his weary body. "One doesn't realize how difficult and draining it is to operate their limbs while encased in a suit of armor."

"It was a lovely gesture." When she joined him on the quilt, he couldn't stand not being close to her. "You did manage to surprise me."

"Good." After maneuvering behind her, he spread his legs and encouraged her to sit between them with her back reclining against his chest. "As you know, I am not gifted in romantic speeches or flowery poetry. That isn't the sort of man I am."

She laid a hand on his knee, and he almost launched out of his skin with need. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't try, especially when it's regarding something important."

"Always practical." The pounding of his pulse echoed in his ears. It would make him all too vulnerable to go through this, but for her, he would try. "I was a broken man when I met you a month ago." Bloody hell, in two days it would be more than a month since she'd burst upon his life and required rescuing. "Perhaps I will always be such, but that night I thought I would lose you, I truly believe that was a catalyst, a benchmark, in my existence."

"This is a wonderful start, Syn. Keep going." As she spoke, Marjorie reached up a hand and hooked her fingers about his nape, gently pulling his head closer. "The heart never lies, and I think you know that."

"I do, and it has been driven home to me more than a few times recently." The warmth of her in his arms was distracting and comforting at the same time. When she turned her head, he captured her lips with his, and for several minutes, they spoke with kisses and fleeting caresses. Eventually, he needed more skin-to-skin contact, and it took next to no time to assist her out of her shift while she did the same for his breeches. "Ah, that is better." Once more, he settled her between his legs while ignoring his growing arousal.

"While I am not opposed to chasing scandal today, we owe it to ourselves to speak honestly." A gasp escaped her as he ever so gently he drew his fingers along her sides, playing her ribs as if he were a pianist.

"Of course you are correct." That silky skin would need to wait, but damn, he wanted to explore. "I am a man who, once he finds the woman he desires, he doesn't want anyone else."

"And?" Her eyes fluttered closed, and she reclined into him, both relaxed and with taut muscles.

"And I desire you in every way that a man can. I need you by my side, in my life, for as long as I live, because I cannot fathom a day where I don't talk to you, smile at you, bedevil you, have you in my bed."

"A sweet sentiment, to be sure, but I have been betrayed by pretty words before."

Would he lose her after all? "I am not a man who uses words to make my point." Benedict cupped her breasts, and she sucked in a breath of surprise. "Suffice it to say, I have fallen in love with you. When I assumed I would never give away my heart, you marched up to me and practically demanded that I give it over." Needing to touch her, taste her, he kissed the side of her neck.

"I… Oh…" Marjorie sighed as he squeezed her breasts, rolled the nipples at the roots. "Oh, yes, do that."

He chuckled. "Perhaps I should stop, for this is far too distracting." His lips glanced along the side of her neck. When she stirred restlessly against him, he grinned. "The fact of the matter is that you and I are well matched. You are exactly the sort of woman I need in my life as it is now."

When he glanced his palms over her erect nipples, a shuddering moan escaped her. She arched her back, clearly lost in pleasure, for they hadn't come together carnally in almost three weeks.

"I need so much more, Benedict. Please." Then she wriggled her bottom, and that friction against his hardening shaft sent him to the very edges of pleasure and bliss, but he couldn't let himself go with abandon just yet.

Not knowing if she meant physically in this moment or in a combined future, he was spurred onward by the tiny plea she uttered. Damn but he was the most fortunate of men to have gained this extraordinary woman's trust.

"It has always been difficult for me to express myself with words." Desperate, he racked his brain for how to convey his feelings while he caressed the perfect globes of her breasts. With each pass of his hands, each stroke and twist of his fingers on those dark pink, pert nipples, she moaned and arched her back. "I am so much more expressive with actions."

"In that, I will agree, but I need to hear those words, Syn."

As he slipped a hand down her torso, past the soft swell of her belly, over her mons to delve his fingers into the curls shrouding her sex, the sounds of pleasure and encouragement she made went straight to his shaft. Ever since the first, they had been a perfect fit physically and carnally; there had been no need to think about it. If he waited too much longer, he would embarrass himself by spending too soon, for his need for her was great, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the throbbing discomfort.

Right now, his focus was on Marjorie, in caring for every need she had—mind, body, and spirit.

"The difference you've made in my life is awe-inspiring. You have opened my eyes to see the things around me differently. No longer do I feel trapped in the past with no way out."

She drifted her fingertips along the stiches still in his thigh, and he sucked in a breath, for even in that weightless touch, her concern was evident. "You are doing a marvelous job. Keep going." Again, the double entendre bounced through his brain.

The dear woman parted her legs to allow him greater access, and as he spread her folds to uncover the swelling button at her center, she moaned. Her back arched again. She held his other hand to her breast, pressing it to the nipple. Oh, yes, she would break, and soon, and he couldn't wait to claim her body, to show her the depth of his regard.

"You have brought light and life back to me when I thought them both gone." The shiver that went through her body transferred to him. Though he didn't want to ruin the moment with talking, nothing had been decided between them. "You are charming and beguiling, forceful and determined when need be, soft and supporting in other moments, and through it all, you guide me." Benedict circled that tiny bundle of nerves, teased her with varying levels of friction, and all the while, he kissed the side of her neck, plucked and rolled her nipple, did everything he could to back up his words. As her breath came in labored pants, he grinned.

"In you, I saw someone different, a man who I'd never imagined could want me, a potential partner to give me the adventure that I craved."

"And you chose me despite my flaws." It continued to boggle his mind. To cover his confusion, he worried that swollen bud, rubbed it, flicked it, circled it as if that were his only purpose in life, and he wouldn't stop until she'd found that first release of the night.

"I knew you wouldn't remain lost for long." The widow writhed against his body, and his hardened length pulsed with urgent need. "Tell me what I want to hear, Syn. Stop letting fear hold you back, even in this."

Thus proving once again why he needed her. "Over the years, I'd convinced myself I had to guard my heart, that I could never love again, never enjoy life again, but you proved me wrong, and continue to do so." As he spoke, Benedict sought to push her toward the brink, and for one second, he left off working her nubbin to slip two fingers into her honeyed heat. A ragged moan left his throat when she bucked her hips into his hand. "I can't wait to claim your body." She was warm and welcoming as he stroked into her passage, and as her feminine walls greedily sucked at his digits, he bit back the urge to spend.

"You completely changed my mind about men in general, for you are certainly nothing like my husband, in any conceivable way." The words were breathless and wispy as she moved restlessly in his hold.

"There is nothing more to say except this: I love you, Marjorie. In every way that matters. I want to share everything with you, every messy, emotional failure and every moment of triumph." In and out, he thrust his fingers into her while bedeviling her button with his thumb. "I have been such a fool these past days, and I'm sorry."

"Oh, Benedict…" Tears slipped down the slopes of her cheeks.

Unable or unwilling to say anything, he renewed his attentions at her breast. He withdrew from her passage only to focus on her nubbin with greater intensity.

"Oh!" A shiver racked her body, but he didn't let up on the friction, the play he did to her button or her nipple. "I love you too!" When she fell into that release, she did it in spectacular fashion. A low keening cry left her throat as her body stiffened then relaxed. The play of expressions on her face tugged at his chest, as did the way she pointed her toes as the orgasm crashed over her. "Benedict!" She clutched his arm, while contractions and waves of pleasure made her temporarily mad.

It was one of the most glorious sights he'd ever seen, and he wanted to always be the man to send her flying.

The remainder of his heart flew into her keeping as he held her close. As soon as she came back to herself, he turned her about, encouraged her to straddle his waist. Now that he was able to gaze upon her lush body, his arousal grew more acute, but he tamped on the need to immediately claim her.

He still hadn't shown her how much he adored her.

"All of this to say…" With the sunlight gilding her skin, a flush of pleasure staining her cheeks and chest, and her wet hair tumbling down her back, she'd surely stepped out of his dreams. There was no going back from this point.

And he didn't want to.

"Marry me, Marjorie. I am nothing without you, but everything with you, and I want that future as fiercely as I've ever wanted anything." Putting his hands on either side of her neck, he drew her to him and kissed her, slowly at first because he was in awe of her, and then once the familiar heat roared through him, he deepened the embrace because he would die if he didn't.

"Oh, Syn…" She broke it to explore beneath his jaw with her lips, went on to nip the skin there, licked everywhere she'd just kissed, and one of her hands drifted to his chest. "I think you might be a romantic after all." Then she flicked the flat disc of his nipple with a fingernail, and his world tilted as it always did with her.

With a half groan, half growl, he took her breasts in his hands, rubbed the pads of his thumbs along her nipples, and as they hardened, he rolled those distended tips until she moaned. Needing to feel more of her, he laid back on the quilt. God, she truly was his world; how had he denied it for so long? His hands went down her sides and at her buttocks, he held them, further spreading her open, and he reveled in how her body glided against his, how every tiny movement and breath had need shuddering into his length. "I want you."

"Have I bid you nay?" She rose onto her knees and took his painfully rigid shaft in her hand. "However, I agree with you. The need is quite strong."

That touch nearly had him shooting off his wad. Need careened down his spine. He curled a hand about her hip. "Let me show you…"

"Soon." She stroked her hand up and down his length. Bliss was so close and held literally in her palm. At his gasp, she giggled, leaned over him, the tips of her hair teasing and hurtling him closer to the edge. Seconds later, her lips were pressed to his, but she hadn't answered his question. Perhaps it didn't matter. When he would have taken control and kissed her senseless, she grinned and once more straddled him. "You are a remarkable man." Then, watching him the whole time, Marjorie fit the head of his member to her opening. Slowly, so damned slowly, she sank down on him until he'd fully filled her.

"Gammon," he managed to whisper. Her honeyed heat was nothing short of heaven, and he always wanted to share this act with her. Benedict gripped her hips and guided her off his shaft merely for the wonder of thrusting upward into her body once more. "My salvation, I think."

"That is doing it up too brown." But she smiled, shoved her hands up his chest, and when she clutched his shoulders, she shifted her stance and leaned over him, rocked her hips, ground upon him. No, she wasn't a novice at sex, and he appreciated that about her, especially when sensations of pleasure flooded him.

"The truth, surely." Fuck, but he needed to gain control over the coupling lest he come too soon. Putting his hands on her waist, he ignored the urgent throbbing in his shaft. With tensed muscles, he flipped them both over, no matter the pain in his thigh. After murmuring a prayer that the stitches would hold, he settled between her bent knees. Then kissed her in the hope that would cool the heat in his blood, but she wasn't content with that. True to her history, Marjorie's hands were seemingly everywhere, and each flitting touch, every caress sent him careening closer to the edge before he'd claimed her body.

"Marjorie, please say something." He'd barely gotten his fill of tasting, sucking, nipping her pebbled nipples when she'd sneaked a hand between them to fondle his equipage. Need tingled through his stones. A groan escaped. Desire zipped along his nerve endings, igniting his blood, and his shaft jumped with urgency.

She licked a path beneath his jaw. "Finish me before I go mad."

"Ha. We cannot both be that, can we?" Benedict encouraged one of her legs upward. When he glanced at her, caught the soft smile curving her lips, his heart trembled. She was the most beautiful vision, and if he were fortunate, she would accept his engagement. Then the remainder of his thoughts flew from his mind, for he thrust into her sheath once more. His groan mingled with hers, for she welcomed him home like no one else had ever been able to do.

And he never wished to go anywhere else.

The hold on his control snapped. Again and again, he stroked into her, went as deep as possible. She held onto the forearm he used to anchor himself and keep the pressure off his injured thigh. Once they fell into that familiar rhythm, she canted her hips, met each of his pushes just as she always had since that first time together. Hot, frantic need slammed through his body. Over and over, he claimed hers, showing her with his actions that he adored her beyond measure.

Then she shifted position, wrapping her legs about his waist, and he leaned over her. The new angle was apparently pleasing, for she caught her breath, looped her arms about his shoulders. "Yes, Syn, oh yes." Tiny pinpricks of pain from her nails digging into his skin urged him onward, as did the sounds of delighted pleasure she made.

Was that in answer to his earlier question or what he was doing to her?

All too soon, the unrelenting pressure demanded his attention. Tingling need went through his stones, bringing them close to his body. His shaft jerked. He pistoned his hips faster, thrust into her with so much purpose the sound of flesh hitting flesh blended with the din of waterfowl and the buzz of summer insects. Her hold on him slipped. With a cry her body stiffened. Those slick feminine walls contracted around his length so intensely that it pulled him into his own release. With one more deep stroke, he came—hard; his length pulsed as if it objected to being neglected. A strangled shout left his throat, merged seamlessly with her scream of repletion seconds before he collapsed into her. The dull pain in his thigh was well worth this time with her; it had been too long.

"Ah, Marjorie. What am I to do with you?" He wrapped his arms around her, content to hold her, and he pressed tiny, feather weighted kisses to her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her closed eyelids. Salt came away on his lips; she was crying. "Are you well?"

"Yes." She slipped a hand to his nape and found his mouth with hers. "I have missed you and this coupling meant so much."

"Agreed." When the pressure on his thigh became too much, he shifted onto his back. Marjorie came with him and rested her head on his chest. "There is one thing that would make this reunion all the more wonderful." He lifted onto an elbow and peered down into her face. "Marry me, Marjorie. I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you just how precious and wonderful you are to me. I also promise to protect you to the best of my ability, and hope that I will somehow prove worthy to you."

"Stop." She raised a hand then laid that shaking appendage against his cheek. So many emotions were in the blue pools of her eyes that he couldn't isolate just one. But since it was the strongest, he didn't need to know any of the others just now. "I love you too, and you are worthy right now. Not for something you might do, not for the titles you hold, but because you exist, flaws and all."

"And?" It was his turn to ask for more, but he couldn't shake feeling far too vulnerable. Learning how to do that was both freeing and slightly confining.

"Do you still feel the compulsion to join your wife and children in the grave?"

The pain in his heart that was always there remained, but it wasn't nearly as acute. "I do not. In fact, while I was almost dead the night of the storm, I made peace with my past." He took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, kissed each one. "I will always remember those who went before, and perhaps some day when my time on earth is truly done, I might see them again. For now, I am choosing to live and seek out whatever happiness, whatever peace, is in store for me."

"Oh, Benedict." Her grin could rival the sun. "Then yes, I will marry you and be happy to do so." But apprehension crept into her eyes. "I'm an American, though."

"It matters not." He kissed a path up her arm to the crook of her neck.

"I'm not a young woman and I am not certain I'll be able to bear you an heir, and my courses don't come as regularly as they used to."

"It matters not." Unable to help his grin, Benedict pressed a line of feather-weighted kisses beneath her jaw.

"I know absolutely nothing about society outside of your title and Traverston's."

"It matters not." Finally, he claimed her lips, and for the next several seconds, he kissed her as gently and as tenderly as he could before letting her up for air. "We shall weather the possibilities and obstacles together, come what may, for the only thing that does matter to me is you in my life." How was it possible to know such contentment after so much struggle and sorrow?

"Are you sure?" She slipped her arms about his shoulders and burrowed close to his body, tangling her legs with his until he didn't know where she started and he ended.

"I have never been so certain about anything." After kissing her again because he could, Benedict put his lips to the shell of her ear. "You are my next adventure."

"And you are exactly what I wished for at that well."

Moisture filled his eyes as he clung to her. "I have a feeling our future will be one we can look back upon with fondness when we are old."

Thank goodness he'd learned before it was too late that in order to welcome such a thing into his life, he needed to let go of his hold on the past. There was nothing for him there, and he had everything ahead of him. Would there continue to be days of struggle? Of course, but now he had the support and help he needed to see his way through.

With gratitude.