“Must you be so crass?”
“Oh, my sweet Charity. ”
“Stop calling me that!” Her usual good humor seemed to have eroded completely.
“Oh, my sweet Lady Carstairs? It doesn’t have quite the same ring. And Melisande sounds like a medieval martyr doomed to perish. Hasn’t anyone ever called you by a pet name?”
“No. And if they had I’d hardly give you the use of it,” she said and pushed away from the wall. He’d pulled back from that dangerous seduction that had filled the tiny room, and he was simply Lord Rohan, the man who promised to help her. Her legs still felt weak, and she crossed the room to sit on the surface near him, wondering what it was. Wondering why he had held her, kissed her and then just as suddenly stopped.
Not that she wasn’t grateful. She didn’t want his hands on her, his mouth on hers. She still wasn’t sure why he’d done it in the first place. To teach her a lesson? To prove to her just how naive she was. What a child, what an innocent, what a ridiculous creature she was.
It was a good thing they were in the dark. She suddenly felt quite confused and miserable. She had responded to his touch, his mouth, and it shocked her. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed, but Benedick Rohan was a man who noticed everything. Why had she liked it? Something that she had simply borne as the least of unpleasant intimacies was suddenly unbelievably enticing.
It wasn’t as if Sir Thomas hadn’t cared for her. And she had loved him, deeply, and been very happy when she’d been able to provide him with that physical outlet, the few times he’d felt up to it.
She’d been infatuated with Wilfred, as much as the memory now embarrassed her. She’d wanted his kisses. His chaste kisses. That hadn’t moved her nearly as much as Benedick Rohan’s shocking embrace.
“What did you want to tell me?” he said in his deep voice, and she felt it slide down her backbone like a caress.
She had to stop thinking about that. “Lord Elsmere was about to invite us to a party in Kent. At a place called Kersley Hall, I believe. I presume that is one of their estates? Lady Elsmere stopped him, but I thought if you talked with him you might get him to proffer an invitation. It would be a way in to the workings of the Heavenly Host. ”
“Kersley Hall?” he echoed, and she heard the surprise in his voice. “That belonged to the Earl of Cranston, but I’m certain it burned down last winter. Why in the world would anyone want to go there?”
“Are there outbuildings? Some place for the Heavenly Host to gather?”
“I have no idea,” he said, and she could tell by the sound of his voice that he’d practically forgotten her existence. “But I intend to find out. ”
He leaned back, and she could hear his sudden exhalation. And then his large hand caught hers, though how he could find it in the darkness she couldn’t begin to guess. He held it lightly, his long fingers tracing each of hers, gently caressing her palm. She wanted to yank it away from him, but for some reason she let it rest there, as the strange pleasure of his touch on her skin danced through her body. “It’s only a few hours’ ride—it should be simple enough for me to go out and investigate. If the Host meet there, then there’s bound to be signs. None of the possible members would ever tolerate anything less than comfort on a sybaritic scale. Trust me, shagging someone on hard ground is no fun. ”
“And you would know. ” Her voice was caustic.
“And I would know,” he agreed pleasantly. “Tomorrow promises to be a pleasant day. I’ll go then and report back to you. ”
“No. ”
His hand stopped its almost unconscious stroking. “You are calling a halt to our investigation? Very wise. ”
“I mean I’m going with you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, and I have nothing planned for the morrow. ” She didn’t stop to think why she was throwing herself in his company again. He was dangerous, and what she needed was distance, not proximity.
/> But she didn’t trust him. He was necessary—he knew more about the current workings of society than she did, and she couldn’t do it without him. She would survive being around him.
He was stroking her hand again, clearly an absent gesture, and she felt the surface beneath her shift as he leaned back, her hand still clasped in his. “I’ll have my cook prepare a picnic lunch,” he said lazily. “What would you like besides sugar cakes?”
She gave full rein to her annoyance in the darkness, sticking her tongue out at him like a fractious child. She heard a low rumble of laughter, and she had the sudden thought that he’d seen her. Impossible.
“Stick out your tongue at me, my sweet,” he said in a low, charming voice, “and you might find…”
“Stop it!” she said, her temper finally frayed. Anger filled her. But she was made of sterner stuff than that. “I’m tired of your innuendos, Lord Rohan,” she said in a steadier voice.
“And you might find I treat you like the infant you’re emulating,” he continued over her protest. She had no idea whether that was what he’d originally meant to say, and she didn’t care. For the moment, just for the moment, she gave up the fight. He was too good at this. He could dance rings around her, in more ways than one. He had an answer for everything, annoying creature that he was, and she was feeling demoralized. If he hadn’t kissed her, put his hands on her, she wouldn’t be in such a mess.
But he had.
He moved suddenly, and she braced herself, but he had released her hand, and his voice was all efficiency. “Just to further your sexual education, Lady Carstairs, there is such a thing as a quick shag. Usually done up against a wall, it’s more along the lines of your experience, simply adding actual pleasure into the mix. The guests can assume that’s what we’ve done if you wish to return to the party. ”
“I do. ”
“But I’ll need a piece of your clothing,” he said, his voice languid. “I’m assuming you won’t relinquish your drawers, but I imagine one of your garters might do. ”