e’d taken from the storage box beneath the velvet seat. “We can hardly accuse him of attempted murder based on nothing more than Lord Murray’s suspicions.”
Benedict took a length of bandage and wrapped it around his right hand, covering the split skin on his knuckles. “I’m tired of following false leads. Scarlett is acquainted with a man named Dermot Flannery who runs a gaming hell called The Silver Serpent. I shall send word to Wycliff in the morning and ask him to contact Flannery in the hope he might discover who hired the thugs.”
“Do ruffians from the rookeries frequent gaming hells?”
“Flannery will call in a debt and should have no problem discovering the information, given that we provide him with reasonable descriptions.”
An image of the beastly fiend who attacked her flashed into her mind. The terrifying sight sent a shiver rippling to her toes. “The man who hit me had a jagged scar running across his top lip. There was something feral about his black eyes, the gold flecks conveying a certain savagery. He was missing numerous teeth, though his incisors were longer, sharper than the average man’s.”
Benedict muttered a curse as he tied a knot in the bandage and flexed his fist. “While Finnigan may not be my attacker’s real name, he’ll have purple plums for eyes come the morning and should be easy to identify.”
“You certainly gave him a good beating.”
The Benedict Cavanagh she used to know didn’t brawl with men in the street. He did not visit houses of ill-repute or threaten the blue bloods of the aristocracy. And yet she found him more irresistible than ever. Indeed, with Timothy’s fear of his mother and his foppish ways, how had she ever imagined marrying the lord? That said, she had been coerced into accepting the proposal.
As if reading her thoughts, Benedict said, “Tell me. Did you speak the truth when you said you’ve never loved Lord Murray?”
Embarrassed that she had followed her father’s will and not her own, she glanced out of the window into the darkness. “I liked him enough to think we could create a life together. But no, I was never in love with him.”
Silence descended though she could feel the power of Benedict’s stare scorching her skin.
“There’s something shifty about Murray, something I don’t trust. Men dominated by their mothers often find secret outlets for self-expression. Hence his excessive spending.”
She found the courage to meet Benedict’s gaze. “Like me, Timothy has learned to hide behind a mask. Life is bearable if he abides by his mother’s rules.”
Benedict sat forward. “Is that why you threw away a chance of happiness with me? You were happy when we were together?” He sounded apprehensive. “You didn’t fake the laughter, fake the caring gestures and loving words?”
She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat. “You’re the only person in the world who truly knows me. Even now, I feel as if I’m floundering in a turbulent sea, bobbing between the past and the present.”
“The past is lost to us. We were innocent and young and believed love could conquer prejudices. Neither of us are the same people. Too much has happened. Too much has changed.”
A mild panic fluttered in her chest. “Are you saying we will never feel the way we used to?” Oh, she couldn’t bear to think he might never love her again.
“Honestly, I have no notion what the future holds. But we’re talking as a husband and wife should. We’re not attacking each other at every given opportunity.” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “And when I kiss you, all our problems seem to fade away.”
“We used to steal every spare moment to press our lips together.” They would never have been able to sit alone in a closed carriage and not partake in a little amorous activity. But while they would have held each other in a tender embrace, now she imagined they would tear at each other’s clothes, desperate to reignite the connection.
His blue eyes flashed hot as his gaze slid down the length of her body. “Perhaps we should kiss more often. After all, you are my wife.”
Parched for his affection, she said, “It seems like a perfectly reasonable thing for a married couple to do.” And she would do anything to feel close to him again. Anything.
Without further discussion, he crossed the carriage and dropped into the seat beside her. He captured her chin between his blood-stained fingers and closed his mouth over hers in an achingly slow kiss.
Desire coiled in her core. She wanted to strip off his clothes, straddle him, take him into her body and never let go. While every inch of her thrummed with the need to consume him, she tempered her emotions as her tongue caressed his in an intimate dance.
He was right.
They were far from the same people.
The kiss was intense. A desperate need clung to every movement of their mouths. Years of yearning echoed in every throaty moan. The hunger ravaging her body feasted on the essence of the man she used to love, might still love if only she could push aside thoughts of guilt and gratitude. If only she didn’t loathe herself for being weak, for making the wrong decision.
Good heavens!
Here she was again, wavering between the past and the present. This moment was all that mattered—the feel of his hot mouth, the heat radiating from his skin. She reached up and cupped his unblemished cheek, deepening the kiss, conveying every ounce of affection she held for this man.
When the carriage rumbled to a halt, she almost groaned in protest.
Benedict dragged his lips from hers. “I think I prefer the way you kiss me now.” The impassioned look in his eyes sent pulses shooting to her sex. “There’s something raw about the way you devour my mouth. Something wild and untempered.”