When he touched the tip of his tongue to the tender flesh inside her bottom lip, he felt a great shudder run through her whole body. She reached up to put her arms around his neck and pull his mouth closer to hers.
“Argh!” Ben’s cry of pain was swallowed in Suzanne’s kiss, but it broke the spell of their mindless desire. They pulled apart, both gasping for breath and beginning to gabble apologies.
“I hurt you. I’m sorry, I…”
“I’m sorry, I should not have…”
They stopped in the same moment. And then Suzanne began to laugh, a joyous sound that somehow reminded Ben of pealing bells under a pure blue sky. The picture was perfect. Just like Suzanne.
Ben touched a finger to her cheek. Her eyes widened. Her laughter died away, leaving her lips curved in a knowing smile.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I should not have done that. But you were starting to scream at me and I had to stop you. There is a man down below…”
“How did you find out?” she exclaimed sharply. Her smile had vanished.
Ben eased his left arm round her shoulders and began to stroke the top of her arm. She did not resist. She even leaned towards him, as the tension began to leave her. “I am a spy,” he said simply. “It’s my business to keep watch.”
“Even when you’re supposed to be too ill to rise from your bed?”
“Even then.” He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead and let her go. Then he crossed to the window and glanced out. “He has gone. The danger is over. But I do apologize for having deceived you. I assure you I meant no harm.”
“What you meant, sir, was to entice me into your lair, to get me into your power so that you could…you could…”
“So that I could…?” He grinned wickedly at her.
“Oh, you are a wretch, Benn. You know perfectly well what I mean. You simply wish to put me to the blush.” She put her hands to her hot cheeks.
While what she said was perfectly true, she was completely ignoring the most obviously improper aspect of this strange tête-à-tête that Ben was wearing nothing but a thin folded sheet, tied around his middle. He ought to ask her to leave so that he could make himself decent, but after that mind-shattering kiss, he was quite incapable of letting her go. If she could treat a nearly naked man as if she were meeting him in a drawing room, who was he to object?
“I apologize, Suzanne. I shall now attempt to make amends by changing the subject. Tell me about your silk store. I presume that is where this door leads? I did try it several times, but it was always locked.”
“Of course. It would have been improper to have it otherwise, since there is another door on the far side which leads straight into my bedchamber.” She pulled the door wide. “See?”
The silk store was a dark, narrow room, little more than a wide corridor. Immediately opposite the door into Ben’s room was another. It stood wide open, letting in the light from the bedchamber beyond. Ben could see the end of a bed, and a delicate lace-edged nightgown lying across it. He tried not to imagine how Suzanne would look when she was wearing it, but it was all too real. The fabric was as thin as gauze.
Goaded, Ben marched smartly into the store and pulled Suzanne’s door closed. He was suffering enough temptation already, with Suzanne standing beside him, fully clothed.
When he returned to his room, she was frowning at him. “I thought you were interested in our silk.”
“I was. I am. But with my door open, there is more than enough light. Will you show me the wonders you have created? I would welcome a chance to admire your skill before I leave Lyons.”
Her expression froze for a second, but then she smiled brightly at him. “It will be my pleasure,” she said in a rather brittle voice. “Though some of the work is Marguerite’s, not mine.”
Ben stood back to let Suzanne precede him into the silk store. Her walk was unconsciously alluring. He found he could not take his eyes from the seductive sway of her hips. The folds of her light muslin skirt were opening and closing with a hypnotic rhythm, like an oyster responding to the ebb and flow of incoming waves. This oyster concealed a pearl, for she was a pearl of a girl. She should be gowned in silk and lace, not workaday muslin, he decided. Her lustrous beauty should shine against a backdrop of the finest fabrics.
He followed her into the depths of the silk store. In seconds, he found he was shivering.
She turned at that moment. “Oh, how stupid of me,” she exclaimed. “It is cold in here and you have nothing to keep off the chill.” She looked round the storeroom, but there were neither blankets nor shawls, only the finest silk and velvet. She allowed a tiny smile to tug at the corner of her mouth as she reached for a bolt of dark blue velvet. With a practiced flick of the wrist, she unrolled the sumptuous cloth. “That will do, I fancy. Light as a feather, and warm enough. Also delicate enough to ensure that no weight will fall on your poor wounded shoulder,” she added, with a note of sarcasm in her voice.
Without giving Ben a chance to object, she slipped behind him and draped the velvet around his body like a cloak.
She was right. The velvet slithered across his skin like a caress, yet it weighed no more than gossamer. But it was much too beautiful for a man to wear, especially a man hung with coarse bandages.
Suzanne stepped round in front of Ben to assess the effect. “You should have a lighter blue, I think.” She cocked her head to one side. “Something closer to the colour of your eyes.” She gazed round at the stored fabrics, but all the velvets were of rich, deep colours. She sighed. “A pity.” Then her face lit up. “Perhaps a contrast is what we need,” she said, with a distinct laugh in her voice. “I wonder…”
Ben watched, bemused, while she selected a deep red silk from the shelf by the door. She whisked the velvet from his shoulders. Then the useless bandages were plucked away and dropped on to the floor. “Raise your arms, if you please.” She could have been a Mantua-maker, giving a fitting to a lady customer.
Ben wanted to laugh. What on earth would this amazing girl do next?
She surprised him yet again. She began to wind the silk tightly around his body so that it covered him from chest to thigh. He was no longer at risk of shivering. He was now much, much too hot. The evidence of that was embarrassingly plain, in spite of the layers of sheet he still wore next to his skin. The outline of his erection was blatant, painted in the bright accents and dark shadows of rippling red silk. Oh, the woman was a witch! But it was what she wanted. He could not deny her. He remained motionless, waiting.
Suzanne looked at her handiwork and laughed softly, deep in her throat. The temptation had been overwhelming. And the result was more than satisfying. Indeed, it was splendid.
She allowed her gaze to roam over her captive’s body. The pale skin of his muscled shoulders was marred by the black and purple bruising around his wound. Apart from that, he was beautiful. The gleaming silk emphasized the strong lines of his chest. Lower down, she had pulled the fabric taut to show off his narrow waist and hips. The additional effects there were unintended, but altogether delightful to behold, even for a girl who lacked firsthand knowledge of the ways of desire.
She chuckled again, wondering whether Benn had any idea of quite how irresistible he looked. Just then, the light changed. Perhaps the clouds had parted? Whatever the cause, Suzanne would have been ready to swear that there was white lightning forking around Benn’s erection, rather than common silver threads.
She took a step towards him and brushed the back of her index finger along that straining ridge. His sharp intake of breath urged her on. She smoothed both her hands slowly around his middle, from his navel to the small of his back, and then down over the swell of his buttocks. It seemed he could not move. He groaned out her name.
The sound shivered all the way down to her toes. If she continued now, there could be no going back.
She did not hesitate. She leaned in to him and pressed her body along the length of his. She could feel the sparks jumping between them; the lightning was piercing her, too. Deep in her belly, there was now a hot, melting ache.
“Oh, God, Suzanne. I cannot…”
“Hush.” She stopped his protest with a long, drugging kiss. She could not tell him that she loved him. Not in words. Her kisses would have to speak for her.
It seemed they had. Benn’s fingers were already at the back of her gown, seeking to undo it. A bubble of laughter began welling up inside her. Had he been too busy spying to notice that modern gowns fastened at the front?
“Ouch!” He had caught his finger on a pin. Automatically, he pulled away from her and put his finger to his mouth.
Suzanne gave her laughter free rein for a second, but Benn did not join in. Did he think she was laughing at him? She reached for his hand. Yes, there was a tiny drop of scarlet on the tip of his ring finger. “We cannot risk this on the silk,” she murmured, carrying it to her lips. His blood tasted sweet on her tongue. She sucked again, then nipped his skin with her teeth.
“You are entrancing.”
Suzanne placed his hands on the front of her bodice. Then she closed her eyes. She wanted to glory in the touch of his fingers as he undressed her. She wanted to picture it in her mind’s eye, as if she were watching his every move through a mirror. He was slow and deliberate, carefully removing every pin and smoothing out every tie. She swayed a little when her petticoats joined her gown in a heap of froth around her feet.
He took both her hands in his. “Will it please you to step out of your muslins, lady?”
Suzanne smiled dreamily. She had no need to see, for she trusted the hands that supported her. She took two steps forward. Apart from her stockings, she was now wearing only her stays over a fine lawn chemise. If she opened her eyes now, if she saw how he was looking at her, she would probably blush to the roots of her hair. Better, much better, to remain in comforting darkness.
He stumbled backwards against a shelf of fabrics. Bolts of cloth began to roll on to the floor. Startled, Suzanne opened her eyes. Hampered by the tight silk around his body, Benn was trying, and failing, to catch the precious materials before they landed. He was muttering under his breath. English curses, she supposed, glad that she could not make out the words.
She crouched down quickly and began to gather up her fallen treasures. There was little harm done. The floor was clean.
“Forgive me, Suzanne. My confounded clumsiness. It always catches me out, just when I most want to appear in control.”
She lifted her head just enough to gaze up at him through her lashes. She hoped she looked as seductive as she intended. “You wish to be in control now?”
“Yes.”
“Of yourself!” She waited for a beat. “Or of me?”
His only response was a groan.
Suzanne rose. It took only seconds to restore the fabrics to their places. She picked up the cutting shears from the end of the lowest shelf and offered them to Benn. Her stay-laces could only be loosened by nimble fingers, which Benn clearly did not have. And, in any case, it would take much too long. The ache in her belly was urgent.
He was staring at the scissors in his hand as if he had never held such an implement before.
Suzanne put her fingers over his. She leaned forward so that the bare skin of her throat and upper bosom was touching his chest. “I need you to see all of me, Benn,” she whispered, offering him her lips once again.
He seized her and began to kiss her even more passionately than before. He sucked at her lower lip, then bit it gently before sucking again. Slowly, he brushed the tip of his tongue along the full length of her lips. He pushed into her mouth, tentatively at first, and then with thrusts of increasing desire. He was pulling her body so tight against his own that the cold steel of the scissors was crushed into her flesh. Suzanne did not care. She was being held, being kissed, by the man who had captured her heart. Very soon, he would take her body and make her fully his. She wanted only that.
The scissors must have stabbed him, for he pulled away abruptly. Suzanne’s gaze was drawn to his eyes, so wide and dark with passion that there was almost no trace of blue. His lips were parted, and swollen, as hers must also be. They desired each other equally. It was perfect.
She had placed the scissors in his hands. She wanted him to use them. She wanted him to free her of the remainder of her clothing, to feast his eyes on her body and to use his clumsy fingers to touch the essence of the amazing woman she was.
Ben’s whole being was awash with desire. This beautiful, passionate girl was offering herself to him. It seemed she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He slid the scissors under the lowest loop of her stays and closed the blades. They glanced off the heavy lacing. The corset remained intact. He tried again, snapping the blades together with greater force. The result was the same. He growled in frustration.
Suzanne gave a low chuckle. “Poor Benn.” She took the scissors horn his hands. “I had forgotten you are left-handed. Unfortunately, my scissors are not.” With a deft movement, she severed the laces and dropped the scissors back on to the shelf. She was breathing fast now. The corset had been pushed apart by the rise of her bosom and was hanging loosely by its straps.
Ben swallowed. Then, very slowly, he put his hands to her shoulders and pushed her stays aside. They fell to the floor, landing with a soft thump on the pile of muslin behind her. That left only her chemise. It was so thin that he could see every contour of her body, her erect nipples, her dark navel, the shadow at the junction of her thighs.