Page 30 of Beatrix

‘Now?’ Benedict automatically leaned out to left and right along the landing. It was empty.

Before he could refuse, Bella stepped past him and entered the bedchamber, turning to face him as he closed the door softly.

‘You can’t be here,’ he declared in a heated whisper. ‘If your aunt or your father find you, we’ll both be in the suds.’

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ Arabella countered, laying her hand on his chest. ‘They force you to make an honest woman of me?’

Ben groaned softly as he felt the heat of her fingers as she parted the shirt to place them on his bare flesh.

‘I just need you to hold me,’ she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

Exhaling, Ben capitulated, stepping close and gathering her into his arms. If he was honest, he needed the feel of their bodies pressed together as much as she did. Uttering a sigh of her own, Bella sank into his embrace, laying her head on his chest.

‘I will not take advantage of you,’ he murmured into her hair.

‘I don’t recall asking you to,’ Arabella responded, her lips now planting soft kisses on his chest.

She felt his chuckle against her lips, and lifted her head, a sudden surge of need rushing through her. His eyes were heavy with a longing that echoed her own. Without speaking, he lifted a hand and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, then with a groan as different from his earlier one as night and day, he crushed her to him and plundered her mouth with his own.

Every part of them was connected as they pressed against each other, wanting, needing to feel flesh against flesh. Ben lifted her against him, and she ground herself against his hardness, feeling as though she’d die if he didn’t pleasure her again as he’d done before.

But to her vexation, he stilled. Allowed her to slide down, back to her feet. He knew exactly what she wanted, Bella had no doubt of that, but she gradually realised that something had changed. His face, as he looked down at her, was almost harsh, contorted with something like pain.

With a shock, Arabella realised he was actually struggling to hold himself back, and for the briefest of seconds, she wondered if she should be afraid. But then she relaxed. Benedict would never hurt her. Never. Spreading her arms around his back, she laid her head back on his chest. ‘I love you,’ she breathed. ‘I’m here if you need release.’

For a second there was no reaction, then to her surprise, she felt his chest rumble. The bastard was laughing…

Outraged, she lifted her head and stared up at him.

‘Oh, love, martyrdom really doesn’t suit you,’ he chuckled. Then he lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb gently across her lips, bending down to kiss her forehead. ‘When we finally make love,’ he murmured huskily, ‘the release will come for both of us. There will be no sacrifice on either side…’

CHAPTER 14

Beatrix looked over at Rob and found him already looking back at her, any lightness from earlier gone from his face, replaced by something graver and more determined.

‘I’ve no idea how we’re going to get into this strongroom, but it seems we have no choice but to try.’ He glanced over at the clock. ‘It’s ten fifteen. We have until two a.m…’ He paused, then, to Bea’s surprise, laid his hand on hers. ‘I cannot in good conscience allow you to accompany Billy and me in this enterprise,’ he said, in much the same way Bea suspected he’d tell any of his four dogs not to roll in the muddy puddle they were hurtling toward.

Even Billy scoffed.

‘I am not even going to dignify such a ridiculous sentence with a response,’ Beatrix declared, climbing to her feet and buttoning up her coat.

‘Your father will string me up.’ It had to be said that his reply came through gritted teeth.

‘Quite possibly. But then he may well do exactly the same thing when he learns that you left his daughter alone in an inn while you slipped off to commit a burglary without her.’ Picking up her reticule, she turned towards the door. ‘Are you coming?’

Rob stared after her for a long moment, teeth clenched, clearly weighing her father’s anger over him bringing Bea into danger, verses leaving her alone in a strange inn while he and Billy vanished into the dark on an errand that might well land them in a police cell or worse.

‘God help me,’ he muttered, reaching for his own coat. ‘Stay close, Billy, and in case I forget to mention it when we’re in the middle of breaking into someone’s property, not one word of this to your mother, not ever.’

‘I ain’t no snitch,’ Billy protested, stuffing the last couple of bread rolls into his coat pocket in case he should get peckish later. Hurrying after his companions, he added under his breath, ‘An’ if I did, me ma’d be the last bloody person I’d rat to…’

Seconds later they stepped out into the dark.

Southernhay at ten thirty in the evening bore no resemblance at all to the respectable street they’d walked that morning. The gas lamps burned low, throwing more shadow than light, and the brass plate next to Grainger and Holt’s door had gone dull and anonymous in the dark.

Rob led them round the back of the row of buildings via a narrow lane he almost missed in the dark. He counted doorways under his breath until he found the gate into the solicitors’ rear yard. Fortunately, it was unlocked, though they wasted valuable minutes pushing it open. Rob suspected that nobody had entered the building through the back for some time. The yard itself consisted of a narrow strip of flagstones, empty of all but a wooden crate and a coal sack, both empty. The study window was the second from the corner exactly as Marsh had described. It was also barred as expected, with solid iron sunk deep into the stone.

They spent the next fifteen minutes looking for the small grill Marsh had described. In the end it was Billy, crouching low along the base of the wall who found it. ‘Coal ‘ole,’ he announced, tapping the iron grille set low in the flagstones with the toe of his boot. ‘I’ll wager it comes out somewhere near the study, seein’ as they aint goin’ ter be wantin’ ter ruin expensive carpets wi’ coal scuttles.’