bring you to harm if I were diseased? What kind of man do you think I am?”
“I know what kind of man you are! You—you—”
He pulled her down so they were virtually nose to nose. “I have had my share of fun, but have been very careful. Careful with my person as well as preventing any unwanted issue.”
“You forgot yourself tonight!” she snapped.
“Yes, I did. And for that I am sorry. Sorrier than you know. Imagining being tied to you for the rest of my life is enough to make me long for a quick death. The pox would be too slow.”
Evangeline could feel the color leach from her face. “Perhaps you can step in front of a brewer’s wagon then, or induce one of your fake French mistresses to murder you. If the unthinkable happens, I would never ask you for a single penny to support a child. I would certainly never marry you!”
“I haven’t asked. Recently,” he said, his lips a flat, angry line.
Evangeline was dizzy from the shift of their physical bliss to emotional warfare. Ben radiated fury that was almost touchable, his hand still fastened on hers like a cockle. She had made a dreadful mistake coming here.
“This is a ridiculous conversation. Let’s just forget this night ever happened.”
“Drunk, were you? So in your cups you consented to fuck me?”
“Yes, exactly! What was your excuse?”
Ben dropped her hand and she pulled back, trembling from cold and temper.
“I was not drunk, Evie, or in any way addled. Except, perhaps, by you.”
Evangeline grabbed up the clothes within her reach and mashed them to her chest. She didn’t think she could stand quite yet. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. When I held you, I forgot the reasons why I shouldn’t.”
“They are legion.”
“Yes. You’ve tried to ruin me with your poison pen, Evie, and for that I should not forgive you.”
“D-don’t then.” She shivered despite the cozy rumble of the fire.
He raised himself up on an elbow, his sweat-slicked skin glowing in the flickering light. “I don’t have enemies. No one except you, that is. What have I ever done to make you hold me in such contempt? I admit I didn’t know what I was doing with you when I was twenty, but surely you cannot hold me responsible for failing to satisfy you all those years ago.”
Oh, he had satisfied her. Ruined her for other men. Why that was, when he was just an aimless, brainless—
There were all those books now, so perhaps he wasn’t the dim creature she thought him. But he was not a serious man. He was a rake and a gambler.
And a man too lovely for her own good.
“You have nothing more to worry about. You own the paper, and I cannot bother you again.”
He actually chuckled . “Your very existence bothers me, Evie.”
“Do I need to fear that you’ll murder me in my bed?”
“That’s not precisely what I’d like to do in your bed, God help me. Let’s part as friends.”
His chiseled lips were turned up, as though he hadn’t a care in the world and they hadn’t just said the most dreadful, cutting things to each other. What was wrong with him?
“I’ll get dressed and then we can shake hands if you think that will mean anything.”
“As one gentleman to another? I’ve got something else in mind. Something far better than a handshake for you to remember me by.”
Evangeline was never quite sure how the rest of it happened, but her clothes were forgotten in a jumble as he kissed her. Everywhere. And she, God help her, followed suit, tasting the salty come on his cock until he spilled again as she came apart beneath his tongue. He was wicked and evil, and his concept of friendship was entirely foreign.
After, he woke his sleepy driver and nearly had to carry her to his carriage, her legs were so weak. But Ben sent her off alone, which was a blessing. Her mind was as useless as her legs.
C HAPTER 6
December 12, 1820
B en was dreaming. He was vaguely aware it was probably his own hand on his rock-hard cock, but he
“I know what kind of man you are! You—you—”
He pulled her down so they were virtually nose to nose. “I have had my share of fun, but have been very careful. Careful with my person as well as preventing any unwanted issue.”
“You forgot yourself tonight!” she snapped.
“Yes, I did. And for that I am sorry. Sorrier than you know. Imagining being tied to you for the rest of my life is enough to make me long for a quick death. The pox would be too slow.”
Evangeline could feel the color leach from her face. “Perhaps you can step in front of a brewer’s wagon then, or induce one of your fake French mistresses to murder you. If the unthinkable happens, I would never ask you for a single penny to support a child. I would certainly never marry you!”
“I haven’t asked. Recently,” he said, his lips a flat, angry line.
Evangeline was dizzy from the shift of their physical bliss to emotional warfare. Ben radiated fury that was almost touchable, his hand still fastened on hers like a cockle. She had made a dreadful mistake coming here.
“This is a ridiculous conversation. Let’s just forget this night ever happened.”
“Drunk, were you? So in your cups you consented to fuck me?”
“Yes, exactly! What was your excuse?”
Ben dropped her hand and she pulled back, trembling from cold and temper.
“I was not drunk, Evie, or in any way addled. Except, perhaps, by you.”
Evangeline grabbed up the clothes within her reach and mashed them to her chest. She didn’t think she could stand quite yet. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. When I held you, I forgot the reasons why I shouldn’t.”
“They are legion.”
“Yes. You’ve tried to ruin me with your poison pen, Evie, and for that I should not forgive you.”
“D-don’t then.” She shivered despite the cozy rumble of the fire.
He raised himself up on an elbow, his sweat-slicked skin glowing in the flickering light. “I don’t have enemies. No one except you, that is. What have I ever done to make you hold me in such contempt? I admit I didn’t know what I was doing with you when I was twenty, but surely you cannot hold me responsible for failing to satisfy you all those years ago.”
Oh, he had satisfied her. Ruined her for other men. Why that was, when he was just an aimless, brainless—
There were all those books now, so perhaps he wasn’t the dim creature she thought him. But he was not a serious man. He was a rake and a gambler.
And a man too lovely for her own good.
“You have nothing more to worry about. You own the paper, and I cannot bother you again.”
He actually chuckled . “Your very existence bothers me, Evie.”
“Do I need to fear that you’ll murder me in my bed?”
“That’s not precisely what I’d like to do in your bed, God help me. Let’s part as friends.”
His chiseled lips were turned up, as though he hadn’t a care in the world and they hadn’t just said the most dreadful, cutting things to each other. What was wrong with him?
“I’ll get dressed and then we can shake hands if you think that will mean anything.”
“As one gentleman to another? I’ve got something else in mind. Something far better than a handshake for you to remember me by.”
Evangeline was never quite sure how the rest of it happened, but her clothes were forgotten in a jumble as he kissed her. Everywhere. And she, God help her, followed suit, tasting the salty come on his cock until he spilled again as she came apart beneath his tongue. He was wicked and evil, and his concept of friendship was entirely foreign.
After, he woke his sleepy driver and nearly had to carry her to his carriage, her legs were so weak. But Ben sent her off alone, which was a blessing. Her mind was as useless as her legs.
C HAPTER 6
December 12, 1820
B en was dreaming. He was vaguely aware it was probably his own hand on his rock-hard cock, but he
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