A Marriage Most Inconvenient (Inconvenient Matches Book #1)

Chapter 29: Ben

His wife was a disastrously ugly sleeper, Benedict realized with some relish. Her hair was a tangled mess because she had not braided it the night before, her mouth hung open and her leg was strewn over his torso. He had been feeling rather surly because of Sir I-am-a-war-hero Whose-it, but his wife's state of undress was like a soothing balm to his heart.

Her shift had ridden up so her bare leg was resting against his bare stomach and he had tried to resist touching her, Lord knew that if it were possible to die of unfulfilled arousal Benedict would have gone onto his reward sometime in the night, but he found himself unequal to the task. His hand rested idly on the soft skin of her thigh, his thumb making patterns into her skin. She made a sigh of pleasure and snuggled closer.

'Good morning, Mister Wandering Hands,' she said between a drowsy yawn. 'What time is it?'

'That is Lord Wandering Hands to you, madam.' He hid a smile in her hair as he bussed his lips on the top of her head. 'Good morning, Your Grace. One, at the very least. You sleep like the dead.'

'Unrepentant lecher.' She sighed, her own hand stroking his chest. 'All the dancing must have tired me out quite thoroughly.'

Benedict grimaced. Half the males in attendance had tried to claim a dance with her. At least he'd taken her only waltz, to the devil with the rest of them!

'They all just wish to get into your bed.' He felt duty bound to warn her, what a good husband he was indeed. She gave a bored shrug.

'I know.' She sounded annoyed. 'These same people who wouldn't have spit on me when I was just plain old Miss Marksham from Boston, now clamoring for my attention. I hate it.'

Aha! So his pool of competitors had dwindled significantly!

'You've never been plain a day in your life,' he scoffed as he stretched out his limbs.

'You have an awfully smooth tongue, husband.' She frowned at him. 'To think I was so sure you were too prudish to be so adept at flirtation.'

'Truthfully, my ability seems to come out only when you are around,' he admitted frankly. 'I am not only joking when I say you have had an influence on me.'

'You must be very disappointed,' she abruptly slid out of his embrace and put her back to him. Undeterred, he covered her body with his own until she relaxed into his touch. His heart stuttered for a second before resuming its normal pace. Was it a symptom of his dyspnea?

'You are quick to offense, wife. When did I say it was an unwelcome influence?'

She grumbled something unintelligible, so he forced her to turn to him. Rebelliously, she buried her face into his bare chest. Foolish wife, little did she know he did not mind that at all.

'Do you not yet know, wife mine, that with you I feel at ease?' Benedict asked disbelievingly. 'You must know that you are my youth.'

'Your youth?' Her arms had come to circle his waist, though she still refused to meet his gaze.

'Madam, I do not flirt. I do not know how to tease. You help me-' He broke off suddenly, this throat thick. 'When you look at me, you see Benedict, not Rothbury. You help me see Benedict.'

'What?' She asked breathlessly. 'And you tease just fine, Ben.'

Her lips pressed against his chest chastely and he felt his heart turn over beneath her kiss. He offered her a rueful smile.

'I am not as witty as you. I have to think very hard to say things to amuse you, when you say the most outrageous things without a single thought. You are so...intelligent.' He shook his head, trying to find the right words. 'Before you, Minerva, I had gotten so eclipsed by The Duke of Rothbury that I forgot that it is not the only thing I am.'