fascinated as he rose to his feet and came round the table towards her. 'Are you quite, quite sure?' he said again.
She had no idea how it came about, but she must have stood up too, for she felt his hands on the small of her back and then his arms were right round her, and he had a hand behind her head, holding her very close to him.
'If you hadn't looked so exhausted, I would have done this yesterday,' he said in her ear. 'You looked up with those damned Greek eyes of yours and you were pleased to see me, don't pretend you weren't!'
'What if I was?' she whispered. 'I thought you'd fix the
lorry!'
'Did you? Did you indeed? Well, lorries were not on my agenda.'
Her murmured protest was lost against his lips, though she made little effort to escape, so tightly did he hold her. He buried his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth back to his, parting her lips with his own, suddenly hard and masterful, kissing her how and as often as he liked. Hero slipped her arms up round his shoulders. She clung to him knowing that she ought to break free, wondering that the touch of his hands as they caressed her should command her response as surely as if she had been some puppet who could only move if he pulled the strings.
'Benedict—'
He put a hand slightly over her lips and she kissed the scarred fingers that had always intrigued her.
'Benedict, I can't —'
'Why not?'
'I can't love you!'
He kissed her again with a passion that overwhelmed her before letting her go, his hands lightly resting on her shoulders.
'I don't think you know much about love, though, do you, Liebling?' He turned suddenly away from her. 'Write your letter to Betsy, Hero, and get it posted, I think we'll both be glad to have some other people around for a while. Am I right?'
She felt very inexperienced and vulnerable. Did he -could he possibly know how much she had liked the helpless sensation of being on the receiving end of his kiss? Mustn't he now realize that he could so casually bind her to his whim because she couldn't believe that it was more than that - with bonds as real as if they had been forged in
steel?
CHAPTER SEVEN
HERO hadn't understood a word Benedict had said. She puzzled over it all morning and could hardly bring herself to come to the lunch table at all. He couldn't want her to be a real wife to him, because he had told her that he was in love with somebody else. A pretty little snake, asleep in the sun, was how he had described this other girl, and he had also said she was rather a darling. Hero couldn't imagine such a combination, but she thought that Benedict might well be attracted to such a mixture, and if he had been referring to Betsy she could understand the attraction. Betsy was pretty enough, and she liked her place in the sun, and there was always a spice of danger in her company because if she saw a warmer place to bask in, she would be up and away without a qualm for her former admirer. If Benedict thought he could take her to his hand, drawing the fangs with which she was apt to dismiss those who displeased her, then Benedict was welcome to her!
She wanted to tell him so as they ate their lunch in an uncomfortable silence. She looked up, determined to say something to break the endless circle of her thoughts, and found that he was looking at her in a way that made the words die on her lips. She pulled uncomfortably at the collar of her shirt, fingering the gold medallion that she always wore round her neck.
'What's the matter?' With a great effort, she made the words sound prosaic.
That's what I was wondering,' he drawled. 'I thought you were going to truck topsoil this morning?'
'Yes, I was,' she admitted.
'But you changed your mind?'
She nodded. 'I wrote to Betsy. I asked her to bring Bob with her. I like Bob very much! He's a very kind person.'
'I expect he's found it easy enough to be kind to you,' Benedict replied. 'What have you ever asked of him?'
Hero shrugged her shoulders. Why should she have
She had no idea how it came about, but she must have stood up too, for she felt his hands on the small of her back and then his arms were right round her, and he had a hand behind her head, holding her very close to him.
'If you hadn't looked so exhausted, I would have done this yesterday,' he said in her ear. 'You looked up with those damned Greek eyes of yours and you were pleased to see me, don't pretend you weren't!'
'What if I was?' she whispered. 'I thought you'd fix the
lorry!'
'Did you? Did you indeed? Well, lorries were not on my agenda.'
Her murmured protest was lost against his lips, though she made little effort to escape, so tightly did he hold her. He buried his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth back to his, parting her lips with his own, suddenly hard and masterful, kissing her how and as often as he liked. Hero slipped her arms up round his shoulders. She clung to him knowing that she ought to break free, wondering that the touch of his hands as they caressed her should command her response as surely as if she had been some puppet who could only move if he pulled the strings.
'Benedict—'
He put a hand slightly over her lips and she kissed the scarred fingers that had always intrigued her.
'Benedict, I can't —'
'Why not?'
'I can't love you!'
He kissed her again with a passion that overwhelmed her before letting her go, his hands lightly resting on her shoulders.
'I don't think you know much about love, though, do you, Liebling?' He turned suddenly away from her. 'Write your letter to Betsy, Hero, and get it posted, I think we'll both be glad to have some other people around for a while. Am I right?'
She felt very inexperienced and vulnerable. Did he -could he possibly know how much she had liked the helpless sensation of being on the receiving end of his kiss? Mustn't he now realize that he could so casually bind her to his whim because she couldn't believe that it was more than that - with bonds as real as if they had been forged in
steel?
CHAPTER SEVEN
HERO hadn't understood a word Benedict had said. She puzzled over it all morning and could hardly bring herself to come to the lunch table at all. He couldn't want her to be a real wife to him, because he had told her that he was in love with somebody else. A pretty little snake, asleep in the sun, was how he had described this other girl, and he had also said she was rather a darling. Hero couldn't imagine such a combination, but she thought that Benedict might well be attracted to such a mixture, and if he had been referring to Betsy she could understand the attraction. Betsy was pretty enough, and she liked her place in the sun, and there was always a spice of danger in her company because if she saw a warmer place to bask in, she would be up and away without a qualm for her former admirer. If Benedict thought he could take her to his hand, drawing the fangs with which she was apt to dismiss those who displeased her, then Benedict was welcome to her!
She wanted to tell him so as they ate their lunch in an uncomfortable silence. She looked up, determined to say something to break the endless circle of her thoughts, and found that he was looking at her in a way that made the words die on her lips. She pulled uncomfortably at the collar of her shirt, fingering the gold medallion that she always wore round her neck.
'What's the matter?' With a great effort, she made the words sound prosaic.
That's what I was wondering,' he drawled. 'I thought you were going to truck topsoil this morning?'
'Yes, I was,' she admitted.
'But you changed your mind?'
She nodded. 'I wrote to Betsy. I asked her to bring Bob with her. I like Bob very much! He's a very kind person.'
'I expect he's found it easy enough to be kind to you,' Benedict replied. 'What have you ever asked of him?'
Hero shrugged her shoulders. Why should she have
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