More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel by Erin Knightley Page A

was an idiot. And she smelled like lemons.
    He hadn’t expected it, but really it complemented her perfectly. None of those fussy, floral scents would have been right for her. Thank God she broke the spell of the moment by mentioning how long they had known each other. If she only knew.
    He found Richard in the billiards room, staring at a stack of cards on the small sofa table. He looked up warily, but he grinned when he saw Benedict. “I thought you might be Evie, returned to pester me some more.” He motioned to the chair across from him, and Benedict took a seat. “I was right about her wanting to pin me down.”
    Benedict really didn’t like the sound of that. “Oh?”
    “Yes, and she had a few questions about you, my friend.”
    She wouldn’t be his Evie if she didn’t. “It’s to be expected, I suppose.”
    “Yes, well, I thought perhaps you would like to get out of the house tomorrow—away from the constant scrutiny of my sisters. What do you think?”
    Benedict suppressed the no that instantly came to his lips. No, he didn’t want to get away from the house—or its occupants. Of course, he could never say as much to Richard. The man would not appreciate the thought that Benedict might be leading his sister on. It was for the best, anyhow. The less time he spent with Evie, the less likely she would discover he was Hastings; ergo less of a chance of causing her pain—or being subject to her wrath. “That sounds like a fine idea. Where shall we go?”
    Richard grinned and picked up the cards, expertly shuffling them without ever looking down. “The place I have in mind the girls would never dream of accompanying us. It’s perfect!”

Chapter Eight
Very well, so you have me there. I admit it. I would never betray you. Not to your grandmother, nor to anyone else, though you are a cur to call my bluff. And I confess it is not because you hold the trump card. It’s because I rather like being able to say whatever I please to at least one person in this world. There really are no secrets between us, are there?
—From Evie to Hastings
    F ishing.
    Curled on the plush window seat near midnight the following day, Evie shook her head as she looked past the fogged glass at the darkness beyond. Whoever wanted to go fishing in the dreary weather they had endured today? As if on cue, a gust of wind rattled the window, spattering a few errant drops of rain against the glass.
    Richard had whisked Benedict away shortly after breakfast, and they had not returned until dark. Drenched and exhausted, both men had chosen to have a tray in their rooms for dinner, and she was rather inexplicably out of sorts about the whole thing.
    Whether it was his sudden appearance, the fact that he was something of a mystery to her, or just that when he looked at her, she felt something . . . different, she simply couldn’t deny that she wanted to see him again. She had been anxiously looking forward to speaking with Benedict again ever since it had occurred to her that, thanks to the impending hunt her father was planning, she had the perfect opportunity to spend some time with him. The stables were her domain; she was exactly the right person to help Benedict pick out an appropriate mount for the hunt, and she had planned to take full advantage of her position.
    It was perfect.
    And now, even though she would have to wait until morning to instigate her plan, she was entirely too restless to get any sleep just yet. She sighed and got to her feet. Perhaps a chapter or two of reading would help her to relax. Shrugging into her dressing gown, she lifted the candleholder from the table next to the door and headed downstairs to the library.
    The lamps were turned back and the house was nearly silent, much as it had been the previous evening when she had run into Benedict. As she entered the library, the musty smell of books seemed stronger in the darkness. She didn’t bother with lighting a lamp; she knew exactly the bookshelf that