mattered the most, this woman wouldn’t believe.
Because he’d acted like an idiot. Drawing the stallion to a halt, he stopped at a precipice over the sea and looked out. He’d pushed, too hard, too fast. It was humbling to admit he might have done so because he’d never met with a great deal of resistance before.
Women were drawn to him—because of the title and position. He wasn’t so vain or so foolish not to know it. But they were also drawn to him beeause he enjoyed them. He liked their softness, their humor, their vulnerabilities. It was also true that he hadn’t been intimate with as many as his reputation allowed, but there’d been enough women in his life for him to understand and appreciate that romance was a two-way street.
Hannah was young, inexperienced, sheltered. The term “Lady” wasn’t merely a title, but a way of life. Asfar as men were concerned, it was doubtful she’d taken herself away from her books long enough to form any strong relationships.
With another oath, Bennett dragged a hand through his wind-tossed hair. And what had he done? He’d tried to seduce her at a dinner party. How could he have expected a woman of her breeding and sensitivity to be anything less than insulted? It had been the clumsiest, and perhaps the crudest of propositions.
Dracula danced impatiently, but Bennett held him steady another moment as he watched the storm roll slowly from the horizon toward the shore.
He hadn’t told her, had never attempted to tell her what it was she did to him inside, to his heart. Just talking with her, watching that solemn face and quiet manner excited him in a way the most exotic or flamboyant woman never had. It was something deeper, and so much richer. He’d never said that with her, he was on the edge of finding the love he hadn’t been sure would ever be there for him.
He could hardly do all of that now that he’d alienated and insulted her. But he could do something else. His smile began as the first drops of water hit the sea. He could start at the beginning.
Bennett wheeled the horse around. As the first streak of lightning split the sky, they were racing for home.
Within an hour, in dry clothes and dripping hair, Bennett made his way up to the nursery. Bernadette barred him at the door.
“Your pardon, Your Highness, but it’s Princess Marissa’s nap time. Her Highness is resting with the baby.”
“I’m looking for Lady Hannah.” He leaned into the room, but Bernadette stood her ground.
“Lady Hannah isn’t here, sir. I believe she went to the museum this afternoon.”
“The museum.” Bennett calculated a moment. “Thank you, Bernadette.”
Before she could finish her curtsy, he was gone.
* * *
Le Musée d’Art was small and lovely as was the rest of Cordina. It was like a miniature palace itself with itsmarble floors and carved columns. In the main lobby was a high, domed ceiling of stained glass and a circling balcony that gave the illusion of space.
Rooms ran off this circular hub like spokes of a wheel. On the floor below was a moderately priced restaurant where diners could enjoy a view of the gardens through a wide glass wall.
Hannah had arrived early to take inventory of the entire building. Security was tight but people who rested on the benches near the exhibits were largely ignored. Groups of school children were led by, most of them more impressed with an afternoon away from classes than they were with the paintings and sculptures. Tourists, brochures in hands, muddled through with a weaving of French, Italian, British, and American accents.
On a rainy weekday afternoon, the museum was a pleasant pastime. A healthy number of people flowed in and out. Hannah decided she couldn’t have planned it better.
At the time she’d requested in her message, she strolled toward a Monet seascape. She loitered there long enough to read the plaque and study the brushwork. Whoever she was going to meet was probably there, making his
Because he’d acted like an idiot. Drawing the stallion to a halt, he stopped at a precipice over the sea and looked out. He’d pushed, too hard, too fast. It was humbling to admit he might have done so because he’d never met with a great deal of resistance before.
Women were drawn to him—because of the title and position. He wasn’t so vain or so foolish not to know it. But they were also drawn to him beeause he enjoyed them. He liked their softness, their humor, their vulnerabilities. It was also true that he hadn’t been intimate with as many as his reputation allowed, but there’d been enough women in his life for him to understand and appreciate that romance was a two-way street.
Hannah was young, inexperienced, sheltered. The term “Lady” wasn’t merely a title, but a way of life. Asfar as men were concerned, it was doubtful she’d taken herself away from her books long enough to form any strong relationships.
With another oath, Bennett dragged a hand through his wind-tossed hair. And what had he done? He’d tried to seduce her at a dinner party. How could he have expected a woman of her breeding and sensitivity to be anything less than insulted? It had been the clumsiest, and perhaps the crudest of propositions.
Dracula danced impatiently, but Bennett held him steady another moment as he watched the storm roll slowly from the horizon toward the shore.
He hadn’t told her, had never attempted to tell her what it was she did to him inside, to his heart. Just talking with her, watching that solemn face and quiet manner excited him in a way the most exotic or flamboyant woman never had. It was something deeper, and so much richer. He’d never said that with her, he was on the edge of finding the love he hadn’t been sure would ever be there for him.
He could hardly do all of that now that he’d alienated and insulted her. But he could do something else. His smile began as the first drops of water hit the sea. He could start at the beginning.
Bennett wheeled the horse around. As the first streak of lightning split the sky, they were racing for home.
Within an hour, in dry clothes and dripping hair, Bennett made his way up to the nursery. Bernadette barred him at the door.
“Your pardon, Your Highness, but it’s Princess Marissa’s nap time. Her Highness is resting with the baby.”
“I’m looking for Lady Hannah.” He leaned into the room, but Bernadette stood her ground.
“Lady Hannah isn’t here, sir. I believe she went to the museum this afternoon.”
“The museum.” Bennett calculated a moment. “Thank you, Bernadette.”
Before she could finish her curtsy, he was gone.
* * *
Le Musée d’Art was small and lovely as was the rest of Cordina. It was like a miniature palace itself with itsmarble floors and carved columns. In the main lobby was a high, domed ceiling of stained glass and a circling balcony that gave the illusion of space.
Rooms ran off this circular hub like spokes of a wheel. On the floor below was a moderately priced restaurant where diners could enjoy a view of the gardens through a wide glass wall.
Hannah had arrived early to take inventory of the entire building. Security was tight but people who rested on the benches near the exhibits were largely ignored. Groups of school children were led by, most of them more impressed with an afternoon away from classes than they were with the paintings and sculptures. Tourists, brochures in hands, muddled through with a weaving of French, Italian, British, and American accents.
On a rainy weekday afternoon, the museum was a pleasant pastime. A healthy number of people flowed in and out. Hannah decided she couldn’t have planned it better.
At the time she’d requested in her message, she strolled toward a Monet seascape. She loitered there long enough to read the plaque and study the brushwork. Whoever she was going to meet was probably there, making his
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