The Bride Of Spring. Catherine Archer

could only look at her in surprise. He would not have described the lout as quick-tongued. He had, in fact, seemed something of a dullard, yet she did know him best. And had not the very man that Tristan had been forced to kill, whose brother now sought revenge, managed to retain favor at court in spite of his multitude of shortcomings? Benedict shrugged. “As you wish.”

      Her expression was tinged with uncertainty. “There is one small thing you might do to aid me. If it would not trouble you overmuch I would be grateful for your accompanying me to my chamber. I am certain my cousin would not dare to press himself upon me in your presence.”

      Benedict found himself noting that those golden eyes were flecked with even deeper bits of gold. Huskily he said, “I will be happy to perform such a small service for such a beautiful lady.” He realized even as he spoke how unlike him it was to make such a romantic declaration. Yet how beautiful she was! Perhaps being around the deeply in love Lily and Tristan was making him fanciful.

      Not for the first time he found himself glad that the unpleasant business with Alister Harcourt would soon be resolved. This very morning he and King Edward had drawn up a final draft of the offer to Harcourt. The king had spoken of his own certainty that it would be eagerly accepted, appearing as it did to come from the crown itself.

      Perhaps Benedict’s oddly fanciful feelings had to do with relief at having it all settled. He would soon be on his way home to Brackenmoore.

      Yet looking at Raine, he could not deny that for once home was not uppermost in his mind. Again he found himself noting how very lovely she was, with her rich auburn hair framing the fine-featured face beneath her intricate head covering of gold wire over ivory velvet. The heavy gold and ruby necklace she wore could not hope to rival the creamy skin of her throat for luster. The rich gold on her cap and the fur trimmed gold gown only made her eyes all the more startling and compelling. As on the previous day, Benedict suddenly felt as if he were falling into those eyes, and a strange dizziness seemed to take him.

      He dragged his gaze away, raking the room, searching for something, anything, that might capture and tame his wayward attention. What the devil was he thinking? He was staying for one more day and had no time for thoughts of a distressed young damsel, no matter how comely.

      At the moment, what with Tristan and Lily’s difficulties and his brother Marcel’s troubling and unexpected departure on one of Benedict’s own ships, he simply could not see his way to even considering his own future.

      He would certainly not contemplate one with a woman he knew nothing about. His unwillingly appreciative gaze swept Raine again. Again he reminded himself of how she seemed to be fraught by ill fortune.

      Never would he focus his regard on a woman such as Raine Blanchett, no matter how bemused looking into her eyes made him feel. He would have a more tranquil maid.

      He made an effort to attend the meal, which had now cooled before him. He could not help noting that Raine’s own food had apparently received even less attention.

      Glancing about them, Benedict realized that most of the other diners had finished eating. The room had not yet cleared, though, as many lingered for the dancing and socializing that went on each night. He hoped, now that he had agreed to take her to her chamber, that Raine Blanchett would not care to stay on in the hall. He wished to get her safely to her room as quickly as possible.

      Benedict spoke more abruptly than he intended. “Whenever you are ready, I will accompany you.”

      She looked up at him with what he interpreted as an anxious but relieved expression. He could only think that she must fear her cousin’s putting in an appearance in the hall this night as she asked, “You are not going to remain in the hall for a time?”

      He shook his head. “Nay, I am not one for dancing, nor making small talk.”

      She shrugged. “Aye, I understand.”

      Benedict could not help being surprised. He would have expected her to revel in being in company, and said as much. “I would have thought you would enjoy having the attention of all the young men.”

      Quickly she shook her head. “I can assure you, I do not. I much prefer being home at Abbernathy. The men at court, they want what is not mine to give.” Flushing, she looked away.

      For a brief moment, Benedict wondered why she was at court. He wanted to ask, but did not wish to get more embroiled in her life. Her remarks about the courtiers must mean that, like her cousin, they pressed her for intimacy. Benedict stood, holding out his hand to her. “In light of your own feelings, then, shall we go?”

      Raine seemed to hesitate, her gaze uncertain as it met his. Then she put out her hand. Those long slender fingers felt delicate in his, and he wondered at their coldness even as their touch brought a compelling warmth to his own body, brought thoughts of how they would feel against his heated flesh. He found it hard to concentrate on her words as she said, “Thank you, my lord.” Benedict realized that, in spite of telling himself that an attraction to Raine was completely unsuitable, he seemed unable to control his reaction to her as he wished to.

      Once she was standing he released her.

      Benedict was relieved that Raine did not seem to note his reluctance to touch her. Appearing quite preoccupied, she fell into step with him as they left the hall.

      Benedict felt slightly and unexplainably perturbed by her lack of attention. He told himself that it was very likely brought on by her concern over a possible confrontation with her cousin. That eventuality was, he reminded himself, why he was accompanying her.

      He had already established the fact that he was not interested in this far too chaotic young woman. There were no more words exchanged between them until they actually arrived outside a door in a narrow hallway quite some distance from the main part of the castle.

      Raine hesitated as she reached for the latch, then peered up at him, biting her lower lip. “I thank you so very much for your kindness. I would ask just one more moment of your time, if I may, to ascertain that my cousin is not within.”

      Benedict could not mistake her anxiety and was moved by it. Devil take any man who thought to force himself upon a woman. His own ward, Genevieve, had barely escaped such a situation at the hands of her own cousin, who happened to be Maxim Harcourt. Benedict could not mourn the man’s death even though it had brought more troubles.

      He had no sympathy for those who preyed upon others, and this Denley Trent was no exception. Deliberately Benedict shrugged, attempting to keep both his manner and tone unconcerned in aid of soothing Raine’s fear. “I do not mind. One more moment will make no great difference to me.”

      She nodded with relief, but he saw that her hand was trembling as she reached for the latch.

      Raine took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The sight that met her gaze could not have been better geared to the satisfaction of her plans.

      For there in a chair pulled close to the fire was none other than her cousin Denley. He could not have been more obliging had he tried, though she had made no effort to get him here. Surely she was doing the right thing. It was all falling into place. She nearly sighed aloud in relief as she turned to Benedict Ainsworth. “You see, my lord. He will not leave me be.”

      Benedict frowned with unmistakable anger as he addressed the other man. “Have you gone mad that you cannot heed this lady’s request to cease in your pursuit?”

      Denley lumbered to his feet with a gasp of outrage. “How dare you, sir? You know nothing of this situation.”

      “I know that she has made her wishes quite clear, and that is all I need to know.”

      Driven beyond caution, Denley moved to stand before Benedict with balled fists. “Is it possible that you wish to have her for yourself? I must tell you that I will not sit idly by and allow you to dishonor my cousin.”

      Benedict Ainsworth’s black brows arched in amazement. “You will not sit idly by and allow me to dishonor her, sirrah! Have you no sense whatsoever?”

      Denley