“I did not hear myself complain,” Bened said.
Primrose laughed but knew it was a shaky sound. She had not put on her gloves and she could feel the warmth of his large, lightly calloused hands spreading through her. It troubled her when she found it took a great deal of effort to move her gaze from his mouth and look into his beautiful eyes. The warmth of his gaze only increased the growing urge she had to throw herself back into his arms, to feel that warm, strong body pressed against her again. She nervously cleared her throat and tugged her hands free of his. The disappointment that came over her at the loss of the warmth of his touch worried her.
The man was a sore temptation, Primrose decided. It was odd for she was not one who was often tempted by a man, certainly not by just looking at him. Bened was not a man who drew the sighs of delight from many women as her brother Simeon did. There was no prettiness to Bened, just strength. He was handsome but not exceptionally so, his cheekbones a little too sharply defined, his skin good but a bit too swarthy to please some. His thick long lashes surrounding his beautiful eyes and, perhaps, his attractive mouth were the only hints of softness on his face.
His mouth was what kept drawing her gaze and she was not sure why. It was a little wide but that suited his square face. The bottom lip was fuller than the top, which she supposed was what gave it that tempting softness. Finally she found one reason she was attracted to that mouth. She wanted to taste it, to see if it was as warm and soft as its appearance promised it would be. And that was not an urge she should give in to, she told herself firmly.
“There is cider being kept warm on the hearth or I can order you something else. An ale?”
He should have grabbed the chance to kiss her when he had it, literally, in his hands, Bened thought. It would have been a mistake, though. Bened had seen the glint of interest in her eyes but knew she was not ready to give in to it yet. He was still no more than a kind man she did not really know, not even for one full day. Although he badly wanted to taste those full lips of hers, he knew he had to be patient. If nothing else, she was an innocent, well-bred young woman, most likely completely untouched.
“What I would truly like to have is some coffee but I doubt there will be some here,” he said.
“Actually, they do have it.” She smiled at his look of delight mixed with surprise. “There are several prominent gentlemen in the area and they learned to love the brew whilst at the university and when in London. They give the inn the beans and the tools to make the brew. All they ask is that the inn charge to cover the cost of any they brew for another guest and let them know when the sack of beans they give the inn reaches a certain level so they know to bring more or buy more. They come every Wednesday evening to talk and drink coffee. The innkeeper is actually considering buying his own and just selling the men a coffee when they come in but no longer having to worry about figuring out what to ask for each drink or if he can even list it on his offerings.”
“Then I should like a coffee, please.”
Primrose hurried off to get him one, eager to leave his presence for a little while. She needed to cage the urges he stirred inside her before she embarrassed herself by revealing it all to the man himself. He did not need to discover her weakness.
By the time she returned to the private parlor with the maid who brought them both a coffee, Primrose felt more at ease. She added a little cream to hers and sipped it as she waited for him to tell her what had happened. A chat with the people fixing the brew let her know that Bened had returned the horses but then everyone had become distracted by their own pleasure over how he had not demanded any punishment for the young lad who had allowed the horses to be taken.
“It was said that you retrieved the horses,” she said, carefully looking him over. “It appears you did so with no harm to yourself, as well, which is a happy circumstance.”
“I certainly think so.” He smiled when she laughed for she had a pleasant laugh, one that was light and carefree, inviting others to join in. “They were idiots. Your aunt did not hire the best,” he added, and silently cursed when she paled.
“You believe my aunt hired them?”
“I do. They spoke a lot of an old lady, a crone, even though one said she was not so very old and kept herself in fine shape. They did not trust her.”
“But they did not mention her by name?”
“Nay, they did not. Not whilst I was there to hear it. Yet, do you have any other woman you think would be trying to stop you from finding your brother?”
Primrose sighed. “None yet but I hate to think she would do this.”
“I believe you told me she was cunning, mean, and cold.”
“And very greedy, with a large opinion of her place in the world and society.”