Sleep would likely prove impossible. Every nerve in her body was on full alert. On edge. The danger felt more real now, even though the logical part of her mind insisted the threat was over and done. Rooney could do her no further harm. And if anyone else viewed her as prey, they would come face-to-face with the guards Colton had assigned to protect her.
From deep within her, a yearning she’d walled off crept to the surface. Benedict’s unforeseen appearance had left her shaken. Body and soul. Dash it! She’d thought her feelings for the man had been transformed to something cold and brittle. How easily he’d reawakened the passion she’d never been able to deny. Despite the shields she’d built around herself, Benedict had stirred a need for his tenderness she’d believed long dormant.
She shouldn’t have let him kiss her. At the first touch of his lips to hers, she should have pushed him away and delivered a strong slap to put him firmly back on his heels.
Instead, she’d clung to him shamelessly. Utterly wanton.
If only she hadn’t craved his touch.
But she had. She’d longed to drink him in, the warmth of his hard body like an elixir. Even now, when her rational mind raged against her weakness, she could not deny how she’d wanted him. How she desired the way he filled her senses.
Blast it, she knew better. Nothing good could come of it. Hadn’t she already learned that bitter lesson?
Well, it was done now. Her fingers went to her buttons on her bodice, slightly unsteady as she unfastened her gown. She stripped off the garment and cast it aside, followed by her layers of petticoats. Finally, bared to her chemise, she slipped her nightdress over her head and padded over the chilly floorboards to the bed.
She extinguished the lamp on the bedside table and peeled back the covers. With a sigh, she slid over the cool sheets and allowed her limbs to splay in relaxation. Slivers of moonlight danced over the furniture, creating what seemed to be bizarre creatures in the night. Even as a girl, the darkness had held no fear. Rather, the interplay of light and shadows had always fascinated her.
Through drowsy-lidded eyes, she stared at the moonbeam shapes, allowing her thoughts to wander. Funny, no matter how hard she tried, one image crowded out all of the others. She pictured Benedict’s face, his sly smile that had brought her laughter and joy. He’d hurt her so deeply, but now, that pain seemed a far-off thing. The all-too-recent memory of his kiss was a caress she felt to the core of her being.
His passion had been real. She knew that, just as she knew how very badly she’d yearned for it. She could have rejected the pleasure of his touch. If only she’d wanted to resist the feeling, the tender bliss to be found in a simple kiss.
She’d see him again. Someday. Their paths would no doubt cross, just as they had in the years since he’d left her. Those encounters had been exceedingly brief and impersonal, surrounded by colleagues in the field or at an exhibition.
Nothing like tonight.
Nothing like the moment she’d looked into Benedict’s eyes, so very intent and serious.
Nothing like the instant when his skin had once again touched hers, his warmth and strength and crisp essence setting her senses on full alert.
Soon, he’d be on a ship, steaming off to Egypt. And she would return to her quiet, orderly pursuits. Her colleague, Gavin Stanwyck, and his wife, Sophie, had recently returned from the Nile Valley. He’d sent a message regarding a significant find, a papyrus he required her expertise to translate. She would also prepare a lecture on the find, and then, of course, she would plan for her next expedition to Luxor, a journey that would not include the complication of keeping close quarters with Benedict.
Perhaps the Stanwycks possessed some knowledge of the map Benedict sought. He’d been so certain she had the document. Why would Stockwell mislead him? Had the professor believed he needed some bait to tempt Benedict to return to London and act as her protector?
Pulling in a calming breath, she allowed the tension to ease from her weary muscles. The morning would be here soon enough.
She thumped her pillow, rested her cheek against the freshly laundered linen, and closed her eyes. Soon, Benedict would leave her and London behind, once again.
It was for the best.
Wasn’t it?
If only he hadn’t shown such courage when he charged back into her life. It was far easier to think him a selfish cad when he’d left her behind to pursue his fortune. But now, he’d risked his life to keep her safe.
Of course, he had another motive. Of that, she had no doubt. But it was rather thrilling, nonetheless, to consider that for this one night, he’d acted the white knight.
Her hero.
A little smile tugged at her lips, and she embraced it. Giving her pillow another thud, she wriggled beneath the sheets. No matter how tempting the thought, she could not afford to forget the harsh truth of the matter.
Benedict needed something from her that had nothing to do with passion. Nothing to do with emotion. He’d been quite honest about that, hadn’t he? He required a translator. He’d come after a map that likely led to a treasure.
His kiss had been a diversion. A simple pleasure. Nothing more.
Her low sigh was muffled against her pillow.
His caress had been meaningless.
Pity she could not convince her heart.
