About Time

Sinners in the Garden...Again

Penelope dragged Benedict out of the ballroom with a force and confidence she wasn't sure she had, daring not to look back at Colin.

"My Penelope, I've never seen someone in such a rush to get away from Colin before."

"Perhaps I was not running from Colin." She lied. "Perhaps I was rushing to be alone with you."

"You are an excellent liar, Pen."

"You have no idea."

Benedict pulled them into a more secluded area of the gardens where he was sure no one would see them. He didn't trust himself not to be overtaken by the lust and mischief in Penelope's eyes.

"So...Benedict." Penelope danced on her feet, hands folded neatly in front of her. It was far late for any attempts at being shy.

"Penelope." He whispered in a low, husky tone, hovering closer to her.

"What did we come out here to talk about? Alone."

"I am sure you know by now, Miss Featherington." He leaned in closer.

"Enlighten me." Benedict closed the space between them, capturing her lips in his. He pushed against her forcefully, his member already straining against his breeches. Benedict kissed her harder, sloppier, and with great passion. Penelope could feel her body giving in to him, his hands gliding up and down her curves, settling on her soft, pillowy rear. Moans vibrated between them as they both tried to remain quiet and unseen.

With Colin, Penelope felt so cautious and unsure. Benedict empowered her to take charge, to be who she was as Lady Whistledown. She felt safe with him, even as he set her insides aflame. She moved to Benedict's neck, undoing his cravat and tracing circles with her tongue to his collarbone. She began unraveling his shirt, wondering if he might look as he did in her fantasies before he grabbed her hands.

"Pen, we have to stop. I don't know how much more I can take."

"Why do we have to stop?" She pouted, panting between the peppering of kisses she left on his neck.

"Please don't make that face. It's hardly fair."

"Oh, this face?" She teased, her eyes doughy and lips swollen from their activities.

Benedict wanted to let go of his restraint, feeling an overwhelming need to ravish her right then and there. Another part of him, a smaller part, wanted to slow things down and make love to her as she deserved. To demonstrate how much pleasure a woman can feel from his hands. And other parts of him. Both sides seemed to lose in the end because Penelope and Benedict soon heard footsteps approaching and a familiar voice calling out. Colin. They quickly composed themselves before Colin turned the corner. He took all but two seconds to see the redness in both of their faces and conclude that something completely untoward was happening.

"What the hell are you two doing out here unchaperoned?!"

"Lower your voice, brother, unless you wish to expose Penelope yourself and ruin her honor. And as we said before, this is none of your business."

"I beg to differ!"

"Colin, that is enough! You made it clear to me the other night that you are not interested, so stop chasing off the one man that is!"

"What happened the other night?" Benedict asked, holding Penelope protectively at his side.

"Nothing, Benedict. It was nothing of importance." Penelope glared at Colin, searching his eyes for some objection.

"Right. Nothing."

"Then let Benedict and I be, Colin. Please."

"I will not, Pen. He is a rake and a scoundrel. He does not deserve your love. He plows through more women than he can count."

"Perhaps more than you can count, you bloody idiot," Benedict muttered, Colin lunging toward him. The two attempted to shove one another, Penelope putting herself between them.

"Stop it! What is the matter with you two?!" Benedict backed away a split second before Colin shoved Penelope, accidentally knocking her to the ground and hitting her head against a stone bench.

"Penelope! Pen, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" She groaned, placing a hand over the spot to reveal she was bleeding.

"Back away, Colin. Just back away. You have done quite enough. Go find Mother and Eloise." Colin stumbled backward, horrified at what he had done.

"We're here, Pen. What happened?" Eloise said, panicked.

Penelope forced herself up, bracing on Benedict's arm for support. "I tripped on the train of my dress and hit my head on the bench." What an excellent liar she was, Benedict thought, cursing his brother.

"Benedict, get her into the carriage. Eloise, find your sister and tell her we are leaving. I will inform Mrs. Featherington that her daughter will stay with us until the doctor arrives." Everyone set off for their duties as Colin stood alone, staring at the spot of blood on the bench. What was wrong with him? How could he have hurt his sweet, innocent Pen?