THE Marquis's Mistress: Historical Fiction

CHAPTER 12

Natasha’s eyes swayed to Benedict’s as those words were uttered.  Whilst she was not gullible to ever consider that she could become Benedict’s wife, yet Sadie’s words found root in her heart.  How wonderful it would be, if she could be his and he could be hers eternally?  She could never claim to have much experience about the ways between a man and woman, yet she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would never feel with another of his sex, the potent, soul satisfying completion she did, when she was in his presence and more so in his arms.  Could it be the same for Benedict?  She doubted that, for he still wavered around the force that pinned them together.  Her mind screamed that he would do right by his father, and marry his chosen bride, even though his heart cried for another.  She knew she would never hear it from his lips, but she felt his love when she was in his arms.  She saw it in his passionate grey eyes when he looked at her so tenderly and she lay naked in his embracing arms, so Sadie’s passing comments could never amount to much, no never---.

‘I must check on father,’ Benedict avoided her eyes and dashed out of his library.  ‘I will return shortly to take you home.’

Natasha released her breath in a slow hiss, crushingly she tried to ignore Benedict’s evasive exit from the library.  She focused her mind on her surroundings.  She smiled. Finally there was place on his table to accommodate an urn with fragrant pink roses.  Earlier she had drawn the plush velvet curtains, now the late afternoon sun’s last rays was flooding the room with warmth, she found it seductive, if only she could share it with Benedict.  Natasha was excited about her new job as his bookkeeper.  She would enjoy managing the ledgers, and this library was her favourite room in ducal home. 

It was a huge room with two fireplaces, a tall ornate chimney.  She loved the huge bay windows that caressed the sun’s warmth the entire day.  The huge mahogany desk and majestic looking matching chair took pride of place in the room.  It looked so much more complimentary with Benedict sitting at the helm, she thought.  Off course her favourite were the rows and rows of books stacked on shelves, books she could not wait to get her fingers on, and she would have the time now, as she would work in his library, until he tired of having her there.

‘It is time to release your Citrus to his natural habitat,’ she heard Benedict’s gentle voice behind her, but he was unsmiling.  There seemed to be a tension around his eyes.  What happened upstairs between him and the duke?  He had been so happy to see her, when he had returned from London.  Natasha nodded, not wanting to speak.  She knew at some stage they had to release Citrus, much as she loved the little fellow and had gotten used to sharing her bread with him, she would not enforce his stay against his will in the cage.

‘’You release him,’ Benedict gently placed the little bird into her waiting palms, and encouraged her to give him a little boost into the air.  Her eyes moistened as the little fellow gave a loud repetitive tweet and soared into the air, as if saying “goodbye.’

‘Goodbye dear one,’ Natasha murmured softly, waving him on, as she walked a little distance following him.  Citrus circled once around her and Benedict and then she saw him no more.  Slowly she released her breath and walked to the carriage. 

Benedict was very quiet, he was awaiting her to hand her into the carriage.  She wanted to talk with him a little, ask about his trip, about his health, before he could return her to her father’s cottage, but his stoic face did not seem to invite any conversation.  The sun had not yet set.  A soft breeze blew in from the observatory, blowing strands of her hair into her face.  She ignored it and lifted her face to look into Benedict’s eyes.

‘My lord, why are you upset with me?’ her eyes pleaded.

‘I am not upset with you Natasha,’ he avoided her eyes.  ‘I must return you,’ he opened the carriage door.