THE Marquis's Mistress: Historical Fiction

CHAPTER 13

As Benedict rode home, his body was still on fire for Natasha.  He could still feel her tiny callused fingers caress his face.  He abhorred the fact that she was so young and had to work so hard in her father’s home, especially since he knew he paid a more than decent wage to Daniel.  Why did they not hire help to assist Natasha?  Why did his Natasha have to slave like a common labourer?  He thought about the army of foot men and the many maids and servants that enjoyed working in his household

Benedict sighed, as he remembered the way Natasha had looked up into his eyes and smiled, as she lay beneath his body.  The herbal scent of her hair assaulted his senses.  A knot twisted in his stomach as he recalled the words Natasha had softly pleaded to him;
“please don’t ever come into your library when I’m there, and please don’t ever ask to dance with me again…” 

But Benedict could promise no such thing to her and he’d told her so.  Just looking into the depths of her adorable emerald eyes, made him want to carry her off to the nearest bed and make wild passionate love to her.  How could he deny himself any opportunity to be in her presence?  Did she not know that he needed her, just as his lungs craved fresh air?  On the seat next to him, his fingers caressed the shimmering warm, sensuous and expensive lengths of cloth in the various shades that he’d bought for his Natasha.  He could not wait to see the exotic gowns that she would create from them.

He wanted to scream at the tops of his lungs and tug at his hair at the predicament he found himself in, but his cruel fate had been marked out for him, so he would have to forget about ever having Natasha in his arms again.  He was the thirty six year old Lord Benedict Brinley, destined to become the twelfth Duke of Crowcombe.  Best he had to remember the role he was groomed to play from the day he had been born.

Two days later, when Natasha got home, she found Crystal and Lady Louisa pouring over her design.  Crystal looked nervously at Natasha as she walked in.  Lady Louisa had brought some various shades of cloth to test the sample against.  The material looked beautiful, but none compared to the luxurious and magnificent gift that Benedict had given her. 

Benedict, not mine anymore. 

Natasha had not seen him since she had pleaded with him to stay away from her.  He had instructed a groom to escort her every evening back to her cottage.  Natasha swallowed guiltily as she looked at Louisa.

‘Natasha, is this not the most divine cloth you have ever seen?’ Natasha recognized the false tone in Crystal’s voice.

‘Good afternoon Lady Louisa,’ Natasha dragged out with much effort as she walked to the table where they sat.

‘Natasha,’ Louisa sneered. Condescendingly making an elaborate display of showing just how distasteful she thought Natasha’s beige shirtwaist and long chocolate brown skirt looked.  Louisa herself looked immaculate in a beautiful afternoon dress of soft green and lemon shades, fitting perfectly around her curvy figure.  It irked Louisa that Natasha was indifferent to the way she was dressed or to Louisa’s view for that matter of her poor dress sense.  Even Crystal looked beautiful in a silk dress the colour resembled a, sometimes misty blue sky.

‘I hear the duke is recovering well, so he will not need you there much longer,’ Louisa’s eyes projected a satisfied glint.

‘Yes he is doing remarkably well,’ Natasha smiled brightly. 

But Benedict is going to need me.

Louisa was at a loss for words, when she looked at Natasha’s happy face.

‘I would use lace for the bodice and satin to form the skirt,’ Natasha spoke quietly, as she looked at the velvet and silk samples that Louisa had thought would do justice to her design.