Page 27 of His Loving Deception

Benedict threw himself off her, afterwards, his breathing laboured. He lay on his back, but brought her head to cradle against his chest. Still craving physical intimacy with her, he wrapped one arm firmly around her shoulders. She fit so perfectly. How could something so wrong, so impossible, feel like heaven on earth? He’d never had this connection with anyone. He’d never been so smitten by a woman that he could concentrate on nothing else besides. Until he’d met Cassandra, Benjamin hadn’t even entertained thoughts of love. Marriage. Children. The works. He’d put himself squarely in the Bachelor for Life category. Cassandra had turned all that on its head from the first time he’d seen her dazzling smile transform her face. The way her eyes crinkled mischievously at the corner when she was telling a joke. The way her blonde hair had a tendency to wave all the way down her back first thing in the morning. The way her lips pouted when she was thinking hard. The way she tapped her fingers against her knee when she listened to music.

He forced himself not to remember that stuff. Sure, those qualities drove him crazy, but she had a whole lot of other stuff going on that eclipsed those things. He’d gone from living in the slums with his mother, hardly being able to afford to eat some months, to the Forbes Rich List, all because of the strength of his determination. Leaving her would be hard. Forgetting her even harder. But he’d do it, because he had to.

CHAPTER TEN

Her fingers traced spider web patterns over his naked stomach, as she listened, ear on chest, to his beating heart slowly returning to its normal pace. “Well,” she said on a quiet exhalation. “That was certainly memorable.”

He felt her smile against his chest and his own matched it.

Cassandra felt him still beneath her, and she tilted her head a little to see his face.

His eyes swooped down and captured hers, setting her heart into a faster rhythm with one smouldering glance. His hand came and stroked through her hair, brushing it tenderly all the way down her back. She relaxed back into him, arching like a kitten being stroked.

“Your father said you look like your mum. You must, because you’re nothing like him. Thank God. Do you see it?”

Cassandra kept her gaze locked across the room as she thought about it. “In some ways, a little. But, oh, Ben...edict,” she tacked on, “mum was so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t just the way she looked, but everything. She always wore flowing dresses that made her look ethereal. Her hair was long, like mine, and blonde like mine, but she never put it back. It was always out, and some times, she’d braid it at the front. She was a real hippy.” She smiled at the memory, and felt her heart turn over when Benedict placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Did she spend a lot of time with you?” He asked, his hand still moving through her silky mane.

Cass bit on her lower lip. “As much as she could. Certainly more than her mother did with her. That hands on parenting was frowned on by my father. It really wasn’t the done thing for people like them.”

“Nobility, you mean?”

“Yes.” She bobbed her head in a small nod. “It’s a strange existence. An outmoded social structure. I can’t bear the idea of ever returning to it. Taking up my mother’s title one day. I abhor those types of social restrictions. When I have children, I will be cuddling them until their skin is pink.”

He sidestepped the question of children neatly, not wanting to go anywhere near that can of worms. To think of Cass with children, children which could not be his, made him ache.

“What about you?” She asked, her fingers coming to play with the coarse hairs that sprinkled across his abdomen. “What was your mother like?”

“She was wonderful.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Cassandra felt a pang of envy for this woman she was never to know.

“Elaborate,” She prompted impatiently, when he didn’t continue.

“I don’t often talk about my childhood.” He said, finally, his voice thick.

“Isn’t that the whole point of tonight?” She pointed out quietly.

He frowned but tried to form the words that would explain his mother. “Some people, like my mother, are cursed with a crippling sense of gullibility. I am not one of them, as you have no doubt perceived,” he drawled, but his words hurt.

“Is gullibility such a failing?”

“You’re kidding, right? There’s a difference between gullibility, which yes, I think is a terrible failing, and being able to trust.” He sighed. “My mother had only known dad for a couple of months when they married. It turns out the ceremony wasn’t even legal. He’d paid a local bartender fifty quid to learn the lines and perform it out front of a church.” He shook his head against the crisp white pillows. “She was pregnant with me very soon after. They moved back to France, where he was part of a sort of gypsy art community. Six months into her pregnancy, he left in the middle of the night.” A muscle ticked at the base of his jaw. “Her family had disowned her when she married him.” He shifted a little beneath her and she lifted her head, so that she could watch him. His eyes had a faraway expression; his features were pained by his memories. “When I was two, I developed a bronchial infection. Mum went to her parents, though I’m sure it pained her to do so. She begged for help. I needed medication that was expensive, and she had to work two jobs just to keep food on our table, so the possibility of her taking time off to care for me wasn’t realistic.”

Cassandra’s face was suffused with sympathy. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for her,” she said softly.

“My grandparents – Alyssia’s grandparents – had no such concern. They slammed the door in her face.”

“I can’t believe it!” Cassandra was shocked. “Knowing that you weren’t well?”

“Knowing that I was gravely ill. Yes.”

“How could they refuse to help a sick child?” She said, fury making her words ring into the silent cabin. “There are many things I can forgive, but sick children must be helped where they can be.”

The fervour of her words made him throw her a speculative look, and her expression immediately softened. “It almost sounds as though you speak from experience.” He remarked.

Cassandra didn’t quite meet his gaze. He was getting awfully close to the secret she ha

d to protect. “I just think children are innocent in our world, that’s all. Whatever problems adults have, children should never be injured as a result.”

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