Page 53 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

He blew a heavy breath through his nose. “There is no way for me to make you understand.”

“Then try,” she said, rising and crossing the space between their sofas, coming to sit on the cushion beside him. She could see Bentley’s body tensing, but she ignored it. She had no intention of touching him. “Perhaps I can help, or at least try to understand. I am a good listener. Have you had anyone really listen to you lately?”

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “Not really, no.”

Reaching for his hand, she wrapped her fingers around it. All sense of propriety and decorum had fled through the large, open loft door the moment they decided to meet in this loft alone. But this? The moment she touched his hand, a spark of heat warmed her skin and traveled all the way up her arm. Despite telling herself it was dangerous, she could not seem to let go, enjoying the soft, warm skin against hers.

“Do you trust me?”

He held her gaze, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Yes,” he whispered without delay.

She squeezed his fingers on impulse, her other hand wrapping over his wrist until she cradled his hand like she would an injured kitten in need of affection. “Then trust me.”

“I…” Bentley swallowed, his gray eyes fastened on hers, and he seemed on the verge of speaking. “I’m not sure I can. If I was to tell you of the things which keep me here—”

The heavens opened and rain poured from the sky, hammering against the barn roof and pouring on the other side of the open loft door. Cold, damp air curled in through the wide space, wrapping around their sofa and causing a shiver to run over Hattie’s body.

“You’re cold,” Bentley said, though he didn’t make a move to stand or remove his hand from her grasp.

“Not really,” she argued. “We needn’t leave yet.”

But she could see that the time had passed for sharing confidences. Drat the rain for breaking the spell over them, for awakening the duke to the realities of their situation and cutting his words off.

“You should get home,” he said quietly, unmoving.

“I would prefer to wait until the storm has passed.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

She grinned, her fingers warm over his. “Then I suppose I shall be waiting here for quite some time.”

“You’ll catch your death.”

“My constitution is much stronger than that, I assure you.”

“That is not difficult to believe.” He hesitated a moment before slipping his hand free of her grasp. Cool air immediately replaced the warmth he’d provided, and an uncomfortable shiver ran over Hattie’s skin. Bentley brought himself to a stand, towering over her.

She stood, disappointed, but did her best to shove the feeling away. “I think your constitution is stronger than you lead me to believe, as well. You are missing out on the opportunity of knowing wonderful people by your choice to remain sequestered in your charming little house.”

“Oh, am I?”

He looked more amused than annoyed, so Hattie pressed forward. “You are. Furthermore, I think you could benefit from more acquaintances in your life. You would have much more material to paint.”

“I tend to avoid painting acquaintances,” Bentley said.

Hattie lifted an eyebrow. “Aside from those who are grotesquely covered in freckles?”

Shock lit his eyes momentarily. “You cannot honestly believe that about yourself.”

She did not wish for him to attempt to convince her that he thought otherwise, that was for certain. “I think you are correct. The rain is not lessening. Perhaps we ought to go home.”

Bentley seemed ready to argue, but Hattie didn’t give him the opportunity to do so. She moved about quickly, putting her canvas and pencil away and pulling the loft door closed before climbing down the ladder first—at Bentley’s insistence—so he could help her over the side. Not that she needed the help. She had been climbing up and down that ladder for years.

Hattie and Bentley led their horses out of the barn and Hattie securely closed the door behind them. Bentley offered assistance, but Hattie used her mounting block to gain the saddle.

“Shall we continue to meet here until my house is free of its guest?” Bentley called through the rain. In a matter of minutes, they would both be soaked, but the weather did not appear as though it planned to lessen anytime soon.

“That would be wise,” Hattie called. “If this rain continues, it would soak anything left in the lightning tree.”

Bentley pulled his hat lower on his forehead and nodded in agreeance before they took off in their different directions. They could have traveled together part of the way, but this was better. It wouldn’t do to be seen together.

Hattie spurred her horse on, going as fast as she deemed comfortable in the wet, slippery grass. Mud rose with the galloping hooves, splattering her riding habit, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Her thoughts were too clouded by Bentley and the emotions he’d stirred up in her. The dangerous emotions that made her feel unsteady.

She watched him slip away around the far side of the lake, his form blurring in the steady rain until he disappeared. If only she could remove him from her mind as easily as that.

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