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Lizzie found herself swung up with little apparent effort into his arms. “It is grown a little muddy,” she observed as they negotiated the obstacle. “It must have rained while we were dancing.”

“We’ve only one more day here,” Benedict observed. “So, it little matters.”

“One more day?” Lizzie was startled. Benedict nodded. ”Then what happens?”

“We move on to the next fair.”

“Oh,” she relapsed into silence. Once they were on the other side, he did not relinquish his hold of her, and Lizzie found herself gazing up at the starry night sky as he carried her back to their wagon.

15

Benedict hastily dumped the used washing water out of the basin and returned to the wagon. He wasn’t leaving Lizzie time to undress tonight. They’d both visited the field, checked on the dog, and washed in cold water. As he pulled the door shut behind him, Lizzie was bunching up her stiffened petticoat and struggling to stuff it into the chest. In three strides, he was beside her, closing the lid on the cumbersome undergarment.

“Thanks,” Lizzie puffed and sat on the edge of the mattress to draw off her stockings.

Benedict watched her as he stripped down to his long underwear. He drew off his vest and joined her on the bed, bare chested. When he knelt behind her, reaching for the fastenings at the front of her corset, Lizzie looked back over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said simply as he unhooked the row of fastenings.

“My pleasure. Let down your hair.”

Lizzie reached up and began drawing out the pins and silk flowers, arranging them in a neat pile atop the trunk.

He draped her stays over the top of the trunk and ran his hands down her sides which were clad now only in a thin chemise. “She emerges from her chrysalis,” he murmured, and Lizzie gave a gurgle of laughter.

“I don’t have any wings,” she pointed out. “I emerge just as much as caterpillar as ever.”

“A very captivating caterpillar,” he muttered, kissing the side of her neck. “You don’t need wings to captivate me, Lizzie.”

He heard the hitch in her breathing. “Captivate you? You don’t have to say those things, you know,” she said in a constrained voice. “I know I’m not beautiful.”

He frowned, drawing back his head. “I say it because I want to, no other reason.” He turned her about and pressed her back down onto the mattress, running his hands over the slight swell of her breasts. “Let’s take this off,” he whispered, tugging at her chemise.

Lizzie extended her arms above her head, and he pulled it up over head. Gazing down at her, he found himself short of breath. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he reminded her huskily. It was true, he did remember a time when he had thought her features sharp and plain and her coloring pale and drab in her severe gowns. Now, though, he found her high cheekbones, pointy chin, and little mouth delicate and pleasing. The fact she blushed so easily enchanted him. “You should see yourself right now.”

She met his gaze, her own questioning. “Do I display to advantage, half-clothed, then?” she asked doubtfully, glancing down her slender body, now clad only in plain white cotton drawers.

“God, yes,” he said thickly and placed his hand on her belly. He contemplated a moment the picture his large tanned hand made against her flat stomach. When she shivered, he moved over her, covering her with his much larger body. “Cold?”

“A little.”

Strange, he felt like he was on fire. Drawing the bedclothes up about them, he wrapped his body about her. “Better?”

“I’m returning to my cocoon,” she joked.

He smiled against her temple. “Can I touch you, Lizzie?”

“Yes, of course.”

Again, he placed his palm against her soft belly and then drew his hand down, sliding into the bloomers he had not yet removed. Lizzie’s breathing grew ragged as he slid his hand over the thatch of hair covering her mound. “If it wasn’t so cold,” he said huskily. “I’d draw the covers down and take a good look at you.”

“You looked last time,” she reminded him in stifled accents.

“It was definitely worth a second look,” he murmured. “Besides, I could barely see, the light was so low.” He sifted his fingers through the intriguing hair, then dipped his middle finger into her cleft. Lizzie gasped and jolted beneath him as he found her little pearl and slicked it with her moisture. He concentrated then on her every breath and whimper as he stroked and worked her with his fingers. His fingers were deep inside Lizzie’s delightfully slippery cunt, and he was the one shaking at the sensation. God, he wanted to put something else of his inside her. Something that was so hard it hurt.

“Tell me,” he said gruffly, “that you wanted me all along.” He knew it wasn’t true, but he wanted to hear it all the same. “Say it now.”

She gave a soft sob. “Benedict,” she whimpered, and he felt a rushing in his head. That was almost as good.