She closed the distance between them with a frustrated little sniff, as if annoyed by her own weakness. He pulled her into an easy hug, and she leaned against him for a brief moment, her palms pressed against his shirtfront. He tried to ignore the warming effect it had on his body.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she mumbled. She pulled back a fraction and met his eyes, and in the space of a heartbeat, the air between them changed. Her eyes darted down to his mouth then back up in unmistakable entreaty, and his gut tightened. Before he could think better of it, he lifted his hand and ran his thumb across her lips, tugging them apart the way he’d dreamed of doing since the first moment he’d seen her in Newgate.

Her eyes widened but didn’t pull away.

Soft, so soft. So close.

She pressed herself more firmly against him, and he nearly groaned aloud. He wanted to kiss her so badly. His body hardened to the point of pain, a splendid, urgent ache. He felt drunk on the feel of her, her scent.

To hell with it.

He cradled her nape, tilted her head to the perfect angle, and leaned down to kiss her.

“Georgie? Are you there?”

The feminine hiss brought Benedict back from the brink, even as he cursed the interruption with every fiber of his being. He pulled back and met Georgie’s startled eyes. Shaken at what he’d almost done, he released her and stepped back just as her sister’s shadowy form emerged from the other side of the bushes.

Good God.

His heart was pounding as if he’d just survived a French cavalry charge, but he shot her a cocky grin to prove how unaffected he was.

Georgie blinked as if waking from a stupor. She bent to the ground, retrieved her blade from where she’d dropped it, lifted the hem of her skirts, and replaced it at her ankle. “Over here,” she croaked, stalking past him without a second glance. “Where on earth did you get to, Juliet? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Did you find Mr. Wylde?” Juliet asked innocently.

Benedict bit back a snort.

Oh yes, she most certainly did.

Chapter 17.

Benedict watched Georgie until she’d reached the safety of her mother, then headed toward the rotunda, where two semicircular “piazzas” opened up, illuminated by hanging lanterns. Seb and Alex had secured one of the curved, open-fronted supper boxes and were partaking of a fine dinner.

Seb raised his wine glass when he caught sight of Benedict. “Ah, there you are. Come and have a drink. Did you meet up with your little contact?”

“Jem? Yes. He’s still as slippery as ever. The little bugger even tried to pick my pocket.” Ben took a long drink of the wine Seb poured him and noticed with some amusement that his hand was still shaking. That dratted woman.