Reunited With His Long-Lost Cinderella

She waited, wanting to hear exactly what it was that was stopping him.

‘But if I do, then it might jeopardise our chance to get to know one another again.’

‘When you said...’ she started speaking, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

His eyes raked over her and she watched as he swallowed and gripped the sheets as if having to hold himself back. A thrill of excitement travelled through her body as she realised she did this to him.

‘I want you,’ he said, his voice like crushed rock. ‘But I don’t just want your body.’

‘I’m practically engaged...’ Francesca said, wondering if she had led him to believe there could be anything long-term between them.

‘I know that,’ he said, ‘And I will respect your engagement. When it happens. But I don’t just want to tumble into bed with you and then go our separate ways.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked, her fingers edging closer to his. It was hard to resist this man whom she felt she knew so well, but knew was largely a stranger.

‘I want to know you, Frannie. Find out what you’ve been doing these years. See what makes you smile, what makes you cry.’

‘Why?’ she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

‘I’ve missed you. Eighteen years I tried to forget about you and I couldn’t. When I return to Australia in a few months I would like to have some new memories to take with me.’

The mention of his return to Australia pulled Francesca back from indulging in some romantic but ridiculous fantasy of them riding off into the horizon together. They had eight days—eight days to become reacquainted and make the most of each other before he returned to his life and she moved on to the next stage of hers.

‘I need to get dressed,’ she said, unable to meet his eye.

‘Go ahead.’ He gestured to her clothes on the chair, but did not turn around or make any move to give her some privacy for at least thirty seconds. Then he growled something under his breath and moved out of the bedroom.

Closing her eyes to compose herself, she sat up in bed, letting the bedclothes drop from her chin and feeling her skin prickle under her chemise as the cool air of the room chilled her. She felt a little disappointed that her first foray into the scandalous world of affairs had ended so sedately, but she had to concede Ben was right. It would be good to get to know him, to find out all the things she’d had spent the past eighteen years wondering about. And if she read the look in his eyes correctly, it wouldn’t be long before they had another opportunity to enjoy one another in a more intimate fashion in any case...

* * *

Resting his head against the cool plaster of the wall outside his rooms, Ben took a deep breath to steady himself. Never before had he walked away from a beautiful woman in his bed. Then again, never before had his heart pounded every time he looked at a woman.

Be careful, he cautioned himself. He hardly knew the woman, but he knew himself. This wasn’t how he reacted to a woman, however attractive. He’d never had trouble resisting someone before, never found it hard to move on. It had only been a couple of days since Francesca had waltzed back into his life, but already he was finding it hard to imagine her married to another man while he returned to Australia.

‘You should have kissed her,’ he growled to himself. When he had first seen her in his bed he had wanted nothing more than to tumble her back between the sheets and spend days getting to know her intimately. It had taken all his willpower to resist and even now he was regretting it a little.

Despite the desire that still raged through his body, he knew he’d made the right decision. Ben was under no illusion that in a couple of weeks they would have to go their separate ways and he didn’t want to jeopardise any of that time by causing Francesca to feel rushed into a physical relationship. In a week or two things would be different and they would be ready to enjoy each other’s company in every way possible. But today he’d seen the apprehension in her eyes, the nerves. When they tumbled into bed together there would be no uncertainty, no doubt in her mind that it was the right thing.

Closing his eyes, he saw the image of her sitting up in bed, clothed only in a simple cotton chemise. That would certainly haunt his dreams in the weeks to come. Of course he shouldn’t have looked. He should have been a gentleman and turned away. But it had been hard enough walking out through the door—he wasn’t going to torture himself over one look.

‘I should go,’ Francesca said, slipping out of his rooms and passing him quickly.

Instinctively he reached out and caught her by the arm, feeling her stiffen under his touch.