Read If He's Noble (Wherlocke Book 7) (Paranormal Historical Romance) for Free Online

inn workers responding to a new arrival. Primrose prayed it was Sir Bened. Now that he might have returned safely she realized just how deeply afraid for him she had been.
    The door opened. Bened stepped in and shut the door behind him. He watched her, smiling faintly but with a look of caution in his eyes. Primrose did not even consider the good or bad sides of what she did next as she stood up, ran over to him, and hugged him. To her shock it was not just relief she felt as her body was pressed up against his and his strong arms wrapped around her. Beneath the lightness of the relief she felt over seeing him return unharmed, a warmth spread through her. Innocent she might be, but Primrose was almost certain that heat was born of desire. Blushing, she stepped back.
    “My apologies,” she murmured when he grasped her hands to halt her retreat. “I fear I did naught but sit here and fret after you left to find the horse thieves and the relief I felt to see you return safely proved stronger than good sense and good manners.”
    “I did not hear myself complain,” Bened said.
    Primrose laughed but knew it was a shaky sound. She had not put on her gloves and she could feel the warmth of his large, lightly calloused hands spreading through her. It troubled her when she found it took a great deal of effort to move her gaze from his mouth and look into his beautiful eyes. The warmth of his gaze only increased the growing urge she had to throw herself back into his arms, to feel that warm, strong body pressed against her again. She nervously cleared her throat and tugged her hands free of his. The disappointment that came over her at the loss of the warmth of his touch worried her.
    The man was a sore temptation, Primrose decided. It was odd for she was not one who was often tempted by a man, certainly not by just looking at him. Bened was not a man who drew the sighs of delight from many women as her brother Simeon did. There was no prettiness to Bened, just strength. He was handsome but not exceptionally so, his cheekbones a little too sharply defined, his skin good but a bit too swarthy to please some. His thick long lashes surrounding his beautiful eyes and, perhaps, his attractive mouth were the only hints of softness on his face.
    His mouth was what kept drawing her gaze and she was not sure why. It was a little wide but that suited his square face. The bottom lip was fuller than the top, which she supposed was what gave it that tempting softness. Finally she found one reason she was attracted to that mouth. She wanted to taste it, to see if it was as warm and soft as its appearance promised it would be. And that was not an urge she should give in to, she told herself firmly.
    “There is cider being kept warm on the hearth or I can order you something else. An ale?”
    He should have grabbed the chance to kiss her when he had it, literally, in his hands, Bened thought. It would have been a mistake, though. Bened had seen the glint of interest in her eyes but knew she was not ready to give in to it yet. He was still no more than a kind man she did not really know, not even for one full day. Although he badly wanted to taste those full lips of hers, he knew he had to be patient. If nothing else, she was an innocent, well-bred young woman, most likely completely untouched.
    “What I would truly like to have is some coffee but I doubt there will be some here,” he said.
    “Actually, they do have it.” She smiled at his look of delight mixed with surprise. “There are several prominent gentlemen in the area and they learned to love the brew whilst at the university and when in London. They give the inn the beans and the tools to make the brew. All they ask is that the inn charge to cover the cost of any they brew for another guest and let them know when the sack of beans they give the inn reaches a certain level so they know to bring more or buy more. They come every Wednesday evening to talk and drink coffee. The