#//*caleb eating popcorn outside the barn*

[honorhearted]

The first cuffs against his chest, shoulder and face caught Benjamin unawares. Lifting his arms, he was quick to deflect Emma's irate blows, her growls akin to a trapped animal as she bit out her fierce warning.

“What is wrong with you?" she hissed. "Jesus H. Christ, do you have no shame?”

Face stinging with both embarrassment and the clip from her earlier strike, Benjamin fired back, "I could ask you the same question. As you'll recall, the only reason we have been remotely intimate is because of you. Am I suddenly wrong in thinking I have a claim?"

He knew he didn't. As a gentleman, just pretending to mean those words coiled sickeningly within his gut, weighing low and heavy as he swallowed. Never one to back down from a ruse, he continued, "The only shame I feel is having trusted you to be a lady. Throwing yourself at my associate -- to what, make me jealous? -- proves your precise caliber, and I'll have no part in this."

Just as he anticipated, Emma bristled like a furious feline. “I can pursue whoever I damn well please. You're not my father and you're certainly not my husband. So, if Mister Finnegan likes me, I don’t need your permission to reciprocate his affections."

"No, you don't," Benjamin crisply agreed, "but Finnegan is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and thus, he would never choose you over me. I'm afraid brotherhood extends far beyond the allure of getting inside your used mutton. And that goes for both Finnegan and myself."

His words were a cruelty. Benjamin wasn't certain if he genuinely believed Emma to be morally loose, but in this moment he was tired of putting up with her theatrics -- he was tired of searching for intelligence, and only encountering the bare minimum because of her damnable interference.

Emma, unfortunately, was far from through with her diatribe. She sniped and attacked for all she was worth, relying heavily upon blaspheming swears before she ultimately volleyed, “Or do you merely mean to stick your nose into this because you’re upset it isn’t you I’m flirting with?"

"I don't give a damn who you flirt with," Benjamin hissed. "But when it is at the expense of my best friend, that is an entirely different matter! You flatter yourself if you think I care for you beyond our business transaction."

Emma balled her hand into a fist. “Our agreement was that you behave yourself. That very same agreement is the only thing stopping me from giving you a matching bruise on the other side of your stupid face. Either follow the rules of the game, or the deal is forfeit.”

Benjamin's jaw tightened. "Hit me then," he challenged. "If only I must behave myself in these terms, then I think it only suitable that you show the world precisely who you are."

Finally at her wits end, Emma rose her voice to a clanging decibel, shouting about Caleb being the superior match, and how she would gladly consider marriage, should he propose.

“I might remind you that I gave you the chance to act upon your carnal desires, but you refused. You had the chance to kiss me, touch me, ravish me, and whatever else you please, but you thought your hand far more suitable for the job, so you don’t get to choose me now that your britches have grown too tight."

Benjamin balked at that, visibly stunned. This woman was confounding. She denounced him, insulted him, and in some cases, maimed him, yet willingly threw open the doors to her boudoir?

Mouth opening and closing, he tried to speak, but Emma was already charging toward the door. "I urge you to behave yourself, or I will match your immaturity. And I will do it far better than you."

"I'd say you already have," he gruffly bit back. "You are no lady, Miss Dunster. None at all."

“You flatter me, Mister Bolton.” She retorted in a dry tone. “But I have a feeling I’m not the only one who thinks poorly of you. I’m just the only one brave enough to do something about it. I'm not some arse-kisser who's going to lick your boots like the rest of your conquests might be eager to do. I, for one, despise you and I will not allow you to forget it.”

I told you to leave Finnegan alone. I told you, I told you, I told you. The more he told her things, the less she wanted to listen, but he didn't care. Emma knew that men like him were probably used to people taking his word as gospel. While the world bent to his every whim, she would stand her ground and remain resilient against his orders.

"What makes you think I'm inclined to listen to you? I told you I won't marry you, but you don't listen to me. It's awfully frustrating, isn't it?" Emma crossed her arms over her chest, knowing full well that she was being catty over the situation, but too deep into her ire to backtrack. “Besides, I enjoy the sea as well. I spend a lot of time on ships traveling across the pond. Perhaps, him and I might find ourselves married to it together. And far, far away from you.”

He gritted his teeth and Emma thought, for a split second, that he might raise his hand to strike her. She braced herself for the force of his hand, but when it clasps onto her neck and brought her closer to him, she froze. It took her a long moment to realize what was happening, in the moment and in her body as she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and tug at his clothes. His soft groan sparked a fire in her stomach and she nearly gave in until he tugged on her lip with his teeth and broke the spell.

“Get off of me!” Breathlessly, she shoved him away, batting at him with her arms like a feral cat. Her lips still tingled with the taste of him but she tried to ignore it. It scared to her to think that if she'd spent a moment longer kissing him, she might not be able to control herself. If she spent another second with his tongue in her mouth, she might end up begging him to take her virtue here on the barn floor.

“What is wrong with you? Jesus H. Christ, do you have no shame?” The words flew from her lips with a small spray of spittle, her own mind unsure of who the words were directed at. Shaking her head of the embarrassing thoughts, she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. It didn’t matter that she wanted to continue, that she enjoyed the way her body warmed at his touch. She didn’t want him. She couldn’t want him.

Ignoring the furious blush on her cheeks, Emma shot a quick, panicked glance towards the barn door. His friend could easily meander back in to witness such a scene. She doubted the man would be too offended by it, but it would certainly make it harder for her to continue her flirtatious charade if he caught her canoodling his partner. Or even worse, she realized, her father could decide to pay an impromptu visit to the stables and stumble upon this horrid scene. Then, she would have no choice but to marry him. Then, she would lose the game entirely.

“I can pursue whoever I damn well please. You're not my father and you're certainly not my husband. So, if Mister Finnegan likes me, I don’t need your permission to reciprocate his affections."

When he spoke, she bristled, fingers curling into fists at her sides. Her eyes glowed with anger as she stared up at him. I don't think it will be difficult to prove to him just what kind of woman you are. Emma gawked, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“And, pray tell, exactly what kind of woman is that? The type that is harassed and threatened by men with no concept of the word ‘no’? Or the type that is hunted and bedeviled and, now, accosted in the safety of her own goddamn home?" She perched her hands on her hips, a spark of defiance catching alight in her chest. “Or do you merely mean to stick your nose into this because you’re upset it isn’t you I’m flirting with?"

She found it harder and harder to maintain her composure around him and Emma was infuriated by how easily he managed to pester her. Belle had told her more than once that she was lucky to be an only child, but she was beginning to realize that having the practice of an obnoxious younger brother would've helped prepare her for such a thing. Normally, she considered herself unflappable, but the presence of this heinous mam had proved that perhaps she wasn't as invincible as she thought.

“Our agreement was that you behave yourself. That very same agreement is the only thing stopping me from giving you a matching bruise on the other side of your stupid face. Either follow the rules of the game, or the deal is forfeit.”

Taking a step back, Emma tried to collect herself. She wiped the sweat of her hand off onto the bodice of her gown, flattening out the rumpled fabric. Whenevr she was around him, she felt like a child. They argued like children, teasing and tormenting one another, and--not for the first time-- she found herself wishing they were children so that a swift kick to his shin wouldn't be considered uncalled for.

"Really, Mister Bolton, do you think behaving like a child will make me want to marry you? Because as far as I can tell, Mister Finnegan is twice the man that you are! And if he got on his knees and proposed to me right now, I’d be damned well tempted to accept!”

She didn’t mean to raise her voice, didn’t even realize she was shouting until she heard the echoes of her words reverberate throughout the barn. Gritting her teeth, Emma lowered her voice and spoke in an even tone.

“I might remind you that I gave you the chance to act upon your carnal desires, but you refused. You had the chance to kiss me, touch me, ravish me, and whatever else you please, but you thought your hand far more suitable for the job, so you don’t get to choose me now that your britches have grown too tight." The words were laced with more venom than she had intended, realizing only in that moment how desperately she had wanted him to accept the offer to follow her to her boudoir.

Huffing, she began towards the door, only pausing to toss a warning over her shoulder. "I urge you to behave yourself, or I will match your immaturity. And I will do it far better than you."