The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  Outside, Simon could hear that the rain was still gently falling. The house was quiet, and all the servants had gone to bed. He and Emilia were entirely alone, and they both desired the same thing. How could it be prevented? They already belonged to one another if only in their souls.

  Simon could sense it deeply. Was it now time for their bodies to become one, as well? Sensual images that Simon had been conjuring for weeks came to mind, and Simon realized that he could bring all of those images to reality by just saying yes.

  And yet, if Simon took her at that moment, it would make it all the more painful to see her marry Lord Pendergast. Would he have to think about their one remarkable night together for the rest of his life, all the while knowing that she was sharing Lord Pendergast’s bed? Perhaps it was an inevitability. But if Simon could taste her beauty just one time, he was quite sure that he could die a happy man. Becoming resolved, Simon stood up and took Emilia with him, hoisting her into his arms. He kissed her while he held her there, and then walked steadily towards the stairs, carrying Emilia up them and into his chamber. Placing her gently upon the bed, Simon took great pains to lock the door behind them.

  As he approached the bed again, Emilia looked at him expectantly, and Simon’s own chest was heaving, his heart pounding. Without pausing, Simon unbuttoned and pulled off his waistcoat followed by his shirt. He craved skin-to-skin, and as quickly as possible. Emilia was already moaning in anticipation of what was going to happen next.

  Simon began to slowly undress her, piece by piece. As he did so, he took in Emilia’s delicious form; every inch of her.

  “Emilia, you don’t know how stunning you are,” Simon said in praise, truly thinking that she didn’t realize just how extraordinary she really was. As Emilia continued to moan, Simon found that his manhood was hard as a rock, and Emilia pushed her hips up towards him instinctively. A shudder of fear came over him as Simon realized that this would be Emilia’s first time. He didn’t wish to cause any pain, but a little bit of agony would need to take place before their ecstasy.

  “Simon, Simon,” she called out with every new limb that he kissed. Each time that she called his name, Simon found himself getting increasingly excited and hungry to have her, but still, he would take his time. If this was the only instance in which they would make love, Simon planned on memorizing every inch of her and committing each dizzying moment to memory.

  Once Emilia was fully naked, he hovered over her, looking down and then up again, basking in her beauty. Yes, she was utter perfection, and for that one night, Emilia was all his. Bringing his hand down to feel between Emilia’s legs, he could instantly feel her warmth and wetness, and Simon knew that Emilia was ready. He wished to take her into his mouth, but on that night, their lovemaking would occupy most of their time. It was far too important to focus upon anything else.

  Positioning himself over her, Simon felt Emilia’s hand come down to his trousers to feel how hard he was, and it was Simon’s turn to moan. It was a deep, guttural moan, akin to a growl. Simon couldn’t help pulling Emilia’s hand away, thinking the sensation far too intense. He wished to make the experience last for as long as possible.

  Quickly removing his trousers, Simon released himself and looked into Emilia’s eyes, seeing a bit of fear there as she beheld him. He wanted to promise her that he would make it okay; that she would not be harmed. But Simon couldn’t save Emilia from what she’d inevitably feel for a brief moment. Once that was done, they could begin.

  Primed and ready, Simon placed himself over Emilia once more and directed himself right into her. Wanting the moment to pass quickly, Simon gave one strong thrust and heard Emilia call out. He brought a hand to her cheek, looking into her eyes to make sure that she was okay. That pain quickly dissolved, and Emilia looked ready and willing to proceed.

  Slowly pulsing into her, Simon could feel from the inside that Emilia was opening to him. Finally, she was his; all his. The sensation of being inside of her gave Simon a feeling of completeness that he had never known before. He continued the motion of his hips and felt Emilia’s rhythm align with his own. For quite some time, there they remained, moaning and gazing into one another’s eyes, delighting in the pleasure that their bodies brought to one another. Simon was in a trance.

  Each time that Emilia moaned and grasped his back, his pleasure deepened. After some time, he could feel a quickening inside of Emilia’s body before a look of agonizing confusion came upon her face. Her entire body began to convulse, and Simon knew full-well what was happening. She was in the throes of the greatest pleasure known, and Simon slowed his thrusting, not wanting to contribute to excessive sensitivity.

  Finally, Emilia’s sighs ceased, and Simon found himself more filled with ardour than ever before. He continued inside of her until his gentle pulsing turned into a feverish need that finally overtook his whole body. Simon cried out as Emilia grasped him, and he released himself into her with great force.

  Collapsing upon her, an immense wave of fatigue hit him, and he felt as though he could fall asleep that very moment, lying on Emilia’s chest with her hands in his hair. There they lay for some time, not sharing any words. There was nothing to say. They had had their one night of passion, and that was the end.

  It wasn’t until the following morning when Simon awoke that he realized that Emilia was gone. When had she left? It hurt him that she was not there by his side. That’s when a fierce wave of realization came over him. Simon would not allow Emilia to go ever again.

  The marriage would never happen; he would win her back and keep her safe. Although he had been determined the evening before, now Simon was surer than ever that the time for action was now. Longing for her, Simon could see that there was a note left upon her side of the bed. It was merely a scrap of paper that read, “thank you.”

  Simon’s heart swelled, and for the first time it became abundantly clear; Simon was entirely in love with Emilia Spencer. There was no turning back. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He would deter Lady Susana, defeat Lord Pendergast, and have the one treasure in the world that he knew to be his. For Simon, the matter all became very simple and clear.

  Chapter 22

  Simon held onto Emilia’s thank you note for some time, hoping that if he did so he could somehow conjure her back into his room; back into his bed. He would do anything in the world to have her with him again at that moment. Did she make it home safe? What time did she leave? Why would she not stay with him?

  Lying there for some time in stunned silence, thoughts of the evening before returned, and Simon was convinced that it had been the greatest night of his life. Emilia had given herself to him fully; body and soul. In fact, the experience of it was far more transfixing than Simon had thought that it would be.

  He could still smell her, still taste her in his mouth. He wished to have her with him for the rest of his days, but the challenge of dealing with Lord Pendergast was undeniable. Simon never felt the need to arise to a challenge so strongly in his life. If the matter came down to swords, then so be it.

  Simon had some training with swords and took it upon himself to learn more. He was not afraid to utilize that talent if push came to shove. He would kill for Emilia. Simon would go to battle, and if he never returned from that battle, then so be it. Simon would know that he had risked it all for the woman that he loved most.

  Finally getting out of bed, Simon took a good, hard look in the mirror. Yes, he was a very strong man. Naturally so. He could see the muscles in his arms and chest, strength that he would use to keep Emilia safe. He recalled how Emilia had clung to his chest the night before when they were in the throes of passion.

  She had dug her fingers into him, clutching for dear life, and the sensation of it had been remarkable and new. He felt like Emilia’s rock, her foundation. Simon wished to convey to Emilia that no matter what happened, if she was with him, she would be safe.

  Simon then looked at his hands; large, rough hands that he depended u
pon for his livelihood. Those hands had been all over Emilia’s body the night before. He was a man that worked with his hands, and never had his hands been so happy as when he was using them to touch Emilia and give her pleasure.

  Turning from the mirror, Simon looked out his window and noted that the rain had ceased. He sincerely hoped that when Emilia returned to London that morning she was greeted with clear skies. The evening before, when he opened the door and discovered her quite soaked, it pained Simon’s heart to think that she was in a state of discomfort.

  It did not take long for Simon to warm her, and as he did so, he felt the greatest satisfaction that a man could feel; bringing comfort to the woman that he loved. Emilia had been grateful and curled up to him like a child. It had made him crave and desire her even further.

  So many thoughts and memories were returning from the evening before, merely because Simon was trying to process it all. When Emilia was on his lap, in his arms, and eventually in his bed, he found that he could scarce think of all. The whole world was Emilia, and Simon struggled to have a clear thought. Now that she was gone, his mind was accelerated, trying to put it all together as best he could.

  Emilia would be his wife. There was no other option. Lord Pendergast may have more power and wealth, but something happened to a man once his heart was completely enraptured. It emboldened him and gave him more strength than 100 soldiers. That was the kind of strength that Simon now had. He would stop at nothing, and he knew that he would win.

  Simon still clutched Emilia’s note. Why on earth did she think that she needed to express gratitude? Simon had not done her any favours. He had acted upon instinct and merely went as far as he had wanted to go for some time; perhaps since the first moment that he met her. It had all been perfect. A dream.

  In fact, Simon even had to question a couple of times whether or not it even happened. Could anything in life truly be that exquisite and divine as hovering over Emilia and seeing the immaculate pleasure upon her face? Surely, if someone told Simon that he had made it up in his head, he would believe it. The very notion of not experiencing such happiness ever again filled Simon with a kind of dread and rage that he had never known before.

  Finally, Simon dressed himself; all the while he had been entirely unclothed. The urgency to speak to Kingsley was so great that Simon merely put on his slacks and was done with it. Kingsley had seen him without his shirt before, mostly when they went swimming in the lake.

  So, in a state of partial dress, Simon came down the stairs and down the hall, walking through as the servants turned their heads to pretend that they did not see. Again, Simon’s head was spinning so perilously that he did not care what they thought. He and Kingsley would hash out a plan that very morning so that action could be taken by the afternoon.

  Something just told him that Kingsley would know what to do. He was an intelligent, calculating man, and Simon often depended upon him for advice.

  “Will you take tea?” Rutledge asked, his eyes wide with wonder upon seeing Simon in such a state.

  “No, thank you,” Simon said, walking past the footman and heading straight to the stairs leading up to the studio. Although those stairs required some effort, Simon found that on that particular morning, it took no exertion at all. His body was still flooded with adrenaline from the night before.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, Simon flung the door open and instantly called out Kingsley’s name, and that’s when he beheld a sight that he never once expected. The studio was quite barren and empty. Every single canvas had been removed, and the smell of paint was the only thing that remained. Simon’s heart began to pound viciously in his chest. What the devil had happened?

  “Kingsley!” he called out again, but in vain. Was this Kingsley’s doing? Had he taken the paintings and escaped? Simon did not think Kingsley the type of man that was so susceptible to fear and dread. An immense wave of sadness came over him. Was this the end for them? Would they never paint again? Would Simon be entirely bereft of Kingsley’s company?

  Even if the master did move to another country, Simon would follow him, and he’d bring Emilia along for the adventure. That thought was the only comfort that Simon knew at that moment. His imagination conjured ways in which he could amend the entire situation.

  Then, it occurred to Simon that Kingsley might still be in the house. Rushing back out the door of the studio and down the stairs, Simon found that he was going at a feverish clip. He was desperate to catch Kingsley before he got too far.

  Running down the hall, there were more wayward looks from servants, but yet again, Simon found that he didn’t pay it any mind. The only thing that he could think of was to get to Kingsley’s room. Running up the other flight of stairs and down the hall, Simon found himself in front of Kingsley’s door, but he paused there, afraid for what he might find when he opened it.

  Slowly pushing the door open, Simon discovered the very thing that he feared the most. The room had been cleared of all of Kingsley’s possessions. There on the bare mattress, Simon found a letter.

  Picking it up and clutching it in his hand, tears threatened to fill Simon’s eyes. He read the letter and choked back those tears, then gently placed the letter down upon the mattress. Simon seated himself, thinking that he felt unsteady and unwell.

  There was so much to say to the master and the thoughts were teeming in Simon’s head all the more. How was it that so much had occurred in such a short time? Simon was baffled by it. All of this was Lord Pendergast’s doing, and Simon’s desire for revenge was doubled.

  He sat there for some time, staring at the wall and at a loss for words or action. It was what happened when Simon was overwhelmed; he froze. He needed time to pause. That was when Simon realized that he was in desperate need of fresh air. He left the letter upon the bed and exited the room, walking down the hall and the stairs once more. There, he was greeted by Rutledge.

  “Did you see him go?” Simon asked.

  “I beg your pardon?” Rutledge replied.

  “Kingsley. He’s gone.”

  “I don’t understand,” Rutledge said, his eyes going wide with shock.

  “Kingsley. The paintings are gone. His personal effects. Everything.”

  “But, he must have left in the middle of the night! I assumed that he chose to stay in his room this morning, as he often does when he is prone to moods.”

  “I had assumed the same.”

  “I’m dumbfounded.”

  “As am I,” Simon replied, pulling his hand through his hair.

  “May I get you some tea? To calm the nerves?” Rutledge asked.

  “No, there is no time for that. I must find him. Among other things . . .”

  “Why on earth would he go?”

  That was when it occurred to Simon that Rutledge had no notion of the truth. He had been steadfast and dutiful throughout his time at Montgomery House, but the real secrets about Kingsley and Simon had never been shared with the footman. There was truly no time to explain, and Simon didn’t wish to do so.

  “That is a good question,” Simon replied.

  “Can I be of assistance in any way?” Rutledge finally asked.

  “Ask the servants if they have seen anything that might give us clues. Aside from that, all that we can do is wait.”

  “Very well,” Rutledge said, looking bereft.

  “For now, I fear that I’m in need of air.”

  “Yes, that sounds best,” Rutledge replied.

  Continuing down the hall, Simon found himself in the scullery where there was a door leading out to the field behind Montgomery House. It was where Kingsley and Simon would go for their walks. Would they ever go on those walks again? Simon had to wonder. What would become of Montgomery House? For Simon, the weight of it felt so great, it was like experiencing the end of an era.

  Stepping out into the field, Simon could feel the sloshing of the grass on his boots. The field was muddy, but Simon didn’t care. His spirit was more intrepid than ever as he pus
hed forward through the mist, feeling the cool moisture on his cheek. Finally, a bit of relief as the crisp air entered his lungs. That was always the place where Simon found that he could think clearly; out in the wilderness where he was unbounded by cares.