Certain Wolfish Charm

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Certain Wolfish Charm Page 14

by Lydia Dare


  Will snorted.

  Lily folded her arms across her chest. "As Prisca came to see me, perhaps you should go busy yourself somewhere else."

  He smiled tightly. "I'm certain my horse is ready anyway." Will stood up.

  "Going somewhere, William?" Prisca asked, examining her fingernails.

  "London."

  Her eyes darted back to him. "London? But you've hardly been here."

  "If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd miss me. As it is," he continued, "I wouldn't try Simon's temper, were I you, Prisca. Don't stay too long."

  She sat back in her chair with a huff. "Missing your light skirts already, are you?"

  "Happy husband hunting." Will strode purposefully from the room, never looking back.

  Lily stared after him, and then she turned to Prisca, who was brushing her knuckles across her cheek. "Are you all right?" Lily asked, rising from her seat.

  Prisca smiled, pretending she wasn't crying. "Perfect. Tell me you're doing well."

  Lily pursed her lips. "His Grace asked me to marry him."

  Prisca leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Lily. "Oh, that is wonderful. I'm certain you'll be happy."

  Lily wished she could be just as certain.

  ***

  Simon had been tested more times than he could count on two hands and two feet. He'd been pulled naked from the bed of a married woman by the angry spouse. He'd been in more than one drunken brawl. He'd been pummeled by his brothers. And even by a friend or two. But he'd never had his patience tried like he did with Oliver.

  For Lily's sake, he tried not to kill the boy. That wasn't easy to do. Oliver had an amazing strength, which often came with the youth of their kind. Fortunately, he didn't know how to use it yet. Once he'd toppled a few chairs and uprighted the table, he simply stood before Simon, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

  Having two younger brothers, both with similar tempers, Simon had learned the hard way that it was easier to let them get the rage out of their systems rather than stifling it. As with a plugged-up teapot, the steam would find a way to escape one way or the other. As long as no one around Oliver could be hurt, Simon would let him blow off some steam.

  "If you ever put your hands on your Aunt Lily again," Simon seethed. "I will personally lock you in your room for so long that you will wish you were in Newgate."

  "You can't truly expect me to be happy about Aunt

  Lily marrying someone like you," Oliver shot back, sneering the last word.

  "You mean someone like us, don't you?"

  "Like us," the boy whispered as he turned toward the window. "I wouldn't want any woman to be shackled to someone like us."

  "I am pretty happy with the situation," Simon began. "And your aunt seems to be quite content with the idea." He tried not to smile, but he felt the corners of his mouth tilt, regardless.

  "That's because she doesn't know," Oliver reminded him. Simon bit back a wince.

  "She doesn't have to know."

  "You would marry her and not tell her?"

  "Yes, and you won't tell her, either. No one knows about us, except us. And it will stay that way. Unless I decide she's ready to hear it at some point in the future." Simon sighed.

  "And what will you do when the moon calls?"

  "I'll go away for a few days every month, Oliver. I'll probably take you with me." It would be safer that way, because Oliver might not be able to control himself.

  "And what happens when you have a child? Another one like me?"

  Simon hadn't given any thought to having children, but he had to admit his heart warmed at the idea of it. A piece of him, combined with Lily, growing inside her. And it would be even more fun creating a child. He coughed to hide the smile that nearly erupted.

  "You have to tell her," Oliver said, crossing his arms in a move so reminiscent of Lily's stubbornness that he had to chuckle.

  "I'll tell her when I simply cannot avoid it," Simon acquiesced.

  "You need to tell her before you bed her," Oliver said quietly, his face coloring slightly.

  "What do you know about bedding a woman?"

  Oliver's face colored even more. "Will told me about it. About how we must claim our mates. He gave me books about Lycanthropic lore. There's a lot of truth between the pages, he said." His eyes scrunched together, his comment more of a question for Simon, obviously.

  "If they're the same books our father gave him, and I suspect they are, there is a lot of truth between the pages. The majority of what you've read is true."

  "Is it true about the claiming of your spouse?" The boy was more tenacious than a dog with a bone.

  "I don't think you're old enough to be told about…" Simon began.

  "I am old enough to change but not old enough to know about the things I truly need to know?" His gaze met Simon's own. "If Aunt Lily knew, she might not choose to marry a Lycan."

  "I know." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He had a definite headache coming on.

  "You will deceive her. And that's not right," the boy sniffed.

  "It's not really deception, Oliver. Just a little omission."

  "And the claiming?"

  "I'll never be able to claim Lily. Not when the moon is full. Not in the way you're describing." It was quite disconcerting to talk about such matters with an adolescent. But he imagined there would be many more such talks to come.

  "You'll not hurt her?" Oliver asked, suddenly looking like a child.

  "Never on purpose. I promise."

  A knock broke their silence. "A moment," Simon called. "Are we all right, now?" he asked Oliver.

  A nod was his only answer.

  Simon turned to the door, "Enter," he called.

  Billings stepped into the room. "Your Grace, you have visitors in the yellow parlor."

  This was certainly not the time to deal with anyone. Simon rubbed his brow. "Who is it, Billings?"

  "The vicar Mr. Bostic and his wife, Your Grace."

  Perfect, Simon thought mordantly and hung his head in defeat. "What else could possibly go wrong?" he moaned quietly.

  "Well, Your Grace. They did bring their son with them. The fellow was seen practicing in the front yard."

  Simon's head snapped up. "Practicing what?"

  "Dropping to one knee, Your Grace. Over and over."

  "God, will this day never end?" Simon grumbled as he strode through the door, heading toward his yellow parlor with his heels clicking across the floor in his haste.

  Twenty-One

  Lily sat across from the vicar and his wife, while their sheepish son huddled in the corner, muttering to himself. Entertaining the trio was a chore, and Lily tried to keep her composure. However, it was getting more difficult by the moment. She listened to the woman prattle on about the weather and how bumpy the carriage ride was. She fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

  "How long do you think it will be before His Grace joins us?" the woman finally asked before pursing her lips.

  "I'm not at all certain. He is with the Earl of Maberley at the moment. Would you care for some tea while we wait?"

  "Thank you," the meek vicar replied.

  Lily smiled at the man and then started toward the sideboard, where Billings had left a fresh pot of tea.

  "Do tell me how you came to be here in His Grace's house, Miss Rutledge," the woman had the nerve to ask.

  "I arrived with the earl, Mrs. Bostic." She tried to keep the annoyed tone from her voice but feared that she failed miserably. "My nephew needed to spend some time with his guardian." She began to pour the tea, happy to have something to keep her hands busy.

  The woman consumed a plate of lemon cakes within minutes and then looked around as though she thought someone had stolen them from right under her nose.

  "And did you think it proper to stay with His Grace without a chaperone?" The woman looked at Lily as though she'd grown two heads.

  Lily didn't answer, but sat back aga
inst her chair and lifted a teacup to her mouth.

  The woman had the nerve to continue. "Is it true that His Grace has offered a healthy dowry to any man who marries you, despite your recent behavior?"

  Lily nearly choked on her tea. The vicar sighed nervously.

  "I beg your pardon?" Lily asked, as she put down her cup and stood up quickly. How dare the woman speak to her that way!

  "I imagine that means yes," Mrs. Bostic said, smiling broadly at her husband. Then she snapped her fingers at their son. "Timothy."

  The vicar's son gulped and stepped forward, cringing as he looked at his mother. He was a mousy little fellow, his skin so pale it was nearly translucent. His eyes were rimmed in red, as though he'd been sneezing. Or crying. She would have cried, too, if Mrs. Bostic were her mother.

  Lily looked down at him; he was at least five inches shorter than she was, and she could see a bald spot appearing on the top of his head. If she remembered correctly, they were close to the same age. At the rate he was losing hair, he would be bald by the age of thirty.

  "You may do it now," Mrs. Bostic directed.

  The poor fellow dropped to his knee in front of Lily. "M-Miss Rutledge—"

  His speech was cut short when Simon strode into the room. "Bostic, off your knees if you want to keep them."

  Timothy Bostic scrambled back to his feet. "Y-your Grace?"

  Simon turned his irritated grey gaze to the vicar's wife. "Did my dear Miss Rutledge tell you our good news?"

  The woman sucked in a breath, her face starting to turn an unflattering red. "N-news?"

  Lily bit back a smile. Did Simon make everyone stutter?

  "Indeed," Simon replied, crossing the room and sliding his arm around Lily's waist. "I was going to have to pay you a visit later today, Mr. Bostic. But as you're here, you've saved me the trip. This amazing woman has agreed to marry me." He smiled down at her. "Once Lord William returns from Lambeth Palace, I'd like for you to do the honors."

  The vicar's eyes grew round. "A special license, Your Grace?"

  Simon nodded. "I find she has quite captured my heart, and I'd rather not wait for the banns."

  The man stumbled to his feet. "I-I-I… Of course, Your Grace. Whatever you require of me."

  Mrs. Bostic squeaked, and Simon flashed his eyes on her. "Did you say something, ma'am?"

  "But you were offering her a dowry—"

  "True. Miss Rutledge will still have it. I'll put the funds in trust for her."

  "I see." The woman frowned.

  "Well," the vicar said, rising from his seat. "I believe we will be on our way then. When you have the license, Your Grace, do let me know."

  Simon inclined his head.

  Once the Bostics left, Lily sighed deeply and rested her head on his chest. She wished the words he'd said to the vicar and his family had been true, that he'd really lost his heart to her. "I had no idea money turned people into such terrible creatures."

  Simon chuckled and then dropped a kiss on her brow. "Mrs. Bostic has always been a terrible creature, Lily. I am sorry you had to endure her."

  Lily tipped her head back, gazing at his ruggedly handsome face. He did seem happy. More so than he had this morning. "Is Oliver all right?"

  He nodded. "The little monster is fine for now. You should have come to me years earlier. I don't know how you ever managed him alone."

  For years, Oliver had the sweetest disposition. Something Simon would have known, if he'd ever showed the slightest bit of interest in the boy. How long would his interest last in Oliver, or in her? How long before his lifestyle called to him? What did that even mean? Did he intend to return to the hoards of women he'd left in London? She wasn't certain her heart could take it.

  "Lily," he said softly, interrupting her thoughts. "You look so sad."

  She forced a smile to her lips. "Just woolgathering."

  "About what?" he pressed.

  Lily sighed. Should she tell him of her concerns? Would it matter? "I suppose I don't know what to expect from our marriage," she hedged. "What it will entail."

  A slow smile lit his face. "Ah, well, let me show you."

  Lily batted his hands away from her person as he reached for her. "You know that's not what I meant."

  Simon took another step toward her and she backed up, but she couldn't hide the smile that erupted, no matter how hard she tried.

  "Oh, but it's what I meant," he said, his grey eyes twinkling. She'd never actually seen the man laugh before. He was handsome even when he was sour, but when he laughed, he completely captured her heart. "You wanted to know what to expect from our marriage, and I want to show you."

  He stepped toward her again. She put a chair between them.

  "Will every room in my house be left a shambles because of you and Maberley? Before you arrived, I had quite a lovely home," he said as he slid the chair over. Lily ducked behind a second chair.

  "You are the one who keeps making messes of the furniture, Simon. Not me," she said, shaking her finger at him. Then she laughed and ran as he casually flipped another chair. They seemed to be nothing more than playthings to him.

  "When we're married, you will no longer be able to rearrange the furniture. I won't have it." She tried to look stern and unforgiving. She failed miserably.

  He simply smirked at her and pushed the final chair out of the way.

  Lily squealed as she turned to run, but his hands snaked around her middle. He pulled her to himself, her back to his front, and leaned forward to say quietly in her ear, "Got you."

  Lily couldn't hide from the sudden warmth she felt as his body pressed along the length of hers. One of his hands splayed on her belly, pulling her into the cradle of his hips. The other brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck.

  When his lips touched the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, she thought her knees would buckle. Thank goodness for that hand on her belly that held her tightly to him.

  "Simon," she sighed. "This is quite improper."

  "It's not nearly as improper as what I did to you last night," he reminded her. She felt the heat creep up her face as she remembered his hand in her drawers, his mouth on her breasts, and that sweet, sweet release.

  He must have sensed her hesitation because he simply said, "When we're married, I'll be able to kiss you here." He pressed his lips to the skin beneath her ear. "And here." He kissed her shoulder and spun her around.

  "And here," he said as his lips hovered over hers. Oh, please kiss me, Simon, she wanted to shout. But he didn't. He simply stayed close to her. She finally gave in and reached for him, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him close enough to touch her lips to his.

  When she finally allowed him to lift his head, he simply smiled and said, "Forceful little thing, aren't you?"

  "I am not little, Simon," she gasped as his hands ran

  up her side slowly, moving closer and closer to her breasts. Her heart beat like she'd just run up the stairs.

  "Compared to me, you are quite small."

  "You're the exception."

  "I had damn well better be the exception. There will be no comparisons to other men."

  "I have nothing to compare you to."

  "And it will stay that way."

  Lily nodded, quite unsure of what to say next. She bit her bottom lip.

  "What's bothering you?" he asked as he lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

  "Well, you have mentioned your lifestyle more than once. If you don't plan to share me, then I don't plan to share you, either." She winced and closed her eyes, waiting for callous words to flood her ears.

  "Done," he said.

  "What about this lifestyle you keep referring to? The one you want to maintain."

  "It doesn't involve wenches, woman," he growled softly.

  Lily's heart leapt. That was the one hesitation she had about marrying Simon. But he'd acquiesced so easily. Almost too easily.

  She would worry about it later, because
Simon was taking all her attention. His hands stroked her as if she were a cat just waiting to be petted. She looked into his eyes.

  Oh, now she was in big trouble, because his dark eyes reminded her of a predator. And that meant she was the prey.

  ***

  Simon could hear her heart thumping in her chest, beating a rhythm as old as time. "Can we get back to what we were doing before you started the marriage negotiations?"

 

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