by Lydia Dare
"It wasn't a negotiation," she said. He really should do a better job of seducing her so he could take her mind off all that.
"And when we're married," he said, reminding her where they'd left off. "I will kiss you here," he whispered as he pressed her back against the wall. His lips touched the skin above her bodice before he lowered his head and found her nipple, aching and waiting for his touch. He very gently nipped it between his teeth, through the fabric of her dress.
Simon smelled the evidence of her desire. It was the scent of sweet Lily and her flowers. But now it contained something else, something wild and free. As her body warmed to his touch, more of her fragrance reached his nose.
"You go too far, Simon," she said, her voice a throaty whisper.
"Yet you want me to go farther," he countered. He certainly hoped she did. He had never gone so long without a woman. It had been days since she'd arrived. It felt like a lifetime.
She didn't deny his statement. Her fingernails dug into his biceps as she clutched his arms. He reveled in the sensation. She had sharp claws, and he would enjoy every minute he spent teaching her to use them on him.
Simon tugged the shoulder of her gown, but this one didn't give as freely as the one the previous night. He wanted to press his lips there, to cup her breast in his hand and lift it to his mouth. He could always just rip the dress off her. But he imagined that might scare her. It wasn't the only thing about him that would scare her. Compared to his other secrets, his desire to rip her clothes off was a minor issue.
Simon spun her away from him and began to work the laces of her gown.
"What are you doing?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
"Taking this thing off you so I can show you how it will be once we're married." His fingers couldn't work fast enough. He needed her to be out of that gown.
But a voice broke his concentration on his task. Lily gasped and stood up straight and tall. They both saw the interloper at the same time.
"Simon, get rid of the light skirt. We need to talk."
Simon sighed deeply and pulled Lily to him in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry," he said to her. He wished he could apologize profusely and was, in fact, already planning what sorts of flowers to buy for her as his penance for what was about to happen. "Hello, Mother."
Twenty-Two
Mortified, Lily clutched her sagging gown tightly to her chest. Perfect! Her future mother-in-law thought she was a light skirt. Not that she could blame her. She must look like one. Lily didn't think she would ever be able to carry on a conversation with the woman, not after this.
Lily closed her eyes to avoid gazing at Alice Westfield, the Duchess of Blackmoor. If she didn't know better, it would be hard to believe the frail, old woman was Simon's mother. All that they shared were their grey eyes, eyes that seemed to burn a hole in Lily's skin.
Simon kissed her forehead. "Be brave, love." Then he stepped in front of her, shielding her from the duchess' view. "Mother, why don't we wait in my study? Miss Rutledge will join us shortly."
Lily cringed. Was it possible to delay the interview all together? She didn't need to postpone the meeting for long. Only forty or fifty years or so. She watched as Simon steered his mother from the room, preventing her from looking back at Lily and her embarrassing state of dishabille.
He closed the door behind them, and Lily sank into the last upright chintz chair. She released a sigh and the tight grip on the top of her bodice.
Heavens! Lily looked around at the disheveled parlor. No wonder the duchess thought she was a light skirt.
The door creaked open, and a little chambermaid bustled inside. Dark curls escaped her cap. "Billings said you needed assistance, miss."
Assistance. That was the very least of what she needed. A place to hide would be better. However, Simon had asked her to visit with his mother. It wasn't something she could really refuse.
"Indeed," Lily replied, resigned to her fate. She stood up and beckoned the young maid forward. Hopefully the girl could right her clothing, and she could get this over with.
***
"What do you mean 'marry her'?" his mother asked, her brow furrowed.
Simon sat back in his chair grinning widely at his mother. Over the years, he and his brothers had tried their best to surprise and shock her. They were rarely triumphant. He had to admit, however, that he'd finally found success today with this endeavor.
"I don't know how to be more clear, Mother. I do wish, however, that you'd refrain from referring to Lily as a light skirt. I'm certain she didn't appreciate it. I know I didn't." He said that last bit in an attempt to embarrass her. Even if Lily had been a strumpet, his mother shouldn't have said so in her presence.
"Then perhaps you shouldn't treat her like one, Simon," his mother rebuked him.
He frowned at that. How he and Lily spent their time was really none of his mother's concern. "Why don't you tell me why you arrived at Westfield Hall completely unannounced?"
She snorted. "What would be the point in writing to you with my intentions? You never pay any attention to your correspondence. It's a waste of time, ink, and foolscap."
Apparently, he did need to employ a secretary. Or perhaps Lily wouldn't mind taking over those duties as well as the more intimate ones he would be expecting from her very soon. The image those thoughts brought to mind made him smile.
"…Simon!" his mother's irritated voice interrupted his daydream.
"Yes, Mother?"
"I'm worried about Benjamin," she admitted, her frown darkening. "I haven't heard a word from him for far too long."
That was what had led to this visit from his mother? "I never send you letters. Does that mean you're worried about me all the time?" he asked, trying to charm her.
"Who needs to hear from you? You're in all the society rags, all the time. Besides you can't compare yourself to Benjamin. In fact, the three of you are all very different from each other."
He raised his brow at that. The three of them were all too similar in the most important of ways.
She continued with a frown. "If I ever received a
letter from you, I'd be worried. But Benjamin writes me several times a week. This isn't like him."
Several times a week? Simon bit back a smile. He had no idea his youngest brother was such a mama's boy. He couldn't wait to tell Will. Ben would never live it down. "For God's sake! He's a grown man, Mother."
A light knock interrupted their conversation. "Come!" Simon called.
The study door pushed open, and Lily tentatively peeked around the corner. Simon's smile grew. His lovely bride-to-be always stood toe to toe with him, never backing down. But she was intimidated by his mother? A strong wind would blow the duchess away. His mother couldn't be all that scary. She was tiny and old, the only member of the Westfield family no one of sound mind should fear.
"Ah, Lily love." He gestured to the seat beside his mother. "Sit, please."
She gracefully slid into the wingback chair he'd indicated, worrying her bottom lip. The movement made Simon long to dismiss his mother, wipe his desk clean, and finally claim his bride-to-be.
His mother coughed delicately. "Simon?"
He shook his head, hoping to clear his lustful thoughts and bring his attention to the matter at hand. "Um, Mother, you remember Miss Rutledge. She's been keeping a watchful eye on Daniel's son for me."
"Indeed?" his mother asked, raking her grey eyes across Lily's form. Hmm, perhaps Lily did have a reason to be frightened, after all. "Do you really intend to marry my son?"
Lily gulped but nodded slightly.
"I do hope you're not always so meek, Miss Rutledge. My son can be quite the bully, and he needs a wife who will bring him to heel."
Simon's mouth fell open. "Mother!" Lily didn't need any help standing up to him.
She spared him only a glance. "Don't interrupt your mother." Then she refocused on Lily. "Stand up to him now, or it will never get any better for you."
Lily's
eyes widened. "I don't let him bully me, Your Grace."
His mother's eyes began to twinkle. "Glad to hear it. Now what date have we planned on?"
Simon shrugged. "Whenever Will returns with the special license."
The duchess' mouth fell open. "Special license! You should wait for the banns. Don't you know what people will say?"
They were already saying it, not that he could tell his mother that bit of information. It was better she not know, at least not yet. He'd like to get his paws on Prisca Hawthorne for thrusting them into this situation. "They'll say I'm impatient to marry my bride. That won't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me."
His mother pursed her lips and turned in her seat to focus on Lily. "Do you know what you're getting yourself into with my son?"
Lily shook her head. "No, but we'll make it work," she replied, echoing his earlier sentiment.
The duchess exchanged a meaningful glance with Simon. Lily hadn't really answered the question his mother was asking. She silently berated him for keeping Lily in the dark. However, he'd never let his mother intimidate him, and he wasn't about to let her start.
Distraction had often worked when he was a lad.
"So, Mother, Will tells me that Benjamin's in Scotland. There's no need to worry about him. You should probably return to Hampton Meadows and wait for his mountain of letters to arrive."
His mother narrowed her grey eyes at him. Distraction hadn't worked at all. "I'll leave Westfield Hall when I'm ready, Simon. Thank you for making me feel so comfortable." She touched Lily's hand. "Do tell me Oliver's here. I'd so like to see him again."
Lily nodded. "Indeed, Your Grace. I'm certain he'd love to see you, too."
Simon held in a snort. Oliver couldn't care less about meeting ancient duchesses. He'd have to make certain his mother didn't become too attached to Lily or let anything slip that shouldn't.
"Oh, and, dear, please call me Alice. We're both to be duchesses very soon. There's no point in being so formal."
Simon nearly groaned.
Twenty-Three
Lily muttered to herself as she walked through the garden. All she'd wanted was to coerce the duke into spending more time with Oliver. Yet here she was— ruined, engaged to the scoundrel, and still just as confused about Oliver as she had been before she made the trip.
Lily kicked a stone in her path, sending it skittering into the grass. She wished it was Simon's head.
She'd just spent a perfectly horrid afternoon and evening with the duchess. For all intents and purposes, the duchess was probably a splendid woman. But Lily felt grossly inadequate around her. It wasn't even that she felt inferior to the woman. It was because she obviously knew something Lily didn't.
Throughout dinner, every time the duchess began to talk about the marriage, Simon had efficiently changed the subject. It was almost as if there was something he didn't want her to know.
She stopped and kicked a bench beside the path. Once again, Simon was her target, but this time she imagined the chair leg to be his shin. "What am I missing?" she muttered to herself.
Lily paced back and forth along the pebbled path, wracking her brain, trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle that was Simon. She kicked the bench again.
"Do I need to step in and save that piece of furniture from your wrath, Lily?" Simon said as he stepped from the shadows.
"Don't be silly, Simon." She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"I do believe my furniture will be much worse for wear once you're a permanent resident. The pieces indoors seem to have a hard time staying upright, and now I find you beating the poor bench into submission. Poor thing," he crooned to it. "And she seemed like such a wonderfully docile woman just a few days ago."
This time, Lily wasn't able to stop the rolling of her eyes, nor could she avoid the frustrated sigh that escaped her lips.
Simon's eyes narrowed. He caressed the back of the bench. "Don't worry. I won't let her hurt you," he said to the furniture.
"I have no plans to attack your furniture, Simon," she snapped, one hand fluttering in the air as she dismissed his complaint. "You, on the other hand, may not be so lucky."
"Lily love, I'm not at all sure I know what you mean." The look of innocence he tried to feign was far from genuine. He took her fingertips in his hand and tugged her over to the bench. "Come and let the poor bench do its job." She flopped down much more heavily than she knew was ladylike. "It will think you don't appreciate its talents, since you were determined to do it harm."
Lily found it difficult to concentrate on her conundrum with his thumb drawing little circles on the sensitive skin between her forefinger and thumb. His thigh touched hers, and she felt the heat of him all the way to her toes. And everywhere in between.
"Are you trying to distract me, Simon?" she asked.
"From your pursuit of the poor bench, which you seem bound and determined to torture? Of course, I am. What did it ever do to you?" His grey eyes twinkled, and the corners of his mouth twitched up.
Lily groaned. Insufferable man!
"Simon, stop teasing me."
"But I do enjoy it so much."
"Yes, I can tell." She could tell how much he liked annoying her. As though it were a sport. Perhaps that was the reason for the subterfuge she could sense in the background. Did he simply think she was something to play with? To entertain him?
He sobered. "What's bothering you, Lily?"
"Nothing." She stared into the garden.
He leaned close to her, his breath blowing across the sensitive ridge of her ear, and said softly, "Liar."
Lily sniffed and pulled her hand from his. He immediately reached to capture it again. And didn't let go.
"One thing we need to be very clear about is that you are never to pull away from me. I might annoy you to the end of time, but you mustn't take yourself away from me. Not any part of you. From your hands to your feet. In fact, I believe we should solidify this rule right now."
Lily's heart jumped in her chest. "Rule?" she was able to choke out.
"Yes. You may beat my furniture. You may even strike me when you're so frustrated with me you just can't tolerate any more, but you will never take away what's most important to me. And that's you."
Where was all this coming from?
"You say this to all the women, don't you?" she countered. "That's how you earned your reputation. By wooing unsuspecting females."
"I have never set out to woo a woman until now. Before I met you, I just wanted to bed them." Lily felt her heart expand.
"You don't want to just bed me?" She felt like a ninny. But she was finally getting closer to having answers to her questions, so she wanted to take advantage of the moment.
"Oh, no," he chuckled, his gaze sliding over her like a caress. She shivered. "I most certainly do want to bed you."
"You know that's not what I meant. How will I be different from any of the thousands of women you've been exposed with in the society rags?"
"Thousands is exaggerating just a bit, Lily."
"Not by much." She was finally able to yank her hand from his and stand. She stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips. "Why are you marrying me, Simon?"
Simon leaned forward and grasped her hips, pulling her to stand between his spread knees. She tried to take a step back. "No pulling away," he said, looking into her eyes.
"Why, Simon?" she insisted.
"Because I want to protect unsuspecting yard
furniture around the world from your wrath. You can simply abuse mine, and the rest of the world will be safe." He pulled her closer, his hands snaking around her thighs to clasp just below her bottom.
"Oh, you…" she groaned. She'd never wanted to hit anyone so much in her life.
"All right," he sighed. His hot breath stole right through her dress, he was that close. It touched her belly like a gentle rub. "One: you're ruined. And it's my fault. So, there's a bit of obligation there."
Lily felt tears choke
her and tried to push them back.
He must have noticed because he said, "Wait," and held up one finger. "That's not all."
Lily sniffed and swallowed hard.
"Two: you're Oliver's caretaker, almost a mother to him, and he's going to live with me. So, having you live with me, too, will serve a dual purpose."
Lily had never heard such a poor excuse for marriage. She clasped his wrists in hers and tried to pry his hands from the back of her thighs. He didn't budge. The man had really strong arms, which infuriated her.
