Simon’s Brides
Yet, just looking at Amy sent a shaft of desire through him. He found himself thinking about taking her to his bed, about pleasuring her and himself until she screamed with it. His groin tightened and he grimaced. He shouldn’t think about that now. No, instead he should concentrate on the missing woman. He tried to remember what Beth looked like but Amy’s face appeared, blocking out the faces of her sisters. He swore silently, grateful when the cottage came into view.
“Simon,” Amy’s shaky voice drew his attention. “I just happened to think of something. I doubt it means anything, but I believe you should know.”
Simon glanced at her. “What should I know?”
He stopped his horse and watched as she chewed her lower lip. Whatever she had to say bothered her. No, it was more embarrassment than concern, he decided.
“You know Harold insisted I marry him.” She shifted on her horse. “One day, shortly after we moved to the cottage, he came here. He said he had ways of making certain I did what he wanted. He thought to force me into accepting his suit by telling me that he would sell my sisters if I didn’t agree to ah--marriage. He--ah--he said he’d make sure his bestial friends did the buying.”
“You haven’t mentioned any of this before. Did you tell your sisters?”
She shook her head.
Simon groaned. “Why not?”
Her head snapped up and she glared at him, “I-I didn’t want to worry them.”
Other Works From The Pen of
Allison Knight
The Secrets of Hanson Hall
Emmi Sanders is companion and nurse to an older gentleman. Someone is trying to harm him. His nephews or his niece? Will Emmi be next?
The Brides of Owl's Head
Isabel Morrison arrives in Maine to marry, only to find her father’s choice dead. She’s inherited the property maybe. If she lives to claim it.
Bargained Vows
Hoping to avoid the kind of marriage her aunt hand in mind, Tory hires a husband only to find out she must keep him for a year.
Wings
Simon’s Brides
by
Allison Knight
A Wings ePress, Inc.
Historical Romance Novel
Wings ePress, Inc.
Edited by: Lorraine Stephens
Copy Edited by: Leslie Hodges
Senior Editor: Leslie Hodges
Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens
Cover Artist: Christine Poe
All rights reserved
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Wings ePress Books
http://www.wings-press.com
Copyright © 2006 by Martha Krieger
ISBN 1-59705-120-9
Published In the United States Of America
May 2006
Wings ePress Inc.
403 Wallace Court
Richmond, KY 40475
Dedication
Dedicated to two special women,
Dianne and Lyn
who insisted Simon’s story had to be told.
And, as always,
to Hank because...
Prologue
London, August 1835
“Five?”
“Yes, my Lord, five,” George Peters affirmed. “If we could have located you after Baron Kirkley took ill, but before he died, this situation wouldn’t shock you so.”
Simon Warner, the new Baron Kirkley, groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He took a deep breath and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Pain sliced through him. After all, he had lost more than a friend and a distant relative in Neville Hargrove. The previous Baron Kirkley had made Simon the man he was.
Simon’s grief was intense. He would miss his mentor more than anyone knew.
Peters, Neville’s solicitor, insisted, “He trusted you. Surely, finding husbands for his five daughters won’t be that difficult?”
Simon stood, grasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. At that moment he would have given anything to be standing on the deck of any one of his ships.
He stopped, turned and cleared his throat. Five women, he thought and ran his fingers through his hair. Sweat beaded on his brow. Storms at sea didn’t bother him as much as this.
“The daughters? How old are they now?” he asked.
“Amelia, the oldest, is twenty-four.”
“Oh, God,” Simon winced. “A spinster.”
Peters ignored Simon’s comment. “She can stay at Kirkley until she marries. However, if she reaches her twenty-sixth year and is still unmarried she will stay on and manage the estate which she does now. The second daughter, Bethany is twenty-two, Caroline twenty-one. Those two shared the same mother. The Baron married beneath himself there.”
Simon groaned.
“Please, my lord, I am not finished. Dorothy just turned nineteen and Eleanor, the youngest, is seventeen. Don’t look so upset, my Lord. Each woman has a small dowry. Finding husbands shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.”
Simon flinched. George Peters didn’t know what he knew. Finding husbands for the women he remembered would be impossible. However, Neville had trusted him with this task. He’d also left the management of the estate to him--at least until Amelia was wed.
Simon squared his shoulders. He had to honor Neville’s last request; he owed it to the man he respected above all others. Somehow, he would find husbands for all five of Neville’s daughters, if he had to buy the men.
They stood and Simon turned to the solicitor, “Are we finished?”
“There is one thing more. One Harold Bottomsworth, the brother of Baron Kirkley’s fifth wife, has taken up residence in the house. Until we located you, we felt nothing could be done.”
“That wife would be Patience. Is she there now?” Simon questioned. He wondered if he’d met the lady. Neville went through wives like most men went through cigars and brandy.
“No. She died nine months ago. Her brother arrived several weeks before she died. He claims he’s Eleanor’s guardian, and therefore has a right to reside at Kirkley manor.”
He didn’t want to ask, but he did, “Anything else?”
The solicitor frowned, “Nothing I can think of. However, if I can be of further help, my Lord, don’t hesitate to call upon me.”
Simon thanked Peters and trudged from the office, his heart aching. He groaned thinking about the husbands he had to find. And, the sooner the better!
One
A small cottage several miles from Kirkley Manor
Amelia Hargrove leaned toward her youngest half-sister.
“It’s a fancy carriage, I tell you,” Ellie insisted. “No coat of arms, but fancy...”
Someone suddenly banged on the cottage door then tried the latch.
“Release this bar and let me in.”
Amy shuddered. Harold Bottomsworth had arrived. Pig, Amy grumbled under her breath. Fear still played through her as she remembered the afternoon he caught her alone in the cottage orchard. He’d grabbed her and forced a kiss on her.
At the memory, she scrubbed her mouth. Harold had said she would marry him or he’d sell her sisters to the highest bidders even if they went to brothels. Selling women was illegal but if someone didn’t stop him, Harold just might find a way. She knew he was a
scoundrel capable of anything.
Had he found a way around the law?
“Go away, Harold. We told you not to bother us again.”
Where was Simon? Amy closed her eyes and she could still see him the one time he had visited the estate. He’d been so handsome, her heart still quickened at the memory. She had considered him the most wonderful, the most attractive man she had ever seen. Of course, at her tender years, she hadn’t seen that many men.
She felt her face warm with embarrassment. Was he still so handsome, so suave, so debonair?
“He wants all of you at the house.” Harold’s voice brought her back to reality. Had Harold found someone to buy one of her sisters? No! She couldn’t allow that.
“Go away, Harold. We don’t want you here.”
Simon strode toward the cottage door, listening to the shouting going on between one of the women and Harold Bottomsworth. He had forced Harold to lead the way to where Harold said the women stayed.
Simon had been furious when he’d arrived at the estate and learned the women were not at the house. And the manor had been a mess. How long had the women been gone from their home?
As he approached, Simon heard a rich, resonant voice shouting back at Harold.
Simon stood stunned. That voice! It sent a chill zinging through him. A voice giving him a chill? Impossible. Still, the flesh on his arms had raised as that voice responded to Harold’s order.
“Open this door. I’m coming in,” Harold yelled before Simon could recover from the effects of that voice.
“Not today,” that same voice rolled over Simon once more. Vibrant and full, like an exotic perfume. It filled him with desire.
He shook his head. This made little sense. A voice couldn’t bring about a tightening in his groin. No, it wasn’t possible. He forced himself to dismiss the effects.
Which of the half-sisters had responded? Frowning, he tried to remember how Neville had described his third daughter, the horse-loving Carolyn. It had to be she. Neville had admitted Carolyn was very tall. She would have a voice to match.
Another voice, this one softer, asked, “Why should we let you in Harold? You haven’t said why.”
Harold glared at Simon and muttered, “Baron Kirkley’s here.”
“Louder, Harold. We can’t hear you,” the original speaker demanded.
The sound had the same effect on Simon and he whispered, “Bloody hell.” Voices couldn’t produce erotic pictures, could they? He refused to answer his question.
“Who, Harold?” she demanded.
“Baron Kirkley,” Harold shouted.
“My father is dead,” she spoke now with a note of annoyance.
“He sez he’s the new Baron.”
“Simon, is that you?” again that voice, sonorous, scintillating, intoxicating, rushed through him.
Simon cleared his throat. “I’ve arrived. It is past time for you to return to the manor. I want you to gather your gear and come back to the house. All of you,” he added for good measure.
The door opened a crack.
Harold shoved at the wood trying to gain entrance but Simon pushed him aside, shoved the panel against the wall and stepped into the doorway. He stopped, blocking the opening, amazed at the sight before him. Who was this glorious creature? Could this be Amelia?
Simon struggled to pull air into lungs gone rigid with shock. The young girl he remembered bore no resemblance to the beautiful woman stepping toward him.
She was tall, statuesque, her feminine curves enhanced by the gray gown she wore. Her red gold hair had been pulled away from her face although strands had freed themselves in whatever job she had been doing. She had green eyes, the color of perfect emeralds, and they sparkled with relief and a touch of concern. A dusting of freckles enhanced her perfect porcelain complexion. This woman was beautiful, gorgeous, incredible.
Her classic nose shadowed the most luscious pair of lips Simon had ever seen. For an instant, he fought an insane desire to take her into his arms and taste those lips. He shivered with reaction and tried to squelch the temptation.
She moved toward him with a dignity born of knowing who she was and what she wanted from life. However, there was a touch of arrogance in the way she held her head. Simon took one step into the small cottage, his large frame still blocking the door as he leaned toward her, aware of a soft fragrance of spring flowers and woman.
He accepted her hand as she curtsied. The touch of her hand sent a rush of sensation through him.
He couldn’t stop himself. Knowing he shouldn’t, he raised her fingers and brushed his lips against her warm flesh. A wave of shock engulfed him.
She shivered and her expression indicated his action had also alarmed her.
He opened his mouth to say something when a voice behind him registered through the fog of desire swirling around him. Harold pushed against him.
“Ah, my betrothed.” Harold reached around Simon attempting to grab Amelia’s arm.
“No.” She jerked away.
Conflicting impressions shot through Simon.
Hers was the voice that had affected him so. He didn’t want her to be betrothed to Harold. And, she didn’t want Harold to touch her.
“One minute!” Simon shouted above Harold’s whine and the cacophony of the other women in the room.
Simon glanced around and then demanded, “What is this all about?”
Everyone started talking at once. Harold’s demands drowned out the softer voices of the women.
“She’s mine. She belongs to me. We are going to be married.”
“Quiet,” Simon roared, rage filling him. He was incensed beyond anything he had ever known.
Silence reigned.
Simon turned to Amelia.
“Is this true? Are you betrothed to this man?”
“No,” she said and shook her head, her face still carrying a dazed look. Because of the kiss he brushed over her fingers, or Harold’s announcement, Simon wondered.
“No,” Amelia repeated her gazed fixed on him. “We were never betrothed. My father had passed on before Harold arrived. I have never agreed to marry him.”
Simon felt a surge of relief. He realized the floor beneath his feet seemed to firm with her words.
She continued, “As I’ve told him over and over, I’ve no desire to marry. And, especially not him. I will not suffer his attentions. I’ve told him what I will do if he tries to force me again.”
“He’s tried to force you?” Simon fought a sudden fury.
“I did not,” Harold snapped.
“Yes, you did.”
That rich, melodious voice sliced through Simon. Suddenly, Harold was closer to a beating than at any time since Simon’s arrival that morning.
Simon needed a distraction. He turned to gaze at the other women surrounding Amelia. These were the other women for whom he must find husbands?
Standing next to Amelia was a blonde, her curly hair framing an oval face. Her blue eyes stared at him with youthful innocence. She looked young even though she was a tall woman. She was also stunningly beautiful.
“I’m Ellie. I just turned seventeen years,” she offered with a small smile and dropped into a quick curtsy.
Simon glanced at the woman next to her. She was even taller than Ellie. She was beautiful in an exotic way. Her ebony hair hung in waves well past her shoulders. Her full lips formed a perfect bow, her almond-shaped eyes so dark they gleamed almost black. She moved forward with the grace of a panther, as she paused and also dropped into a deep curtsy.
“I’m Dora. I’m nineteen. And I doubt you remember me,” she said as she rose and glided back to stand beside Ellie.
Simon took a deep breath and shook his head. He didn’t remember them. He would never have forgotten such beauty and both women were gorgeous, arresting, the kind of beauty men fought over. He groaned remembering what Neville expected of him. Before he could offer a comment, another woman stepped forward.
This one was tall, taller than
most of the men he knew. She stood as straight as the main mast of one of his ships. She was even more striking than the Ellie or Dora. Slender, her face a perfect oval, full lips pressed together, her brow wrinkled in a frown. Her intense blue-gray eyes gazed at him as if she objected to his presence. Her dark golden hair was pulled into a neat chignon. She moved with regal grace. Caroline? he wondered.
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