Simon's Brides

by Allison Knight

  “Amy, rest assured I intend to find each of you men who will respect you, and men you and your sisters can respect.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No?” he repeated to be sure he had heard her response.

  “I--I--You must understand. I have no desire to wed any man.”

  Simon stared at her. Every woman he knew, or knew of, wanted marriage. A husband, a family, these were instilled in a woman before she took her first steps. Amy didn’t want that?

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  “I--I just don’t want to marry.”

  “Amy,” he said. “It’s what your father wanted for all of you, husbands, families.”

  “Well, I don’t want it and my father knew I didn’t want it. That’s why he left me the estate.” She stepped toward him, “Simon, be realistic. I’m much too old to seek a husband. My wish is to stay here at Kirkley Manor, alone.”

  He rounded the desk, “I can’t allow that. Your father’s will cannot be denied. I must find husbands for all five of you.”

  “No,” she muttered. “I will not marry, not ever.”

  He reached for her, “Amy, marriage is the only answer for a woman.”

  “No,” she snarled and lifted her hand. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

  “Are you afraid of marriage? Is that what this is all about?”

  “I won’t marry. I won’t.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and Simon grabbed at air. A woman’s tears could make the hardest man a bowl of porridge in a matter of seconds. He urged her closer.

  He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, to explain that a good man could offer her much that she would like, but the scent of spring flowers and her own fragrance waffled through him. Desire burgeoned. Thought receded.

  He gave in to temptation and pulled her closer. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She gasped, her mouth opening in surprise and he took advantage.

  One taste, that’s all he wanted. Just one taste.

  He brushed her parted lips and then fitted his mouth to hers. With a sweep of his tongue he traced the outline of her lips, her teeth. The need to taste more consumed him like a sail begging for wind in a becalmed sea, he delved deeply, her sweetness more of an enticement than he could have imagined. One taste could never be enough. He tightened his hold and plundered the honey of her mouth.

  A distant knocking registered in his subconscious. His heart pounded against his ribs. He dragged his mouth away from its sweet feasting and opened his eyes. When her eyes popped open Simon took a calming breath, preparing for a reaction, any kind of reaction.

  The knocking became more insistent. Someone was knocking at the door. He released Amy and stepped back. He tried to offer an apology, but for the first time in his life he couldn’t force the words from his mouth.

  Another knock sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again.

  “Come,” he finally managed.

  Aunt Agatha bounded into the room.

  “Tsk, tsk. This will never do. Amy, dear, you can’t meet with Simon like this. It just isn’t done. Now, I’ll sit here and the two of you can continue your discussion.”

  Simon felt like cursing. It was the same kind of sick sensation he felt when the ship he captained had appeared about to broach.

  Bloody hell! His aunt should have arrived minutes ago. Not after he had taken a taste of heaven.

  Amy, her face as pale as Aunt Agatha’s white lace cap, turned toward the door.

  “My conversation with his Lordship is finished,” she snapped and fled the room.

  ~ * ~

  Amy raced for the back stairs. Her face felt like a living flame, hot, burning, seared with an intensity she hadn’t known existed. She pressed her fingers to her tender lips. Why had she allowed him to touch her so, to taste her like a vessel of wine? How had he overcome her reticence? She had never allowed such intimacy, not even when Harold had tried to force her.

  Embarrassment curled through her as she hurried to her bedchamber. To her chagrin, Caro waited at the door.

  “You talked to Simon?” Caro asked.

  She was the only one of her sisters who seemed to understand Amy’s desire to remain unmarried.

  “Yes,” Amy mumbled. She had no intention of admitting that the conversation had dissolved into something more than a conversation.

  “And?”

  “We talked, but I don’t think it did any good.”

  “Listen, Amy, you don’t have to accept any man’s suit if you don’t want. Simon can’t force you to marry against your will.” Caro followed Amy into her small room.

  “But, he can make my life a living hell--if I don’t do what he wants.” Amy shuddered as she spoke.

  “Simon’s not like that,” Caro scolded. “You saw for yourself how gentle he was when he talked to Bethany. He asked questions, then waited for her to catch her breath. Why, he even comforted her when she started to cry as she explained about the gag the villain stuffed in her mouth. No, I can’t believe Simon would force you to marry, not if he understands how set against it you really are.”

  Amy shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll wait and see.”

  “Did he say anything about what happened today?” Caro asked. “I have a feeling we’ll all be confined now until he finds Harold. I gathered from his remarks to Beth that he’s certain Harold was behind the kidnapping.”

  “I doubt he’ll keep us confined. We have to be able to spend time with the men he selects. After all, he wants to see us all married.”

  Caro laughed.

  “Amy, Simon can bring the men here to the estate. Besides, how do you know he wants us all married off so soon?”

  “It makes sense,” she stated. “We know he’s a man of business, that his ships and their cargos are more important than anything. After all, the sea is his life. Even Father knew Simon wouldn’t surrender the sea for a home on land. That’s why Father named Jonathan Miller as overseer. He knew Jonathan got on well with me and together we would see to the estate.”

  “A woman could change Simon’s mind,” Caro murmured and turned to leave the room.

  Amy sputtered, “I--I--not me.”

  Caro chuckled and slipped through the doorway. “Maybe, then again, maybe not,” Caro said and swept toward her own room.

  Amy put her hands to her scorched face. Had her appearance told Caro that she’d been thoroughly kissed by the new Baron Kirkley?

  She prepared for bed, but sleep was impossible. She tossed and turned through the night, aware that her lips still burned from Simon’s kisses. When sleep came, her dreams held the image of a tall, good-looking man on the deck of a ship.

  She knew at once Simon had invaded her dreams. He beckoned to her, but when she got close, he and his ship faded into a thick cloud of mist. An aching loneliness descended and when she awoke, her pillow was wet. She had wept during the night.

  She rose early, not interested in falling asleep and facing more disturbing dreams. And, throughout the morning, Simon kept visiting her thoughts as she and her sisters restored the rooms Harold had decimated. At one point, she cursed Simon, who was working with estate manager, Jonathan Miller. He had no right to taunt her in her dream and then plague her waking thoughts as well.

  ~ * ~

  “I don’t understand,” Simon said. “Why would Neville leave all the household monies to Amy for distribution? Oh, I realize he willed her the estate if and when she married or reached a certain age, but what of his last wife, Patience? I think he would have left her the authority.”

  “Baron Kirkley knew that Patience had no mind for finances,” Jonathan Miller said. “Did you ever meet Patience, my Lord?”

  Simon shook his head. “Neville invited me for the wedding, but I couldn’t come.”

  Jonathan smiled. “Patience was as pretty as her step-brother is repugnant.”

  “Her step-brother?” Simon snarled. “You mean to tell me that Harold Bottomsworth was her step-brother? That Eleanor
is not related except by marriage?”

  “Why, yes, my Lord, but, I thought you knew. Harold is no blood relation to Patience at all. That was why I refused to give over any funds for the household to him, why I refused to pass out the income to pension off Bolton. I knew if I gave Harold that money, no one would see a shilling.”

  “I agree,” Simon nodded. “But, why didn’t you give the money to Amelia?”

  Jonathan Miller took a deep breath and sighed. “My Lord, the income is distributed on a quarterly basis. I gave Miss Amelia the funds for the third quarter several days before Patience died. Then when I returned to administer the next quarter’s payment and give Miss Amelia the funds to pension off Bolton, I found the women gone from the house, Bolton dismissed and Harold in complete control. Baron Kirkley, before he died, made it clear that only you or Miss Amelia could receive those monies.”

  “How much is each quarterly amount?” Simon muttered.

  “More than enough to run the estate. Of course, with three more quarters added to the monies owed,” he glanced at the ledger in his hand and named a large sum.

  Simon sucked in a deep breath. There was more than enough to see the estate maintained in a manner befitting a barony.

  Simon leaped from his chair and with his hands behind him, began to pace. “How was it that you had no idea of the women’s location? I find that hard to believe.”

  “At first--” Jonathan looked a little pale as he twisted his head following Simon across the room. “At first, Mr. Bottomsworth insisted they had left the property to live with relatives in London. At the time I wasn’t privy to all the terms of the will. I did know you had been summoned. I figured you would arrive soon, but at the end of the spring quarter, I did try to find Miss Amelia. Each time I came to the house, to question Mr. Bottomsworth he demanded the estate funds. I also traveled to London only to discover there were no close relatives with whom the women stayed.

  “I inquired in the village and after several weeks, I learned the women were staying in an estate cottage. I sent a message to Miss Amelia asking her to meet with me, but I believe she never received the message. I waited for her every afternoon for a week. Twice after that I started to the cottage, but each time someone followed me. Then your summons came.”

  Simon paused and glared at him. The women had probably been without funds for months. Unfair. Simon brushed his guilt away. After all, he had come as soon as he had learned of Neville’s death.

  He sat. “I’ll want a complete accounting. I’ll also need some idea of the value of the missing property. It appears that Harold helped himself to anything not nailed to the floor. And, the horses. I want the value of Neville’s horses. In fact, make inquiries about those horses. Caroline told me Harold sold them. I intend to buy them back.”

  The accountant scribbled as Simon dictated. “And, make arrangements for a local dressmaker,” Simon added at the end. “The women need clothing, something fashionable.”

  Anything else, my Lord?” Jonathan asked.

  Simon ran his finger threw his hair. “Perhaps you should send for a Bow Street runner. Once the list of missing property is prepared, people must be hired to find whatever they can.”

  A hesitant knock sounded on the office door.

  “My Lord,” Bolton interrupted through the door, “there are some ah--men here who claim to be in your employ.”

  Simon opened the door and glanced at the stooped figure of his butler-valet.

  “Yes, Bolton,” he announced, “Bring them to me.”

  Seven

  Two weeks later, Simon relaxed in his office chair and smiled with satisfaction. The house had been cleaned and returned to its former beauty, estates rents collected and Ben had arrived. Ben’s men and the Bow Street runner had searched for Harold Bottomsworth, however, reports said there had been no strange behaviors from anyone near the property or in the village. Harold seemed to have disappeared.

  Just this morning Jonathan Miller sent word he’d located some of Neville’s prize horses. Simon stood and began to pace. At the moment, Caro and Amy had agreed to accompany him to identify the animals. Simon only hoped Caro would recognize the steeds.

  He hated to admit it, but he felt a great deal of satisfaction in restoring Neville’s property to its previous glory. There was only one thing wrong. Being confined to the estate with Amy affected him more than he wanted to admit.

  If he followed her into a room, her fragrance trapped him in a sensual web. If he got to close to her, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her body. He wondered if the other people in the household noticed the effect she had on him.

  To be on the safe side, he escaped as often as he could, because, just being in the same house with her made him want to grab her, carry her off to his bedroom, strip her naked and sink into her warm body. He couldn’t, of course. She was to become another man’s wife and he had to return to the sea and his business. Damn! He should never have kissed her.

  He kept remembering that kiss. Bloody hell! When he did, his body let him know he desired that woman more than any other woman he’d ever known. He didn’t like it, not at all.

  He forced thoughts of Amy from his consciousness. Much to his surprise, restoring Kirkley Manor had been something he’d enjoyed. Of course, he had yet to address the problem of husbands for Neville’s daughters. Even Aunt Agatha mentioned it the night before during the evening meal.

  He couldn’t work up enough enthusiasm to sort through his acquaintances and begin the search. He’d told himself he had to settle matters at the estate first. After all, finding husbands would take time and the estate demanded immediate attention.

  Who did he think he was kidding? He didn’t want to think about husbands and marriage. The thought of finding a husband for Amy had him cursing Neville with everything in him. Of course, Simon didn’t think much of marriage anyway.

  And, he had good reason. The concept of a happy home made him groan. The examples of wedded bliss and family life he’d seen as a youth had him cringing with horror.

  First, there were his own parents who appeared to hate each other. As soon as she could leave him, his mother had gone to live with her spinster sister in Scotland. His father had stayed near London to make his fortune. Simon had only seen them together on two occasions. Both of those events had ended with the two adults yelling at each other like fishwives. They seemed to mix like oil and water. He’d always wondered how on earth they had gotten together to have him. And, he’d been stuck in a rambling house with a nanny, then a tutor until Neville had rescued him and sent him to school.

  Next, Neville’s own example wasn’t that great. His benefactor had married more wives than Simon could remember just because he’d wanted a son. Indeed, Neville reminded him of King Henry the Eighth. Of course, Neville’s wives had all died naturally leaving him with a number of girls to raise. Simon’s parents and Neville gave one cause to shun saying vows.

  Simon would have to get Amelia and her sisters married, no matter what he thought of the institution. Neville had left instructions and he owed it to the previous Baron Kirkley. Yes, he had to find some husbands.

  A brisk knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Come in,” he ordered.

  The door opened and Bolton announced, “The carriage is waiting, my Lord.”

  Simon frowned at the stooped figure in front of him. He’d forgotten to ask Jonathan about delivering Bolton’s pension. Well, he’d ask the accountant about it this afternoon.

  “The young ladies?”

  “Are both waiting for you at the entrance, my Lord.”

  “Thank you, Bolton. We’ll return for tea. Would you inform my aunt?”

  Bolton made a face, but nodded his head. Aunt Agatha and Bolton did not get on. Simon had to do something about that as well. Pensioning Bolton off would take care of that problem. Yes, he and Jonathan would need to address that matter this afternoon.

  Caro and Amy waited at the front door. Amy patt
ed her curls and tucked them under the ribbon of her new bonnet. She smoothed the skirt of her new apple green day dress and glanced at her sister. Caro wore the dark blue day dress from her refurbished wardrobe.

  Amy smiled as she glanced at the new boots Caro wore. At least her sister had decent shoes now. All of them appreciated Simon’s concern for their depleted wardrobes and to be honest, it had been fun picking out fabric for newer garments. She must remember to thank Simon. Just that thought brought a flood of warmth to her face.

  This was getting to be too much. She dreamed about him at night, she thought about him during the day and now the thought of having to say thank you heated her skin. She didn’t understand any of this, for she didn’t like Simon at all. He refused to consider her plea to remain unmarried and he made it plain to everyone in the house that he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her.